The Divine Frame: Eternity in Our Hearts Text: Ecclesiastes 3:9-15
Introduction: The Ache of Meaning
We live in a world that is simultaneously obsessed with and terrified of meaning. Modern man is a frantic creature. He busies himself, he labors, he accumulates, he distracts himself with an endless parade of digital noise and flashing lights. But underneath it all, there is a persistent, gnawing question that will not leave him alone: "What is the point?" He asks, as the Preacher does, "What advantage is there to the worker from that in which he labors?"
This is not a new question. It is the fundamental human question. Our secularist friends try to answer it by saying there is no point, and that we must be brave and create our own meaning in the void. They tell us to find our "passion," to "live our truth," as though meaning were a lump of clay we can shape to our own liking. But this is a counsel of despair. It is like telling a man dying of thirst in the desert to invent his own water. The thirst itself points to the fact that water is real, and that he was made for it. The universal human hunger for meaning, for purpose, for something that lasts, is not a design flaw. It is a clue. It is a divine breadcrumb leading us back to the baker.
The book of Ecclesiastes is often misunderstood as a manual for cynical despair. Unbelievers read it and find a kindred spirit, a fellow nihilist who sees the vanity of it all. Weak-kneed Christians read it and get nervous, wanting to skip ahead to the more cheerful parts of the Bible. But both are profoundly mistaken. Ecclesiastes is not a book of despair; it is a book that teaches us how to find profound and durable joy. But it insists that this joy cannot be found by looking for it "under the sun," that is, within the closed system of this world. It must be received as a gift from the God who stands over and above the sun, the one who orchestrates all the times and seasons we just read about. This passage before us is the heart of that argument. It explains why we feel the ache of meaninglessness and reveals the only possible cure.
The Preacher is going to show us that our labor, our lives, and our limitations are all part of a divine frame. God has built the world and He has built us in such a way that we cannot find ultimate satisfaction anywhere but in Him. He has given us a task, set eternity in our hearts, and yet veiled His grand purposes, all to produce a particular response in us: gladness, goodness, and the fear of God.
The Text
What advantage is there to the worker from that in which he labors? I have seen the endeavor which God has given the sons of men with which to occupy themselves. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in their heart, yet so that man will not find out the work which God has done from the beginning even to the end. I know that there is nothing better for them than to be glad and to do good in one’s lifetime; moreover, that every man who eats and drinks and sees good in all his labor, it is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will be forever; there is nothing to add to it and there is nothing to take from it, God has so worked that men should fear Him. That which is has been already and that which will be has already been, yet God seeks what is pursued.
(Ecclesiastes 3:9-15 LSB)
The Divine Task and the Human Condition (v. 9-10)
The section begins with a question that hangs over all human activity.
"What advantage is there to the worker from that in which he labors? I have seen the endeavor which God has given the sons of men with which to occupy themselves." (Ecclesiastes 3:9-10)
The question in verse 9 is the cry of every man who has ever felt the monotonous grind of the hamster wheel. What profit is there? What's the net gain? After all the sweat, the toil, the striving, what is left? If you live your life entirely "under the sun," the answer is, "Nothing." The cycles just repeat. You work to eat so you have the strength to work. You build something, and it eventually crumbles. You raise children, and they grow up to face the same toil and eventually die. From a purely horizontal perspective, it is all vanity, a chasing after the wind.
But verse 10 immediately reframes the issue. This "endeavor," this toil, is not a cosmic accident. It is not the result of a blind, indifferent universe. It is an assignment. It is the "endeavor which God has given the sons of men." This is crucial. Your work, your daily tasks, your responsibilities, they are a divine appointment. God did not create us for idleness. He put Adam in the garden "to work it and keep it" before the fall (Gen. 2:15). Work is not a curse; it is a created good. The curse made it toilsome, sweaty, and full of thistles, but the work itself is a gift.
So, the Preacher sees the grind. He sees the repetition. But he does not see it as meaningless. He sees it as a curriculum, a divinely assigned course of study. God has given us this business to be occupied with. The question is not whether we will labor, but for whom we will labor, and with what attitude. The unbeliever sees his labor as a meaningless necessity. The believer is to see it as a divine vocation, a task from the hand of a sovereign God.
The Beautiful Puzzle Box (v. 11)
Verse 11 is one of the most profound verses in all of Scripture, and it explains the central tension of our existence.
"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in their heart, yet so that man will not find out the work which God has done from the beginning even to the end." (Ecclesiastes 3:11 LSB)
Here we have three statements that define our reality. First, "He has made everything beautiful in its time." This is a direct echo of the creation account, where God repeatedly declared His work "good." Despite the fall, despite the curse, the world is not ugly. It is shot through with a deep and abiding beauty. A sunrise, the laughter of a child, the satisfaction of a job well done, a well-ordered harvest, these are not illusions. They are real. God is a master artist, and His timing is perfect. The times and seasons He just listed, a time to be born, a time to die, a time to plant, a time to uproot, are not a chaotic mess. They are part of an intricate, divine choreography that is, in its totality, beautiful.
Second, "He has also set eternity in their heart." This is the source of our divine discontent. God has placed within the very fabric of our being a longing for the transcendent, the permanent, the eternal. We are creatures of time, but we have a homing instinct for eternity. This is why we are never fully satisfied with the things of this world. A dog is perfectly content to be a dog. A rock is content to be a rock. But man is not content to be merely a man under the sun. We build monuments to last. We write stories to be remembered. We yearn for a love that will not fade and a justice that will not fail. This ache for eternity is the image of God in us, crying out for its original.
