Introduction
Are you building your life so that it makes sense only in this world, or are you learning to live for what lasts beyond it? The central teaching of Ecclesiastes is this: life “under the sun” is vapor, grasping at wind, unless God, our Creator, gives it meaning.
We’re stepping into Ecclesiastes because many of us are living through transition, graduations, moving, shifting family rhythms, changing seasons, and with transition come the questions: What’s the point of all this? Why am I doing what I’m doing? Scripture meets us there. James reminds us that if we lack wisdom, we should ask God (James 1:5). One of the main ways God answers is by revealing wisdom already given in His Word. Ecclesiastes is often avoided because it feels heavy. I won’t pretend it isn’t. It will often confirm the anxiety, weariness, and emptiness we’ve felt, yet it also redeems those feelings by telling the truth and then leading us back to God. Today, I want to introduce the book the way chapter 1 introduces it: as a journal of one man’s honest pursuit of meaning, written for people like us who feel the churn of life and wonder what it’s all for.
Main Points
Are you building your life so that it makes sense only in this world, or are you learning to live for what lasts beyond it? The central teaching of Ecclesiastes is this: life “under the sun” is vapor, grasping at wind, unless God, our Creator, gives it meaning.
We’re stepping into Ecclesiastes because many of us are living through transition, graduations, moving, shifting family rhythms, changing seasons, and with transition come the questions: What’s the point of all this? Why am I doing what I’m doing? Scripture meets us there. James reminds us that if we lack wisdom, we should ask God (James 1:5). One of the main ways God answers is by revealing wisdom already given in His Word.
Ecclesiastes is often avoided because it feels heavy. I won’t pretend it isn’t. It will often confirm the anxiety, weariness, and emptiness we’ve felt, yet it also redeems those feelings by telling the truth and then leading us back to God. Today, I want to introduce the book the way chapter 1 introduces it: as a journal of one man’s honest pursuit of meaning, written for people like us who feel the churn of life and wonder what it’s all for.
A Gathering Led By “The Preacher”
Ecclesiastes opens:
“The words of the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem” (Ecclesiastes 1:1).
The title “Ecclesiastes” carries the idea of an assembly, a gathered group. That’s what we are: people coming together to hear wisdom and to face reality with God. The writer calls himself “the Preacher,” meaning he’s not merely thinking privately; he’s addressing us, summoning us to consider what life is really like.
Traditionally, many connect this “son of David, king in Jerusalem” with Solomon (though the authorship discussion exists). Whether or not we settle every detail, the perspective matters: this is someone with unique access to wisdom, wealth, and opportunity, someone who could actually test the promises of “life under the sun.”
Vanity Of Vanities: The Honest Diagnosis
Right away we hear the repeated verdict:
“Vanity of vanities… all is vanity” (Ecclesiastes 1:2).
“Vanity” here isn’t about mirrors or pride. It’s the idea of a vapor, a breath, something you can’t hold, like grasping at wind (Ecclesiastes 1:14). Ecclesiastes is not trying to be edgy; it is trying to be accurate.
And this matters for discipleship: sometimes the most loving thing God does is refuse to let us build our identity on something flimsy. If your meaning is only “under the sun,” you will eventually feel how thin it is, because it cannot bear the weight of your soul.
Life Under The Sun Versus Beyond It
A key phrase in this book is “under the sun.” It describes earthly life in the 70–80 year window we can see, touch, and manage, life interpreted as if this world is all there is.
The preacher says:
“I set my heart to seek and search out by wisdom concerning all that is done under heaven… I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and indeed, all is vanity and grasping for the wind” (Ecclesiastes 1:13–14).
Notice the burden: searching for meaning is not a quirky hobby for a few philosophical types. It’s a “burdensome task” given to humanity (Ecclesiastes 1:13). Every one of you will wrestle with purpose, through work, relationships, family rhythms, and disappointment. This is why Ecclesiastes feels so personal: it names something universal.
And it also gives a discipleship warning: even when we are “doing good things,” we can drift into living as if the visible world is ultimate. We need the Word to revive and recalibrate us, again and again.
We Inherit Much Yet Feel Empty
Part of why Ecclesiastes lands in our moment is that Solomon’s context mirrors ours more than we like to admit. Solomon lived with remarkable peace and prosperity, he inherited a kingdom secured by battles fought before him. That peace created room for exploration, achievement, and experimentation.
Look at our lives: we have knowledge at our fingertips. We carry unprecedented access to information and ideas. Many of us also live in inherited stability, freedoms purchased by sacrifices we memorialize and should not take lightly. We can gather for worship without “someone storming the castle.” We have opportunities many generations never touched.
And yet, how are we doing with what we inherited? By many accounts, we are a generation wrestling with emptiness, loss of identity, and the feeling that we have everything, and still don’t know what it’s for. Ecclesiastes doesn’t shame that feeling; it exposes what it means: wisdom and wealth are not the same as meaning.
