Emptiness

It has happened again. The Preacher’s words ring across time as if written yesterday: “all is vanity and a striving after wind” (Ecclesiastes 2:11). Just when humanity thinks it has found the answer—in wealth, in work, in laughter, in wisdom—we are confronted again with the reality that these pursuits cannot hold the weight of our souls. They crumble under death’s shadow (Hebrews 9:27), leaving us to wrestle with the same question Solomon faced: where can true satisfaction be found?

Again, we are reminded through the events of our world that violence, suffering, and loss press upon us. The anniversary of a national tragedy or the fresh sting of a new attack makes us pause. Like Solomon surveying his projects and pleasures, we survey our progress as a people—and still see brokenness. Wisdom, strength, wealth, and power cannot shield us from grief or prevent the grave. “The same event happens to all” (Ecclesiastes 2:14). The cycle of disappointment continues, and the Preacher whispers, “vanity.”

Yet again, God speaks. Into the emptiness of human striving, He gives a different word: “If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land” (2 Chronicles 7:14, ESV). The healing we long for, the stability our restless hearts crave, will never come from chasing wind. It will only come from turning back to the Lord who holds eternity in His hands (Psalm 90:2).

Ecclesiastes reminds us that Solomon was not reckless. He tested laughter, wine, work, and wisdom with a disciplined mind, yet concluded they could not give lasting meaning (Ecclesiastes 2:1–11). Our own diversions may look different—social media, constant entertainment, endless work schedules—but the result is the same. We end up exhausted, staring at the ceiling at night, wondering why satisfaction slips away. Jesus Himself warned against storing treasures on earth, “where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal,” instead urging us to lay up treasure in heaven (Matthew 6:19–21). Paul echoes the same truth, reminding us that “the form of this world is passing away” (1 Corinthians 7:31). Again, the Preacher tells us, these things were never meant to satisfy. They are signs pointing us to the Giver, not replacements for Him (James 1:17).

This is why humility is so essential. The world shouts that happiness is found in getting more, proving more, or knowing more. But Solomon’s wisdom, echoed by the cross of Christ, says joy comes only when we receive life as a gift from God. “There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God” (Ecclesiastes 2:24). Paul reminds us that “godliness with contentment is great gain” (1 Timothy 6:6), and James directs us to every good thing’s true source: “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights” (James 1:17). When we humble ourselves enough to see our blessings as gifts, the emptiness of vanity gives way to the fullness of gratitude.

Again, we face the temptation to make good things ultimate. Work becomes an idol. Wisdom becomes pride. Entertainment becomes an escape. But Ecclesiastes draws the line sharply: these pursuits cannot survive death. “For of the wise as of the fool there is no enduring remembrance” (Ecclesiastes 2:16). The grave equalizes king and fool alike. Only in Christ—who has conquered death (1 Corinthians 15:54–57)—do we find a hope that does not fade, a joy that is not stolen by tomorrow’s sorrows.

Our calling as God’s people is to live this truth out in a world desperate for it. Violence silences, but humility opens dialogue. Vanity breeds despair, but gratitude breeds joy. Hostility hardens hearts, but compassion builds bridges. Paul urges believers to let their “speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt” (Colossians 4:6). Peter tells us to give a reason for our hope “with gentleness and respect” (1 Peter 3:15). Again and again, the world will look for meaning in what cannot last. Again and again, we must point to the One who is eternal (John 17:3).

So, when tragedy strikes again, or when another personal disappointment leaves us restless, we remember: life is short, but not meaningless. In Christ, the gifts of food, work, rest, and relationships can be enjoyed rightly, even against the backdrop of death. They no longer bear the impossible weight of saving us; instead, they direct our gaze to the Savior who already has. “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

May we, then, be a people of humility, prayer, and gratitude. May we live Ecclesiastes honestly—acknowledging the vanity of worldly pursuits—while also embracing God’s good gifts with joy. And may we look death in the eye without fear, knowing that because of Jesus, death no longer has the final word (Romans 6:9). It has happened again—but so has grace (John 1:16).