In high school I engaged in the unfortunate practice of reading Spark Notes summaries of books instead of actually reading them. However, one of the books I did read was The Stranger (1944) by Albert Camus. The absurdism and existential themes of the novel and its protagonist Meursault arrested me and was a shock to my high-achieving mentality. Whether it was the death of his mother, the affection of his lover, shooting someone in cold blood, or facing execution after imprisonment, Meursault floats through life unemotional, unfazed, and detached. I remember thinking: “How can this guy not care about anything in life?!” Strangely, Meursault’s detachment exposed my pride and made me question why I was working so hard and why I cared so much. What was all my exertion and effort for if I didn’t enjoy life any more than Meursault?
In a similar way, the book of Ecclesiastes has had a similar effect on me. Koheleth’s extended existential meditations have been like a splash of cold water to my face. His wisdom sobers me up when I have once again believed the lie that I can conquer the world – or at least my miniscule slice of the world. For those like myself who care too much, we can easily get off the rails spiritually in our varied exertions to accomplish goals, be productive, and build something of which we are proud. Gradually and often without noticing, the pursuit of these noble goals becomes an end in itself with our to-do list acting as our false god. Enter Ecclesiastes with a strong dose of realism and a slice of humble pie.
During my repeated studies of Ecclesiastes, Koheleth has arrested me with conviction and given me the clarity of humility by addressing a variety of topics: the inevitability of decay and death, the persistence of injustice in the world, the benefit and yet corrupting influence of wealth, the weariness of work, the exhaustion of pursuing knowledge, and the seeming meaninglessness of it all. It’s a rich and relevant book. So unsurprisingly, during my most recent reading, a new lesson stood out to me. Just as life, relationships, work, and possessions are gifts from God so also is the power to enjoy it all. The power to enjoy itself is the more fundamental gift of God that unlocks the enjoyment of all else that God has given – regardless of how much or how little you have.
In chapters 5 and 6, Koheleth makes various observations about the destructive effects of greed compared to the pursuit of contentment. In 5:18 he repeats a refrain from 2:24 and 3:13 that what is best is “to eat and drink and find enjoyment in all the toil” that one experiences in life. Enjoy the days God has given you for “this is [your] lot.” This statement is not surprising as it is a repeated one, but a phrase in the next verse stands out. In 5:19-20 Koheleth states,
“Everyone also to whom God has given wealth and possessions and power to enjoy them, and to accept his lot and rejoice in his toil—this is the gift of God. For he will not much remember the days of his life because God keeps him occupied with joy in his heart” (emphasis mine).
Not only are wealth and possessions the gift of God, but so is the power to enjoy those very gifts. This further and more fundamental gift enables the wise to find contentment – to accept one’s lot with gratitude and to worship God in thankful enjoyment. It is a spiritual capacity that is cultivated in cooperation with God – a giving and receiving. It is the key to walking in joy and contentment – and it is itself a gift of God’s abundant grace.
This is intuitive and yet it also isn’t. Many Reformed folks have the confessional quip ready if anyone asks what life is about – what we’re here for: “To glorify God and enjoy Him forever.”[1] As productive achievers in pursuit of excellence, influence, and legacy – not just for our own sake but for God’s kingdom – we readily and enthusiastically appropriate our core mission of glorifying God. However, we find the second aspect, enjoyment, elusive, particularly as natives of the postmodern West – as Camus illustrates in the character of Meursault.
At times, these two elements of our mission – glorifying God and enjoying Him – can seem to be diametrically opposed to one another. Glorifying God involves denying one’s self sacrificially, which is seldom enjoyable – or at least so we think. Achievement requires hard work, pain, and loss; we grit our teeth and press on. And yet, Jesus disagrees with this logic (see Matthew 16:25). There is, rather, a deep agreement between glorifying and enjoying God to which the Westminster Divines were alluding to in the first place. John Piper has made this memorable in his famous saying: “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him.”
It is of note that even the capacity or power to enjoy God and one’s station in life is a gift of grace – and it seems that it is an even more fundamental gift of grace. Koheleth repeats this phrase, the “power to enjoy,” again in Ecclesiastes 6:2, but this time from a negative angle. He identifies an evil that he has observed:
“…a man to whom God gives wealth, possessions, and honor, so that he lacks nothing of all that he desires, yet God does not give him power to enjoy them, but a stranger enjoys them” (emphasis mine).
In this instance it is a great tragedy or evil when a someone with more than enough is deprived of this more fundamental gift of grace – to have the power to enjoy what has been given to them by God. Contentment, as well as a deeper fellowship with God and His people, depends on receiving this greater gift of the spiritual capacity to enjoy. This is Christian maturity in terms of pleasure and the practice of contentment.
The challenge to receive this gift in Western culture, even as a Christian, is great. The tragedy described in Ecclesiastes is everywhere you look – many have more than enough but lack the power to enjoy any of it. And yet, some have very little and are joyful and thankful. Maybe you see this in your own life or in your local community. I certainly see this in mine. And that’s why I am arrested by these few verses.
However, an amazing implication of the gospel is that, no matter what one has or doesn’t have, all who trust in Jesus and come to know the Father through Him have more than enough in Him as the Spirit pours forth spiritual blessing after blessing. In Christ, God has bound Himself to you eternally, O weary one. He will never cast you out and will return for you. Because of this, we are not doomed to be balls of anxiety or detached Meursaults. Instead we can constantly return to the promises of God: “He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” (Rom. 8:32).
Greg Meyer (MDiv, Reformed Theological Seminary) serves as an Assistant Pastor at Covenant Presbyterian Church (PCA) in St. Louis, MO. He has served as a conference speaker with Reformed Youth Ministries, is a contributing author at Rooted Ministry, and has also written for the Center for Parent/Youth Understanding (CPYU) and Orthodoxy Orthopraxy, Covenant Theological Seminary’s blog.
[1] Westminster Shorter Catechism Q&A #1
