Vanity Under the Sun

“Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity” (Ecc. 1:2).

I’ve been reading Ecclesiastes in my quiet time. Every time I read through the book, it feels like someone turned on the light in the dark recesses of my life, pointing out things I hadn’t noticed before. It would be like if a gemologist were to look up close at my wedding ring and point out that it doesn’t really have diamonds in it after all. I’d then look at it with new eyes and notice its flaws. What once was shiny would quickly lose its luster. I’d realize that what I once thought was valuable, had no value at all. This is what the teacher does in Ecclesiastes; he shows us the vanity of life under the sun.

Throughout the book of Ecclesiastes, the teacher shares insight into his own life experiences. He has pursued everything there is to pursue in life. He’s tried it all. He’s accumulated it all. He’s witnessed it all. And he’s found little to write home about. He sums it up as meaningless or vanity. The Hebrew word used for “vanity” in Ecclesiastes 1:2 is hebel. It means vapor or breath. It’s a word that describes the transitory nature of things. It’s like a breath that is breathed out and immediately dissipates in the air. Hebel describes things that have no form or structure, they are empty; they cannot contain anything.

The teacher uses this word throughout the book to describe life “under the sun.” That is, life from our earthly, finite perspective. The teacher observes that people work hard, they pursue and enjoy the pleasures of this life, and then they die. All that they have worked for is then passed on to someone else who won’t appreciate it or will likely lose or waste it. All the pursuits and pleasures of life, once experienced, are gone. The things we put our time and energy into all too soon fade away. They lose their luster. They show themselves worthless.

Vapor. Breath. Meaningless.

I can’t help but think of the early church father, Augustine. He pursued the pleasures and vanities of this life. He looked for meaning and purpose in things, relationships, knowledge, and experience, but found them fleeting. He wrote in his work, Confessions, about his life, “For it was my sin, that not in Him, but in His creatures—myself and others—I sought for pleasures, sublimities, truths, and so fell headlong into sorrows, confusions, errors.” He even tried various religions and philosophies, thinking they would help him find what he was looking for, but he still felt restless and lost. It wasn’t until he read the Bible and was converted to Christ that his restlessness finally stilled. He wrote, “Thou madest us for Thyself, and our heart is restless, until it repose {rest} in Thee.” When Augustine found Christ, he found what his heart longed for all along.

It isn’t until we see things from a different perspective, from “above the sun” rather than “under the sun,” that things change. It’s when we see the world in light of eternity that we see what truly matters—what truly satisfies. Then we see that the pleasures we’ve labored so hard to achieve are really like playing in the mud when we could enjoy a trip to the sea. As C.S. Lewis describes, “It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” The truth is, the little joys of life exist to point us to the greatest Joy. We’ve wasted precious time dancing with shadows when we could have experienced Life itself.

Ecclesiastes reminds my heart how easily I confuse the shadows for the substance. It reminds me that when I focus my life and heart on things “under the sun” and forget about the One who rules “above the sun” I am only grasping at vapor, with what is fleeting and temporary. The teacher reminds me that life is meant for something greater, for Someone greater. That real life—real fulfilling, lasting, meaningful, glorious life—is found only in the One who created it.

The teacher ends his book with this conclusion: “Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man” (Ecc. 12:13). We don’t know much about what is above the sun other than that God rules over the universe. We don’t know much about eternity past, other than that God has always been there. We don’t know what will occur in eternity future, just that it is in God’s hands. In the span of time, we are but vapor; our lives are merely a breath. The conclusion then is this, to live our lives in the fear of the One who knows all things. To live for his glory and praise. To live for and pursue that which is lasting, that which is eternal, that which is of substance.

And that’s where real Joy resides, not in the shadow, but in the substance.

