St Paul affirms his self-sufficiency when writing to his beloved disciples in Philippi, probably the only group that he would grace with a request for material assistance should the occasion arise. He goes on to say that he has known what it is to be brought low and to have plenty, being thoroughly experienced in the ups and downs of human existence. He has strength for anything through Christ who gives him power, but he appreciates the solicitude of his Philippian friends (Phil. 4.10-14).

It is interesting to reflect on St Paul's life. While still a zealous Pharisee, his great resource was the Law, in the pursuance of which he enjoyed persecuting the small Christian community. And then came his blinding revelation on the Damascus road that completely shattered his earlier preconceptions. It brought him to a knowledge of God as the bestower of pure grace, depending only on the will of the person to receive the divine love as revealed in the sacrifice of Jesus for the sin of the whole creation. As the apostle left behind the protecting hand of the Law, so he knew the full thrust of the Holy Spirit. Though his life became much more precarious than before his conversion, the Spirit animated him so that he knew a whole range of emotions that had previously lain dormant within him. The great rhapsody on love in 1 Corinthians 13 could not have been written by anyone who had not suffered deeply and come to know people on an intimate level of friendship.

Indeed, the Law by itself contains the seeds of death, while the Holy Spirit brings eternal life (2 Cor. 3.6). Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty (2 Cor. 3.17). This is the freedom to be oneself, to venture into the future with confidence, knowing that God is with one, sharing one's suffering no less than rejoicing in one's happiness. Like St Paul, one depends less on human support and more on the power within oneself. Paradoxically, when one is quiet and self-sufficient, one's relationships with one's fellows become smoother and more cordial, because one does not hang on to them. They feel less threatened by someone who clearly makes no persistent demands on them, but can enjoy their company for their sake alone. None of us can be completely independent - the advent of ageing and ill-health makes this embarrassingly clear - but the less we need to rely on others, the more fulfilled we become.

This is the way towards contentment. Until we are actualized as people in our own right, we will strive after material benefits to affirm our identity and demonstrate our superiority over others. But once God is the centre of our life, all earthly benefits, while not to be despised, become peripheral to our happiness. Bereavement is a constant threat in all human existence; it is experienced not only in the death of a loved one but also in a broken relationship with a spouse or close friend; and in premature retirement from work that affirmed one's importance in the social environment. And yet, again paradoxically, the experience of bereavement may be crucial to the discovery of resources within oneself that St Paul wrote about in his letter to the Philippians.

We too have to make this discovery if our lives are to be truly fulfilled. When all worldly distractions cease, then God can make his presence known. It is then that we can comply with the injunction in Hebrews 13.5: "Do not live for money; be content with what you have." The passage goes on to remind us of God's promise never to leave or desert us, and so we can affirm the divine assistance, having no fear of human malice. "Poor ourselves, we then bring wealth to many; penniless, we own the world" (2 Cor. 6.10).

I thank you, Lord, for the many resources you have planted deep inside me. May they germinate in the garden of life and so flourish that I may never feel bereft despite all suffering, but rather bring comfort to those who have so little within them for consolation.