Is This All

"What is your view of approaching death?" asks Ray Stedman. "Do you have some sense of anticipation about it, with the awareness that beyond death is the final explanation of all the unanswered, unexplained questions of life?"

Ray started learning about those great questions in his early years. While he was still a young boy, his mother developed a serious asthmatic condition and could no longer care for him. Later, his father abandoned the family, never to return.

But at the age of 11, Ray asked God to forgive him for his sins, and he put his faith in Jesus Christ, the crucified and risen Son of God. Ray began to know the One who is a Father to the fatherless.

He must have sensed his future calling, for as a farm boy Ray practiced preaching to the cows. Following high school he sought a career in medicine, but financial realities put a halt to those aspirations. After the outbreak of World War II, he went to Hawaii to work in industry. While on Oahu, he joined the Navy and discovered a productive ministry to anxious sailors, many of whom would soon be facing artillery barrages and kamikaze pilots.

Following the War, Ray married Elaine and entered Dallas! Theological Seminary, graduating in 1950. He served briefly with J. Vernon McGee and with Dr. H. A. Ironside, pastor of Moody Church in Chicago.

But Ray soon joined a young and vibrant ministry known as Peninsula Bible Fellowship (now Peninsula Bible Church). It was there, in Palo Alto, California, that he would hone his pastoral style and preaching skills, serving God and his congregation until his death in 1992.

In addition to Is This All There Is to Life? Ray has given us such classics as Authentic Christianity; Body Life; and Spiritual Warfare. He has penned a worthy contribution on prayer entitled Talking With My Father; as well as Waiting for the Second Coming, a study on the hope-filled epistles to the Thessalonians. His many other works include God's Loving Word, on the Gospel of John, God's Final Word, which opens the book of Revelation, and an in-depth look at the letter to the Ephesians, called Our Riches in Christ. And his comprehensive Bible-study guide, Adventuring through the Bible, remains popular with Discovery House readers.

As he battled cancer late in his life, Ray maintained a realistic optimism that could only come from a solid relationship with Jesus Christ. Ray said, "I can say that looking ahead is a time filled with happy anticipation that God is going to answer all the questions which I have had to leave unanswered, because the full meaning of this present experience will never be brought out until death intervenes. Then will come all the answers, abundantly, satisfyingly, fully."

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again;

there is nothing new under the sun. --Ecclesiastes 1:9

1. The Search for Meaning

Ecclesiastes--mystery book of the Old Testament! Does it teach us to eat, drink, and be merry," for life will soon be over? Some think it does. Does it deny life after death? Some have read it that way. Why is it the most often quoted Bible book by atheists and religious skeptics? Certain statements in the book seem to appeal strongly to such scoffers. What shall we make of such a strange book?

We must see one thing right from the beginning: this book is an examination of secular wisdom and knowledge. The book clearly states at the outset that it limits itself primarily to things that are apparent to the natural mind. One of its key phrases is the continual repetition, under the sun. "What advantage does man have in all his work which he does under the sun?" (1:3, NASB, italics added). We find the phrase used again in verse 9. That is the limitation put upon this book by the author himself. Ecclesiastes, then, is a summation of what man is able to discern under the sun--that is, in the visible world. The book does consider revelation that comes from beyond man's powers of observation and reason, but only as a contrast to what the natural mind observes. It is an inspired--and accurate--book. It guarantees that what it reports is what people actually believe, even as it makes a searching examination of those beliefs. The book is not merely a collection of ancient philosophies, for what it talks about is very much relevant and up-to-date. Here is what you will hear in soap operas, in political speeches, and in radical or conservative movements of our day. Here is what you will hear both in the halls of academia, and on the streets of any city. The first three verses introduce the theme of the book:

The words of the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem. "Vanity of vanities," says the Preacher, "Vanity of vanities! All is vanity."

What advantage does man have in all his work which he does under the sun? (1:1-3, NASB).

First we learn that the writer is "the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem." We immediately recognize that this could refer to no one but King Solomon. While "the son of David" could indicate any descendant of David who sat on the throne after him, this particularly describes Solomon, as several things in the book will confirm. Many of today's critical commentators question Solomonic authorship; very few, in fact, accept it. They date the book after the Babylonian exile, some 500 years after Solomon died. They do this almost habitually But their views, based, as they think, upon an examination of the culture of the day, have been proved wrong again and again. Let us, however, begin by accepting that it is indeed Solomon who gives to us in this book the wisdom that God taught him throughout his life.

The translators, unfortunately, refer to Solomon as "the Preacher." I am sorry they used that term. I know the book sounds a bit preachy, especially at the beginning. On reading that second verse it would be easy to affect a "stained-glass" voice, and moan "Vanity of vanities! All is vanity" Modern audiences would immediately tune out.

The word for Preacher is the Hebrew word Qoheleth, which means, "one who gathers, assembles, or collects." This is an apt title for the author of this book, who has examined and then collected the philosophies by which men live. The English title, "Ecclesiastes," comes from the Greek ecclesia or assembly. But perhaps a more helpful English translation would be "the Searcher." Here is a searching mind that has looked over all of life and observed what is behind the actions of people. That is the word which we will use wherever the word, "the Preacher," occurs. It is not really a preacher or proclaimer, but a searcher and assembler, that is in view.

You do not have to read the last chapter to find the results of his search, because he puts it right here in verse two: "Vanity of vanities." Vanity--that is what he found. Vanity here does not mean pride of face. Many women--and sometimes men spend a lot of time in front of mirrors. Not only do they finish what they need to do to make themselves presentable, but they take time to admire it. We call that self-admiration, vanity, pride of face; but that is not what the Searcher is describing. The original word here means "emptiness, futility, meaninglessness." That is what he found. He puts his view of what he discovered in those terms: emptiness, a feeling of futility. That is what life brings.

Nothing in and of itself, the Searcher claims, will satisfy. No thing, no pleasure, no relationship ... none of these has enduring value in life. Perhaps we could subtitle this study, "The Things That Won't Work." Everybody is trying to make them work, everyone has seized on one or another of these philosophies and has tried to make it satisfy him. But according to this Searcher, who has gone through it all, nothing will work.

When he says, "Vanity of vanities, emptiness of emptiness," that is the Hebrew way of declaring the superlative. There is nothing more empty, more futile, this man concludes, than life.

In verse 3 he asks the question that he constantly asked throughout his search: "What advantage does man have in all his work which he does under the sun?" How does it profit him? After we have sucked dry all the immediate delight, joy, or pleasure of something, what is left over, what endures, what will remain to continually feed the hunger of our lives for satisfaction? That is the right question to ask. It is a question we all are asking. Is there anything that will minister continually to my need--that summum bonum, that highest good which, if I find it, I do not need to look any further? Is there a key to continual pleasure, to delight and joy in life?

The Searcher raises this pertinent question right at the beginning. It defines the search on which this book will take us. Verses 4 through 7 describe the sense of futility that nature gives us as we live, and verses 8 through 11 speak of the frustrations that everyone feels in facing life.

Generations come and generations go, but the earth remains forever.

The sun rises and the sun sets, and hurries back to where it rises.

The wind blows to the south, and turns to the north; round and round it goes, ever returning on its course. All streams flow into the sea, yet the sea is never full. To the place the streams come from, there they return again (1:4-7).

Here are the endless cycles of life. The Searcher states his theme in verse 4: humanity is transient, but nature is permanent. A generation goes and a generation comes--human beings come into life, live their term, and go on--but the earth remains forever. He gives three examples of this natural phenomenon, the first of which is the circle of the sun. The sun rises in the east, apparently runs across the heavens, and sets in the west; then it scurries around the other side of the earth while we are sleeping, and there it is in the east again in the morning. That has been going on as long as time has been measured. It is endless. It repeats itself again and again. Then he speaks of the circuit of the winds from south to north. This is unusual, because we have no evidence that men in Solomon's day understood that the wind, the great jet-streams of earth, run in circles. We see evidence of these great jet-streams every day in the satellite pictures on any TV weather report. Solomon knew it, though the scientific world of that day did not seem to understand it.