Psalm 81, Idolatry, and the Satisfaction of our Hearts

Have you ever had the experience where you were focused on learning a certain lesson and then you saw that lesson everywhere? Perhaps you were convicted of a certain sin and over the course of the week, you heard a sermon that spoke about that sin, then read a passage in Scripture about it, and then a friend shared their own struggle with it. Or maybe you were reminded of God’s providential care in your life multiple times and places and each time you thought, “It’s that same lesson again!”

As people who are quick to forget, we need regular reminders, especially when God is working in a particular area of our life. When I read the Old Testament, I see a lesson God’s people learned over and over. It’s a lesson I’m still learning. It’s a lesson that is central to our faith, so central, it goes back to our purpose and meaning as created beings. What is that lesson?

Life is found in God alone.

Psalm 81 and Israel’s Idolatry

In Psalm 81, Asaph called the people to worship the Lord God, but after a few verses, the psalm quickly turned to a proclamation from God, reminding Israel of who God is and what he had done for them. They had turned their hearts away from him and he called them back to himself. “Hear, O my people, while I admonish you! O Israel, if you would but listen to me! There shall be no strange god among you; you shall not bow down to a foreign god” (vv.8-9). He pointed back to the Exodus, to their redemption story: “I relieved your shoulder of the burden; your hands were freed from the basket. In distress you called, and I delivered you” (Psalm 81:6-7).

God reminded them of his covenant relationship with him, “I am the Lord your God, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt” (v.10). These were the words he spoke before the giving of the law at Mount Sinai— the law that reflected who he is and steadfast love for his people. Centuries later, Jesus would tell his disciples that the law was written about him. That’s because he is the source of all life.

Yet God’s people have always sought life outside the One True God. Immediately after their deliverance from Egypt, when they lacked food and water, they looked not to God for help, but longed to return to slavery in Egypt. Throughout their history, they followed the same pattern. When they were in need, they looked for rescue elsewhere. They looked to the false god, Baal, for hope. They looked for rescue from a King, rather than the King of Kings. They looked for help from their pagan neighbors. In the New Testament, the Pharisees placed their hope in their genetic heritage and in their obedience to the law.

And today, our own hearts look for life outside of God. We don’t worship a wooden statue, but we look to idols for help and hope just the same. We pursue success, affirmation, wealth, or status to give our lives meaning and purpose. We look for hope and joy in changed circumstances and new things. We think “If only ______happened, then I would be happy.” We attempt to fill the void with relationships and experiences, only to crash in despair when they fail to deliver.

The Satisfaction of Our Hearts

When we turn from God to false idols, he gives us over to our desires. “So I gave them over to their stubborn hearts, to follow their own counsels” (Psalm 81:12). God permits us to chase after false gods so we would see the futility. So we would see how empty and meaningless it is. So we would realize that life does not exist outside of him; true joy and satisfaction are found in his presence alone. “But you would be fed with the finest of wheat; with honey from the rock I would satisfy you” (Psalm 81:16).

Psalm 81 reminds us our God is a generous God. He is rich beyond measure. All that we need is found in him and he is happy to supply it. “Open wide your mouth and I will fill it.” (Psalm 81:10). Didn’t he prove this to us in giving us the greatest gift of all, his Son, Jesus Christ? In Christ, we are blessed beyond anything the psalmist could have imagined. He made us right with God. He opened the way into the holy of holies so we could come to the throne of grace. He blessed us with eternal life and joy forever with him.

Do you feast on the paltry offerings of this world and still find yourself hungry? Do you desire more? Psalm 81 reminds us that real life and lasting satisfaction is within our reach. Look to Christ for the satisfaction of your soul.

When Discontentment Steals Our Joy

Crunch. The sound of my shoes echoed with each step. The trail before me was layered with fallen leaves. It was as though the trees had disrobed and blanketed the forest floor with their golden hued cloaks. Even as I walked, leaves continued to rain down around me. 

