Enjoy Life - Ecclesiastes 9:1-12

INTRO

A Confession.

Hannah has to remind me of things all the time.

It’s bad.

We will sit down at the start of the week planners out ready to roll.

You best believe the next morning I’m saying, “What are we doing tonight?”

She has even started using google calendar to send me invites and reminders.

I know I am not alone. Many of us here are forgetful.

The preacher of Ecclesiastes knew this would be the case.

Often my wife has to tell me four or five times what’s going on before I get it into my thick head.

We’re really no different when the Bible tells us about life as it really is.

Church, we’ve come to a turning point in the book of Ecclesiastes.

The preacher is beginning his lengthy conclusion.

The ninth chapter throws down a gauntlet that challenges the superficial and the comfortable.

He has been trying to get us to see past all of the distractions.

We have to look at our broken world.

Whether you are the kind, sweet Grandma, or a wicked murderous crook…you face the same fate. Death.

He wants us to see that...life

– this wild, unpredictable, sometimes infuriating gift – isn't just a series of random events.

Death, injustice, the wicked prospering while the righteous suffer, the inexplicable turns of life that keep us up at night, it's all here.

And right smack in the middle of this chaos, he drops this bomb:

Ecclesiastes 9:7 (ESV)

Go, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has already approved what you do.

Now, don't get it twisted.

This isn’t a call to some YOLO, hedonistic lifestyle.

This is Ecclesiastes in a nutshell, the Preacher grabbing us by the collar and shaking us awake to the real purpose of his message.

Big Idea: Life is gift not gain.

You may be thinking wait haven’t you said that before.

Absolutely and most of us have shown that we forget it by the way we live.

The preacher isn’t pulling punches.

He's not here to coddle us; he’s here to shatter our illusions of control, our attempts to play God, our futile grasps at eternity.

We’re out here trying to build Babel again, stacking our bricks of achievements, our status, our knowledge, and our memories, thinking we can reach heaven on our own terms.

But listen – what if your life gets cut short?

What if tomorrow never comes?

If you knew you were checking out of this world by sunset, what would change for you today?

That's the punchline of Ecclesiastes.

The life you have is a gift from God –

HEVEL - a vapor, here now, gone tomorrow.

God is the one calling the shots, and at any moment, He could call time on your life.

In Ecclesiastes 9, the Preacher is relentless.

He’s got three hammers in his hand – bam! – the certainty of death (verses 1–6).

Bam! – the unpredictability of life (verses 11–12).

And right in the middle, he’s got this wisdom for us – bam! – enjoy the simple blessings (verses 7–10).

He’s demolishing our façades, showing us that the only sure thing is death, and the only real response is to live wisely.

We’re going to start by wrestling with the hard truths – these two hammer strikes that wake us up from our illusions that life is something we can neatly box up and explain away.

And then, at the end we will like at the in between of those heavy blows, and we’ll discover the life-giving truth the Preacher has for us, how to truly live in the tension between the now and the not yet.

So, let's dive deep.

Let’s allow the Preacher to speak into our lives, to deconstruct our false securities, and lead us into the raw, untamed, and beautiful reality of living life under God’s sovereign hand.

Are you ready? Let’s go.

1. The Certainty of Death (verses 1–6).

Ecclesiastes 9:1–6 (ESV)

But all this I laid to heart, examining it all, how the righteous and the wise and their deeds are in the hand of God. Whether it is love or hate, man does not know; both are before him. It is the same for all, since the same event happens to the righteous and the wicked, to the good and the evil, to the clean and the unclean, to him who sacrifices and him who does not sacrifice. As the good one is, so is the sinner, and he who swears is as he who shuns an oath. This is an evil in all that is done under the sun, that the same event happens to all. Also, the hearts of the children of man are full of evil, and madness is in their hearts while they live, and after that they go to the dead. But he who is joined with all the living has hope, for a living dog is better than a dead lion. For the living know that they will die, but the dead know nothing, and they have no more reward, for the memory of them is forgotten. Their love and their hate and their envy have already perished, and forever they have no more share in all that is done under the sun.

In confronting the stark reality of death, the Preacher of Ecclesiastes strips away our illusions, revealing the ultimate equalizer that awaits us all.

A young man visiting his sister begrudgingly goes to church with him. Pastor says all of you who are a part of this church will die. The brother muttered under his breath, “huh good thing I’m not part of this church.” His sister looked over and said, “Last time I checked I think the death rate is 100%”

His message isn’t to dismay us but to awaken us to the profound truth that death, indiscriminate in its reach, sweeps away every human without distinction.

