How Do I Keep Trusting God When Life Keeps Changing? (Ecc. 3:1-16; 5:1-7; 9:1-6; 12:1-14)
Sermon Manuscript
One of the hardest parts of life is that it never stops changing. It feels like yesterday when my kids were little and needed help getting dressed. Now, I’m sending my first to college. There is a season when you call your parents for advice. Then there is a season when you care for them. Then there is a season when they’re gone. There is a season when your body does everything you ask it to do. Then there is a season when it doesn’t.
Much of our suffering comes not from catastrophe, but from transition. My wife, Angela, is a therapist and she was surprised when she first started to practice how much work she would do with people just in transition. Becoming a new parent, going off to college, stepping into an empty nest, or retiring. We don’t usually want the season to change, but it does.
The great theologian, Andy Bernard, from The Office famously said, "I wish there was a way to know you're in the good old days before you've actually left them." I think that’s part of what makes transitions so painful. We rarely know we’re standing in the good old days while we are standing in them. We don’t know when it’s the last time everyone lives under the same roof. We don’t know it’s the last family vacation. We don’t know if it's the last Christmas with a parent…or the last Christmas with married parents. We don’t know it’s the last season before life changes. The path just keeps moving forward.
Solomon has shown us all these paths in the forest. Paths of wealth, work, accumulation, sex, and they are good paths, but none is going to give us the ultimate satisfaction we are looking for. And because these good paths are promising what they cannot give, they lie to us.
The path today at the end of the book promises permanence, understanding, and control. But the path itself delivers none of them. This path says, "This season will last." "One day it will all make sense." "If I make all the right choices, I can keep things from changing.”
And Ecclesiastes says: No earthly path can deliver on those things. That’s why our hope cannot rest in choosing the right path, but following the right guide. So, how do we trust God when life keeps changing? Solomon answers that for us.
- Trust God with the path we are on 3:1-16
For everything there is a season. This is one of the most famous parts of this book. The point of Ecclesiastes three is not merely that life contains different experiences. The point is that God appoints different seasons. A time to be born. A time to die. A time to plant. A time to uproot. A time to weep. A time to laugh.
Some of our most painful moments are actually not caused by rebellion, but transition. See, the paths don’t all remain separate all the time - they overlap, weave together, and cross each other in a tangled web that is impossible to understand from ground level. The path of raising kids becomes the path of an empty nest. The path of having parents becomes the path of grieving them. The path of strength becomes the path of weakness. The path of building becomes the path of letting go.
I want to be very vague in how I say this. At some point in the past ten years, I was talking to one of the most well known pastors in America just before he retired and I asked him how he felt about it. This is a godly man, with a great family, great friends, and more than enough money to retire. But do you know what he said? “I’m terrified.” Why is this a normal human response?
Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, “He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man’s heart…” God has placed eternity in our hearts. That is why we want to see the whole forest. We want to see what’s ahead. Cows don’t care about that. Dogs don’t care about that. Only humans do. We want explanations. We want the map. And do you know how that verse ends? yet so that he cannot bfind out what God has done from the beginning to the end.
We want the whole story. We want to know where the path goes. We want to know why the seasons changed. We want to know why the diagnosis came, why the relationship ended, why the opportunity disappeared, why our children took the path they took. God has designed for us to seek this kind of meaning. That is eternity in our hearts….But we cannot discover it. In other words, God gives us the desire to understand the whole forest, but not the ability to see the whole forest. That’s why it feels the way it does. We know God is doing something, but we don’t know all that He is doing. And He does this so we will trust Him as our guide. He shows us our need for Him. His goal isn’t to make us into little gods, but to point us to Himself.
About eight years ago, my family flew out to Colorado for a Young Life Family camp with some other friends of ours. The second day we were there, I talked about five guys into climbing a 14,000 ft mountain near the camp. None of us knew what we were doing and none of us were acclimated to the altitude. But that didn’t stop me from talking them into it. Well, every single one of them quit. I mean they were dizzy, some were throwing up, and none of us had brought enough water. I was the only one still climbing and physically I felt physically, but I could see the top. So I pushed harder, which was the worst thing to do. That’s the last thing I remember for a while. My wife told me I facetimed her because I was lost on the mountain and couldn’t use my trail app because I had somehow turned my phone into Chinese language mode.
