Sermon: The Regular Thing We Can Trust

1:1 The words of the Teacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem.
Vanity of vanities, says the Teacher,
    vanity of vanities! All is vanity.
What do people gain from all the toil
    at which they toil under the sun?
A generation goes, and a generation comes,
    but the earth remains forever.
The sun rises, and the sun goes down
    and hurries to the place where it rises.
The wind blows to the south
    and goes around to the north;
round and round goes the wind,
    and on its circuits the wind returns.
All streams run to the sea,
    but the sea is not full;
to the place where the streams flow,
    there they continue to flow.
All things are wearisome,
    more than one can express;
the eye is not satisfied with seeing
    or the ear filled with hearing.
What has been is what will be,
    and what has been done is what will be done;
    there is nothing new under the sun.
Is there a thing of which it is said,
    “See, this is new”?
It has already been
    in the ages before us.
The people of long ago are not remembered,
    nor will there be any remembrance
of people yet to come
    by those who come after them.

Ecclesiastes 1:1-11

My sermon from the 19th Sunday after Pentecost (October 19, 2025) on Ecclesiastes 1:1-11.

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So every morning I fill a red kettle with water and place it on the stove. I then turn a knob from off to high and wait for a bright red circle to appear. The heat from the circle takes about 7 minutes to heat the water in the kettle to my preferred temperature. But if I’m distracted, busy, or crawl back into bed for a little more sleep, a thin white line from the kettle bursts forth and a sound like a train whistle lets everyone know the water is ready. When water boils, it changes into water vapor which is a gas we can’t technically see. The white streak we do see is really caused by the very hot vapor colliding with cooler air. The collision forms a tiny cloud that races through the kitchen. But as it spreads, the heat that caused the water to boil cools and the momentary cloud we call steam disappears. There isn’t, I think, a word in the English language that fully captures the entirety of this event. It takes us entire sentences to describe how something is energized, invigorated, and then quickly fades away. This experience applies not only to water being boiled for my morning coffee but relates to so many other moments that feel way too short. There is, though, a word in ancient Hebrew language that does exactly that. In our reading today from the book of Ecclesiastes, the very beginning of the Teacher’s long speech isn’t really about things that are vain or meaningless. That word is all about something that feels so temporary. This book is told from the perspective of a person looking back at the entirety of their story, and wondering how what feels like a momentary thing can make a difference for those who have their own living left to do. 

The book of Ecclesiastes is a strange duck. It does what we expect a Biblical book to do – asking deep questions such as: do people really get what they deserve, does God act in predictable ways, and how should wisdom shape what we say and do. The tone of the book, however, is a little out of place – feeling way more sarcastic and skeptical than the book of Job or Proverbs. And the reason why that might be the case is because its author knew life wasn’t always black or white. Ecclesiastes began by attributing its words to King Solomon who reigned roughly 400 years before the book was written. Solomon was known as someone who possessed a deep and holy wisdom. Yet, as he aged, his wisdom only went so far. During the later years of his reign, worshipping other gods became a hallmark of his home and the massive building program he launched forced him to sell entire cities to other nations to pay his debts. Solomon’s life was complicated which often describes our own. It would be awesome if all we needed were simple guides or sayings or teaching to make every moment easy and clear, when real life happens, what we’ve been taught isn’t necessarily big enough to handle everything that makes life anxious and beautiful all at the same time. Actions don’t always lead to clear and consistent consequences and good doesn’t always bring comfort. And while we’d love bad stuff to eventually bring about accountability, life can often be unfair. Learning how to navigate the irregularity of life is a calling we’re all invited to embrace. 

Now one of the ways Ecclesiastes tried to do this was by noticing what feels like the most regular thing around us. We live life expecting the sun to rise, the wind to blow, and the streams running into the ocean to never fill it up. That does not necessarily mean nature is always predictable or easy to control. Yet there is something amazing, mystical, and comfortable about this vast thing we’re a part of.  The regularity of creation makes us feel God really is in control. But the messiness of our own lives – the ups and downs, the excitement and the boredom, the moments which feel endless and the puffs of smoke going by way too quick – what we long for is a life where we have a little more say and control over what comes our way. There are entire industries claiming with the right words, attitude, diet, beliefs, politics, and other cultural touchstones you can maximize your life right now. Yet it only takes a momentary and fleeting thing to remind us how fragile life can be. So rather than doing all we can to control what we can’t control, maybe it’s more faithful, loving, and spiritually healthy to trust that the One who made life and who lived life – knows, cares, and will always be for you. 

And that is the regular thing we can always rely on. What we can trust is that God knows what God was doing when God made you. When we were brought into the body of Christ through baptism and in faith, it wasn’t because we regularly do what is good, holy, and right. Instead, the God who knows you also knows the church can’t be what it’s supposed to be without you. And while joys and laughter and peace can feel way too fleeting, what is never meaningless or vain is the love God had for you. So, if the author of Ecclesiastes had the courage to reflect and be honest about the life they’ve lived, we should do the same. You’re invited to take the next few minutes to continue our sermon series reflecting on wisdom by taking out the pink sheet and writing down answers to a few questions. “What are some of your disappointments?” “What are some simple pleasures that stand the test of time?” What once seemed very meaningful to you but doesn’t anymore.” And I pray that even during those times when our faith feels like its own fleeting puff of smoke, God will show up and let you know how God’s love will never let you go.

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