Hard Answers (Meditations on Ecclesiastes)

And the pain falls like a curtain

On the things I once called certain

And I have to say the words I fear the most

I just don't know

And the questions without answers

Come and paralyze the dancer

So I stand here on the stage afraid to move

Afraid to fall, oh, but fall I must

On the truth that my life has been formed from the dust

God is God and I am not

I can only see a part of the picture He's painting

God is God and I am man

So I'll never understand it all

For only God is God.

-Steven Curtis Chapman

These words just about sum up one of the major themes of Ecclesiastes.

"God has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end... Then I saw all the work of God, that man cannot find out the work that is done under the sun. However much man may toil in seeking, he will not find it out. Even though a wise man claims to know, he cannot find it out... As you do not know the way the spirit comes to the bones in the womb of a woman with child, so you do not know the work of God who makes everything." (Eccl. 3:11, 8:17, 11:5)

The Bible allows us to ask our hard questions, but it does not promise easy answers, at least not in this life under the sun. In fact there are many times that all it leaves us with is "God knows." Ecclesiastes is a book that asks lots of difficult questions and has very little in the way of succinct, satisfying answers. At first, this seems enormously frustrating. How can God leave us hanging like that?

By way of answering that question, the author of Ecclesiastes reminds us, first, that we are mere creatures, formed from the dust and destined to return to it. We are a finite people who exist in time and space, with a limited capacity for knowledge. We are not God, and don't have the ability to comprehend all that God has planned, even if he were to explain it to us. And God has made things that way, at least in part, so we would know our place as creatures and not seek to elevate ourselves to the level of gods.

But this truth of our "earthiness" does not leave us floating around in a universe with no gravity and nothing to cling to. The Preacher also answers that all things are firmly in God's hands and he will do exactly as he pleases, at exactly the right time. We need not fear what he does not yet answer; we need only trust the One who will put all things right in the end: Though a sinner does evil a hundred times and prolongs his life, yet I know that it will be well with those who fear God, because they fear before him. But it will not be well with the wicked, neither will he prolong his days like a shadow, because he does not fear before God. (8:12,13)

There are glimmers of hope in Ecclesiastes (not lying--they're there!), but as in much of the Old Testament, the author offers only a misty portrait of the hope to come. Life after death is assured, but in a shadowy form with little detail. And here is where the faint traces of future hope need the rest of biblical revelation to be fleshed out. While many of our specific questions still go unanswered in the New Testament, the most important answer we could ever need has been given once and for all at the cross and empty tomb of Jesus. It is at the cross that God declares for all time that whatever trials you may meet with in this life, you need not face eternal punishment in the next if you are trusting in Jesus' death on your behalf. It is at the empty tomb that the hope of our own future resurrection is sealed. Romans 8 puts meat on the bones of Ecclesiastes: "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us... And not only the creation, but we ourselves who have the firstfruits of the Spirit groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope, we were saved." (Romans 8:18-25)

But in the meantime, we wait, and find that many of the questions we ask about the seeming futility of our work, the pain in our own lives and the injustice and oppression that abound in the world--those questions go unanswered for now.

Ecclesiastes reminds us that we make a serious mistake if we call hurting people to Jesus with the promise that he will fix everything: that he will make their marriage better, make their kids behave, help them find satisfaction in their work, keep them from tragedy, and answer every question they could ever ask. We make a serious mistake if we expect Jesus to do the same for us. Jesus doesn't PROMISE those things. He doesn't promise easy answers. But he DOES promise to be with you in the hard times of your marriage, to be with you when your kids don't listen, to be with you when you'd rather be anywhere but where you are right now, to be with you when the bottom drops out and you're in a free fall. He promises that even when we don't understand, don't have the answers, and everything we do seems futile, there is nothing in all creation that can separate us from God's love if we are clinging to him. He promises that HE knows the answers, and he IS working all things for our good and his glory, even when we can't see it. He promises that one day we will see him face to face, and God will wipe every weary tear from our eyes. And while these may not be the easy answers we're looking for, they are the only answers that can carry us through both the happy and the sad times, through the easy questions and the hard ones.

"Oh, the depths of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgements and how inscrutable his ways! 'For who has known the mind of the Lord, and who has been his counselor? Who has given a gift to him that he might be repaid?' For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen." (Romans 11:33-36)

Hard Questions (Meditations on Ecclesiastes)

"I'm not a perfect parent, but I've worked hard to faithfully love my kids and teach them God's truth. So why, oh why, are they in the trouble they're in right now?" "Years of labour to build up this business, and it's all wiped out in a sudden market crash! Lord, why? Was all my toil for nothing?" "All day long on the news, all I see is people around the world being oppressed, and their oppressors are laughing all the way to the bank! Where is justice?" "Christians around the world are being slaughtered for their faith, and the West is silent. How long, O Lord, how long?" Or maybe it's as mundane as, "I'm not even done with the laundry for 2 seconds and someone falls face first into the mud. Will the cycle never end?!"