This unsettling truth, however, isn’t meant to leave us in despair.

Instead, it's a call to recognize the transience of our achievements, emotions, and earthly pursuits.

The Preacher’s words serve as a stark reminder: we are not the masters of our fate.

Our attempts to control, to understand everything, to secure our legacy, are ultimately futile in the face of death.

This is where the Gospel enters, transforming our perspective.

Christ steps into this reality of death and uncertainty, offering us a lifeline, a way to navigate this life with purpose and hope.

In Him, we find the strength to live fully, to embrace each moment with the knowledge that our lives are in God’s hands.

(Dead lion - living dog)

This recognition of our mortality and the fleeting nature of life is not a call to despair, but an invitation to live with open hands, loving Jesus more fiercely than life itself, prepared for the moment He calls us home.

Understanding the certainty of death equips us to face it head-on, to live well, with eternity etched in our hearts, as we anticipate the promises of the Gospel fulfilled in the life to come.

NOW----here is a sobering truth.

We are a generation that doesn’t know how to die well.

We deny it with all we are.

To die well isn’t about not feeling the sting of grief;

it’s about understanding that death is the full stop to our delusions of grandeur.

To die well is to see every coffin not just as a tragedy but as a sermon, preaching the brokenness of our existence, reminding us we are not promised eighty years.

To die well is to be amazed at God’s patience, to marvel at why He hasn’t called time on us yet.

It's to live with open hands, to love Jesus more fiercely than life itself, and to be ready to go home when He calls.

Facing death head-on now means it won’t crush you when it finally grips you.

Preparing for death doesn't mean you have to be all doom and gloom;

it’s about choosing how to live in the now with eternity in our hearts.

But hold on—before we dive into how to live in this wild, beautiful, tragic, temporary world, let’s grapple with all that’s uncertain.

Because the Preacher isn’t done shaking us yet.

2. The Unpredictability of Life (verses 11–12)

Ecclesiastes 9:11–12 (ESV)

Again I saw that under the sun the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to those with knowledge, but time and chance happen to them all. For man does not know his time. Like fish that are taken in an evil net, and like birds that are caught in a snare, so the children of man are snared at an evil time, when it suddenly falls upon them.

Here we confront the wild, unpredictable nature of existence.

We tend to live as if the one thing that is certain (our death) will never come while the many things that are uncertain are certain.

It's usually the case that the quickest person wins the race, the strongest person wins the fight,

the clever person manages their money well,

the smartest people get the highest-paying jobs, and those with an education tend to catch the breaks.

But this isn't an absolute rule.

For "time and chance" – unfold for everyone (v. 11).

(When we bought our home - I was so angry and flustered - turns out we were very fortunate)

Life involves unexpected turns, sudden shifts in circumstances, events that take us by surprise.

This is why Vegas makes a killing; you think you can play the future like a slot machine? Guess again.

The house always wins.

Life is a wild ride, full of twists and turns that no one can predict.

The Preacher in Ecclesiastes gets it: life's like a game of chance where the odds are stacked and the outcomes are anything but certain.

It’s a picture of unpredictability – like fish swimming freely until suddenly caught.

We dream big, plan our lives meticulously, but often find that life doesn’t stick to our script.

That job might fall through, the dream house may remain just a picture on a Pinterest board.

The Preacher lays it out plainly: "For man does not know his time" (v. 12). Our days are not ours to command.

It's like James is the New Testament twin of Ecclesiastes' Teacher, dropping truth bombs that resonate through time:

“Now listen, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.’ Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. You’re like morning fog – here now, gone in a heartbeat. Instead, you should say, ‘If God wills, we'll live to do this or that.’” (James 4:13–15 NIV)

So, how do we navigate this unpredictability? The Preacher doesn’t offer empty platitudes.

Instead, he urges us to live fully, embracing the moments we have.

In the Gospel, this takes on a deeper dimension: each day is an opportunity to live for Christ, to see every moment as a chance to reflect His love and grace.

In the fleeting and uncertain nature of life, we find a call to trust God more deeply, to live with purpose and hope, knowing that our ultimate security is found in Christ.

Our response to life’s unpredictability is to live each day with an eternal perspective, holding onto the unchanging truth of the Gospel.