The next thing I remember is going down the mountain with the worst headache of my life and running into this 20 year old girl. She stopped me and asked if I wanted any help. Well, I was a 37 year old guy in much better shape than I am now, so I just said, “Oh thanks, I got this.” To which she said, “No I don’t think you do. I want you to drink my water, eat some food, and let me show you the way.” In that moment, I humbled myself to accept that I didn’t know where I was going and even if I did, I probably didn’t have it in me to get there. And when I accepted this, there was this great relief that came over me. I didn’t have to do it on my own. I had someone who could get me there. I was on the same path, but I now had a trustworthy guide.
That’s how God wants us to see Him whatever path we are currently on. He will take us through the bend, through the forest, and He will lead us home. There is so much relief that comes from simply acknowledging that we won’t ever see the whole path, but we know the One who does.
It is exhausting to continually ask under our own strength, “Why did this happen? Why now? Why this way? How does this fit into the whole story?” And Ecclesiastes is telling us that this frustration is deeply human. It is exhausting living life believing that you cannot trust God until you understand God. And Solomon is freeing us from that burden. The turning point of wisdom is not finally understanding everything God is doing. The turning point is trusting Him even when we don’t.
So, we trust God with the path we are on. And then secondly…
II. We trust God with the path we cannot see. 12:1-8
One reason change feels so difficult is because we don’t know what’s ahead. We don’t know how long a season will last. We don’t know what the next trail holds. And we certainly don’t know when the journey will end. Solomon’s realism tells us that the wise die, the foolish die, the righteous die, and the wicked die. Everyone eventually reaches the end of the trail.
In chapter 12, we see that the body weakens, the years pass, and the journey moves forward toward its conclusion. Solomon isn’t trying to make us fearful, he’s trying to make us wise. Death reminds us that our time is limited. That the trail is shorter than we think.
The last family vacation, bedtime story, or conversation with a parent rarely announces itself ahead of time. They just simply pass. The things we are most afraid of losing were never ours to keep forever. They were gifts entrusted to us for a season. Trusting God means believing He is good even when you can’t see what lies around the next bend.
And when these transitions come, we usually begin to live under this illusion that life will finally get better in the next season. When the kids are self-sufficient, when I’m married, when I retire, when things calm down, when my health is better. We end up living our lives one bend ahead on the trail. Always looking forward. Always waiting. Yearning for the next checkpoint, but never really living in the here and now.
And that is why Solomon keeps dragging us back to the present. Because the life we’re waiting to enjoy is the very life we’re currently living. That is one of the great lessons of Ecclesiastes. The future is a gift God has not yet given. The present is the gift He has.
Chapter twelve is one of the most beautiful and sobering passages in the Bible. The grinders cease, the keepers of the house tremble, the windows grow dim, the silver cord is snapped, and the dust returns to the earth. Solomon is describing aging. The gradual realization that our journey is moving toward its conclusion. He’s not trying to be morbid, he wants to wake us up.
Robert and I were at a Harbor pastors conference last week in the Virginia mountains and one morning I went with some local pastors to go fly fishing. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Large wide flowing rivers with such mature trees on each side that you couldn’t see the sky. And I’d stand next to the rushing river, but over to the side by the bank is a calm eddy. The water gets caught in there and begins to circle slowly. Leaves and twigs gather there and sometimes trout.
For a moment it looks permanent. Like its own little world. But it isn’t. The river was flowing before that eddy appeared and it will keep flowing after it disappears. That’s a lot like our lives. We are in a particular season…building families, friendships, and careers…and after a while, the eddy starts to feel permanent. We begin assuming this is just how things will always be. But it’s not. The rain comes and pushes everything in that eddy down the river.
Andy Bernard was right. “I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.” The reason that quote from the final episode of the office resonates with so many people is because we’ve all experienced it. We don’t know if it’s the last time we will hold our child or the last Father’s Day with a father. But, Ecclesiastes gives us something Andy didn’t have. It says that you can know…not specifically or perfectly…but generally. You can know that this season won’t last forever. You can know these gifts are temporary. You can know these people are precious. You can know this chapter will eventually close. And that knowledge can either make us anxious or grateful.
Solomon wants it to make us grateful. Solomon wants it to make us go throw the ball with our kids, to pick up the phone and call our parents, to have dinner with our grandparents, to put down the second glass of wine and engage our family and friends, or enjoy intimacy with your spouse. The strange thing about death is that it makes ordinary things extraordinary. It makes old voicemails priceless, formerly chaotic homes beautiful, and normal family dinners precious. Death clarifies life. It reveals what actually matters. It helps us to truly enjoy the gifts entrusted to us in the present season.
There is a real temptation to read Ecclesiastes and become cynical. And if that’s you, you don’t yet understand Ecclesiastes. That’s not Solomon’s posture. He’s not cynical, he’s grateful. That’s why he keeps returning to the simple gifts. Eat your bread. Enjoy your work. Love your spouse. Receive the day. Find the joy. Those aren’t consolation prizes. They are God’s gift for travelers walking through the forest.