Futility. It's all around us. And if we're really honest, these are the kinds of cries that plague us, even if we really believe that God is good, and in control, and trustworthy. But if we're also really honest, many of us feel some level of guilt about asking such questions. I mean, if I was a good Christian, I wouldn't ask those kinds of questions--I would just trust God and rejoice always, right? I saw an interview once with a well-known Christian who had just suffered terribly tragic circumstances, but who was testifying that he was given such faith that the question "Why?" never even crossed his mind. And I felt guilty because I've never faced anything like he had, and yet I've asked hard questions about the pain in this world.

But Ecclesiastes is a book that calls us to question our doubts about our questions, because it is a book FULL of hard questions, of groaning under the seeming futility of life, of weariness in the face of life's difficulties. Right from the get-go, we are faced with the outburst, "Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity. What does a man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?" Not very comforting, eh?

We like the book of Proverbs because it seems to present a neatly ordered, logical universe where the hard-working prosper, the wise stay out of trouble, and the godly man enjoys a good life. We struggle with Ecclesiastes because it takes us to a world where children are trained up in the way they should go, and lo and behold, they depart from it! It is a world where the hard-working may lose everything in a single sweep of God's hand, where the wise live in wisdom and still die like the rest of mankind, where our toil is futile and we cry out with the Psalmist, "Why do the wicked proper? How long, O LORD?" This is a world where even the people of God come up against seeming absurdity, futility, vanity.

Like Job and the Psalms, Ecclesiastes shows us that God is not afraid of our hard questions and our groaning. In fact, he is so interested in our hard questions that he's written them up in his book. If we were afraid to ask, it's right there on the page, begging for answers.

Here's the thing: The Bible never calls us to be stoics, leaving all those earthly, human emotions stuffed in the back of the closet (with the awkward cousin, no doubt), while we piously repeat our mantra, "All things work together for good... all things work together for good..." and pull ourselves forward to a better day. It also never calls us to the happy-happy-joy-joy kind of "faith" that always responds immediately to job loss, illness, war, oppression or death with a "Hallelujah! Life is great!"

We are called to praise God in all circumstances, yes. Job DID fall down and worship even when his property and family were wiped out (Job 1:20-22). And all things DO work together for good for those who love God and are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28). But we live in a once-perfect world horribly distorted by sin, terribly twisted by futility. And we FEEL it. So often, we spout Romans 8:28 at ourselves and others in pain without the context. We skip the part Paul didn't--a creation full of suffering that groans, that feels futile, that longs. And we also groan inwardly as we wait for creation to be made new. We hope, yes, but often it is a groaning hope.

Paul himself was given a thorn, and while he says he is content with it, that did not come until he had PLEADED with the Lord 3 times to remove it (2 Cor. 12:7-10). Jesus himself, very God of very God, as he was in agony on the cross, cried out and groaned under the weight of his suffering. He wasn't just making a neat theological point about the end of Psalm 22 when he screamed out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mark 15:34) Even our martyred brothers and sisters who stand before the very throne of God in heaven are crying out, "How long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?" (Rev. 6:10)

Yes, there's a way to ask hard questions with a bitter and angry spirit that challenges the goodness and wisdom of God, that thinks it knows better. And yes, we must avoid that. But there is a questioning and a weeping that is very much a part of biblical Christianity. It is a groaning that presses on in faith even when the answers aren't quick in coming. It is a mourning that sits and weeps with those who weep, rather than offering platitudes, or demanding that they just trust God and get over it. It is a faith that leaves room for people to ask hard questions about the meaning of life and the absurdities of suffering without panicking that God can't handle the heat.

Is there room in your Bible for hard questions?

Dealing With the Awkward Cousin (Meditations on Ecclesiastes)

Solomon must have been an interesting guy. Of the 3 Old Testament books attributed to him, there's exactly 1 we're all pretty comfortable with... Proverbs, brilliant book of timeless wisdom and insight into human life and nature. But then there are those other two, the ones about which we may be tempted to wonder how they ever made it into the Bible. We've got Song of Solomon on the one hand, a very personal poem about love, sex and physical beauty. And then on the other hand, there's Ecclesiastes, a book about the apparent meaninglessness of life. At face value, it's an pretty pessimistic look at reality, and one that for most of my life, I have to admit, I've always been a little puzzled by. In fact, while it's certainly not universal (my husband and brother-in-law both count Ecclesiastes as very instrumental in their coming to follow Jesus), my guess is that many of us struggle with the existence of this little book. Maybe it's because there are parts of it that seem to contradict other parts of the Bible. Maybe it's because of the continual refrain that everything under the sun is futile, which seems just a little negative for a book inspired by God. For me, I think the most troubling thing about the thoughts in Ecclesiastes is that there are so many questions in it that really resonate with me when life is difficult, and this makes me exceedingly uncomfortable because these are very questions I feel guilty about asking, the ones I would never dare to approach God with.

