All Is Meaningless

“Vanity of vanities…all is vanity.”With these words, Ecclesiastes confronts us with an uncomfortable truth: much of what we chase in life does not last, satisfy, or finally matter.

As we begin a new sermon series through the book of Ecclesiastes, we step into a book that is often overlooked and under-appreciated. Yet it may be one of the most honest books in Scripture. Ecclesiastes does not offer quick fixes or shallow optimism. Instead, it names the weariness many people quietly carry—the sense that despite effort, success, and progress, life can still feel empty.

The book is traditionally attributed to King Solomon, the wisest and richest man who ever lived. Early in his reign, Solomon humbly asked God for wisdom rather than wealth or power, and God gave it generously (1 Kings 3). But Ecclesiastes is not written by a young king filled with hope and expectation. It is written by an older man looking back, surveying his life, and asking a haunting question: What does it all amount to?

Solomon’s answer is sobering. He calls life “vanity,” using the Hebrew word HEVEL—a breath, a vapor, a puff of smoke. Something real, but fleeting. Something you can see, but cannot hold. Life under the sun, when lived apart from God, is fragile and unsatisfying. It promises more than it can deliver.

The first chapter of Ecclesiastes describes a world stuck in cycles. The sun rises and sets. The wind blows around and around. Generations come and go. Humanity works endlessly, yet nothing seems to finally endure. Solomon’s point is not that work or creation is evil, but that none of it can bear the weight of ultimate meaning. When we try to build our lives on what is temporary, emptiness should not surprise us.

This is where Ecclesiastes becomes deeply personal. It forces us to ask uncomfortable questions. What are we living for? Where are we seeking significance? What receives our time, energy, and affection? Often, what we truly value is revealed not by what we say, but by what we pursue.

Solomon then turns to wisdom itself. If anyone could find meaning through understanding, it was him. Yet even wisdom has limits. Wisdom can diagnose what is broken, but it cannot fix it. “What is crooked cannot be made straight,” Solomon admits. Human knowledge can see the problem clearly—sin, futility, brokenness—but it cannot redeem us from it.

That realization is not meant to drive us to despair, but to humility. When wisdom exposes our limits, it pushes us toward dependence on God. And that is where true meaning begins.

The New Testament shows us what Solomon could only point toward. In Christ, God steps into our HEVEL-filled world. Jesus enters the repetition, weakness, and frustration of life under the sun. At the cross, He carries what we could not straighten—our sin, striving, and failed attempts at meaning. In His resurrection, He proves that meaning is not found in mastering life, but in trusting the God who conquers death.

Ecclesiastes teaches us that meaning is not discovered in controlling our lives, but in fearing the Lord. It reminds us to receive life as a gift rather than a project we must perfect. We still work faithfully, love deeply, and enjoy God’s blessings—but we hold them loosely, knowing they are not ultimate.

Life under the sun will always feel empty when it is separated from God. But life lived in Christ is never meaningless—even when it feels small, repetitive, or weak. Our meaning is not found in what we accomplish, but in belonging to the One who holds all things together by grace. Ecclesiastes chapter one doesn't call us to despair. It calls us to wisdom. And wisdom begins by fearing the Lord and trusting the Savior who gives meaning where the world cannot.