His third proof is the evaporative cycle. Thirteen elders and pastors from our church once spent a few days on a backpack trip to the Sierras. There the mountain peaks milked moisture from the clouds that passed over the dry California coastal plain. Torrents of rain, hail, and even snow fell upon our staff, forcing them to huddle in their little plastic tents. Their question was, "Where does all the water which endlessly drops out of the sky come from?" The answer, of course, is that it comes from the ocean. To the west of California an invisible evaporative process is at work so that the water that runs into the sea never raises the level of the sea. The water is invisibly lifted back up into the clouds. The clouds then move east on the circuit of the winds and drop their moisture again. It goes on forever.

The writer suggests here that there is something wrong in all this. It is backwards, somehow. Man should be permanent and nature should be transient, he suggests. And there is something within each of us that says the same thing. We feel violated when we learn great lessons from life, but just as we have begun to handle life properly it is over, and the next generation has to start from scratch again.

Scripture confirms this racial uneasiness. The Bible tells us that man was created to be the crown of creation. He is the one who is to be in dominion over all things. Men and women should last forever and nature should be changing--but it is the other way around. We protest this in our spirits. We have all felt it. We resent, inwardly at least, the injustice of losing the wisdom of a Churchill, the beauty of a Princess Grace, or the charm of a John Kennedy. Something is wrong that such value is suddenly taken away from us, while the meaningless cycle of nature goes on and on. Why should this be? It is the question the Searcher continually faced. Furthermore, the Searcher says, everyone's actual experience confirms this sense of futility.

All things are wearisome [wearisome is a Hebrew word that should be translated "restless"], more than one can say [describe]. The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearing.

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the suit.

Is there anything of which one can say, "Look? This is something new"? It was here already, long ago; it was here before our time.

There is no remembrance of men of old, and even those who are yet to come will not be remembered by those who follow. (1:8-11)

His thesis is, "All things are restless." He has observed an inherent restlessness in everything. It is so widespread that nobody can describe it. It permeates all of life, and is found so universally that we are scarcely able to recognize it as an intruder, as an alien to normal human experience. He has two proofs of this. First, human desire is never satisfied: "The eye never has enough of seeing." My mother-in-law is ninety-five years old. She is just a shell of a person now, but her mind is still sharp and clear. The other day we had her in our home and somebody mentioned a far-off place. Immediately she said, "Oh, I wish I could see that." Despite her years, the eye is not tired of seeing; it longs yet to see other places, other realms, other customs. The eye is never satisfied.

Nor is the ear ever satisfied with hearing. We are always alert to some new idea or event. News programs are always popular. Television, radio, and newspapers all cater to this hunger of the ear to hear something new. Juicy gossip about a Hollywood star will sell thousands of magazines and newspapers. That is why we tune in to soap operas. We never tire of hearing something new. Some new way of making a profit always appeals to us. The Searcher's argument is that the ear never tires because human desire is never satisfied--it is a consequence of the restlessness that is built into life.

But, second, he says, even though we long to see or hear something new, nothing new ever really shows up. Life is a rehash of what has been before; it is the old played over and over again. That is his argument. This too is a result of the restlessness built into life. Although something looks new, actually "there is nothing new under the sun."

Someone immediately objects and says, "Wait a minute! They didn't have radio, television, space travel, or any such thing until just a few decades ago. Why even you, Ray Stedman, should be able to remember back to the days before they had any of those things!"

When a friend and I were in Hong Kong recently, resting a couple of days after an exhausting travel and speaking schedule, we stayed at the wonderful old British Peninsula Hotel on the Kowloon side of Hong Kong. Right across the street from us was a newly built planetarium, and we went there to see "The Search for Other Civilizations." I'm always eager to sit in those domed rooms. The lights go down, the stars begin to appear above like the stars on a summer's night, and you suddenly feel a sense of eternity; you sense the greatness and magnificence of the universe.

The show began by showing the great statues on Easter Island, in the Pacific Ocean, raising these questions: Where did these great statues come from? These monoliths are huge, twenty feet or more in height, made of great stones that weigh hundreds of tons. Who erected them? Where did they come from and how did they get there? Then the show took us into areas of South America where huge geometric patterns have been worked out over acres of ground. These designs have obviously been made by man, or some intelligent creature, yet they cannot even be seen unless they are viewed from the sky. This raises the question, Why would any people create on the ground designs so huge that they cannot be seen except from the air? Many have surmised that past civilizations did have ways of rising above the earth. Others suggest that visitors from space used these patterns. Similar mysteries, such as Stonehenge in England, are propounded and compounded as one explores the earth. That planetarium show was a confirmation of what the Searcher of Ecclesiastes declares: "What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again." Other ages will repeat it. "There is nothing new under the sun."

Then why do things seem to be new? His answer is in verse 11: Man's memory is faulty; we have forgotten things that once were. The planetarium show confirmed that. One excerpt showed the modern Mayan Indians of Central America, the actual blood descendants of a race of intellectual giants who once lived in the area. The ancient Mayans erected temples filled with mysteries that the present generation of Mayans has long forgotten. They cannot explain them; they do not understand them. They have lost the knowledge of the past. This is what the writer declares. Our memories are so short that we lose what we know-and, he suggests, it may happen again. All these technological marvels that we are so proud of may one day disappear in a great nuclear holocaust. Viewing the remains of our television sets, future generations may well ask, "What is this jungle of wires for? What did they do with this thing?" That is the situation. "There is nothing new under the sun." So the question is raised: Is this all life is about? Is it merely an empty pursuit after things that never satisfy? Can no breakthrough be made whereby something can be found that will reliably meet the hunger of man's heart, and give an unending sense of delight, satisfaction, and joy? That is the search we are on. Before the Searcher takes us into the details of this search--which begins in chapter 2--he assures us of his qualifications, in verses 12 through 18. These fall into two divisions: his position, and his diligence.

I, the Preacher, have been king over Israel in Jerusalem. And I set my mind to seek and explore by wisdom concerning all that has been done under heaven. It is a grievous task which God has given to the sons of men to be afflicted with. I have seen all the works which have been done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and striving after wind. What i5 crooked cannot be straightened, and what is lacking cannot be counted (1:12-15, NASB).

This man's position gave him unusual opportunity. He was a king, the highest authority in the land. No one would challenge what he did. And he was a king in a time of peace. For forty years during the reign of Solomon no armies battered at the walls of Jerusalem, as they had been doing all through its history and are still threatening to do today. His father had amassed great wealth of which Solomon was the heir, and he himself had increased this wealth. For forty years of the nation's life there was no demand for great military spending. It was a time of peace and great wealth. Furthermore, during this time the Gentile nations were sending delegates to Jerusalem. The queen of Sheba came all the way from the ends of the earth, she said, to see and hear the wisdom of this man. Solomon had great opportunity to observe life thoroughly.

Furthermore, he was able to investigate widely. "I set my mind to seek and to explore by wisdom concerning all that has been done under heaven," he says. He could get into everything. But with all candor, he has to state, "It is a grievous task which God has given to the sons of men to be afflicted with." That translation misses something of what he meant. In the Hebrew it is not "the sons of men," rather, it is "the sons of man." The word is Adam, "the sons of Adam." So the reference is not to the conglomerate of humanity it is to the nature of man.

I think he is making reference here to the fall of man. He is recognizing the fact that it is difficult for men to discover answers because there is something wrong inside of man. It is a tricky business for a man, who senses an overwhelming curiosity to discover the secrets of life around him, yet he finds himself baffled all the time by an inadequate understanding. Man cannot put it all together.

Furthermore, the Searcher was able to investigate even the opposite of things. "I have seen everything," he says. Yet there were certain limitations inherent in that. That is what he states in a proverb, "What is crooked cannot be straightened, and what is lacking cannot be counted." It is difficult for man to discover the answers to life, because when he sees something wrong there is yet somehow an inherent difficulty that prevents him from correcting it. Have you ever felt, as I have, that when things go wrong in your family, although you long to put them right, somehow you cannot get hold of it, you cannot make it right? "What is crooked cannot be straightened." One of the great frustrations of life is that no matter how hard you try, there are some things you cannot set straight. Also, no matter how much you may discover, there is information you long to have that you cannot obtain. "What is lacking cannot be counted." That was this man's problem, and it is ours as well. Then he speaks of his diligence:

I said to myself, "I have acquired great wisdom, surpassing all who were over Jerusalem before me; and my mind has had great experience of wisdom and knowledge." And I applied my mind to know wisdom and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also is but a chasing after wind. For in much wisdom is much vexation, and those who increase knowledge increase sorrow (1:16-18, NRSV).

