Week 1 - Ecc. 1:1-11 | Life's Vapor: Finding Meaning in a Fleeting World

Introduction:

During my sophomore year of college, I spent a month at an orphanage and school high in the mountains of Ethiopia. The people there were poor—really poor. Not American poor! There were like dirt floors poor. Hand-dug wells poor. Goats-sleeping-in-your-grass-huts-at-night kid of poor! And yet—there was something stunningly rich about their lives.

Life moved slowly, not because they were lazy, but because they were connected to the land. When your food grows from the ground, you can’t rush things. You learn to wait.

Life was beautifully simple there. It was slow. And it was deeply joyful.

These students, who walked miles to come to this school. The orphans. The families in the surrounding village they were joy-filled people. They laughed and smiled and shared their coffee with us, which is the best in the world by the way!

In them, I saw a kind of contentment that didn’t make sense by Western standards.

And I remember coming home asking a haunting question: What have we really gained with all our speed, technology, and abundance? We’re running on a faster treadmill to be sure—but are we getting anywhere?

You see, we live in a world of more—faster, better, newer. Always reaching, always consuming, always chasing that next hit of happiness. And with summer beginning, maybe you’ve started the chase again—dreaming about that perfect vacation: a week at the beach, a cabin in the woods, boats on the lake, bonfires, sun-soaked days, maybe another sports camp. These are good things—gifts, even.

But when the summer dust settles—after all the busy, all the buildup—what are we really left with? Some rest? Maybe. But usually not enough. A few good memories, sure, but most of it is fleeting, isn’t it? Summer’s great, but it never lasts—and deep down, it often leaves us wanting more. It doesn’t truly satisfy.

Summer gives us the space to ask, “When’s my next break?” But maybe the better question—the one our souls are really aching to ask—is this: “Is there something that can satisfy me even when life ain’t so sunny! When it’s cloudy, hard, complicated and confusing?”

That’s the question Ecclesiastes dares to ask. And, refreshingly, it refuses to offer shallow or easy answers.

We’re beginning a new series called Life Under the Sun, looking at the book of Ecclesiastes—a book that refuses to play nice with our illusions. And the preacher who wrote it? Well, he wasn’t just some cranky philosopher. According to verse 1, he was none other than King Solomon—son of David, king of Israel. As in the King Solomon. The wisest man who ever lived… also the wealthiest. He had it all—money, women, art, gardens, gold, wisdom, fame. If life were a buffet, he filled his plate twice.

And one would expect if we could peak into this guys journal, from the man who didn’t just dream of having it all but actually did, we’d expect His journal entry to begin with what? With Triumph! Right… Dear Diary! Just slayed another day living like a King!

But he doesn’t, Ecclesiastes, rather, begins with a profound and unsettling observation from the man who had everything you and I dream of attaining:

“Meaningless! Meaningless! says the Teacher. Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless!”

How’s that for positive and encouraging!? Ha! Folks, Ecclesiastes is not a neat and tidy book. It’s not safe. It’s unnerving.

It’s like walking into a luxury vacation rental—the kind whose VRBO photos sold you in seconds—only to discover those pictures were taken 20 years ago… and the place has been rented hard ever since. It once was beautiful, but now it’s beat up. A worn-out shell of what it used to be.

And standing right there in the middle of it all, the Teacher whispers one unsettling word:

“Hevel.” (Spray bottle – mist dissipates in the air.)

Smoke. Vapor. Meaningless.

And as I said, Ecclesiastes doesn’t hand out easy answers. The book is 12 chapters and as such it kind of makes you sit in the ache.

The book is meant to be an invitation to slow down, to feel the tension, and to admit what most of us are too distracted to face:

Life under the sun is short. It’s unpredictable. It’s often frustrating. And without God, it’s hevel.

It’s a mist, a vapor, a breath. Real, but untouchable. Here for a second, and then gone. Beautiful… but brief.

And That could sound depressing. But it doesn’t have to be.

What if recognizing life’s brevity could actually lead us to something more solid? More real? More lasting?

