*Edilberto Merida, Peru, Jesus on the Cross, 1996, ceramic corpus on wooden cross
Man’s Search for Meaning Viktor Frankl was a psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor. While living in a death camp, he made a powerful observation. He noticed that people tended to become one of two kinds. Some grew bitter, angry, and cynical. They lost hope. Some even betrayed their fellow prisoners to survive another day. But there were others, a handful of people, who stayed kind and strong. They shared what little they had. They encouraged others. They even took the blame for others’ mistakes.
Frankl asked, “What made the difference?” He realized this: those who had placed the meaning of their lives in something the death camp could take away – family, work, success, power, or health –eventually lost everything, including their will to live. But those who found their meaning in something the death camp could not take away, something beyond this world, such as faith and God, stood firm.
Meaningless under the Sun
That’s exactly what the writer of Ecclesiastes is wrestling with. He looks around the world and says, “Everything is meaningless under the sun.” He’s searching for something death cannot take away – something eternal.
In today’s passage, the author introduces himself, saying, “I am the Teacher (Professor). I was king over Israel in Jerusalem.” (v. 12) Here King Solomon speaks as a teacher, almost like an actor on stage. He is acting out two very different attitudes toward life, not because they are his final convictions, but to help us see and learn from them. At times, he speaks like a pessimist, saying, “Everything is meaningless!” At other times, he sounds like a hedonist, saying, “Eat, drink, and enjoy life!” Through these contrasts, Solomon is guiding us toward what we might call “Christian realism” — seeing life honestly as it is, often broken, yet still filled with hope in God.
In verse 14, the Teacher says, “Everything is meaningless.” But there is one condition. He says, “Everything is meaningless under the sun.” In other words, “If this life (“life under the sun”) is all there is, yes, everything is meaningless. But there is more! There is a life beyond the sun — a life to come!” The Teacher is telling us that recognizing life’s meaninglessness under the sun is not despair. It’s a doorway. It opens a thirst for God, a longing for eternity.
Grace Is Enough
For Paul, that doorway took a different name – a “thorn.” He pleaded with the Lord three times to remove it. But Jesus said, “My grace is enough for you, because power is made perfect in weakness.” After this, Paul says, “Therefore, I am all right with weaknesses, disasters, harassments, and stressful situations for the sake of Christ, because when I’m weak, then I’m strong.” (2 Cor 12:10 CEB) For Paul, that thorn became a door – a door through which he learned to accept weakness, embrace brokenness, and depend fully on Christ. It was his way of living not just under the sun, but for eternity.
Lately, I’ve been reading the autobiography of Alexei Navalny, a Russian lawyer, anti-corruption activist who boldly stand up to Putin. He was poisoned, yet miraculously survived. After treatment in Germany, he could have stayed in safety. But he returned to Russia, because he loved his country, and because he loved God. He was a devoted Christian. Not long after, he was arrested, moved from one harsh prison to another, eventually died in prison in February 2024. What he endured was unimaginable. But what amazed me most was how positive and cheerful he remained to the end. He didn’t grow bitter or resentful. He knew he might never see the fruit of his work under the sun, yet he trusted in God. He put his hope and meaning not in success, but in something eternal. He was a saint of our day, a Christian realist, standing with one foot in this broken world, and the other in God’s eternal kingdom.
Look Up, Lift Up
The world we live in is unfair, unjust, and deeply broken. Paul was wrongfully accused and suffered for his faith. Navalny was wrongfully charged and mistreated, accused of crimes he did not commit: embezzlement, contempt of court, vandalism, even terrorism. No evidence. Yet he was convicted, abused, tortured.
This reminds us of something far greater. Jesus, the Son of God, was also wrongfully accused, condemned, and executed. But unlike any other victim, his suffering was not meaningless under the sun. On the cross, he took our place — our sin, our brokenness, our injustice. When Jesus said, “It is finished,” he wasn’t simply marking the end of his earthly life. He was saying, “It’s all paid for. The case is closed.” Jesus took all the cruelty and injustice of this world upon himself, and he redeemed it.
In Merida’s artwork, Jesus on the Cross, the artist gives Jesus oversized hands and feet. Look first at his feet. Jesus always walked at three miles per hour, slow enough to meet the widow, to touch the leper, to heal the sick. He walked on those feet into every valley of despair, up the hill of Golgotha to finish the work and close the case. Then look at His hands. Even as they were nailed to the cross, his hands remained open. Open and inviting, never any clenched fists. With these hands, Jesus blessed children, lifted the crippled, broke bread. Big hands — big enough to hold the whole world. We almost hear the artist whisper, “Look up, lift up!”[1]
The Best Is Yet to Come
To me, all our saints are like “stars” in my heart. I get so easily distracted or preoccupied with things “under the sun”. But our saints remind me to look up, lift up, set my heart on things above. When I sing in the choir, I think of Patty Crawford – not just her beautiful voice but her faithfulness. When I run the dishwasher, I think of David Guy – his kindness and his labor of love. When I feel like I am not making a difference, I think of Bob Anderson – his warmth, his encouragement, his faith after doubt. Our saints are not only cheering us on, but also, they are pointing us to Christ and his kingdom.
I once read about a woman diagnosed with cancer and was given three months to live. So she contacted her pastor and planed her funeral together – which hymns to sung, what Scriptures to read. But before the pastor left, she said, “One more thing. This is important. I want to be buried a fork in my right hand.” The pastor was puzzled. She smiled. “In all my years going to church functions, whenever food was involved, my favorite part was when whoever was cleaning dishes of the main course would lean over and say, ‘Keep your fork.’ That always made me smile, because it meant something great was coming, like pie or cake! So I just want people to see me there in my casket with a fork in my hand, and I want them to wonder, ‘What’s with the fork?’ Then I want you to tell them, “Something better is coming. Keep your fork.” And when she passed away, at her funeral, the pastor told that story. And everyone smiled, because they knew. For those who die in Christ, this is not a day of defeat. It’s a day of celebration. The real feast is just beginning. Something better is coming.[2]
The Bible says, “Those who are wise will shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever.” (Daniel 12:3, NRSV) So today, we give thanks to God for our saints, who tells us again and again, “Keep your fork.” May we too live for eternity, keep our fork, and lead many to Christ. Amen.
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