For students in school, that last statement is a great verse to memorize! "Those who increase knowledge increase sorrow." That is true--sad, but true. It is no argument for not increasing knowledge, though, because the alternative is even worse; ignorance is foolishness.

Isn't it remarkable that the Man who for all ages has been the personification of wisdom is also the one who is called "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief"? (Isaiah 53:3, NASB). Yet this Searcher kept on, despite the increasing frustration that the more he knew the more he knew he did not know. At the close of his life, Isaac Newton said, "I have but been paddling in the shallows of a great ocean of knowledge." He too felt the frustration of not being able to encompass more.

This last verse gives us a clue to the time when this book was written. It must have been in the latter years of the reign of Solomon, after he had enjoyed ample opportunity to investigate all the areas of life (and had done so). Following that period which the book of 1 Kings describes--he fell into spiritual decline, led away by the idolatry of his foreign-born wives. This enlightened son of David, with all his knowledge of the law of Moses and all the insight of the Word of God, actually ended up bowing down to lifeless idols in the heathen temples that he built for his wives in Jerusalem! But there was, apparently, a time of recovery.

One of the Targums of the Jews has an interesting word here:

When King Solomon was sitting upon the throne of his kingdom, his heart became greatly elated with riches, and he transgressed the commandment of the Word of God: and he gathered many houses, and chariots, and riders, and he amassed much gold and silver, and he married wives from foreign nations. Whereupon the anger of the Lord was kindled against him, and he sent to him Ashmodai, the king of the demons, and he drove him from the throne of his kingdom, and took away the ring from his hand, in order that he should roam and wander about in the world, to reprove it; and he went about the provincial towns and cities in the land of Israel, weeping and lamenting, and saying, "I am Qoheleth, whose name was formerly called Solomon, who was king over Israel in Jerusalem."

There is no reference to this period in Scripture, so this account may not be trustworthy. But perhaps it is true! There is suggestion in Scripture that there came a time when King Solomon saw the folly of what he was doing, and repented. This book is his considered proclamation from a chastened mind of what he had learned from life. This is not an angry young man speaking. These are the words of a man who has been through it all and is telling us what he found in his search.

Did he find an answer? Did he find that key to life that makes everything yield up its treasure of joy? Yes, he did, and he tells us the answer in this book. But his answer is not what he began with here. What he found "under the sun" was emptiness--but he went on to find something more than that. That is what this book declares.

Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve,

everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind;

nothing was gained under the sun. --Ecclesiastes 2:11

2. Life in the Fast Lane

Whether we know it or not, all of us are engaged in a quest for something that will meet the need of our heart. We all are looking for the secret to finding delight anytime, anywhere, and under any circumstances. What we are looking for, in other words, is the secret of contentment. That is the great blessing of life.

That too is what King Solomon was looking for, and in Ecclesiastes he describes his search. We learned from him that there is nothing in and of itself that can make us content. No thing, no possession, no relationship will continually yield up the fruit of contentment and delight.

In chapter 2 we are introduced to the details of this search. Here we have an examination of the various ways by which men through the ages have sought to find contentment and delight in life. The first way, and the one most popular today, is what philosophers call hedonism, the pursuit of pleasure. We all instinctively feel that if we can just have fun we will find happiness. That is what the Searcher examines first. He starts with what we could well call fun and games.

I thought in my heart, "Come now, I will test you with pleasure to find out what is good." But that also proved to be meaningless. "Laughter," I said, "is foolish. And what does pleasure accomplish?" 1 tried cheering myself with wine, and embracing folly--my mind still guiding me with wisdom. I wanted to see what was worthwhile for men to do under heaven during the few days of their lives (2:1-3).

Have you ever asked yourself, "What can I do that will make me happy all my life?" That was Solomon's question.

What a time they must have had! Solomon, with all his riches, gave himself completely over to the pursuit of pleasure. He must have spent weeks and months, even years, in this experience.

The first thing he said to himself was, "Enjoy yourself," so he went in for mirth, laughter, and pleasure. Let your mind fill in the gaps. Imagine how the palace must have rocked with laughter. Every night there were stand-up comics, and lavish feasts, with wine flowing like water. You may be interested to know what just one day's menu included during this time. This is what King Solomon required to feed his retinue in the royal palace for one day:

Solomon's daily provisions were thirty cars of fine flour (a cor is about ten bushels) and sixty cors of meal (grain of various sorts), ten head of stall-fed cattle, twenty head of pasture-fed cattle (prime Grade-A meat) and a hundred sheep and goats, as well as deer, gazelles, roebucks and choice fowl (chickens, ducks, and all kinds of birds) (1 Kings 4:22-23).

That was the menu for one day! It has been estimated that it would feed between ten and twenty thousand people, so there were many others besides the king involved in this search for pleasure.

Now he tells us what he found. Laughter, he said to himself, is madness. Perhaps each of us has experienced this to some degree. Have you ever spent an afternoon with a group of your friends, giving yourself to laughing, having fun, and telling stories about all kinds of experiences? Most of the stories were based on exaggeration; they were all embellished a little and did not have much basis in reality. It is the same with laughter.

Laughter deals with the peripheries of life. There is no solid content to it. "Like the crackling of thorns under the pot, so is the laughter of fools" (Ecclesiastes 7:6). It is only a crackling noise, that is all. It leaves one with a sense of unfulfillment. I have had afternoons and evenings like that, which at the time were delightful. We laughed many times as we rehashed experiences and told jokes. But when all was said and done, we went to bed feeling rather empty and unfulfilled. That was Solomon's experience. He is not saying that laughter is wrong--and the Bible does not say that either. It says that laughter is empty; it does not fulfill or satisfy. There is nothing "left over," no residue that endures.

And what does Solomon say about pleasure? "What use is it?" What does it contribute to life? His answer: "Nothing." Pleasure consumes resources, it does not build them up. Most of us cannot afford a night out more than once or twice a year because it costs so much. Going out uses up resources that hard work has put together. Pleasure, Solomon concludes, adds nothing.

Wine, he adds, is of no help either. It only seems to be so. Every social gathering today almost invariably includes the dispensing of liquor first. The first thing the flight attendant says after your plane is airborne is, "Would you like a cocktail?"

There is a widespread conviction in the world that you cannot get strangers to talk to each other until you loosen them up with liquor. And it seems to work. After wine or cocktails are served, people begin to chat a bit and the tenseness and quietness is lessened. But not much of any significance is ever said, either on planes or in social gatherings. There is little communication--usually it is surface conversation. Wine, Solomon says, does not really help. "I looked into it," he says, "and I found that it too was vanity; it left people with a feeling of futility and emptiness."

So he moves to another form of pleasure.

I undertook great projects: I built houses for myself and planted vineyards. I made gardens and parks and planted all kinds of fruit trees in them. I made reservoirs to water groves of flourishing trees (Ecclesiastes 2:4-6).

Here is another form of pleasure--projects, parks, pools. Many today attempt to find satisfaction in this way. There is pleasure in designing and building a house. In San Jose, California, visitors can tour the Winchester Mystery House, built by a woman who could not stop building. The house is a maze of rooms, doors that open to blank walls, staircases that go nowhere.. . anything, just to keep on building.

Some wealthy people become known as philanthropists because they endow beautiful public buildings, but they always manage to get their names engraved on a brass plaque somewhere in the building. All they are really doing is indulging themselves! It was said of the Emperor Nero that he found Rome a city of bricks and left it a city of marble. However, history tells us that his beautification project was not for the benefit of Rome, but for his own gratification and fame.

Solomon too gave himself to this. His own house took fourteen years to build, the temple took seven. He built houses for his many wives whom he brought to Jerusalem, spending on them time, money, and interest. Southwest of Jerusalem, in a place seldom visited by tourists, there exist today vast depressions in the earth which are still called the Pools of Solomon, which he used to water the groves of trees he planted in an effort to find satisfaction for his own heart.

