691_Looking at death through the lens of eternity (Ecclesiastes 9:1-18)
Ecclesiastes 9:1-10 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. 2 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. 3 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. 4 But he who is joined with all the living has hope, for a living dog is better than a dead lion. 5 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. 6 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.
7 Go, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has already approved what you do.
8 Let your garments be always white. Let not oil be lacking on your head.
9 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. 10 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.
A certain man visited a cemetery day after day, to sit quietly beside a gravestone, reading the inscription again and again. One day, someone asked him, “Was that someone very dear to you?” The man replied, “No, I never knew him. But look at what is written: ‘Here lies a man who lived for himself and died forgotten.’ I come here every day to remind myself not to live that way.”
The presence of death often strips life down to its essentials. The noise fades. The ambitions shrink. The things we thought mattered suddenly feel fragile. And deep within, a question rises—what does it all mean if this is where everything ends?
This is the very question the Preacher wrestles with in Ecclesiastes 9. After exploring wisdom, pleasure, wealth, achievement, relationships, and even religion, he turns to the unavoidable reality of death, looking at it honestly from the perspective of life “under the sun.”
He observes: “The same event happens to all… the righteous and the wicked” (Ecclesiastes 9:2). The moral distinctions that feel so significant in life appear blurred in death. The righteous receive the same earthly outcome as the wicked. And death feels final for both. In his words, “The dead know nothing… their love and their hate and their envy have already perished” (Ecclesiastes 9:5–6). As he sees it, what happens under the sun is all that can be known. And beyond that, there is silence.
But it’s important to understand this—he is not teaching error, rather, he is describing the limitation of human knowledge – what can be observed without the full light of eternity. He affirms that everything is in the hands of God (Ecclesiastes 9:1), yet he cannot clearly see beyond the grave. He senses order, but he sees randomness. He believes in God, but struggles to reconcile that belief with what he observes in a broken world.
In light of this uncertainty, he urges, “Go, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart… Enjoy life with the wife whom you love… Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might” (Ecclesiastes 9:7–10). This is not reckless indulgence but grateful realism. If this life is all we see, let us receive it as a gift and live it fully.
Yet even here, his motivation is not rooted in eternal reward, but in present opportunity. “There is no work or thought or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol,” he says (Ecclesiastes 9:10). In his view, this life is the only arena for action. Once it ends, everything ceases.
To further complicate matters, life is highly unpredictable: “The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong… but time and chance happen to them all” (Ecclesiastes 9:11). Life, he says, is like a net to catch fish, a snare for small birds. No matter how skilled or wise we are, we cannot control the outcome. Human control is, in many ways, an illusion.
Then he tells a story—almost like a parable. A small city is saved by a poor but wise man. His wisdom delivers everyone. And yet, afterward, no one remembers him (Ecclesiastes 9:14–15). The conclusion is bittersweet: wisdom is better than strength, yet wisdom is often ignored, and those who possess it are easily forgotten.
What is truly valuable is often unrecognized. Even meaningful acts fade from memory. Even righteousness and wisdom seem fragile when measured only by earthly outcomes.
And so, “under the sun,” if death is the end, if everything is forgotten, if outcomes are uncertain, then what lasting meaning can there be?
The rest of Scripture steps in to complete what the Preacher could not yet see. Christ dispelled the shadows by bringing in the light. Where Ecclesiastes says, “the dead know nothing,” we are told, “to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord” (2 Corinthians 5:8). Where death seemed like a sealed door, Jesus declares, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live” (John 11:25–26).
Death is no longer a wall—it is a doorway.
We live in a world where good and evil are mixed together. It can be deeply unsettling. It can even make us question the goodness of God. But Scripture assures us that the day is coming when all things will be set right. The wrongs of this world will not remain unanswered. God will judge righteously. And because of that, our choices in this life carry eternal weight.
Through the resurrection of Christ, death has been defeated. “Death is swallowed up in victory… thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:54–57). Life does not end—it continues in the presence of God. And beyond that, there is the promise of a future bodily resurrection.
Where Ecclesiastes mourns forgotten effort, the New Testament offers a powerful assurance: “Your labor in the Lord is not in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:58). Nothing done for Christ is wasted. Even if recognition never comes or the world forgets, God remembers.
There is “the crown of righteousness” laid up for those who love Christ’s appearing (2 Timothy 4:8). This answers the tension we felt earlier. The righteous may share the same earthly fate as the wicked, but they do not share the same eternal destiny.
When we begin to look at death through the lens of eternity, suffering takes on a new meaning. It is no longer pointless. “The sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18). Trials become temporary, a means of shaping and refining us. Righteousness gains weight. Our choices matter—not just for now, but forever.
Hope fuels endurance. We are not just enduring life; we are moving toward something. We are waiting for a Person, and even our work—our daily, ordinary efforts—is known to God.
Knowing this, we still enjoy life, but we do not cling to it as if it is our final hope. Instead, we receive it as a gift from God, a mere glimpse of His goodness, not the fullness of it.
We can work hard—but not merely for temporary reward. We work with eternity in view. We endure suffering—not purposeless, but shaping us into the likeness of God. We wait—not in fear nor in indifference, but with expectation, not just for the end of life, but for the coming of the Lord.
Unlike the man in the cemetery, we do not just look at death to avoid a wasted life—we look through death, beyond it, into eternity. Because for those in Christ, the gravestone is not the final word. And that changes how we live today. God bless.