The Cycles That Drain Our Enthusiasm
Ecclesiastes begins by showing why enthusiasm dies when life is only under the sun. Chapter 1 gives multiple pictures of “the wind going out of our sails.”
1) The cycle of life and death.
“One generation passes away, and another generation comes… What profit has a man from all his labor…?” (Ecclesiastes 1:3–4)
You work, you build, you save, you strive, and then you die. If that’s the whole story, it’s hard not to ask, What profit was it? This is one of the book’s first honest pressures: death makes “under the sun” feel pointless.
A vivid illustration helps: life can feel like Monopoly. You keep score with money, then with acquisition, then with dominance. But eventually, no matter who “won,” it all goes back in the box. The game ends. And if this world is all there is, your “box” is a casket. That realization can either harden you into despair, or humble you into seeking what lasts.
2) The cycle of nature’s monotony.
“The sun also rises, and the sun goes down… The wind goes toward the south… and turns around to the north… All the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not full” (Ecclesiastes 1:5–7)
The writer isn’t doing a science lesson; he’s pressing a spiritual point: the world runs in loops. Seasons come and go. You can try to outrun them, vacations, scenery changes, new plans, but you can’t stop the wheel. Even our attempts to escape (a perfect trip, a perfect break) fade quickly, like a suntan that lasts only a moment.
3) The cycle of unsatisfied appetite.
“The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing” (Ecclesiastes 1:8).
Here the knife goes deeper. It’s not just that life repeats; it’s that we are restless. We keep consuming experiences, images, sounds, news, entertainment, purchases, achievements, yet we still want more. “Under the sun,” the human heart becomes a bottomless cup.
This is why we so often need spiritual revival. When our souls are not anchored in God, we lose enthusiasm not only for ministry and purpose, but for marriages, callings, and even ordinary joy. The preacher is showing us that the problem isn’t merely our schedule; it’s our source.
The Book’s Tough Mercy: Despair Before Conclusion
I want you to be prepared for the shape of Ecclesiastes: it often feels like eleven chapters of frustration and one chapter of final clarity. That’s not cruelty; it’s mercy.
The preacher’s job is sometimes to say plainly: “Your life is meaningless apart from God.” Not just for “day one” faith, but for lifelong discipleship. We drift. We start chasing respectable “under the sun” goals and call it enough. Ecclesiastes lovingly refuses to let us settle there.
One commentator captures the purpose well: Ecclesiastes defends the life of faith in a generous Creator God by showing the grimness of the alternative. In other words, it dismantles false saviors so we will return to the true one.
Conclusion
Ecclesiastes begins with a shocking honesty: everything under the sun is vapor. Work without eternity feels futile. Nature’s cycles remind us we can’t control time. Our senses never reach lasting satisfaction. And the looming end, death, forces the question we try to avoid: What will actually endure?
But this book is not written to trap you in despair. It’s written to disciple you out of illusion. Over the coming weeks, we’ll keep naming the emptiness of “under the sun” pursuits, not to depress you, but to rescue you, so that your life can be anchored in God, redeemed for His glory, and filled with meaning that the changing seasons cannot steal.
Father, we confess that we often live as though this world is all there is. We chase meaning in work, comfort, and achievement, and we feel the emptiness when it doesn’t satisfy. Please give us wisdom from Your Word. Teach us through Ecclesiastes to see life truthfully, to repent where we have made idols of “under the sun” pursuits, and to find our joy and purpose in You, the Creator who stands above time and gives meaning to our days. Revive our enthusiasm for You, for our callings, and for faithful obedience. We ask this in Jesus’ name, amen.
Conclusion
Ecclesiastes begins with a shocking honesty: everything under the sun is vapor. Work without eternity feels futile. Nature’s cycles remind us we can’t control time. Our senses never reach lasting satisfaction. And the looming end, death, forces the question we try to avoid: What will actually endure?
But this book is not written to trap you in despair. It’s written to disciple you out of illusion. Over the coming weeks, we’ll keep naming the emptiness of “under the sun” pursuits, not to depress you, but to rescue you, so that your life can be anchored in God, redeemed for His glory, and filled with meaning that the changing seasons cannot steal.
Closing Prayer
Father, we confess that we often live as though this world is all there is. We chase meaning in work, comfort, and achievement, and we feel the emptiness when it doesn’t satisfy. Please give us wisdom from Your Word. Teach us through Ecclesiastes to see life truthfully, to repent where we have made idols of “under the sun” pursuits, and to find our joy and purpose in You, the Creator who stands above time and gives meaning to our days. Revive our enthusiasm for You, for our callings, and for faithful obedience. We ask this in Jesus’ name, amen.