But whatever I may feel about it, Ecclesiastes IS part of God's holy word, so I can't just ignore it. If this book belongs to God's revelation of himself to us, than I cannot just shut it up in the closet, like that awkward cousin at the family reunion that everyone just pretends doesn't exist. If it is God's word to me, than it has important things to say, and I shut my ears at my own peril.

So, all that being said, I recently decided it was time to really dig into this book, even if it makes me squirm. And what I'm finding as I read and study it is that, just as in all Scripture, there is much wealth to be mined here, things I wish I had had a better grasp of long before now. So over the next few weeks, I plan to post a few meditations on this troubling, puzzling, abundantly rich Old Testament book. If you want to study further, there are some good commentaries out there. The main ones I'm using are both accessible to lay people:

The Message of Ecclesiastes by Derek Kidner (not technical at all)
Proverbs, Ecclesiastes and Song of Solomon by Duane A. Garrett (more detailed, technicalities mostly limited to footnotes)

These commentaries come to the book from slightly different points of view, so they are helpful together.

Stay tuned to help me deal with that awkward cousin!

All Sufficiency

Lately I've become rather uncomfortably aware of the fact that I don't have a whole lot to offer. Time seems to run pretty short these days, what with full days of school that are often followed by evening events. Energy is running even shorter as I pour most of what I have into schooling the kids on the one end and on the other, working toward the growth and development of Liberty Grace Church. Money? Well, we're in the middle of fundraising, and while we're encouraged by the generosity of many and have yet to really truly be in need, we're not exactly sitting on a mountain of cash either. Then there's wisdom needed for new seasons of parenting older kids, and sanity sorely lacking for Round 4 of potty training.

So I regularly need this little reminder from 2 Corinthians 9. It speaks specifically to financial matters, but applies to all of life:

Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly; whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. Each one should give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work.

I'm not the one who needs to have lots to offer. It's God's abundant, sufficient, gracious provision in all things that enables me to do the good work he has called me to, and not just to do it, but to abound in it, and cheerfully, too! So that I can honestly say with Paul (in 2 Cor. 12:), "I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls!" on behalf of my husband, my kids, my church community, and the many around me who do not know the good news about Jesus.

Seasons

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance...

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

a time for war and a time for peace.

(Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

I love the changing of the seasons. As we head into fall weather, I am enjoying the cool, crisp nights and seeing the trees start to change into bright bursts of fiery colour. I doubt there will be any smell of woodstove here among the condos, so I'll have to imagine that one (does anyone make woodstove-scented candles?). But at least there will be hydro savings now that open windows are enough to cool this place down. And hey, pulling out the fall clothes is not unlike getting a new wardrobe, right?

I've always said that I would never want to live in a place that where the weather was constant. Summer and blue skies and beaches are great for a while, but I would actually miss having snow from time to time. Of course, one could argue that if I love having 4 seasons, Ontario is not the best choice of locale, but, well, here we are. And it is NOT always winter (though it feels like it, come late March).

If you've been following this blog, you may have noticed that it's been a bit quiet here lately. Okay, it's been completely silent. And that's largely due to the fact that we're changing seasons around here--new church planting season, new parenting season, new school year. The funny thing is that as much as I love going through the annual changing of the seasons, I'm not such a fan of new seasons when it comes to the story of my life. There are many times that I wish I could just plop myself down in a particular season of life and stay there, at least for a good long while. Or, I wish that I could fast-forward through several seasons until I get to one that seems a little more comfortable.  Changing seasons involves new ways of doing things, a reordering of priorities, new tasks, old tasks to which I now need to say "no" or "not so much", and the acceptance that there are good and pleasant things that I will not ever have in the same form again. (Granted, there are also things to which I say a hearty, "Good-bye, and may we never meet again!") And it often seems like I'm just settling into a routine, just beginning to feel like I've got this one under control, when I'm sent spinning into another season with new demands for which I feel completely under-equipped. Do you ever feel this way?

But in the midst of changing seasons, I am more than thankful for an unchanging God! When things feel confusing or out of control, I'm thankful that we have a God who always knows what is coming and always has it under perfect control. When I have to lay aside projects or hobbies or blogging for a time because a new season is more demanding of me, I am thankful that our God never runs out of time or energy to do everything He wants to accomplish in my life and in our world. When I feel completely under-equipped to handle the rigours of a new stage of life, I am thankful that God's power is made perfect in my weakness. And I am thankful that in all the seasons of life, I never need to worry that any of these truths about God will change and somehow leave me hanging.

Of old you laid the foundation of the earth,

and the heavens are the work of your hands.

They will perish, but you will remain;

they will all wear out like a garment.

You will change them like a robe, and they will pass away,

but you are the same, and your years have no end.

(Psalm 102:25-27)

Fall is here and winter is coming. But even if the beauty of fall is short and the deadness of winter is long, whether the season is fun or challenging or downright agonizing, I can lean confidently on the unchanging nature of God until he brings me into the unchanging beauty of eternity.