As we stand at this crossroads, aware of our mortality and the fickleness of fortune,

the call comes to shift our focus, to tilt our gaze towards the here and now. Let’s dive into what it means to savor the simple blessings

3. Enjoy The Simple Blessings (v.7-10)

Ecclesiastes 9:7–10 (ESV)

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.

Step into this moment with intention—“Go.”

It’s an invitation, not just to taste your food, but to savor life as a God given gift.

It’s as if God is nudging us towards a way of being that’s rich with intention and saturated with joy.

He's signed off on our pursuit of happiness, not as a trivial chase, but as a sacred endeavor.

This is where we touch the pulse of Ecclesiastes. “Gift, not gain” becomes our mantra.

Remember what Jesus has done, how he changes life.

John 10:10 (ESV)

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.

God delights in our joy - (Sammy on Christmas at 1)

We have been given abundant life.

We should be the happiest people on the planet.

Our lives should be infused with meaning and purpose.

v. 9 The preacher says. Enjoy your life with your spouse.

Are you enjoying your spouse?

If you’re married, don’t down- play this. We are not told: live with your wife or put up with your wife but, rather, enjoy life with your wife. If you are too busy to enjoy the life you have together, then you are too busy. End of story. _David Gibson

Really, it's that simple.

Eating, dressing, loving—these are not the totality of God’s gifts, but symbols, signposts to a life lived fully awake.

God didn’t set us in a world of mere concepts or disembodied truths, but in a tangible, touchable, taste-able reality—a place where the spiritual and physical are intertwined.

So, what if we were to follow in the preacher’s footsteps?

Our list might look something like this:

Ride a bike,

see the Grand Canyon,

go to the theater,

learn to make music,

visit the sick,

care for the dying,

cook a meal,

feed the hungry,

watch a film,

read a book,

laugh with some friends until it makes you cry,

play football,

run a marathon,

snorkel in the ocean,

listen to music that stirs you,

Call your parents,

write a letter,

play with your kids,

spend your money,

learn a language,

plant a church,

start a school,

speak about Christ,

travel to somewhere you’ve never been,

adopt a child,

give away your fortune and then some,

shape someone else’s life by laying down your own.

Make much of Jesus.

I hope you could add that list.

Sin may have introduced static into our story, but the melody of creation still hums beneath.

Engage fully with whatever you do, with heart and soul.

The clock may be ticking, but our call to live, to create, to love, to be fully present in the ache and the wonder of now is loud and clear.

We are called to embrace the profound and the mundane with equal reverence,

knowing that we are not promised forever, but we are given today—to live fully, to love deeply, to be truly present in each fleeting, precious moment.

That's where beauty is found. That's where life is lived.

Imagine an old Grandpa leaning in, his voice seasoned with years, whispering wisdom...

“Kid, listen. If only I grasped back in my young days the knowledge I hold now.

Life’s too quick for the hustle, too rich to miss a moment.

I’d savor every laugh of my children, every whispered secret.

They were just toddlers toddling, and in a blink, they spread wings and soared.

I’d hang onto every word from a friend more than spilling my own thoughts.”

That’s the seasoned voice of life lived, echoing the voice of the Jesus into our bones.

Navigating the tangible joys of life while holding fast to a Christ-centered existence might seem like threading a needle with a frayed string,

but here’s the secret: they’re not on opposing ends.

They dance together in a beautiful rhythm.

In this grand design, we savor life's delights without turning them into idols.

Misplaced worship turns joy sour.

Idolizing sex turns love into chains.

Making a god out of family sets you up for a fall.

Every good thing becomes a bitter pill when it's worshipped instead of appreciated.

C.S. Lewis wisely noted, unchecked affection morphs into a twisted form of hate.

But when we lift our gaze to the Creator, to love Him, trust Him, and walk beside Him, we find He’s not a distant deity eager to strike us down.

No, He’s more like the ultimate host of the grandest party you’ve ever seen, beckoning us to taste the feast of His kingdom.

These gifts—the simple, good things—they're not just trinkets, they're signposts.

Signposts that make us ache for a homeland we've not yet seen but somehow know.

God uses life's fleetingness to pry our fingers from the illusion of earthly permanence.

It’s the goodness of His gifts that makes our hearts long for more—long for Home.

This section of Ecclesiastes overflows with wedding symbolism, with white garments, feasting and celebration, painting a portrait of earthly pleasure as a glimpse of the eternal joy we await.

We can't fully grasp what eternity holds, but one thing is evident: our present moments of communion are just appetizers before the main course in the world to come.

