Then, this week, I stumbled across an X post titled "Why I Stopped Reading John Piper." It was a video podcast- a heartfelt, logical critique from a middle-aged man who’d grown disillusioned with Piper’s approach. His words carried weight—disappointment laced with honesty. At first, I scrolled past it, but it lingered in my mind. Not because I immediately agreed or disagreed, but because it stirred something I’ve been wrestling with myself: how maturing in the Christian faith often means facing disillusionment—not just with teachers like Piper, but with ourselves and the life we live.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized this isn’t really about John Piper—or any teacher, for that matter. It’s about us. It’s about what happens as we grow in faith, navigating the now and not yet tension the Bible so beautifully outlines. Sanctification, that slow process of becoming more like Christ, doesn’t always look like triumph. Sometimes, it looks like letting go—of idealism, of heroes, of the need to have it all figured out. And maybe that’s a blessing in disguise.
I used to think maturity meant getting stronger, more certain, more "satisfied" in the way Piper described. But lately, I wonder if it’s the opposite. Maybe God is most glorified in us when we come to the end of ourselves—when we realize there’s nothing glorious in us apart from Him. It’s not that Piper’s wrong—his call to find joy in God still rings true—but I think that joy takes on a humbler shape as we grow. It becomes less about achieving some spiritual high and more about a quiet, desperate reliance on His grace and mercy.
Piper's original quote that is connected to Christian Hedonism is not a Bible verse- he never said it was- 'God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him"- that is not a bad statement, and to be honest is commentary and not theology.
My statement is neither better, nor worse- but is is also not Scriptural:
"God is most glorified in us when we realize we have no capacity to be satisfied in Him and thus realize that His grace is all we have for any anchor of hope to be found righteous and justified"
That X post didn’t make me turn on Piper. If anything, it made me more grateful—for him and for other teachers who have pointed me to the one thing that never fails: Scripture. Teachers guide us, but they are not the path itself. And when we start to see their cracks—or our own—it’s not a failure. It’s a gift. Disillusionment, change, struggles—these are the chisels of sanctification, stripping away what doesn’t belong until we’re left clinging to one thread:
"By grace you have been saved through faith" (Ephesians 2:8).
Nothing good in us, yet everything good in Him.
The Subtle Letdowns
It isn’t just in the big things; this pattern of disillusionment plays out in almost every aspect of life.
I’ve always thought it fitting that Pip, in Great Expectations, experienced the slow unraveling of his world:
"All the truths of my position came flashing on me; and its disappointments, dangers, disgraces, consequences of all kinds, rushed in in such a multitude that I was borne down by them and had to struggle for every breath I drew."
But it wasn’t the dramatic losses that hit him first—it was the small, subtle letdowns:
"My (new) clothes were rather a disappointment, of course. Probably every new and eagerly expected garment ever put on since clothes came in, fell a trifle short of the wearer's expectation."
Isn’t that the truth? We are conditioned—especially in the Western world—to desire the finest and fastest. A lifetime of commercials, movies, and marketing has set our expectations high. Every item, destination, and experience is sold to us as the Cadillac of... something.
The Bible’s Perspective
But what does the Bible say about this? Quite a lot, actually.
We see a glimpse of it in Proverbs, written largely by Solomon—a man who indulged in wealth, power, and pleasure. Consider these words from Proverbs 23:
1 When you sit to dine with a ruler,
note well what is before you,
2 and put a knife to your throat
if you are given to gluttony.
3 Do not crave his delicacies,
for that food is deceptive.
4 Do not wear yourself out to get rich;
do not trust your own cleverness.
5 Cast but a glance at riches, and they are gone,
for they will surely sprout wings
and fly off to the sky like an eagle.
History and literature are full of cautionary tales about this. Some of the wealthiest, most famous people in the world have reached the top, only to realize they still haven’t found what they’re looking for.
One of the most tragic examples is Guy de Maupassant, the famous 19th-century French writer. He had it all—talent, wealth, status, charm. He dined in the finest places, entertained the most beautiful women, and sailed on luxurious yachts.
Yet, on New Year’s Day of his 41st year, he was already a broken man. Ravaged by disease and consumed by loneliness, he cried out in chilling starkness:
"I have coveted everything and taken pleasure in nothing!"
The next day, he tried to take his own life. He was committed to an asylum and died a year later in despair.
Why?
Because the things of this world lose their luster. They were never meant to be ultimate things.
Learning Contentment
The Bible calls us to a life of discipline and godly contentment—not as a restriction, but as a safeguard. The shift from enjoying the good life to longing for the good life is subtle. The gap between having good things and needing good things is almost imperceptible.
That’s why my message is never "wealth is sinful," or "success should make you feel guilty." It’s simply this: Be grateful. Hold it all with an open hand.
We all have deep thirsts—love, significance, companionship, security, meaning. But when we go to the wrong fountain—fortune, fame, power, pleasure—we end up more thirsty and more addicted.
Jesus offers living water. Our thirst is ultimately for something eternal, something divine. That’s why Matthew 6:33 tells us:
"Seek first the kingdom of God, and all these things will be added to you."
The Life of Contentment
So how do we live this out? A few practical steps:
Honor and serve those who have less. Not for show, not for guilt relief—but to truly see their worth. Proverbs 22:2 reminds us: "Rich and poor have this in common: The LORD is the Maker of them all."
Pray for the balance between contentment and complacency. We’re called to work diligently but not chase riches. Ask yourself: What drives me? Why? Where is God’s will in my pursuits?
Give generously. Nothing slays the dragon of greed like giving. Tithing isn't about God needing our money—it’s about our hearts needing to let go.
Practice thankfulness. When you experience success—whether playing golf at an exclusive course, driving a nice car, or reaching a career milestone—praise God for it. Hold it loosely. Ask how you can bless others.
Ultimately, the life of contentment isn’t about having less. It’s about needing less. It’s about finding our deepest satisfaction in Christ alone and that is a humble reliance on divine grace that this is not achievable, though we never give up the quest.
Because when everything else fades, when the disillusionment sets in, and when we’re left with nothing but Him—that’s when we realize He is enough.
And let us NOT forget what Lewis told us in Mere Christianity- if I find in this life desires that are empty and without satisfaction... maybe I was not made for this world, maybe I was made for another world!
The link below has a song related to this:
“The Christian says, 'Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing as water. Men feel sexual desire: well, there is such a thing as sex. If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing. If that is so, I must take care, on the one hand, never to despise, or to be unthankful for, these earthly blessings, and on the other, never to mistake them for the something else of which they are only a kind of copy, or echo, or mirage. I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that country and to help others to do the same.”
― C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity