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Connected by scripture or shared themes.
How can I live a life that matters? This isn't just a Christian question—it's a profoundly human one. Everyone searches for purpose and meaning. We ask ourselves: Why am I here? What can I do that truly matters? How do I find joy in the moments of life?
Sometimes it seems like no matter how hard we work, we keep missing it. This is what the book of Ecclesiastes explores. Solomon, the richest, wisest, and most powerful man of his time, becomes our guide on an existential search. He's looked for meaning everywhere—and found it elusive.
Solomon's favorite word in Ecclesiastes is hebel—vanity, meaninglessness. He says it 38 times. Life under the sun feels like a vapor: there one moment, gone the next. You see something, reach for it, and by the time you open your hand, there's nothing there.
"Have you ever felt the vanity of life? No matter what you accomplish, it seems like there's something missing, something more."
Let's look at Ecclesiastes 6:1-2. Solomon observes something troubling:
"I have seen another evil under the sun, and it weighs heavily on mankind. God gives some people wealth, possessions, and honor so that they lack nothing their hearts desire. But God does not grant them the ability to enjoy them."
This is the paradox: it's possible to get everything you've ever wanted in life and not be able to enjoy it. Solomon describes a person with wealth, prosperity, a hundred children, and a long life—yet internally empty, unable to enjoy any of it. He concludes that such a person would be better off never born.
Why does this happen? Because of the curse of sin. We were designed by God to work, but sin has made labor difficult—filled with thorns, thistles, sweat, and futility.
Solomon identifies a dangerous human pattern: we pursue more.
"Everyone's toil is for their mouth, yet their appetite is never satisfied."
Some people try to find satisfaction through work. They wake early, stay up late, chase promotions. They think: If I just become the boss, if I achieve enough, I'll feel complete.
Others pursue education. If I learn more, I'll feel better about myself.
But perhaps the greatest temptation of our age is the pursuit of consumption. We buy the latest thing and feel happy—until we see something else, and the happiness evaporates. We're never satisfied.
"Comparison is the thief of joy. You're happy until you see someone else who has something you don't have."
There's a reason for this: the law of diminishing returns. Novelty wears off. The meal you loved the first time becomes ordinary by the thirty-seventh time. The new car smell fades. This isn't a character flaw—it's how the human heart works.
When we live only for ourselves—chasing achievement, refusing to be average—we isolate ourselves. We work so hard that we miss dinner with family. We accumulate possessions but lose relationships. Solomon asks the haunting question:
"What's the point if you can buy dinner for everyone in the restaurant, but no one wants to eat with you?"
Jeff Cook captures this reality:
"The more I make my life, my well-being, my enlightenment, my success primary, the farther I step from reality. An obsession with self is the defining mark of a disintegrating soul."
When our drive is all about us, Solomon warns, we will feel empty and isolated in the end. Our life will matter like a stillborn child—it would have been better if we were never born.
Just when Solomon's despair seems darkest, he finds something unexpected: wisdom at a funeral.
"A good name is better than fine perfume, and the day of death better than the day of birth. It's better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting."
At first, this sounds morbid. But Solomon's point is profound: a funeral provides clarity. It reminds us of our certain future. We all will die. The only uncertainty is when.
At a funeral, people don't talk about your car, your house, your net worth, or your golf score. They talk about:
A funeral shows us what actually matters. And if we imagine ourselves in that casket and don't like what people would say about us, we have the chance to reshape our lives.
Solomon contrasts two moments:
Birth: We know almost nothing about a baby. We only know potential.
Death (at 80): Oh, all kinds of things can be said. Here is a life that was actually lived. Here is potential fulfilled.
Solomon is saying: we were once that baby. We're now between our birth and our death. If we want to live a life of depth and meaning, we should pay attention.
Someone said of John Benairo, a staff member who recently passed: "I'll always remember him as a steady, involved, giving, fully present person. He had the rare ability to lift the whole atmosphere of a place."
Another shared: "He simply couldn't help himself from stepping in wherever he saw a need."
His son, Mark, said: "My dad was the greatest man I've ever known."
That is a life that matters.
Solomon warns us: don't save all your joy for retirement. You don't know if you'll get there. God has invited us to joy right now.
This isn't hedonism or escapism. When we receive the good gifts of God with gratitude, we connect to Him spiritually. David the psalmist wrote:
"You fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand."
Every meal, every sunset, every moment of comfort is a foretaste of eternity. It's an appetizer for heaven.
How to practice enjoyment:
When things go wrong—when Mount Rainier is hidden by clouds for a whole week—reframe it. This is the day God made. What surprise does He have for me? Even a random alpine lake and a baby deer can become the best day of your trip.
"There's always a reason to rejoice. Paul and Silas sang in prison. Jesus sang on the eve of His crucifixion. There's always a reason to rejoice."
What is eternal? People and the Word of God. At John's funeral, no one mentioned his house or his car. They talked about his character, his generosity, his presence.
How to invest in the eternal:
One couple learned about 106 youth who wanted to attend church camp but couldn't afford it. Without being recognized, they provided full scholarships for all of them. When those young people reach heaven, they'll say: "Because of your generosity, I met Jesus. You changed my life and my family's trajectory forever. Thank you."
That's pursuing the eternal.
"My food is to do the will of my Father in heaven. We don't live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God."
When you invest in what lasts, you yourself change. You become more generous, more expansive, less self-absorbed. The gospel rescues you from toxic self-centeredness.
Solomon couldn't see what we see. He didn't know what happens after death. He lived with despair about the future.
But Jesus answered the question Solomon couldn't answer.
"One greater than Solomon is here."
Jesus revealed what happens after death. The Apostle Paul writes:
"For centuries this wisdom was hidden, but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior Christ Jesus who has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel."
Look at Revelation 21:
"I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Look, God's dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.' And he said, 'I am making everything new.'"
Solomon said: "Eat and drink and enjoy life because soon it will be over."
Jesus says: "One day you will eat and drink in the kingdom of God. Death will be over. No more death, sorrow, pain, or tears. I make all things new."
This is the gift of Jesus: joy uninterrupted. Death swallowed up in victory.
"Nothing impure will ever enter heaven. Nor will anyone who does what is shameful or deceitful, but only those whose names are written in the Lamb's book of life."
Not everyone enters heaven. But you can have your name written in that book.
You do this by:
If you've tried it on your own long enough, if you're ready to believe the good news of the gospel, come to the altar. Jesus is calling. The Father's arms are open wide.
As God's grateful people, let's respond in thanksgiving for His goodness, grace, love, and power.
This week, live with eternity in mind. Enjoy these moments as foretastes of what's coming. Practice enjoying God's gifts. Pursue what lasts—people, relationships, the gospel.
And if you don't yet know Jesus, know that He's calling you to Himself, to a life that truly matters, to a future that is secure and eternal.
That is the gospel. That is the good news.
How can I live a life that matters? This isn't just a Christian question—it's a profoundly human one. Everyone searches for purpose and meaning. We ask ourselves: Why am I here? What can I do that truly matters? How do I find joy in the moments of life?
Sometimes it seems like no matter how hard we work, we keep missing it. This is what the book of Ecclesiastes explores. Solomon, the richest, wisest, and most powerful man of his time, becomes our guide on an existential search. He's looked for meaning everywhere—and found it elusive.
Solomon's favorite word in Ecclesiastes is hebel—vanity, meaninglessness. He says it 38 times. Life under the sun feels like a vapor: there one moment, gone the next. You see something, reach for it, and by the time you open your hand, there's nothing there.
"Have you ever felt the vanity of life? No matter what you accomplish, it seems like there's something missing, something more."
Let's look at Ecclesiastes 6:1-2. Solomon observes something troubling:
"I have seen another evil under the sun, and it weighs heavily on mankind. God gives some people wealth, possessions, and honor so that they lack nothing their hearts desire. But God does not grant them the ability to enjoy them."
This is the paradox: it's possible to get everything you've ever wanted in life and not be able to enjoy it. Solomon describes a person with wealth, prosperity, a hundred children, and a long life—yet internally empty, unable to enjoy any of it. He concludes that such a person would be better off never born.
Why does this happen? Because of the curse of sin. We were designed by God to work, but sin has made labor difficult—filled with thorns, thistles, sweat, and futility.
Solomon identifies a dangerous human pattern: we pursue more.
"Everyone's toil is for their mouth, yet their appetite is never satisfied."
Some people try to find satisfaction through work. They wake early, stay up late, chase promotions. They think: If I just become the boss, if I achieve enough, I'll feel complete.
Others pursue education. If I learn more, I'll feel better about myself.
But perhaps the greatest temptation of our age is the pursuit of consumption. We buy the latest thing and feel happy—until we see something else, and the happiness evaporates. We're never satisfied.
"Comparison is the thief of joy. You're happy until you see someone else who has something you don't have."
There's a reason for this: the law of diminishing returns. Novelty wears off. The meal you loved the first time becomes ordinary by the thirty-seventh time. The new car smell fades. This isn't a character flaw—it's how the human heart works.