What if life under the sun was never meant to be our final destination—but instead a signpost pointing us to the One who lives above the sun?

Today, we open Ecclesiastes 1:1–11 and begin a journey not into despair—but into honest questions, and ultimately, deeper hope.

Because when we face the vapor of life, we start longing for something eternal. And that longing? Well, it just might lead us home.

So turn with me in your Bibles to Ecclesiastes 1, and we’ll look together at the first 11 verses. And here’s the flow of what we’ll see today:

The Teacher speaks – and he doesn’t hold back: “Everything is Hevel!” (vv. 1–2)

He asks the haunting question – What do we actually gain from all this toil? (v. 3)

He shows us the cycle of the world – sun, wind, rivers… always moving, but going nowhere. (vv. 4–7)

He names the exhaustion – nothing satisfies, nothing is ever enough. (v. 8)

He undercuts our illusions – there’s nothing new; it’s all been done. (vv. 9–10)

He delivers the gut punch – we will be forgotten. (v. 11)

Which again, could feel super depressing, but my hope today is to call out the longing in our souls that nothing in this world seems to satisfy—and remind you that life without the Son is hevel… but life with the Son, Life with Jesus doesn’t have to be!

Let’s look at it together.

Everything is Hevel: vv. 1-2

Ecclesiastes 1:1–2 begins:

Ecclesiastes 1:1–2 NIV

1 The words of the Teacher, son of David, king in Jerusalem: 2 “Meaningless! Meaningless!” says the Teacher. “Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.”

By now, you’ve heard me say a strange word. Not heifer. Not Havarti. The word is Hevel.

It won’t be on the SAT, and it’s probably not tattooed on anyone’s wrist. But it’s all over Ecclesiastes.

You might not recognize it because it’s not English—it’s Hebrew. And in the NIV I read from, it’s translated as “meaningless.” But if you check the ESV, NLT, NET, the Message, or even the good ol’ KJV, they all translate it a little differently:

Meaningless. Vapor. Vanity. Futile. Smoke.

(Spritz the spray bottle)

I really wanted to light up a pipe and puff smoke for the rest of this sermon—but Rachel talked me out of it. Probably wise. So... spray bottle it is. Not quite as fun, but maybe just as effective!

Hevel is a very, very interesting word.

Here’s a little Bible study tip for you—free of charge: it’s always a good practice to read Scripture in multiple translations. You don’t need to know Hebrew to spot when a word might be worth digging into. When translators can’t agree on how to render a word in English, it usually means the original has some rich and layered meaning.

So I did a little digging—clicked the button in my software and looked up how and where this word is used in the Bible.

Here’s what I found:

The Hebrew word hevel (spritz again) appears 73 times in Scripture. And it carries three main layers of meaning:

It can mean: Vapor / Mist / Breath / Wind

So think about something fleeting, intangible, gone as soon as you grab for it. (Spritz again)

It can mean: Meaningless / Futile / Pointless

Now it starts to get heavier. Hevel isn’t just light and misty. It’s empty—all smoke, no substance. (I wish I had my pipe up here! I bought one when I was in Israel, to the chagrin of my mother… it’s olive wood and it’s carved to look like a dragon. It’s amazing! )

So, we have vapor and vanity. But here's the most fascinating discovery from my dive into this word: hevel can also mean Idol or Worthless Idol. You see it in 2 Kings 17:15, describing Israel's departure from God: "They worshiped worthless idols, so they became worthless themselves." That word for "worthless idols"? Yep—hevel (Spritz again).

This profound term is how Solomon, the Preacher, opens his entire book on life: "It's all hevel." (Spritz) He isn't trying to bring us down; he's trying to shake us awake. Ecclesiastes confronts this stark reality: everything we pursue in this life, when separated from God, is fleeting, insubstantial, and hollow. The connection between vapor and idols is critical: the same word, hevel, describes both. This is because the things we instinctively treat as ultimate—our achievements, money, relationships, comfort, the mark we leave—are not just temporary; they become dangerous when we elevate them to ultimate status. Remember: "What we chase as ultimate becomes what we worship as god."