Solomon continues to summarize the things which today we could only call "the good life."

I bought male and female slaves and had other slaves who were born in my house. I also owned more herds and flocks than anyone in Jerusalem before me. I amassed silver and gold for myself, and the treasure of kings and provinces. I acquired men and women singers, and a harem as well--the delights of the heart of man (2:7-8).

How modern that sounds! He had servants to wait on every whim. The rich always want somebody else to do all the hard work for them. In this case they were slaves who could not even go on strike if they did not like their circumstances. Solomon had ranches to provide diversion and to make a profit through herds and flocks. Many wealthy people today invest their money in cattle and horse ranches. Bank accounts also give a sense of security. Solomon says he gathered "silver and gold and the treasure of kings and provinces," and brought it all to Jerusalem. He had all the money he needed for his many projects.

Then he had musicians brought in, men and women singers and bands. There were sounds that rivaled the best we have today. Doubtless the "Jerusalem Pops Orchestra" played concerts under the stars. This is all very up-to-date. We think we have invented this style of living, but here it is in the ancient book of Solomon. Finally, they had Playmates, girls with bunny tails running around the palace. "Concubines," Solomon calls them, "the delights of the heart of man." All the joys of untrammeled sexuality were available at all times. The Playboy mentality is not a twentieth-century invention--King Solomon tried all of this. What did he find? Here are his honest conclusions:

I became greater by far than anyone in Jerusalem before me. In all this my wisdom stayed with me.

I denied myself nothing my eyes desired; I refused my heart no pleasure. My heart took delight in all my work, and this was the reward for all my labor. Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind; nothing was gained under the sun (2:9-11).

That is very honest reporting. Solomon says he achieved some positive things. First, he gained a degree of notoriety. He became great, surpassing all who went before him in Jerusalem. Many think that fame will satisfy the emptiness of the heart, and Solomon found fame. He adds, though, that he kept his objectivity. "My wisdom stayed with me," he says. In other words, "I was able to assess the value of things as I went along. I did not lose myself in this wild search for pleasure. I was able to look at myself and evaluate as I went along. But I tried everything. I did not miss or set aside anything."

He belonged to the jet-set of that day. "I enjoyed it for awhile," he says. "My heart took delight in all my work," but that was all the reward he got for his labor--momentary enjoyment. Each time he repeated it he enjoyed it a little less. "My conclusion," Solomon suggests, "is that it was not worth it." Like a candle, it all burned away, leaving him jaded and disappointed. Nothing could excite him after that. He concludes that it was all "meaningless, a chasing after the wind." He was burned out!

Verses 12 through 23 form a lengthy passage in which the Searcher compares two possible ways of pursuing pleasure. Someone might well come along at this point and say to Solomon, "The reason you ended up so burned out is that you went at this the wrong way. You planned your pleasures, you deliberately gave yourself to careful scheduling of what you wanted to try next. But that is not the way to do it. To really enjoy pleasure, to really live it up, you've got to abandon yourself. Go in for wild, impulsive, devil-may-care pleasure. Do what you feel like doing." Surely this was when the modern motto, "If it feels good, do it" was first advanced.

"All right," Solomon says, "I examined that too."

Then I turned my thoughts to consider wisdom, and also madness and folly. What more can the king's successor do than what has already been done? (2:12).

By that he means that no one can challenge or contest his judgment in this area because no one could exceed his resources; those who follow him can only repeat what he has done. But after trying it all, here are his conclusions. First:

I saw that wisdom is better than folly, just as light is better than darkness (2:13).

It is much better to go at it with your eyes open, he says. If you are going to pursue pleasure, at least do not throw yourself into it like a wild man. If you do so you will bum yourself out at the very beginning. You will get involved in things that you cannot imagine. It is like the difference between light and darkness. If there is any advantage to walking in the light versus stumbling about in darkness, that is the difference between a wise and careful planning of pleasure and a foolish abandonment to it. And why should that be?

The wise man has eyes in his head, while the fool walks in the darkness ... (2:14).

In other words, the wise man can foresee some of the results of what he is doing, and he may perhaps avoid them so that the full impact of living for pleasure does not devastate him as quickly nor as completely as it does the fool. Many have discovered this for themselves. The newspapers every day tell of young people who gave themselves to the wild pursuit of pleasure, and who were soon in jail or burned out with drugs. Solomon says it is better to pursue pleasure according to the way of the wise. But either way, he says, neither one can avoid death. Here is a very insightful statement at the close of verse 14:

I came to realize that the same fate overtakes them both.

Then I thought in my heart, "The fate of the fool will overtake me also. What then do I gain by being wise?" I said in my heart, "This too is meaningless."

For the wise man, like the fool, will not be long remembered; in days to come both will be forgotten. Like the fool, the wise man too must die! (2:14-16).

It really does not make a lot of difference; in the end they both come to the same fate.

I have often quoted the eloquent words of Lord Bertrand Russell. He was widely regarded as a wise man, although a thoroughgoing atheist and a defender of secular humanism. This was his view of death:

One by one as they march, our comrades vanish from our sight, seized by the silent orders of omnipotent death. Brief and powerless is man's life. On him and all his race the slow, sure doom falls, pitiless and dark. Blind to good and evil, reckless of destruction, omnipotent matter rolls on its relentless way. For man, condemned today to lose his dearest, tomorrow himself to pass through the gate of darkness, it remains only to cherish, ere yet the blow falls, the lofty thoughts that ennoble his little days.

Those words express the truth that the Searcher brings out here. Solomon says that no matter how carefully you pursue life and pleasure it will end in the darkness and dust of death. The fool and the wise man are both forgotten. How many wise men and women have you known whom no one remembers now? These words are terribly true.

Then he comes to his final, remarkable reaction.

So I hated life, because the work that is done under the sun was grievous to me. All of it is meaningless, a chasing after the wind. I hated all the things I had toiled for under the sun, because I must leave them to the one who comes after me. And who knows whether he will be a wise man or a fool? Yet he will have control over all the work into which I have poured my effort and skill under the sun. This too is meaningless. So my heart began to despair over all my toilsome labor under the sun. For a man may do his work with wisdom, knowledge and skill, and then he must leave all he owns to someone who has not worked for it. This too is meaningless and a great misfortune (2:17-21).

Notice the increasing depression here. First, there is a sense of being grieved, of being hurt by life. "I hated life, because the work that is done under the sun was grievous to me," the Searcher says. He became increasingly disgruntled when he saw a diminishing return in pleasure for all the effort he made to enjoy life. Have you ever seen people determined to have fun even it if kills them? They try their best to extract from the moment all the joy they can, but they get very little for their efforts. This, Solomon says, was a grief to him.

Second, he was frustrated. He asks, "Why do I have to work to put all this together, using all my wisdom and efforts, and eventually have to leave it to some fool coming behind me who will waste it in a few months?" He is irritated by the unfairness of this.

Finally, he sinks into despair. "My heart began to despair," he says, because he is helpless to change this law of diminishing returns. This is doubtless an explanation for many of the sudden, unexpected suicides of popular idols, of men and women who apparently had seized the keys to life with riches and fame, and whom the media constantly adored as objects worthy of imitation. But every now and then, finding nothing but frustration and despair as life is used up too quickly and there is no joy left in it, one of these beautiful people takes a gun and blows his brains out.

Think of people like Jack London and Ernest Hemingway. Hemingway's brother also committed suicide, as their father had done some years earlier. Think of Freddy Prinz, and of Elvis Presley, whose destructive, drug-abusing lifestyle killed him. These words which Solomon has faithfully recorded are true; they correspond to life. Emptiness and vexation were Solomon's experience when he tried to live it up without the missing element that his search was focused upon.

So he concludes with this eternal question:

What does a man get for all the toil and anxious striving with which he labors under the sun? All his days his work is pain and grief; even at night his mind does not rest. [Insomnia at night, restlessness in his heart; this is what he got under the sun.] This too is meaningless (2:22-23).

Is there no answer? Is it all hopeless? In the three verses that follow we have the first statement of the true message of this book. Is it but a matter of time before we too are jaded, burned out by excess, life having lost all value, meaning, and color? No, says the Searcher. Put a relationship with God into that picture and everything changes. The text says:

A man can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in his work (2:24).