The one who hears Ecclesiastes the way it was intended will receive today’s gifts while they are still yours to receive. They will love the people in front of them while they are still in front of you. They will be present in the season God has given instead of constantly wishing for another one.
But, the final question remains. If we don’t know how much trail is left…and if every path eventually comes to an end…then where is this path leading? That’s where Solomon takes us in the conclusion of the book.
III. Trust God with the destination 5:1-7, 12:9-14
The final question: Where is the path leading? Ecclesiastes does not end in confusion. It ends in worship. Chapter five. nGuard your steps when you go to othe house of God. - Ecc 5:1a Walk carefully. Remember who God is. And in the final two verses of the book, 13 The end of the matter; all has been heard. wFear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.3 14 For xGod will bring every deed into judgment, with4 every secret thing, whether good or evil. - Ecc 12:13,14
Throughout Ecclesiastes, Solomon has wrestled with injustice, oppression, corruption, suffering, and the apparent randomness of life. And his final answer is that God sees it all. All of it. The path is not random. History is not meaningless. What is at the end of the trail? The Judge is. And for many people this sounds like bad news. And it may be. But, if you’ve ever suffered injustice, judgement is actually good news. If you’ve been betrayed. If you’ve been lied about. If you’ve ever watched evil people prosper. If you’ve ever watched someone use power to hurt others. If you’ve ever stood at a graveside and asked, “Why?” Then judgement means something precious.
It means that God has not missed a thing. Not one act of oppression. Not one abuse of power. Not one hidden tear. Not one sleepless night. Not one prayer uttered through clenched teeth. Not one graveside visit. Not one moment of suffering. God sees all of it. And because He sees it all, He will address it all.
One reason we struggle to trust the destination is because there are stretches of the trail that make no sense. We have all walked through parts of the forest where we thought, “This can’t possibly be the right path.” The unexpected death, the prodigal child, the betrayal, the divorce, the loneliness. But, Solomon reminds us that just because we can’t see the destination does not mean there isn’t one. And just because we can’t see justice does not mean that it isn’t coming.
The world tells us that meaning comes from arriving at the destination. Ecclesiastes tells us that meaning comes from walking faithfully toward it. The goal is not controlling the path. The goal is not understanding every turn. The goal is not getting back to a season you’ve lost. The goal is faithfulness. Fearing God. Keeping His commandments. Taking the next step. Then the next one. Then the next one.
Our lives are dominated by the question: How do I get back? Back to when my kids were little. Back to when Mom was alive. Back to when my marriage was healthy. Back to when my body worked. Back to when life felt simpler. And Ecclesiastes gently, but firmly says, “You can’t go back.” The trail only moves forward. And for many of us, that's exactly what we're grieving. But you can walk faithfully from here. And that is enough. Not because this season is easy. Not because every question has been answered. But because the God who appointed this path has promised to meet you on it.
For twelve chapters, Ecclesiastes has confronted us with a hard reality. Life is hevel. It is fleeting. Elusive. Mysterious. We cannot hold onto it. We cannot control it. We cannot fully understand it. The righteous suffer. The wicked prosper. The wise die. The foolish die. Again and again Solomon asks: What advantage is there? What is gained if everybody dies in the end?
And if all we had was Ecclesiastes, those questions would remain unanswered. But Solomon was not the end of the story. Jesus is. You see, Jesus entered the world of hevel. He experienced the ultimate injustice. He was the only truly righteous man who ever lived, and yet He received the fate of the wicked. He suffered the ultimate experience of getting the exact opposite of what He deserved.
And then He entered the great mystery that hangs over every page of Ecclesiastes: death itself. Death is the great equalizer in Ecclesiastes. It is why Solomon keeps asking what advantage there is in righteousness if the same end comes to the righteous and the unrighteous.
But because Christ rose from the dead, that is no longer true. Death is no longer the end of the matter. Worship is. Because Christ is risen, righteousness is not wasted. Faithfulness is not wasted. Obedience is not wasted. Suffering is not wasted. Your labor in the Lord is not in vain.
Jesus takes our temporary lives and gives them eternal significance. He takes what is fleeting and raises it into glory. He takes what is swallowed by death and gives it resurrection life. That is why the final words of Ecclesiastes are not ultimately despair but worship:
"Fear God and keep His commandments." Not because righteousness always pays off in this life. But because Christ is risen. And because He is risen, every path God leads His children down ultimately leads home.