But there is a catch. The third clause tells us that God has done all this "yet so that man will not find out the work which God has done from the beginning even to the end." This is the divine checkmate. God has given us a desire to understand the grand scheme, the whole story, but He has deliberately withheld the full blueprint. We can see fragments of the beauty, we feel the pull of eternity, but we cannot, from our vantage point, connect all the dots. We are like children standing too close to a massive mosaic. We can see the individual tiles, some bright, some dark, but we cannot see the whole picture. This is a deliberate limitation placed upon us by God. It is designed to keep us from the pride of thinking we can manage the universe on our own. It is designed to make us dependent, to make us trust the artist.
The Gift of Godly Joy (v. 12-13)
Given this human condition, this divinely orchestrated tension, what is the proper response? The Preacher tells us plainly.
"I know that there is nothing better for them than to be glad and to do good in one’s lifetime; moreover, that every man who eats and drinks and sees good in all his labor, it is the gift of God." (Ecclesiastes 3:12-13 LSB)
The conclusion is not despair. It is not to throw up our hands and curse the darkness. The conclusion is to rejoice. "There is nothing better." This phrase is a recurring refrain in Ecclesiastes. It is the drumbeat of the book. The highest good for man is not to figure everything out, but to be glad and to do good.
But where does this gladness come from? It does not come from solving the puzzle. It comes from receiving your daily life as a gift from the one who is sovereign over the puzzle. To eat, to drink, to find enjoyment in your labor, this is not a human achievement. It is "the gift of God." This is the great secret of Ecclesiastes. Two men can live identical lives, with the same job, the same house, the same family. One is miserable, crushed by the vanity of it all. The other is filled with a robust, "battle hardened" joy. What is the difference? The second man has received the gift. He has received the can opener along with the can of peaches. The unbeliever has all the external blessings, but no spiritual taste buds to enjoy them. The believer, by faith, is given the ability to taste and see that the Lord is good, even in the midst of the vanity.
This joy is not a frivolous hedonism. It is coupled with "doing good." This is a joy that is fruitful, a gladness that is obedient. It is the joy of a son who trusts his father's plan even when he doesn't understand it, and so he gets on with the chores his father has given him with a cheerful heart.
The Foundation of Fear (v. 14-15)
The Preacher now grounds this entire reality in the absolute sovereignty and eternal nature of God.
"I know that everything God does will be forever; there is nothing to add to it and there is nothing to take from it, God has so worked that men should fear Him. That which is has been already and that which will be has already been, yet God seeks what is pursued." (Ecclesiastes 3:14-15 LSB)
Our works are fleeting, but God's work is permanent. "Everything God does will be forever." His plan is perfect, complete, and unalterable. You cannot add a chapter to His story or tear one out. His work is exhaustive and final. This is the bedrock of reality. Our frantic, fleeting lives are set against the backdrop of His eternal, immutable purpose. And why has God arranged reality this way? The text gives the explicit reason: "God has so worked that men should fear Him."
This is not the cowering fear of a slave before a tyrant. This is the awe, the reverence, the worshipful submission of a creature before his magnificent and sovereign Creator. The fact that we have eternity in our hearts but cannot grasp the whole plan is designed to crush our pride and bring us to our knees. The fact that joy in our daily bread is a gift we cannot manufacture is meant to make us grateful recipients, not arrogant consumers. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and it is also the beginning of joy. To fear God is to be liberated from the fear of everything else. It is to be content with our place as creatures and to revel in His place as Creator.
Verse 15 reinforces this sovereignty over time. The cycles of history are not random. "That which is has been already and that which will be has already been." God is not surprised by history; He is the author of it. He is not reacting; He is ruling. The final phrase, "God seeks what is pursued," can be understood as God calling things to account, ensuring that His purposes for every event are fulfilled. Nothing is lost or forgotten in His economy. He is weaving all the threads, past, present, and future, into the beautiful tapestry He designed from the beginning.
Conclusion: Joy in the Frame
So what is the profit of our labor? If we look for it in the labor itself, we will find nothing but vanity. But if we look through the labor to the God who assigned it, we find everything.
God has framed our lives perfectly. He has given us real work to do in a world of real, tangible beauty. He has wired us with a longing for more than this world can offer, a divine homing signal for heaven. And He has veiled His ultimate purposes from us, so that we cannot become arrogant, self-sufficient masters of our own destiny. He has done all this to drive us to the only sane and joyful conclusion: to receive each day, each meal, each task, as a gift from His hand, and to live in reverent, worshipful fear of Him.
The gospel does not abolish this reality; it fulfills it. In Jesus Christ, the eternal Word entered our frame of time. He took on our labor, our toil, and our limitations. He is the one who makes everything beautiful in its time, because all of history is moving toward His coronation. He is the eternity in our hearts, for we were made for fellowship with Him. And though we still cannot see the end from the beginning, we know the one who does. In Christ, God's eternal plan has a face and a name.
Because of Christ's finished work, God has already accepted you and your works in Him. Therefore, you are free. You are free from the crushing burden of having to invent your own meaning. You are free to simply receive the gift. Go, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has already approved what you do (Eccl. 9:7). Find satisfaction in your labor. Love your spouse. Do good. And fear God. This is not a consolation prize for not being able to figure it all out. This, the Preacher tells us, is the whole duty of man. And it is the only path to profound and lasting joy.