When strivings cease (Ecclesiastes 1)

As the sun rises and sets, hurrying back to where it rises, so I also find myself scurrying to its rays.

As I awake, I slowly take in the dawn of a new day. And yet within a breath, the hustle and bustle of life quickly drowns out the serenity of those rays. My toiling begins, my striving picks up a pace.

The to-do list beckons me over. It hollers my name, demanding that I spend myself today until it’s completion. As the day rolls on, billows of satisfaction are punctured by a quiet fret and fluster. Am I making the most of every moment? Am I redeeming time as I should? Am I doing enough?

Oh satisfied and contented productivity, how elusive you are. How quick I am to busy myself in your service, but is it anything more than a chasing after the wind?

What do I gain from all my labours at which I toil under the sun?

The preacher’s pointed question reverberates in my mind. His wisdom is beginning to penetrate. Those pointed goads are getting to work on my heart. There’s little comfort in what’s being exposed in my restless striving heart, and yet there’s beautiful comfort found in the antidote.

For as I read the beginning of this book, I am persuaded to remember. To remember just how finite and limited I am. To remember how every inch of creation ebbs and flows to the same rhythm. To remember that in the face of eternity, my toiling and striving find their humbled place, along with the mist.

Most of all I am drawn to remember the wise preacher king, in whom ‘my fears are stilled and strivings cease.’ What heights of love, what depths of peace. What comfort, given to this restless soul as I lift my gaze to Him, surrendering, worshipping, and resting in his wisdom.