The book of Ecclesiastes can make you want to eat an entire tub of Tillamook ice cream on a rainy day and stare blankly out a window. It’s written by King Solomon, who built massive projects, threw legendary parties, collected more wives than anyone could possibly remember, and even managed to share songwriting credits with Pete Seeger for the mid-century folk-pop hit “Turn! Turn! Turn!” Yet after sampling every item on Earth’s buffet, he looks up and says, “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.” If Solomon lived today, he’d probably have written that line from a superyacht christened Trivial Pursuit.
The book reads like Solomon’s field report on the human experiment. He tries every road people still travel—philosophy, madness, hedonism, hard work, wealth, minimalism—you name it. He notices that nice guys sometimes finish last while bad guys retire early to their beach houses. Both the sage and the knucklehead, turns out, end up in the same place: the cemetery. And just when you think he’s going to explain the meaning of it all, he shrugs, says, “There’s a time for everything,” and walks offstage.
But Ecclesiastes isn’t all gloom. Solomon insists there’s a better way to live: eat good food, laugh with friends, love your family, do your work honestly, and thank God for the whole strange experience. His conclusion is surprisingly practical: “Fear God and keep His commandments.” In modern terms: stop trying to control everything, stop doomscrolling, stop imagining that life is a problem to be solved, and start treating existence as the gift it is.
In the end, Ecclesiastes points to the only One who can fill the eternity-sized void in our hearts (cf. Ecc. 3:11). As Jesus put it, “What good will it be to gain the whole world and forfeit your soul?” Life is short, confusing, and more often weird than not—so enjoy your Tillamook, get over your existential anxiety, laugh when you can, and trust God to the end.
Maranatha,
Jordy