Unfortunately here is another instance where we have lost the true meaning of the verse by bad translation. In the next chapter there is a similar passage that properly includes the words, "there is nothing better for men than (3:12); that is not what it says here. Delete from verse 24 the words, "better than," because they are not in the Hebrew and they do not belong here. What this text actually says is:

A man can do nothing to eat and drink and find satisfaction in his work.

"A man can do nothing"--there is no inherent value in him that makes it possible for him to extract true enjoyment from the things he does, That is the first thing Solomon says.

What does, then? He tells us:

This too, I see, is from the hand of God, for without Him, who can eat or find enjoyment? (2:24-25).

Here is the true message of this book. Enjoyment is a gift of God. There is nothing in possessions, in material goods, in money, there is nothing in man himself that can enable him to keep enjoying the things he does. But it is possible to have enjoyment all your life if you take it from the hand of God. It is given to those who please God.

To the man who pleases Him, God gives wisdom, knowledge and happiness... (2:26).

Wisdom and knowledge have been mentioned before as things you can find "under the sun," but they will not continue. To have added to them the ingredient of pleasure, of continual delight going on and on unceasingly throughout the whole of life, you must take only from the hand of God. To the man who pleases God is given the gift of joy.

It is wonderful to realize that this book--and the whole of the Bible--teaches us that God wants us to have joy. In his letter to Timothy, Paul said, God "richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment" (1 Timothy 6:17). It is God's desire and intent that all the good things of life mentioned here should contribute to the enjoyment of man; but only, says this Searcher, if you understand that such enjoyment does not come from things or from people. It is an added gift of God, and only those who please God can find it.

How do you please God? In Hebrews we are told, "Without faith it is impossible to please God" (Hebrews 11:6). It is faith that pleases Him, belief that He is there and that all in life comes from His hand. Underscore in your mind the word all. Pain, sorrow, bereavement, disappointment, as well as gladness, happiness, and joy, all these things are gifts of God. When we see life in those terms then every element of life can have its measure of joy--even sorrow, pain, and grief. These things were also given to us to enjoy. That is the message of this book. The writer will develop this further in passages that follow.

You will recognize this is also the message of Romans 8:28: "We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose." It is also the message of Proverbs 3:5-6: "Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight."

The fourth thing which Solomon says here is that all others labor for the benefit of those who please God.

...to the sinner He gives the task of gathering and storing up wealth to hand it over to the one who pleases God (2:26).

That explains a remarkable thing that I have observed many times. Privileged as I am to speak in various conference centers around the country, I have often observed that many of these Christian gatherings are held in the expensive homes of millionaires who were not Christians. I am thinking, for instance, of Glen Eyrie, the headquarters of the Navigators, outside Colorado Springs. There in a beautiful natural glade, General William Palmer, founder of Colorado Springs and of the Denver and Rio Grande Western Railroad, built an English-style stone castle for his British bride. She never lived in it more than a few weeks, and he himself never enjoyed that property at all. It sat empty for years. Finally, it was sold several times and now it belongs to the Navigators, who are using it as a Christian conference ground and world headquarters for their training movement.

Twice I have been invited to be conference speaker at a beautiful site on a bluff overlooking the Columbia River in Oregon, an estate called Menucha. This wonderful home, covering almost an acre of ground, was built by a wealthy businessman who had little interest in spiritual things. He entertained presidents at that home, but now it belongs to the Alliance Churches of Oregon.

You can duplicate this kind of story many, many times. It is remarkable that God so planned life that these multimillionaires in their pursuit of pleasure spent lavishly on their homes so that their estates might at last be given into the hands of those who please God! But these lavish spenders will not get anything for all their efforts. This also is vanity and a striving after wind. There is a deep irony about this.

Isn't it strange that the more you run after life, panting after every pleasure, the less you will find, but the more you take life as a gift from God's hand, responding in thankful gratitude for the delight of the moment, the more life seems to come to you? Even the trials, the heartaches, and handicaps that others seek to avoid are touched with the blessing of heaven and minister to the heart of the one who has learned to take them from the hand of God.

Fanny Crosby is one of the most popular hymn writers of all time. Blind almost from birth, she lived to be ninety years old. When she was only eight years old she wrote this poem:

Oh, what a happy child I am

Although I cannot see.

I am resolved that in this world

Contented I will be.

How many blessings I enjoy

That other people don't.

To weep and sigh because I'm blind,

I cannot and I won't.

That is the philosophy that pleases God, and that is what the Searcher is talking about here.

All the objections that can be raised against this are going to be examined and tested in the pages that follow. When we finish the book we will find that the Searcher has established without a doubt that joy is a gift of God, and it comes to those who take life daily, whatever it may bring, from the hand of a loving Father.

To the man who pleases Him,

God gives wisdom, knowledge and happiness. --Ecclesiastes 2:26

3. That Wonderful Plan for Your Life

What an amazing variety of things are offered to us every day to help us find the secret of successful living!

Magazine articles by the thousands tell us how to cope with various problems. TV commercials--dozens to a program it seems--bombard us, telling us how to be successful in life, or at least how to look successful even if we really aren't. Health clubs offer saunas and whirlpool baths to relax us so we can face life with calm assurance. Scores of drugs are available to turn us on, turn us off, or take us out.

All this confirms the universal search for the secret of enjoyment. We spend billions of dollars each day on this quest. It is the same quest that the book of Ecclesiastes tells us about. The greatest experiment ever designed to test approaches to success, enjoyment, and contentment in life is recorded in this 3,000-year-old book.

We have now come to the third chapter, which describes "opposites" in our experience. There is "a time to weep and a time to laugh," Solomon tells us (verse 4). Throughout this chapter the idea is developed that there is an appropriate time for all of life's experiences.

Have you ever laughed at the wrong time? I have. I was at a funeral once, and the leader asked all present to stand up on their feet. One of my friends whispered to me, "What else could you stand on?" I broke up, and it was very obviously the wrong time to do so. One of our pastors won a kind of immortality for himself at a theological seminary when, on the day of graduation--that most solemn occasion in educational life--he walked down the aisle dressed in his somber graduation robe, holding a coffee cup in his hand. He is remembered in the annals of the seminary as a man who did not practice the appropriate action at the proper time.

But there is an appropriate time for everything, for the unpleasant as well as the pleasant. That is the argument of Ecclesiastes 3. This is not merely a description of what happens in life; it is a description of what God has deliberately planned for us.

Many of us are familiar with the Four Spiritual Laws, the first of which is, "God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life." When talking with someone about his relationship with God, that is an appropriate place to begin. That is also the plan that is set forth here. All along, Solomon is saying that God longs to bring joy into our lives. Many people think Ecclesiastes is a book of gloom and pessimism because at the level of the writer's perspective--which, he says, is "under the sun," appraised through the visible things of life-his findings are gloomy and pessimistic. But that is not the real message of the book. God intends us to have joy, and His program to bring it about includes all these opposites, both pleasant and painful. If you look carefully you will see that these eight opening verses gather around three major divisions that correspond to the divisions of our humanity: body, soul, and spirit. The first four pairs deal with the body:

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:

a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build (3:1-3).

Notice how truly those apply to physical life. None of us asked to be born; it was something done to us, apart from our will. None of us asks to die; it is something done to us by God. So we should view this list of opposites as a list of what God thinks we should have. It begins by pairing birth and death as the boundaries of life "under the sun."

The next pair speaks of the food supply. "A time to plant and a time to uproot." Everything must come in its appropriate time. If you get it out of sync you are in trouble. Try to plant a crop in the middle of winter when snow is on the ground and it will not grow. Half of the problem of life is that we are constantly trying to run this schedule ourselves, But God has already planned the schedule. There is an appropriate time for everything.

There is "a time to kill and a time to heal." That may sound strange to us, but the process of dying goes right along with the process of living. Doctors tell us that every seven years all the cells in our bodies--except the brain cells--die. But our bodies do not die. What you are now is not what you were seven years ago, yet you are somehow the same. Man's physical body is one of the miracles of the universe. According to Psalm 139:14, we are "fearfully and wonderfully made."