And we’re constantly tempted to place our hope in things that simply can’t hold it. The result? The things that are vapor become our idols of vapor. And in the end, they break our hearts.

This is why Ecclesiastes isn’t just personal—it’s prophetic. It calls out the idols of our culture: progress, productivity, and pleasure. We think if we just do more, have more, achieve more, we’ll finally feel full.

But Solomon—arguably the wisest man who ever lived—says:

“It’s all hevel.” (spritz)

And here’s the big idea he’s getting at:

Life without the Son is hevel.

And then Solomon begins to walk us through all the places we try to find substance in the fog.

So after introducing this strange, haunting word—hevel—Solomon doesn’t waste time.

He steps into the ring like a seasoned boxer, gloves on, eyes locked, and he starts swinging haymakers at the illusions we build our lives on. Control. Comfort. Legacy. Novelty. Progress. He levels them, one by one, showing us just how vaporous life really is “under the sun.”

And here’s how he does it:

1. There’s Hevel in Our Hustle (v. 3 & v. 8)

Ecclesiastes 1:3 NIV

3 What do people gain from all their labors at which they toil under the sun?

We hustle. We grind. We pour ourselves into our work, our goals, our image, our performance. But Solomon throws the first punch and asks the haunting question: “What’s the actual return on all this?” Where is the “there” we’re trying to reach and is it really there at all or is it hevel? (sprits) Verse 8 adds:

Ecclesiastes 1:8 NIV

8 All things are wearisome, more than one can say. The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearing.

It’s endless. You keep scrolling, keep grinding, keep achieving… but your soul’s still tired. Nothing really seams to satisfy. A lot of days it feels like “why bother!” What’s the point!

That’s hevel—the mirage of meaning in our hustle.

2. There’s Hevel in Nature Itself (vv. 4–7)

Solomon then pans the camera out to creation lays another blow or any cup half full person here this morning!

Ecclesiastes 1:4–7 NIV

4 Generations come and generations go, but the earth remains forever. 5 The sun rises and the sun sets, and hurries back to where it rises. 6 The wind blows to the south and turns to the north; round and round it goes, ever returning on its course. 7 All streams flow into the sea, yet the sea is never full. To the place the streams come from, there they return again.

There’s movement to be observed, but it’s movement without progress! Effort without arrival.

Nothing ever really changes!

Like a treadmill on incline—we’re burning out, but not breaking through.

Even creation is caught in a cycle that feels repetitive and relentless. The Apostle Paul agrees.

Romans 8:20 NIV

20 For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it...

Creation is subjected to hevel—it too like us is on a loop it can’t escape.

And someone may object. Now hold on… have you seen what they are doing with AI! That’s new!

Solomon hits us with a right hook

Ecclesiastes 1:9–10 NIV

9 What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. 10 Is there anything of which one can say, “Look! This is something new”? It was here already, long ago; it was here before our time.

It’s not new. It’s just the same old desires, same old stuff wearing fresh sneakers. For real, think about this for all the medications, surgeries, technology and ability to manipulate nature and use technology, how is life different for us than for people 1000 years ago when you really boil it all down. The average life expectancy hasn’t changed. No body lives beyond 120 years of life. Some live longer than others. Some die young. Technology gives us a semblance of more control, but that’s hevel! A mist, a mirage. A vapor! And that desire for control, the effort to control our safety comfort, guess what. It ain’t new. It’s as old as humanity itself!

Hevel (sprits)—the illusion of newness masking the same old ache.

And then in v. 11 Solomon delivers the gut punch! 4. There’s Hevel in Our Legacy (v. 11)

And then—he delivers the gut punch:

Let’s say you manage to string a decent life together, do some good. Surely there’s something to be said for legacy right!

Wrong.

Ecclesiastes 1:11 NLT

11 We don’t remember what happened in the past, and in future generations, no one will remember what we are doing now.

No one remembers the former generations, and even those yet to come will not be remembered!

