“Give me a good something to write about,” I said. “I’m so … tired out … I feel like I have nothing left.” That was my message to her. She texted me, “Write about Solomon in Ecclesiastes.” As usual, she was right. Therefore, here goes …

For as long as I can remember, Ecclesiastes has remained my favorite book of the Bible. I have shelves of Bibles. And when you pull almost any of them from the shelves, they will fall open to Ecclesiastes. I have marginalia there, sermon notes there, teaching notes there, personal notes there, underlining there, etc. I see so much in Solomon that I want say to him, almost as if he were standing near me, “You too?” I’ve been there–have made countless blunders, been in abundance, been in penury, been fleshly, been close to the Lord, been in rebellion against Him, and on and on. There’s no good in hiding; I admit it head-on. Solomon, I get it.

Solomon was the child of a king. King David was his dad. But David, like his son later, had sin in his life, blew it in certain areas of his life, reared rotten children oftentimes, was a bad dad, battled the flesh, and on and on. Yet, folks tend to laud David as if he were a great man. Well, he was. And, well, he wasn’t. Just like his son, Solomon.

Solomon prayed for wisdom–and received it. Solomon was graced to build the temple, the remnants of which you can still visit in Israel today. Solomon was blessed with riches, beauty, friendship, women, dominion, popularity, and more. Yet, he wrote Ecclesiastes. Why? Even folks who know next to nothing of Scripture know this: “[V]anity of vanities! . . . All is vanity.”

There is a lifetime of wisdom in just the first 11 verses of Ecclesiastes. For tonight, I just want to focus on one verse: verse 3: “What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?” There’s a pun going on in the question. Whose rule are we under? Are we working under the sun or under the Son [of God]? That’s the theme of Ecclesiastes. This world vs. heaven; the temporal vs. the eternal; the visible vs. the spiritual; the now vs. the forever.

I appreciate Solomon so much because he was honest. I’d rather have an honest and spiritually-broken preacher than a sanctimonious poser with no blisters. Give me the scarred saint over the cloistered bromide boys.

More to come. But for now, read Ecclesiastes. Then, read it again. I will join you.