How can we understand that each cell seems to pass on to its replacement cell the memory of the past so that the memory goes back beyond the life of the cell itself? There is "a time to kill and a time to heal." God brings both to pass.

There is "a time to tear down and a time to build." Youth is the time for building up. Muscles grow, abilities increase, coordination gets better. Then if you hang on long enough and reach that sixty-fifth milestone, there is a time when everything starts to fall apart--"a time to break down." Type gets smaller and smaller, steps get higher and higher, trains go faster and faster, people speak in lower and lower tones--"a time to break down." But that is appropriate. We should not resent it. It is not evil; it is right. God has determined this, and no matter what we may think about it, it is going to continue. That is what this tells us.

Then the Searcher moves into the realm of the soul, with its functions of thinking, feeling, and choosing. He moves into the social areas, and all the interrelationships of life that flow from that. "A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance" (3:4). All these things follow closely, and all are appropriate. No one is going to escape the hurts and sorrows of life, because God chose them for us. The proof of that is in the coming of God's own Son. He was not handed a beautiful life, everything pleasant and delightful, free from struggle and pain. No. He was "a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering" (Isaiah 53:3). In a fallen world it is right that there will be times of hurt, of sorrow and weeping.

But there will be other times when it is right to laugh, to be happy and carefree. There is a time of grief and tears--"a time to mourn"--but there is another time to celebrate and to enjoy festive occasions. Jesus celebrated a wedding at Cana of Galilee. He entered into it and even provided part of the feast.

Then there is "a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them" (3:5). There is a time to break things down, and a time to build them up again. This has to do particularly with our social structures, with our relationships to others. There is a time when we need to embrace others, to show our support for them. But there are other times when we should refuse to embrace them, when our support would be misunderstood and would be tantamount to complicity with evil. All those occasions come from the hand of God.

The last six of these opposites relate to the spirit, to the inner decisions, the deep commitments. There is "a time to search [work, marriage, new friends] and a time to give up" (3:6). There comes a time when we should curtail certain friendships, or change our jobs, or move away, and lose what we had in the past. It is proper and appropriate that these times should come.

There is "a time to keep and a time to throw away" (3:6). There are values and standards that must never be surrendered, while there are other limes when we need to throw away things--clean out the attic, the garage, throw away the old clothes.

This can be true of habits and attitudes. Resentments need to be thrown away. Grudges and long-standing hurts need to be forgiven and forgotten.

There is "a time to be silent and a time to speak" (3:7). There are times when we know something, a piece of gossip perhaps, and we should not say it. We should keep silent. There are other times when we should speak, when something we are keeping secret would deliver someone or bring truth into a situation; there is a time to speak up.

There is "a time to love and a time to hate" (3:8). When is it time to hate? Think of young Abraham Lincoln the first time he saw human beings sold on the slave blocks in New Orleans. He felt hatred rising in his heart. He resolved that if he ever got a chance to smash slavery he would do so. Lincoln's hatred of slavery was perfectly appropriate. There is "a time to love," when it is right that we should extend our love to somebody who is hurting, someone who is feeling dejected or rejected, lonely or weak.

There is "a time for war and a time for peace" (3:8). We should remember this as we consider some of the issues before us. When tyranny rides roughshod over the rights of men there is a time when a nation properly makes war. But there is a time when war is absolutely the wrong thing, when no provocation should be allowed to start one, because war can explode into violence far beyond anything demanded by the situation. How much is permitted in that regard is widely debated today.

I point out that all of this is God's wonderful plan for your life. The problem, of course, is that it is not our plan for our life. If we were given the right to choose, we would have no unpleasantness at all in life, But that would ruin us. God knows that people who are protected from everything invariably end up impossible to live with; they are selfish, cruel, vicious, shallow, unprincipled. God sends these things in order that we might learn. There is a time for everything, the Searcher says.

But more than that... if God has a time for everything, He also has certain unchanging principles which we must take into account in everything, as this next passage declares.

What does the worker gain from his toil? (3:9).

What is "left over" to provide a permanent sense of satisfaction after we extract the momentary pleasure from some pleasurable experience? That is the question which underlies all of the Searcher's examinations. He has already asked it three times in this book. The answer follows:

I have seen the burden God has laid on men (3:10).

Life itself reveals the secret. The principles behind things can be found by careful, thoughtful examination, something Solomon has been making all along.

Now he gives that answer. He found three things. First:

He has made everything beautiful in its time (3:11).

We have already looked at that. Everything is appropriate and helpful to us, even what appears to be negative. These are not curses and obstacles; they are God's blessings, deliberately provided by Him.

Even our enemies are a blessing. I received a letter from a businessman friend of mine in Dallas, a very thoughtful man. He gave me his thinking along this line, saying that there were five types of people whom he had learned from in life: "heroes, models, mentors, peers, and friends." He continued:

I have added another: Enemies. They have a very important place in our lives. Enemies are the opposite bank of our existence. We define our position partly by theirs, as light is the opposite of darkness, of course. They plumb the depth of our Christian maturity, exposing our self-centeredness, self-righteousness, and arrogance. They attack and expose our motives, for seldom do we form an enemy out of a mere mistake of fact or even opinion. Enemies are personal, not positional.

Therefore, as a personal matter we are commanded to love them. This command is like a spiritual thermometer stuck into the depths of our feverish little souls, It is interesting that the Jewish historian and sociologist Hart puts this command as the greatest difference between Christianity and all other world religions.

"Love your enemies," Jesus said, partly because they are valuable to you. They do something for you that you desperately need. Our problem is that we have such a shallow concept of things. We want everything to be smooth and pleasant. More than that, we want to be in charge, we want to limit the term of hurt or pain. But God will not allow us to take His place and be in charge. There is a rhythm to life that even secular writers recognize. The book Passages speaks of the various experiences we pass through as we grow and mature.

The second thing the Searcher learned in his search is:

He has also set eternity in the hearts of men [or literally, "men's hearts"] (3:11).

There is a quality about humanity that can never be explained by evolution. No animal is restless and dissatisfied when its physical needs have been met. Observe a well-fed dog sleeping before the fire on a cold day. He is with his family, enjoying himself, not worried about anything. Put a man in that position and soon he will feel a sense of restlessness. There is something beyond, something more that he cries out for. This endless search for an answer beyond what we can feel or sense physically or emotionally is what is called here "eternity in the hearts of men." St. Augustine prayed, "Thou has made us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless until we learn to rest in Thee."

Man is the only worshiping animal. What makes us different cannot be explained by evolution. We are different because we long for the face of God. C. S. Lewis said, "Our Heavenly Father has provided many delightful inns for us along our journey, but He takes great care to see that we do not mistake any of them for home." There is a longing for home, there is a call deep in the human spirit for more than life can provide. This itch that we cannot scratch is also part of God's plan.

The third thing which the Searcher learned is that mystery yet remains:

... yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end (3:11).

We are growing in our knowledge, but we discover that the more we know, the more we know we do not know. The increase of knowledge only increases the depth of wonder and of delight. In the sovereign wisdom of God we cannot solve all mysteries. As the apostle Paul put it, "we see in a mirror, dimly" (1 Corinthians 13:12, NRSV); we are looking forward to the day when we shall see face-to-face.

We cannot know all the answers to the conundrums and enigmas of life. The exhortation of Scripture is always to trust the revelation of the Father's wisdom in areas we cannot understand. Jesus said over and over that the life of faith is like that of a child. A little child in his father's arms is unaware of many things that his father has learned. But, resting in those arms, he is quite content to let the enigmas unfold as he grows, trusting in the wisdom of his father.

That is the life of faith, and that is how we are to live. In verses 12 through 15 we learn the purpose of God in this remarkable plan. Three things are found here. First:

I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live (3:12).

Everybody agrees with that. That is what the commercials tell us: "Live life with gusto. You only go around once. Seize it now." All right. The Searcher says so too!

Secondly, he says:

... it is God's gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil (3:13, NRSV).

Underline the words, take pleasure. That is what the Searcher finds that man cannot produce. Things in themselves give a momentary--not lasting--pleasure. True enjoyment is the gift of God; it is what God wants. That is what the Searcher has been arguing all along.