We spend so much of our lives trying to make a name. Build a legacy. Leave a mark. But Solomon says: Even that fades. We are forgotten. The buildings we name, the accomplishments we parade—eventually they’re just dust.

That’s hevel—the sobering truth that even our greatest achievements can’t outlast time. (sprits)

Alright, well have a great week. See you next Sunday!

Ha!

That’d be cruel wouldn’t it!

Seriously though, what is Solomon up to here? He’s not just being cynical. He’s not trying to crush us—he’s trying to clear the smoke.

He’s dismantling the illusions that keep us running in circles—so we can actually find something (Someone!) solid to stand on.

All of this—our hustle, the created world, our pursuit of novelty, even our legacy—without God at the center… is Hevel.

Life without the Son is vapor under the sun.

But as I said at the beginning—Solomon isn’t trying to depress us. He’s trying to wake us up.

He’s pulling back the curtain on life under the sun—not to leave us in despair, but to drive us to hope beyond the sun.

C.S. Lewis once wrote:

“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”

That’s what Solomon is doing. He’s exposing the hevel not to leave us hopeless—but to make us hungry. Hungry for something solid. Something eternal. Something—or Someone—who can actually satisfy the ache under the sun.

The Problem Recap:

We’ve seen the Teacher’s sobering diagnosis: Life under the sun is hevel—a fleeting vapor.

Our ceaseless striving… Our obsession with the next “new thing”… Our attempts to leave behind a lasting legacy… All of it leads to exhaustion, disillusionment, and disappointment.

And in our longing for permanence, we often turn those very vapors into idols—hoping they’ll give us stability and identity, only to find them empty.

If life under the sun feels like a treadmill… If it feels like chasing the wind… If everything we grasp turns to smoke in our hands… It’s because it is.

Life without the Son is hevel.

So what’s the point? How do we break free from this exhausting cycle?

The Gospel Solution: Jesus—the Anti-Hevel

Ecclesiastes doesn’t leave us in despair. It points us beyond the sun to the only One who can give true and lasting meaning.

John 1:10–11 NLT

10 He [being Jesus] came into the very world he created, but the world didn’t recognize him. 11 He came to his own people, and even they rejected him.

Jesus entered this broken, weary, repetitive world (John 1:10–11). He didn’t just observe from a distance—He lived under the sun with us. He knows the grind. The ache. The hunger for something more.

Hebrews 4:15 NIV

15 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin.

Solomon was wise, but not even He knew what God would do! There was no thing under the sun, that is until Jesus!

Revelation 21:5 ESV

5 And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”

God, left heaven, the safetest most luxurious gated community even known. He left it all to come and slum it with us down here! He put flesh on. The Creator, became like His creation and subjected Himself to hevel! And why? To what end?

2 Timothy 1:10 NLT

10 And now he has made all of this plain to us by the appearing of Christ Jesus, our Savior. He broke the power of death and illuminated the way to life and immortality through the Good News.

Like a lighthouse on the shores of a rugged coast. Jesus set Himself up to help us cut through the fog of hevel. To find the way to life. To fill the longing in our hearts in a way that nothing here in the ocean of this world seams to!

Jesus breaks the cycle of futility! He takes what was meaningless and gives it meaning. He takes what is fleeting and makes it eternal. He takes what was old and makes it new!

You see Jesus didn’t just come to comment on the hevel—He came to redeem it.

And now if you’re in Him, what was vapor becomes valuable. What was temporary has become timeless.

Just as 1 Corinthians 15:58 says

1 Corinthians 15:58 NIV

58 Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.

Life without the son is hevel, vain. But life with the Son, your labor in the Lord is never in vain!

Your love, your sacrifice, your service—in Jesus they’re not vapor anymore. They matter. They last. Because they’re in Him.

