Reflections with Andy - Ecclesiastes 2: 12-26 – Greatness

The teacher looks at wisdom and folly and finds them both lacking. But, in our day to day lives, through God, we can find meaning.

In this Monday reflection on Ecclesiastes 2:12–26, Solomon’s existential spiral — the wise and the fools both die and are forgotten, and whoever comes after me might waste everything I built — is met with a gentle diagnosis: delusions of grandeur, and the worrier’s tendency to catastrophize. But buried in the despair is a landing worth holding onto: there is nothing better for mortals than to eat and drink and find enjoyment in their toil, for this is from the hand of God. The reflection pushes back against the cultural pressure to live a life of spiritual drama and cinematic significance — the cage match with the devil, the extraordinary calling, the remarkable testimony. Most of us are just going through life as moms and dads, coworkers and neighbors, doing the same things in the same patterns week after week. And that is not failure. That is faithfulness. The call isn’t to be great — it’s to find meaning in the toil of this ordinary moment: a smile, an open door, a word of encouragement, a kindness nobody will notice or remember. In those small things, done faithfully, something beautiful can be found.

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Good morning! Hope you had a great weekend — we did. Looking forward to a good week. Today we’re picking up in Ecclesiastes, chapter 2, verses 12 through 26:

“So I turned to consider wisdom and madness and folly; for what can the one do who comes after the king? Only what has already been done. Then I saw that wisdom excels folly as light excels darkness. The wise have eyes in their head, but fools walk in darkness. Yet I perceived that the same fate befalls all of them. Then I said to myself, ‘What happens to the fool will happen to me also; why then have I been so very wise?’ And I said to myself that this also is vanity. For there is no enduring remembrance of the wise or of fools, seeing that in the days to come all will have been long forgotten. How can the wise die just like fools? So I hated life, because what is done under the sun was grievous to me; for all is vanity and a chasing after wind.

I hated all my toil in which I had toiled under the sun, seeing that I must leave it to those who come after me — and who knows whether they will be wise or foolish? Yet they will be master of all for which I toiled and used my wisdom under the sun. This also is vanity. So I turned and gave my heart up to despair concerning all the toil of my labors under the sun, because sometimes one who has toiled with wisdom and knowledge and skill must leave all to be enjoyed by another who did not toil for it. This also is vanity and a great evil. What do mortals get from all the toil and strain with which they toil under the sun? For all their days are full of pain, and their work is a vexation; even at night their minds do not rest. This also is vanity.

There is nothing better for mortals than to eat and drink, and find enjoyment in their toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God; for apart from him, who can eat or who can have enjoyment? For to the one who pleases him God gives wisdom and knowledge and joy; but to the sinner he gives the work of gathering and heaping, only to give to one who pleases God. This also is vanity and a chasing after wind.”

I am a Gen X kid. I grew up on grunge — Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden. Not exactly a cheerful collection of music. And as I’ve gotten older I’ve drifted back to my roots and landed on red dirt country — Jason Isbell, Tyler Childers, Sturgill Simpson, that crowd. Isbell is my favorite. I’ve got a poster of his on the wall right now. My favorite Isbell shirt has people weeping at a party — tears streaming down their faces — and it says The Captives: Jason Isbell Party Music. There’s a Weezer song that says all my favorite songs are sad. I feel that.

I say all of this because the Teacher would have loved that kind of music. Solomon, if he were alive today, would be driving some beat-up Ford truck down the back roads of Lincoln County in flannel, blasting Candlebox, screaming out the window: no one gets me. That’s our guy right now. He is not in a great place.

But let’s look at what he actually says, because there’s something worth holding onto here. He acknowledges that wisdom is better than folly — the wise have eyes in their heads, fools walk in darkness. That’s real. But then he says: they both die. The wise die just like fools. Neither one gets remembered. And then he spirals into worrying about whoever comes after him — what if they’re foolish? What if they take everything I built and waste it? I toiled and struggled and someone else gets to enjoy it without having worked for it. Days full of pain. Work is vexation. Even at night the mind doesn’t rest.

And then — and this is where he lands — there is nothing better for mortals than to eat and drink and find enjoyment in their toil. This also is from the hand of God.

I want to gently diagnose Solomon with a mild case of delusions of grandeur. He’s catastrophizing, honestly. And I say that as a fellow worrier — I’m working on it myself. But there’s real wisdom buried in where he finally arrives: eat, drink, find enjoyment in your toil. Not greatness. Not legacy. Not a monument that lasts forever. Just faithful presence in the work in front of you, received as a gift from the hand of God.

Here’s what I keep coming back to: we want our lives to be spiritual cosplay. We want the Wrestlemania cage match with the devil, the dramatic testimony, the extraordinary calling. And when our lives turn out to be mostly routine — going to work, taking the kids to practice, doing the same things on the same days in the same patterns — we can feel like we’re failing somehow. Like real faith should look more cinematic than this.

But it’s not about being great. It’s about being faithful. We’re not all going to be Mother Teresa. We’re not all going to sell everything and move to Calcutta. Most of us are going to be moms and dads, grandparents, coworkers, bosses, neighbors — just going through life. And that is enough. That is exactly where God has placed us, and it is enough.

You’ve got a Monday ahead of you. It may be full of to-dos you don’t want to do, and you may push half of them to Tuesday. That’s fine. But somewhere in the middle of this ordinary day — can you offer a smile? Hold a door? Let somebody over in traffic? Not respond to the thing on social media that really made you angry? Serve somebody in some small way that nobody will notice or remember?

That’s it. That’s faithfulness. And in those small moments, if we’re paying attention, we will find something beautiful.

Tomorrow we move into chapter 3 — one of the most famous passages in all of Ecclesiastes, and honestly one of the best-known in all of Scripture. To everything there is a season. Join us then. Have a great day