How different this picture is from what most people think life is like under the sovereign lordship of a living God! I saw a book on sex the other day entitled Intended for Pleasure. That is true, sex is designed for pleasure. But it is not merely sex that is designed for pleasure--all things are designed for human pleasure! But if you think the thing in question is going to produce lasting pleasure, you will miss it. The secret is that it is only a vibrant relationship with God that produces enjoyment.

We are not in the grasp of a great cosmic joy-killer, as many people seem to view God. God delights in human enjoyment.

The third thing the Searcher says is that it all must be discovered by realizing that God is in charge and He will not bend His plan for anyone.

I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere Him (3:14).

God has sovereignly and independently set up the plan of life in a way that cannot be interfered with. He "does it so that men will revere Him" (3:14).

All through the Bible we read that "The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom." Until we recognize and trust the superior wisdom of God we have not begun to fear God. This fear is not abject terror of God, it is respect and honor for Him. If you try to live your life without recognizing God, ultimately you will find yourself (as the Searcher found himself) empty, dissatisfied, and restless, feeling that life is miserable and meaningless. The secret of life is the presence of God Himself.

Most of life's struggle comes when we want to play God ourselves, when we want to be in charge. That is true even of Christians. When God refuses to go along we sulk and pout and get angry with Him. We throw away our faith and say, "What's the use? I tried it but it doesn't work!" What foolishness! God will not surrender His prerogatives: "Nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere Him."

Solomon says that God will teach this through much repetition.

Whatever is has already been, and what will be has been before; and God will call the past to account (3:15).

A better translation of that last phrase is, "God brings back what has already passed away."

The Searcher here refers to the repetition of life's lessons. We do not seem to learn very well. I have learned some lessons in life and said, "Lord, I see what you are after. I've got it now. You don't have to bring this one back again." But down the road I make the same mistake. Some circumstance painfully recalls to mind what I had once seen as a principle of life. I have to humbly come and say, "Lord, I'm a slow learner. Have patience with me." God says, "I understand. I'm prepared to have patience with you and teach you this over and over again until you get it right."

Have you found life to be like that? The Searcher tells us that he too had to learn this. That is the Searcher's thesis. God wants us to learn the secret of enjoyment. That enjoyment will not come from many experiences. Those will bring but momentary pleasure-not the secret of contentment, of continual enjoyment.

A plaque on my bedroom wall, which I read every morning, says:

No thought is worth thinking

that is not the thought of God.

No sight is worth seeing

unless it is seen through His eyes.

No breath is worth breathing

without thanks to the One

Whose very breath it is.

It is this continual recognition of the hand of God in ordinary events that fills the springs of enjoyment and gives lasting pleasure.

Verse 16 of chapter 3 begins a section that runs through chapter 5, in which a series of objections to Solomon's thesis are examined. One by one Solomon considers the circumstances that seem to challenge his thesis.

Someone may say, "Wait a minute. You say that God has a wonderful plan for my life, that He is a God of justice. But last week I was seeking justice in a courtroom and I found that the cards were stacked against me; all I got was the rawest injustice. How do you square that with this 'wonderful plan for my life?'" The Searcher takes this up first.

I saw something else under the sun: In the place of judgment--wickedness was there, in the place of justice--wickedness was there (3:16).

Courtrooms are designed to correct injustice, but they are often filled with wickedness and injustice. Recently I was a witness in a case in which a man's business was being destroyed by legal maneuverings. Everyone knew this was unjust, but certain legalities prevented anyone from getting hold of the matter to correct it. That kind of injustice can create anger and frustration. People say, "What do you mean, I am to accept that as from the hand of God?"

The Searcher examines this and says there are three things he wants to show us about it. First:

I thought in my heart, "God will bring to judgment both the righteous and the wicked, for there will be a time for every activity, a time for every deed" (3:17).

Though there is present injustice, that is not the end of the story. God may correct it even within time; but if He does not do so in this life, still He has appointed a time when everything will be brought out. The Scriptures speak of a time appointed by God when the hidden motives of the heart will be examined, when "What you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight" (Luke 12:3), and justice will ultimately prevail. That is what this Searcher declares. Injustice is limited in its scope. It will ultimately be judged.

Second:

I said to myself concerning the sons of men, "God has surely tested them in order for them to see that they are but beasts" (3:18, NASB).

He recognizes there is a beastly quality about all of us that injustice will bring out. What is it about a man that makes him prey upon even his friends or neighbors? On the TV program, The People's Court, one case concerned a young woman who had become angry with her friend and roommate, whom she had known for years. In her anger she had poured sugar into the gas tank of the woman's car, destroying the engine. The judge was appalled at the vindictive spirit of this attractive young woman who had acted in such a vicious way.

There is a beastliness about us all. Put in a situation where we are suffering injury, we react with viciousness. God often allows injustice to show us that we all have that quality about us.

We are like animals in other ways, too, the Searcher says.

Man's fate is like that of the animals; the same fate awaits them both: As one dies, so dies the other. All have the same breath; man has no advantage over the animal. Everything is meaningless. All go to the same place [not hell--he is talking about the grave]; all come from dust, and to dust all return (3:19-20).

Man is frail, his existence temporary. Like the animals, we do not have very long to live on this earth. Injustice sharpens the realization that we are on an earth where, like animals, we must put up with unpleasant circumstances. We die like an animal and our bodies dissolve like a beast's. From the human standpoint one cannot detect any difference. So the Searcher says:

Who knows if the spirit of man rises upward and if the spirit of the animal goes down into the earth? (3:21).

That really should not be a question as it is stated in this text. It should read this way:

Who knows that the spirit of man rises upward and the spirit of the animal goes down into the earth.

That is something which only revelation can tell us. Experience cannot offer any help at all here. From a human standpoint, a dead man and a dead dog look as if the same thing happened to both of them. But from the divine point of view that is not the case. Though we die like beasts, the spirit of man goes upward while the spirit of the beast goes downward. Later on the Searcher states very positively that at death the spirit of man returns to God who gave it, but the spirit of the beast ends in nothingness. Injustice stems from our beastliness, and God's plan for life will uncover it through adverse events. Finally, he concludes in verse 22:

I saw that there is nothing better for a man than to enjoy his work, because that is his lot. For who can bring him to see what will happen after him?

He does not answer that question here; he leaves it hanging. But the answer, of course, is that only God can help us to understand what lies beyond this life. The wonderful thing to extract from this passage is the great truth that God wants us to handle life in such a way that we can rejoice in every circumstance. Recognize that everything comes from a wise Father. Though circumstances bring us pain as well as pleasure, it is His choice for us. Rejoice that in the midst of the pain there is the possibility of pleasure.

Again I looked and saw all the oppression that was taking place under the sun:

I saw the tears of the oppressed--and they have no comforter;

power was on the side of their oppressors--and they have no comforter. --Ecclesiastes 4:1

4. Why Does God Allow This?

In Ecclesiastes 4 and 5, the ancient Searcher of Israel answers a question all of us have asked at one time or another. Whenever a tragedy occurs, or a terrible injustice is revealed, someone is sure to remark, "You say your God is a God of love, but how could a God of love allow such a thing to happen?"

How, after all, could a God of love allow thousands of innocent Indians to die choking from poison gas? How could a God of love sit by and watch as husbands, wives, sons, and daughters fry to death in the crash of a faulty commuter plane? Sometimes the question is more personal: "How can you say God loves me when He lets me work my fingers to the bone and allows other people who have inherited wealth spend their days enjoying themselves?"

In chapter 3 the Searcher declared that God has a wonderful plan for each life. There is a time for everything: "a time to be born and a time to die... a time to weep and a time to laugh." Solomon thereby declared that God has a perfect plan including everything that we need, the painful as well as the pleasant.

If we accept both as God's choices for us, as coming from His loving heart--not out of anger nor out of desire to punish, but out of love--we will discover three wonderful things. First, we will be enabled to enjoy all of life, even the painful things. Second, we will learn to know God. Jesus said, "This is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent" (John 17:3). We will satisfy the sense of eternity which God has put in each heart. That will happen when our attitude toward life changes with a new relationship with God. Third, this lesson will be repeated until we learn it, until we get it right.

