Hi folks, I hope you are doing ok? This week we are meeting in the Enigma Tap at 7.30, it would be lush to see you if you are able to join us.
This weeks blog should be written by Karen, but i’ve stepped in, what with all that’s been going on in our lives these last four weeks. I’m writing this one week on from Karen’s mums funeral and four weeks on from the day Judith died. And in the midst of that this weeks blog is based around this famous words from Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 ‘A Time For Everything’!
“There is a time for everything,
a season for every purpose under heaven:
a season to be born and a season to die;
a season to plant and a season to harvest;
a season to hurt and a season to heal;
a season to tear down and a season to build up;
a season to cry and a season to laugh;
a season to mourn and a season to dance;
a season to scatter stones and a season to gather them;
a season for holding close and a season for holding back;
a season to seek and a season to lose;
a season to keep and a season to throw away;
a season to tear and a season to mend;
a season to be silent and a season to speak;
a season to love and a season to hate;
a season for hostilities and a season for peace.”
And so as I sit down to write, I’m carrying the weight of the last four weeks—personally, emotionally—as well as everything I see happening in the world.
I have enjoyed putting this together and have used thoughts by Peter Enns to help me reflect on it. Enns calls this book “aggressively pessimistic,” and that’s fair. The main voice in the book is Qohelet (not sure how to pronounce it either!), who’s clearly in the middle of a faith crisis. He’s angry—angry at God, angry at the senselessness of life. To him, everything feels meaningless. Like the KJV puts it: “Vanity of vanities.” Why? Because no matter how much we work, gain, or build, it all ends the same way: we die, and we leave it all behind. Nothing we do seems to last.
Qohelet’s conclusion? God is to blame. He sees no real benefit in being part of Israel’s covenant story. There’s no clear payoff for being faithful. His view is raw, honest—and deeply unsettling. But here’s where the book takes a turn: the narrator steps in, not to dismiss Qohelet, but to affirm his wisdom and move the reader forward. “Fear God and keep His commands,” the narrator says. Not because all the questions are answered, far from it… This in reality is a paradox… Surprise surprise!
Ecclesiastes, like Job and the lament Psalms, challenges the core idea that God always blesses the righteous and punishes the wicked. Sometimes, it seems like the opposite is true. And that can shake your faith. I know I’ve felt that tension over the years. Maybe you have too.
Instead of giving us clear solutions, Ecclesiastes leaves the tension unresolved. It shows us what faith looks like when everything feels upside-down. It doesn’t tidy things up. It simply invites us to keep going. UGH!
Even in the New Testament, we see echoes of this in Jesus. His moments of deep abandonment in Gethsemane and on the cross weren’t just emotional—they were real. Jesus suffered and He felt alone. And Paul reminds us that to follow Christ is to share in that kind of suffering (Phil. 3:10). This is part of the Christian life. We all have our “Qohelet moments.”
Our passage above, Ecclesiastes 3 says, “a time to be born, a time to die…”— this isn’t a feel-good list for your wall. It’s a deep reflection on how little we control. Birth, death, sowing, reaping, joy, mourning—it all unfolds beyond us. God, The Divine, directs the seasons. We can’t change them. In verse 9, Qohelet asks, “What do workers gain from their toil?” And his lament is clear: despite all our effort, nothing shifts the cosmic rhythm.
So what do we do with all this? We don’t, we can’t and we shouldn’t read Ecclesiastes in isolation. It only makes sense as part of the full biblical narrative, where struggle and paradox are not signs of failure, but ingredients of faith.
In our own lives—especially in hard seasons like the one my family has just walked through—we can see how real this is. There have been moments of despair, but also unexpected light. And even those small moments of light can be enough to keep us going. They remind us that God is still present, even in the questions… even in the doubt…
And for that, I’m thankful—not just for the light, but also for the dark. Because both shape who we are.
Questions:
- If you could ask God one brutally honest question and get a straight answer, what would it be?
(Bonus points if it’s weird. Example: “Why do cats knock stuff off shelves?”) - Qohelet is totally overwhelmed—he’s angry, questioning, and not seeing the point in anything. Have you ever felt that way in your own faith or life? What happened?
- He says life is meaningless because everyone dies and nothing lasts. Is he being super real, or just dramatic? How do you deal with those “What’s the point?” kind of days?
- The narrator agrees Qohelet is wise… but still says, “Fear God and keep His commands.” How do you hold both—honest doubt and choosing faith—at the same time?
- Ecclesiastes doesn’t solve life’s mess. It just kind of says, “Yep, it’s complicated.” Does that frustrate you, or does it actually make you feel understood?
- Even in the mess, Qohelet notices tiny glimmers of joy. What little moments of light have broken through for you during hard times?
Peace, Rob.
Image by ChatGPT
Rob Wylie is the founder of BeachcomberFX and guides its leadership team. He has worked in the North East for over 20 years and has vast experience from various roles he has held. He has a passion for Fresh Expressions of Church and Pioneer Ministry as well as beer, beaches and Miniature Schnauzers.