The mountains are where I feel most alive. I especially love hiking in the fall when the air is crisp and cool. I am always struck by God's handiwork this time of year, where the trees are dressed in shades of red, gold, orange, and brown. Seeing his glory in the creation awakens my dull senses. Even the scientific facts behind the tree's annual disrobing strikes me with wonder. Their autumnal transformation is the revealing of their true colors. No longer producing food, the trees lose their verdant hue, uncovering the deep reds, bright yellows, and rustic orange shades that we all love so much to see.

A Discontented Heart

I always thought I would live in the mountains but instead I live by the sea. The disparity between the longings of my heart, of being where I feel most alive, and the place God has put me these past twenty years is wide. Over the years, my discontentment has grown and spread, breeding bitterness, selfishness, and anger. For my heart, discontentment has been like a slow leak, gradually draining me of joy and peace.

In the face of such discontentment, some would say, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade" or "Bloom where you are planted." These proverbial statements are spoken to encourage us to make the best of what we have. It seems like helpful advice, but it doesn't get at the source of true contentment. We can't just resolve to be content or "think happy thoughts" to dispel unhappy ones. Rather our contentment must be built on something more solid, more sure, and more lasting. Because the truth is, we are weak. Our resolve fades. The sin in our hearts leads us astray until we are right back where we started.

The Apostle Paul spoke about contentment in Philippians. "I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength" (Philippians 4:11-13). For Paul, Christ was the source of his contentment. He knew that to live was Christ and to die was gain (Philippians 1:21).

The truths of the gospel, of who he was because of Christ's perfect life, sacrificial death, and resurrection, were the foundation on which Paul stood. He knew that whether he lived with plenty or didn't know where his next meal came from, he was secure in Christ. Because the Spirit of Christ lived in him, he had all he needed. In every situation, the Spirit strengthened him to face trials and tribulations. His security, joy, purpose, and satisfaction was in Christ, not in his circumstances. This is the secret to contentment--not cold glasses of lemonade or blooming flowers or happy thoughts.

My discontentment comes from the same place as the grumbling desert-wandering Israelites. My heart has turned away from its true love. I've attempted to fulfill my soul-thirst with something other than the pure living water that Christ died to give me. I'm focused on the comforts and cares of this life and not the one to come. I've failed to remember all that God did to deliver me from slavery and instead of living a life of gratitude, my heart only grumbles and complains.

Real and Lasting Contentment

The Spirit is gracious and reminds me of the way to true and lasting contentment. Psalm 37:4 says "Delight yourself in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart." When Christ is my delight and my source of joy, it changes the trajectory of my heart. What Christ wants, I want. Instead of looking at what I don't have, my heart rejoices in all that I do have because of and through him. Love and gratitude transforms my desires so that they revolve around Christ and what pleases him. And like, Paul, no matter the circumstances, my well of contentment is deep and overflowing, for it flows freely from its source in Christ himself.

God places us in circumstances and situations that we often don't understand. Sometimes he doesn't give us what we want because he knows what we really need is not a change in situation but more of him. The more we grow to depend and trust in him, the more we find our joy in knowing him, and the more we seek him above all else, the more we will appreciate the manna he provides. Our grumbles fade in his presence. Rather than complain about the challenges of life, we'll look to Christ for contentment, security, and peace. All our desert wanderings will create in us a longing not for the slavery of the past but the glory of forever rest found in the Promised Land to come.

As I consider the beauty of the trees in autumn, how they are at their most beautiful right before they enter a season of dying, my heart longs to bring my Creator glory in how I live--no matter the season. When seasons of winter lie before me, I want to reflect the radiance of Christ. Like the trees in fall, I want to live out my calling in submissive and joyful obedience. I want to find my contentment in being a redeemed daughter of the King, not in my circumstances, dreams, or plans. 

Will I ever move to the mountains? I don't know. But I do know that not being where I long to be is a reminder of how this world is not my home. My true, forever home still awaits. And as long as Christ remains the joy and treasure of my heart, I will be content wherever I am because he is with me.