Now we'll consider four frequently voiced objections that seem to contradict the idea that God has a wonderful plan for everyone. We looked at the first in the last chapter--that injustice thrives where justice should be found, in the courts and judicial systems of our land. Recently the newspapers told of a man who spent five years in jail for another man's crime. When this was discovered he was freed, but he was given nothing for his time in jail. That sort of injustice raises the question, "What do you mean, 'God has a perfect plan for our lives?' How can you square that statement with such an injustice?"

The Searcher gives us two answers. One, we must remember that the final recompense lies ahead; God has appointed a time when He will bring to light all the hidden things and straighten them out. Second, even injustice teaches us something of great value--it reveals the beastliness we share with the animals. Not only do we have a temporary existence like the animals, but we share with the animals a beastly quality which injustice will bring out. In chapter 4 the Searcher discusses three more objections to the idea that God has a wonderful plan for our lives. First, he ponders oppression in society:

Again I looked and saw all the oppression that was taking place under the sun: I saw the tears of the oppressed--and they have no comforter; power was on the side of their oppressors--and they have no comforter.

And I declared that the dead, who had already died, are happier than the living, who are still alive.

But better than both is he who has not yet been, who has not seen the evil that is done under the sun (4:1-3).

Oppression almost invariably preys on the helpless, the weak, and the infirm, those who cannot defend themselves. The Searcher knows this. Notice how he records the anguish, the misery that it causes. He speaks of "the tears of the oppressed," of the weeping, of the sorrow and brokenness which the oppressed feel over something they can do nothing about. Then he twice categorizes the awful sense of helplessness that oppression evokes. There is no one to comfort the oppressed in a world filled with injustice. The hopeless and the helpless ask, "Who can we turn to? Where can we go for deliverance?" They believe that death would be preferable to what they are going through; they even come to the point where they wish they had never been born. Job felt that way. "May the day of my birth perish," he said (Job 3:3). "Why did I not perish at birth... ?" (v. 11).

How do you square that with the glib declaration, "God has a wonderful plan for your life"? How can you say that to someone who is being oppressed? The Searcher does not attempt to answer that for the moment. He records it and sympathizes, but for the moment, he lets it be.

First, he looks at another objection, that envy and ambition really are the driving force behind man's activity, rather than the enjoyment of life.

I saw that all labor and all achievement spring from man's envy of his neighbor. This too is meaningless, a chasing after the wind (4:4).

How accurately this records what actually happens! People really do not want things, they want to be admired for the things they have. What they want is not the new car itself, but to hear their neighbors say, "How lucky you are to have such a beautiful car!" That is what people want--to be the center, the focus of attention. I clipped from Newsweek magazine an article on life in Washington, D.C. This is what the reporter says drives people in the nation's capital:

Ambition is the raving and insatiable beast that most often demands to be fed in this town. The setting is less likely to be some posh restaurant or glitzy nightclub than a wholly unremarkable glass office building, or an inner sanctum somewhere in the federal complex. The reward in the transaction is frequently not currency at all, but power, perquisites, and ego massage. For this, the whole agglomeration of psychological payoffs, there are people who will sell out almost anything, including their self-respect, if any, and the well-being of thousands of others.

That says exactly what Solomon is saying. The drive to be admired is the true objective of many lives. But, he says, this too "is meaningless, a chasing after the wind." It will not give lasting enjoyment.

Sometimes when people become aware of this they flip over to the opposite extreme. They drop out of society, they get out of the rat race, they go on relief and let the government support them. We saw that kind of reaction in California in the sixties. Young people, particularly, were saying, "We don't want to be part of the rat race anymore; we don't want to make money or play games to be admired. We'll drop out instead!" But that is not the answer either, the Searcher says.

The fool folds his hands, and consumes his own flesh (4:5, NASB).

Many young men and women who were part of the counterculture of a decade ago have found this to be true--that when you sit in idleness you devour yourself, your resources disappear, your self-respect vanishes. They had to learn the painful lesson that the only way to maintain themselves, even physically (let alone psychologically), was to go to work and stop devouring their own flesh.

It would be much better, says the Searcher, to lower your expectations and choose a less ambitious lifestyle.

Better one handful with tranquility than two handfuls with toil and chasing after the wind (4:6).

Yet so powerful is ambition and the desire to be envied, he says, that men actually keep working and toiling even when they have no one to leave their riches to.

Again I saw something meaningless under the sun: There was a man all alone; he had neither son nor brother.

There was no end to his toil, yet his eyes were not content with his wealth. "For whom am I toiling," he asked, "and why am I depriving myself of enjoyment?" This too is meaningless--a miserable business! (4:7-8).

How true! Some people keep on toiling although they have no one to work for, and nothing to do with the money they make. They even deny themselves the pleasures of life so they can continue to amass funds. What a sharp example was given to us in the story of the late billionaire Howard Hughes.

He did not know what to do with his money. His heirs, who have been impossibly difficult to identify for certain, were left to squabble over it. Somehow, in all his tragic existence, the man never seemed to ask himself, "Why am I doing this? What is life all about? Why am I amassing these tremendous amounts of money when I don't even spend a dime on myself?" Such is the folly of toiling for riches out of ambition and ego.

In contrast, the Searcher admits that companionship is better than loneliness.

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up! Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken (4:9-12).

Someone may say, "It's true that men work out of a sense of ambition and a drive for admiration from others, but companionship is useful while doing so."

The Searcher agrees, and lists four advantages to this. First, having a partner will increase the reward. Two really can live cheaper than one.

Many people get married on that basis. During the Depression there was a popular song that said, "Potatoes are cheaper, tomatoes are cheaper, now's the time to fall in love." Many young people agreed with that and got married. But the economy has changed. Today "potatoes are dearer, tomatoes are dearer...", but still "now is the time to fall in love" because you can combine your resources. Even the IRS recognizes the advantage of this by giving tax breaks to married couples in certain tax brackets.

Second, the Searcher says, a friend will help in times of trouble. If you get into difficulty your friend or roommate will be there to help you.

You have to have grown up in Montana to fully appreciate the third advantage! When the temperature is 40 degrees below zero outside, you understand what the Searcher means when he says, "If two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?" Even at the physical level, companionship is an advantage.

Fourth, the presence of another or more than one other in your life makes defeat unlikely: "Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken."

Still, while there are advantages in companionship, the Searcher's argument nevertheless is that it adds up to emptiness; it does not satisfy the sense of eternity that God has put in men's hearts. Many a couple sit in loneliness, staring at a television screen for hours at a time, or seek some other diversion to fill the emptiness and misery of their lives. No ... companionship, though better than loneliness, is not the answer either.

A final objection is raised in the latter part of chapter 4. This says, in effect, that living a long life does not always guarantee that one will learn the secrets of enjoyment. The Searcher has been saying that God has a perfect plan and He will teach you as you go; if you live long enough and listen carefully you will learn that enjoyment is a gift of God. But now someone argues that he knows people who live a long time who still do not seem to learn this.

Better a poor but wise youth than an old but foolish king who no longer knows how to take warning. The youth may have come from prison to the kingship, or he may have been born in poverty within his kingdom (4:13-14).

Age can make you headstrong and fanatical, convinced that everything you want to do is right. Even living a long time does not teach us all the lessons, although a long life usually does teach much. But all of us know people who should know better, people who have forgotten the lessons they learned in their youth. Here was a king who had gone from prison to the throne because he understood life; he had been poor and he was exalted to a position of power, but he forgot all the lessons he had learned. Compared to him, even a callow youth is preferable.

The Searcher's second argument is that even the wise youth will go on to repeat the same error.

I saw that all who lived and walked under the sun followed the youth, the king's successor. There was no end to all the people who were before them. But those who came later were not pleased with the successor. This too is meaningless, a chasing after the wind (4:15-16).

Here is a young man who went through the same difficulties as the old king had. He won his way to popularity and power, yet he did not learn either. Although he had the example of his predecessor, he ultimately lost the respect of others. So time does not always teach us the right lessons. All of it remains "meaningless, a chasing after the wind."

In chapter 5, a marvelous chapter, the Searcher answers these objections. He declares four things. First:

Guard your steps when you go to the house of God (5:1).