Chasing What Can't Satisfy

There is a quiet sadness—an emptiness—that seems to hang over much of our world. It doesn’t always look like grief or despair. In fact, it often looks like success.

It looks like full calendars and empty evenings.It looks like years of hard work followed by restlessness instead of peace.It looks like achieving what we hoped for, only to wonder why it still isn’t enough.

In a 2005 interview on 60 Minutes, Tom Brady was asked about life after winning Super Bowls. At the time, he had already reached what many would call the pinnacle of success. Yet he spoke with surprising honesty:

“Why do I have three Super Bowl rings and still think there’s something greater out there for me? … It’s gotta be more than this. This can’t be what it’s all cracked up to be… What else is there for me?”

When asked what he thought he was missing, he simply replied, “I wish I knew.”

Since then, Brady went on to win more championships, gain immense wealth, and live a life many admire. No great tragedy. No public failure. And yet, his words revealed something deeply human—a longing that success cannot silence. Scripture has a word for that feeling: hevel. Vapor. Breath. Meaninglessness. That is exactly what we encounter in Ecclesiastes 2.

The writer—often called “the Preacher”—is someone who has lived long enough to stop pretending. He tried pleasure, productivity, wisdom, wealth, and achievement. He denied himself nothing. And when he finally stepped back to look at it all, he reached this conclusion:

“All was vanity and a striving after wind, and there was nothing to be gained under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes 2:11)

The problem wasn’t that these things were bad. Many of them were good gifts. The problem was expecting them to give what only God can give.

When pleasure becomes our hope, it leaves us restless.When work becomes our identity, it becomes exhausting.When wisdom is separated from eternity, it leads to despair.

The Preacher reminds us of a truth we often avoid: death is the great equalizer. The wise and the foolish, the successful and the overlooked—all share the same end. Human effort, on its own, cannot conquer death or secure lasting meaning. And yet, Ecclesiastes does not end in despair.

After stripping away false hopes, Scripture offers something better—not striving, but receiving.

“There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This also is from the hand of God.” (Ecclesiastes 2:24)

Joy is not something we manufacture by doing more or achieving more. It is received as a gift. Meals shared. Work done faithfully. Ordinary moments lived in trust. These are not distractions from meaning—they are where meaning is found when life is lived with God. Life is short. The dash between our birth and death matters. But meaning is not something we chase or earn. It is something God gives, day by day. When life is lived apart from God, even the best things fade like vapor. But when life is lived with God, even the smallest things become holy ground. In Christ, we are freed from striving after the wind. We are invited to rest in grace, to enjoy God’s gifts, and to live with hope—knowing that our lives under the sun are held by a faithful God who gives meaning that lasts.