Living in Circles (Ecclesiastes 1:1-18)

Big Idea: Life without God is meaningless, but through Jesus, we find purpose, joy, and eternal hope that transforms everything.

You know you're in trouble when the doctor says, "Was this here the last time I examined you?"

At a routine yearly physical, Pat Howard's doctor discovered a mass in her abdomen. His expression showed concern, indicating the need for further investigation. In the weeks that followed, she endured x-rays, sonograms, blood draws, and the anxious hovering of medical staff. Everything hinged on a blood test result that would take five days to process. Five days.

The word "cancer" makes time feel much longer. Those five days stretched into an eternity. When the morning finally arrived for her to call, her husband clasped her hand as she dialed. With the news—negative, benign—time suddenly compressed back to normal, and she could breathe again. Now, supposedly, life could return to normal.

Do you think her life could get back to normal? Looking back on her life until the doctor found the mass, she comments:

When had we become so numb? At what point had the color begun to fade from our marriage?… It came to me that 'normal' had been the real cancer of my life. I had been painting my life by number… Previously I had been getting by in life. I had resigned myself to being content with less and less. My role… had become robotic. I could just insert the tape for the day and let it play… My role as human being had been overshadowed by fears and worries and survival. Not only did I not stop to smell the flowers, I didn't know they were there or, even worse, cursed the fact that they were in the way.

You know, there's something called "urgency addiction." That's when your life becomes so busy that you begin to neglect looking at the bottom-line issues. Many of us endure this situation for years until a crisis forces us to reassess our lives and realize we are stuck in a cycle.

Thousands of years ago, a man lived who had the resources to do an experiment with his life. His name was Solomon, king of a nation, rich and willing to do it all. This man was renowned for his wisdom. He had the wherewithal to try every approach to life. Hard work, power, riches, sex. You name it, he tried it. Here was a man who had tried it all! Here was a man who had gone for the gusto and done everything. In many ways, he was the quintessential man who had arrived. He had done everything. There were no more ladders left to climb. He had arrived.

Probably near the end of his life, he reflected on human experience, much as Pat Howard did.

Now turn with me to Ecclesiastes. Here we'll examine Solomon's initial reflections on life's meaning.

Today, I want to provide you with the clarity that usually comes from cancer scares, midlife crises, or significant loss—without the need for trauma. Consider this your wake-up call without the pain. You might even thank me later. We'll start with Solomon's core thesis before exploring the evidence supporting his conclusions. As we do, you'll notice how remarkably relevant his ancient insights remain for our lives today.

Here is Solomon's thesis:

The words of the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem.

Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher,
vanity of vanities! All is vanity.
What does man gain by all the toil
at which he toils under the sun?
(Ecclesiastes 1:1-3)

The word in Hebrew literally means empty, unsatisfactory, futile, or absurd. It is similar to vapor, which disappears quickly, leaves nothing behind, and does not satisfy. One professor defined this word as "whatever is left after you break a soap bubble."

What a stunning verdict from history's wisest king! The word "meaningless" echoes like a refrain throughout Ecclesiastes, appearing over thirty times. After surveying his vast wealth, remarkable achievements, and celebrated wisdom—everything that defined his legacy—Solomon arrives at this sobering conclusion:

Then I considered all that my hands had done and the toil I had expended in doing it, and behold, all was vanity and a striving after wind, and there was nothing to be gained under the sun. (Ecclesiastes 2:11)

Solomon begins in chapter one to characterize nature as an endless round of pointless movement. And he points out that this rhythm engulfs human generations as well.

Now, what I'm going to ask you to do for the remainder of this message is to put your heart on the line. I'm going to ask you to avoid the necessity of being threatened with cancer. Instead, we're going to stop long enough to examine our lives and see if what Solomon said is still true. Because if what he said is true, surely we need to make some changes, right? If your role has become monotonous and robotic. If your contributions add up to nothing. If you are just getting by in life. If you are living in circles, Solomon holds out a sign and says, "Stop!" And we had better make some changes.

Examples Of Futility

Look at these examples of futility and see if they ring true.

A generation goes, and a generation comes,
but the earth remains forever.
The sun rises, and the sun goes down,
and hastens to the place where it rises.
The wind blows to the south
and goes around to the north;
around and around 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 flow again.
(Ecclesiastes 1:4-7)

Solomon says, "Nothing has changed." There is a group of people who will be born today, and there is a group of people who will die today. One generation comes and another goes, but nothing really changes. Solomon identified the "wheel of nature" around him: the earth, the sun, the wind, and the water. He compares the transience of generations to the endurance of the earth. Despite the constant arrival and departure of different generations, the Earth remains intact.

A man named Jerome wrote, "What is more vain than this vanity: that the earth, which was made for humans, stays—but humans themselves, the lords of the earth, suddenly dissolve into dust?" While the world may endure for many generations, we won’t benefit from it, as we will eventually be gone. And Solomon says, this is meaningless.

Solomon encourages us to look at the sun. One Scriptural writer describes the daily passage of the sun this way:

In them he has set a tent for the sun,
comes out like a bridegroom leaving his chamber,
and, like a strong man, runs its course with joy.
(Psalms 19:5)

This passage celebrates the sun's daily arc with awe and wonder. Yet Solomon offers a starkly different perspective. Instead of depicting a vibrant champion in the sky, he shows the sun dragging home, exhausted, only to endure the same tough journey again tomorrow. His vision resembles the Greek myth of Sisyphus, who endlessly pushes a boulder uphill only to see it roll back down, symbolizing futile effort. Feeling the weight of existence yet?

He highlights that the constant wind is as insignificant as the daily sun or the cycle of countless generations. Solomon highlights nature's seemingly pointless activity by noting how countless streams flow into the sea, yet the sea never overflows. Even lakes or seas with no outlet still remain unfilled. He's pointing out the countless cycles that go on and on and on for generation after generation. It's called "living in circles."