Church “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”

Life under the sun is hevel. And we long for more don’t we. Life with the Son and that’s where all this is head folks. Listen to Revelation and tell me this explanation doesn’t make your heart sing for what could be, for what will one day be upon the Lord Jesus’ return:

Revelation 21:1–7 NLT

1 Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the old heaven and the old earth had disappeared. And the sea was also gone. 2 And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven like a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. 3 I heard a loud shout from the throne, saying, “Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them. 4 He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.” 5 And the one sitting on the throne said, “Look, I am making everything new!” And then he said to me, “Write this down, for what I tell you is trustworthy and true.” 6 And he also said, “It is finished! I am the Alpha and the Omega—the Beginning and the End. To all who are thirsty I will give freely from the springs of the water of life. 7 All who are victorious will inherit all these blessings, and I will be their God, and they will be my children.

Sadly, we ain’t there yet. In this world, bones will still break, hearts will still break, but in the end the light will overcome darkness.

But what are we to do as we wait?

It’s simple really, don’t chase meaning where it can’t be found. Stop grabbing at smoke. Look not to the hills, but rather look above them! Look beyond the sun to the Son and He will walk with you through the frustratingly fickle fog of hevel in a way that maintains your hope! One day, all the sad things will be made untrue!

And know this, for those who follow Jesus— Your identity isn’t in what you do or what you build. You are a citizen of heaven. An exile here with eternity in your heart.

That means we can live now with humility, simplicity, and gospel-centered purpose. We don’t need to scramble to leave a legacy. We are free to live faithfully, love deeply, and invest in things that truly last.

And if you’re here and you’re not yet a follower of Jesus— If you’re exhausted by the chase… If you’re stuck in cycles that never satisfy… If everything you reach for turns to vapor— That ache is telling you something.

You weren’t made for this world alone. God is calling you out of the fog. Turn from the vapor. Turn to the One who is not fleeting. The One who is not hevel.

His name is Jesus.

Remember how we began today— That feeling of running in circles? Of striving and gathering and achieving, but never really arriving?

Ecclesiastes names that ache. It calls it what it is: hevel—vapor, smoke, breath. It exposes the lie that meaning can be found in things that won’t last. But it doesn't leave us there.

It points us to Jesus. He is the anchor in the mist, The substance beyond the vapor, The meaning in the seemingly meaningless.

Life without the Son is hevel. But life in Him is everlasting.

To wrap things up this morning we’re going to take communion together and remember the new thing God did in Jesus!

I’ll invite those serving communion to come forward and begin passing out the bread. Please hold onto them so we can partake together as one body.

As they’re passing, I’ll remind you that this table is for all who have placed their trust in Jesus. If that’s you, you are welcome. Come not because you’ve earned it, but because He invites you.

If you’re still exploring faith or unsure of what you believe— We invite you to pass the elements on by and simply use this time to observe and reflect. Consider what this meal means. There’s no pressure—just an invitation to truth, and to Jesus.

A Word Before We Receive:

As we come to the table, let’s remember:

Jesus stepped into the hevel for us. He walked through the fog. He bore the futility, the sorrow, the exhaustion— And He broke its power by allowing Himself to be broken.

His body—given. His blood—poured out. All to restore meaning to our lives and give eternity to our days. To give meaning where everything else slips through our fingers.

If you’re tired of chasing the wind— You’re in good company this morning. To you, the Lord Jesus says: Come.

If your hands are empty— Come.

If your soul is hungry for something real and lasting— Come.

Words of Institution:

On the night He was betrayed, the Lord Jesus took bread. And when He had given thanks, He broke it and said: “This is my body, which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” (1 Corinthians 11:23–24)

(Allow time for the congregation to partake of the bread.)

In the same way, after supper, He took the cup, saying: “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” (1 Corinthians 11:25)

(Allow time for the congregation to partake of the cup.)

Prayer of Thanksgiving:

Jesus, we thank You for this table— For this moment that reminds us: You are not hevel.

You are the rock in a world of mist. The anchor in our ache. The hope beyond our striving.

Thank You for Your body, broken to redeem our broken lives. Thank You for Your blood, shed to write a better story for us—an eternal one.

Now send us out in Your strength. Teach us to live not for vapor, but for what lasts. Not for what fades, but for You.

In the name of the Son, the One who is not fleeting, Amen.