What matters?

Though we don’t know the author of Ecclesiastes for certain, I’ll refer to him as Solomon because it’s often claimed as such. In this book then, Solomon spends the better part of his coming of age exploring all of the things his world had to offer through drink, sex, fortune, wisdom, popularity, and the like, and he comes out on the other end waving his hands and screaming “there’s nothing new under the sun, all is vanity!” Now, to a first time reader this definitely comes off a little ‘woe is me,’ but to the one who is looking to soak up all the salty goodness offered in this proclamation, one might begin to recognize the true nature of his resolution.

I want to unpack it first by examining a diamond. Think to yourself what makes a diamond valuable: the cut of the stone, the polish, the glistening, the size of the rock, the vivaciousness of the band it’s housed in, and more right? Now, what does any of this matter to a person who’s blind? Imagine owning the showiest diamond in the world, but only having the chance to encounter it behind closed doors with the lights turned off… falls pretty flat doesn’t it? The diamond’s splendor is revealed by the excellence of the light reflecting and refracting through and off of its surface, that’s the only way we’d have any idea how magnificent this otherwise useless stone is. The blind person immediately understands the vanity of such a thing.

Solomon cracks this code as he reflects on all of his activity over the past few years when writing his account. He arrives at this seemingly brash truth: all is vanity in this world if not enjoyed through and by the light of God who gives generously to his children.

We have a ton of diamonds in the form of work and play, and all of it means absolute zilch when we close our eyes to the one who imparted all of it to us. We go through our life experiencing all of this joy, accumulating all of this stuff, and at the end of what we thought was bliss, we find rot and death. Vanity.

We can stop there and surely miss the point, or we can dig for the insane invitation offered through the deep cut of that cold, sharp edged sword. Check this out:

Eccl 9 7-10:
Go, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has already approved what you do. Let your garments be always white. Let not oil be lacking on your head. Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain life that he has given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might, for there is no work or thought or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol, to which you are going.”

Translated like this: when you die, everything that you accomplished and accumulated here is staying here as you experience eternity with this King you have yet to fully meet, in a house of glory you’d never begin to halfway imagine. This stuff down here is useless where you’re going, and you’re not taking it with you, so whatever it is you do, enjoy it to its fullest extent, for it’s from God’s hand that you have the opportunity to experience it.

We have a ton of diamonds, and they mean zilch outside of God. That’s not a bad thing.

Let me take this one step further though, because this exact verse has been the catalyst for Wonder & Woe interestingly enough. “Whatever you hands finds to do, do it with [all] your might.” I’m drawn to the parable of the talents. Extrapolating from that passage I’d say God has some special qualities and duties he imparts to us expecting that we will explore and engage them. Those talents you have, the abilities to create, they aren’t there by accident. This verse then, “whatever your hand finds to do,” doesn’t mean “whatever you trip over next as you stumble through life.” I’m going to argue pretty boldly it means something closer to, “whatever you find yourself dreaming about, thinking deeply on, or desiring to do above all else, tease that. Titillate that. Invest in that. Fully. I’ve entrusted it to you because I want you to develop and experience it. It’s my gift to you, and it’s an invitation to encounter parts of me and my glory you’re never going to find anywhere else, so do it with all your might.”

Musicians, writers, filmmakers, photographers, painters, drawers, poets, everyone else: these gifts, these talents you have are so intrinsically valuable and important to life and the pursuit of goodness, and I fear we have so far missed the holiday at sea for mud pies in the slum. We’ve settled so quickly for the likes, the comments, the quick cash so we can go out and spend our fortunes comparable to the Prodigal’s best night, that we’ve completely overlooked God’s beckon to awe and wonder through communion with him in mastery of our talents.

It’s in mastery, and the pursuit of it, that we find the richest conversations with God, for it’s there we begin to speak his language. The first thing God did in the bible was create, breathing life into a void with whispers of grandeur. As we tap into those talents imparted to us, we breathe that same air, we hear those same whispers. As we improve at increasing rates, God starts to return favor on favor our way like the master who came back to find his servants doubling their initial investments. The act of honing our edges in that which we find our hand doing brings those treasures we hear about stored in places we’ve never seen, and that friends is the point. You were never supposed to be Solomon on his richest day, you’re being exists to uncover riches unimaginable, and to witness power untamed. The purest route to that type of wonder is through creativity, and the better you get at your talent, the deeper you’ll dive into the fathoms of mystery you know your heart calls to experience.

Please, master your talent. Find what drives you more than any other thing, and invest in that. Double the investment. Then double it again. Let us return to the times true mastery was something to behold, before the Big Mac was the height of culinary achievement amongst the raging sea of popular opinion. Do the quiet work, the long hours of toil, because when you toil for the thing you actually care about, there you find joy by the hand of the one you seek to find.