Solomon points out that the same is true of the human condition.

All things are full of weariness;
a man cannot utter it;
the eye is not satisfied with seeing,
nor the ear filled with hearing.
What has been is what will be,
and what has been done is what will be done,
and there is nothing new under the sun.
Is there a thing of which it is said,
“See, this is new”?
It has been already
in the ages before us.
There is no remembrance of former things,
nor will there be any remembrance
of later things yet to be
among those who come after.
(Ecclesiastes 1:8-11)

Nothing really changes. Verse eight reveals we're no different from those Athenians in Acts 17:21 who "would spend their time in nothing except telling or hearing something new." We remain captivated by novelty—just observe our entertainment habits. Despite countless disappointing films, I still anticipate the next release might finally satisfy. Yet our appetite for new sights and sounds never diminishes, never fulfills. Buying the biggest TV and all premium channels won’t guarantee happiness. This isn't speculation; it's certainty.

What's more, there's nothing really new in life. Think about it: since Solomon wrote these words thousands of years ago, nothing much has changed under the sun. We'd like to think that the world is full of new things such as computers and fax machines and new cars. But if we think anything is new, it's because we haven't read the minutes of the last meeting. There may be new circumstances and new lifestyles, but people are just the same as when Solomon wrote. There has been no new development in the areas of human nature and sin. Rudyard Kipling wrote a funny little rhyme:

The craft that we call modern;
The crimes that we call new;
John Bunyan had them typed and filed
in 1682

There's nothing new.

Verse 11 is very sobering:

There is no remembrance of former things,
nor will there be any remembrance
of later things yet to be
among those who come after.
(Ecclesiastes 1:11)

When we are gone, who will remember us? Our children, our close friends. But pretty soon they will pass on too, and our memory will pass from the earth. In old cemeteries, where headstone names fade, you'll see that for many, the headstone is the only reminder of their existence. No one remembers that person. Our name will pass from the earth as well. Previous generations are quickly forgotten, and future generations will fare no differently.

Finally, the historian becomes the philosopher. Solomon describes how he went about searching for the answer to the human condition. Look at what he writes:

I the Preacher have been king over Israel in Jerusalem. And I applied my heart to seek and to search out by wisdom all that is done under heaven. It is an unhappy business that God has given to the children of man to be busy with. I have seen everything that is done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and a striving after wind.

What is crooked cannot be made straight,
and what is lacking cannot be counted.
(Ecclesiastes 1:12-15)

As king, he had the resources to explore various solutions to the issue of meaninglessness. Solomon pulled up his sleeves and looked at life from every angle. It appears that he made his study his life's focus, ignoring the affairs of running the country. He set aside all his religious moorings and tried sex, money, work – everything! And here are his findings: Literally, verse 13 says that God has given men and women an evil burden. In other words, life is tough! Do you believe it? Life is tough!

Everything, he says in verse 14, is meaningless, a chasing after the wind. In verse 15 he says:

What is crooked cannot be made straight,
and what is lacking cannot be counted.
(Ecclesiastes 1:15)

Solomon identifies a fundamental brokenness in earthly existence. Certain dilemmas persist across millennia, impervious to human solutions. Some fractures in our condition remain beyond repair when viewed through purely mortal eyes.

After his exhaustive investigation, detailed in verses sixteen and seventeen, Solomon reaches this sobering conclusion:

For in much wisdom is much vexation,
and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.
(Ecclesiastes 1:18)

In other words, "ignorance is bliss." Sometimes it's better not to know. Even wisdom has limitations. There are some things that even wisdom can't change. Humanistic wisdom – wisdom without God also leads to grief and sorrow.

I'm not aiming to depress you today—quite the opposite. Many of us live like Pat Howard did before her health scare: following routines without thinking, just surviving instead of truly living. Our humanity becomes overshadowed by anxieties, obligations, and the struggle to simply make it through each day.

Throughout Ecclesiastes, Solomon examines existence through purely human eyes, not heaven's perspective. His repeated phrase "under the sun" signals this earthbound viewpoint—life evaluated apart from God. This distinction reveals the book's central insight: life finds coherence only when connected to its Creator.

Remember that old Coca-Cola slogan, "Things go better with Coke"? Ecclesiastes offers a profound variation: "Life goes better with God." More accurately, life only becomes meaningful with God. Without him, our "under the sun" existence remains empty, purposeless, and ultimately absurd. Genuine meaning emerges solely through relationship with God and his Son.

Warren Wiersbe observes that science shows a closed system with no fundamental changes, history reveals a stagnant timeline with nothing new, and philosophy presents deep questions that remain unanswered. This is the sum of life "under the sun."

Solomon’s reflections in Ecclesiastes paint a stark picture of life’s futility when lived apart from God. But the beauty of the gospel is that it breaks into this cycle of meaninglessness with hope. Where Solomon saw vanity, Jesus brings purpose. Where Solomon saw endless striving, Jesus offers rest. Where Solomon saw death as the final word, Jesus declares victory through his resurrection.

The gospel tells us that Jesus entered this broken, weary world to redeem it. He lived the perfect life we could never live, died the death we deserved, and rose again to offer us eternal life. Through him, the crooked is made straight, and what is lacking is made complete. Life under the sun may still have its challenges, but life in Christ is filled with meaning, joy, and hope that transcends the temporary.

If you’re feeling stuck in the monotony of life, overwhelmed by its futility, or burdened by its brokenness, Jesus invites you to come to him. He offers a love that satisfies the deepest longings of your heart and a purpose that endures beyond the grave. In him, life is no longer a striving after the wind—it’s a gift to be received, cherished, and lived for his glory. This is the good news that changes everything.