When we live only for ourselves—chasing achievement, refusing to be average—we isolate ourselves. We work so hard that we miss dinner with family. We accumulate possessions but lose relationships. Solomon asks the haunting question:
"What's the point if you can buy dinner for everyone in the restaurant, but no one wants to eat with you?"
Jeff Cook captures this reality:
"The more I make my life, my well-being, my enlightenment, my success primary, the farther I step from reality. An obsession with self is the defining mark of a disintegrating soul."
When our drive is all about us, Solomon warns, we will feel empty and isolated in the end. Our life will matter like a stillborn child—it would have been better if we were never born.
Just when Solomon's despair seems darkest, he finds something unexpected: wisdom at a funeral.
"A good name is better than fine perfume, and the day of death better than the day of birth. It's better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting."
At first, this sounds morbid. But Solomon's point is profound: a funeral provides clarity. It reminds us of our certain future. We all will die. The only uncertainty is when.
At a funeral, people don't talk about your car, your house, your net worth, or your golf score. They talk about:
A funeral shows us what actually matters. And if we imagine ourselves in that casket and don't like what people would say about us, we have the chance to reshape our lives.
Solomon contrasts two moments:
Birth: We know almost nothing about a baby. We only know potential.
Death (at 80): Oh, all kinds of things can be said. Here is a life that was actually lived. Here is potential fulfilled.
Solomon is saying: we were once that baby. We're now between our birth and our death. If we want to live a life of depth and meaning, we should pay attention.
Someone said of John Benairo, a staff member who recently passed: "I'll always remember him as a steady, involved, giving, fully present person. He had the rare ability to lift the whole atmosphere of a place."
Another shared: "He simply couldn't help himself from stepping in wherever he saw a need."
His son, Mark, said: "My dad was the greatest man I've ever known."
That is a life that matters.
Solomon warns us: don't save all your joy for retirement. You don't know if you'll get there. God has invited us to joy right now.
This isn't hedonism or escapism. When we receive the good gifts of God with gratitude, we connect to Him spiritually. David the psalmist wrote:
"You fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand."
Every meal, every sunset, every moment of comfort is a foretaste of eternity. It's an appetizer for heaven.
How to practice enjoyment:
When things go wrong—when Mount Rainier is hidden by clouds for a whole week—reframe it. This is the day God made. What surprise does He have for me? Even a random alpine lake and a baby deer can become the best day of your trip.
"There's always a reason to rejoice. Paul and Silas sang in prison. Jesus sang on the eve of His crucifixion. There's always a reason to rejoice."
What is eternal? People and the Word of God. At John's funeral, no one mentioned his house or his car. They talked about his character, his generosity, his presence.
How to invest in the eternal:
One couple learned about 106 youth who wanted to attend church camp but couldn't afford it. Without being recognized, they provided full scholarships for all of them. When those young people reach heaven, they'll say: "Because of your generosity, I met Jesus. You changed my life and my family's trajectory forever. Thank you."
That's pursuing the eternal.
"My food is to do the will of my Father in heaven. We don't live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God."
When you invest in what lasts, you yourself change. You become more generous, more expansive, less self-absorbed. The gospel rescues you from toxic self-centeredness.
Solomon couldn't see what we see. He didn't know what happens after death. He lived with despair about the future.
But Jesus answered the question Solomon couldn't answer.
"One greater than Solomon is here."
Jesus revealed what happens after death. The Apostle Paul writes:
"For centuries this wisdom was hidden, but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior Christ Jesus who has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel."
Look at Revelation 21:
"I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Look, God's dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.' And he said, 'I am making everything new.'"
Solomon said: "Eat and drink and enjoy life because soon it will be over."
Jesus says: "One day you will eat and drink in the kingdom of God. Death will be over. No more death, sorrow, pain, or tears. I make all things new."
This is the gift of Jesus: joy uninterrupted. Death swallowed up in victory.
"Nothing impure will ever enter heaven. Nor will anyone who does what is shameful or deceitful, but only those whose names are written in the Lamb's book of life."
Not everyone enters heaven. But you can have your name written in that book.
You do this by:
If you've tried it on your own long enough, if you're ready to believe the good news of the gospel, come to the altar. Jesus is calling. The Father's arms are open wide.
As God's grateful people, let's respond in thanksgiving for His goodness, grace, love, and power.
This week, live with eternity in mind. Enjoy these moments as foretastes of what's coming. Practice enjoying God's gifts. Pursue what lasts—people, relationships, the gospel.
And if you don't yet know Jesus, know that He's calling you to Himself, to a life that truly matters, to a future that is secure and eternal.
That is the gospel. That is the good news.