We are all waiting for the great wedding feast when Jesus will redeem his bride. (EXPLAIN)

In the quiet corners of history, Heaven's greatest act of love unfolded: Jesus, the embodiment of God’s compassion, stepped into the abyss of our failings.

He took upon Himself the shadows of our sins, bearing the unfathomable weight of our wrongs upon the Cross.

In this selfless surrender, He died,

the Innocent for the guilty, erasing our spiritual debts and restoring the broken bridge between humanity and the Lord

But the Cross was not the end.

In the wake of His sacrifice, the grave's victory was short-lived, because Jesus conquered death, rising to proclaim our hope reborn.

This resurrection was the down payment on a divine promise—the assurance of an eternal reunion,

a celestial wedding feast where we, the Church, will be united with God as His cherished people.

Now, we hold this condensed hope, a distilled joy that heralds the ultimate banquet.

In Jesus—our Passover Lamb and triumphant King—the path has been set, the table prepared.

It is finished, and yet, an everlasting beginning awaits.

Consider how Jesus navigated his journey on earth. Think about how he lived

He didn’t shun the pleasure of a shared meal;

rather, he broke bread as a preview of the ultimate banquet. (ATE HIS WAY THROUGH THE GOSPELS)

Every supper, every shared loaf is a whisper of the feast to come—a feast where death and tears are relics of a former world.

The mistake is to think heaven strips us of our earthly selves, leaving behind the cumbersome shell of physical life.

On the contrary, heaven restores, renews, and perfects our physical existence.

We're destined not for a disembodied spiritual realm but for a renewed creation where every sensation sings with deeper meaning.

In a world often drowning in despair, some might grab at food and drink like life rafts.

Yet, for those of us captivated by the story of Jesus, these acts are rehearsals for the life everlasting.

These earthly gifts, they have the scent of heaven, a flavor of the Home we were made for.

So, how do we apply this? Let’s take it into the very fabric of our daily existence.

It starts with intentionality.

Begin with the small ritual of a meal—instead of wolfing down your food while your eyes are glued to screens, pause.

Taste.

Savor.

Let that act of eating be a sacred space where you remind yourself: this is just a shadow of what's coming. It's not about the food—it's about presence, communion, a shared table. It's practice for the eternal feast.

Now, consider your daily routines, the habits that shape your life.

Slow down.

Can you see God in the ordinary?

That morning coffee, the laughter with a friend, the comforting rhythm of your breath as you walk—each is a whisper from the eternal,

a reminder that you're just traveling through, that there's more to this story than what you see.

And as for the gifts and pleasures of this world—hold them loosely.

Enjoy them, yes, but never grip so tightly that your hands can't be open to receive what God has for you next.

Remember, the joy found in the gifts is real, but it’s fleeting.

The Giver is where true, lasting joy is found.

Engage in community.

In this isolated, digital age, we need real, face-to-face relationships more than ever.

Share meals, share stories, share life.

Community is where we get a taste of the kingdom, where we learn to love and be loved.

It's where heaven touches earth.

And finally, when sorrow and pain touch your life, as they inevitably will, let them not only be a signal of what's broken but also a signpost for the hope we have.

In Christ, we have a promise that pain is not the end of the story.

There's a day coming when every tear will be wiped away—let that promise fuel a radical, resilient joy that persists even in the darkest of times.

So this week, as you step into the rhythm of your life, look for the signposts of heaven.

Let the transient beauty of this world stir that deep homesickness for a home you've not yet seen.

And may that longing shape how you live, love, and linger in the good gifts of God, with one eye always on the horizon of eternity.

In C.S Lewis book The Last Battle the children and the animals move from the old Narnia to the new Narnia, where they discover that “every rock and flower and blade of grass looked as if it meant more.”

It was the Unicorn who summed up what everyone was feeling. He stamped his right fore-hoof on the ground and neighed, and then cried: “I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now. The reason why we loved the old Narnia is that it some- times looked a little like this. . . . Come further up, come further in!”

If you don’t know Jesus that meal is all you have…it can’t satisfy.

If you are in Christ it doesn’t have to satisfy because it’s only a foretaste of what is to come.

In what ways can I make peace with the inevitability of death, and allow that peace to transform my daily actions and decisions?.

Can I recall a moment when life took an unexpected turn, and how did I respond to it?

What simple blessings in my life am I possibly taking for granted, and how can I cultivate a deeper appreciation for them?

In what ways can I share the joy of my blessings with others, making much of Jesus?