Commentary - Ecclesiastes 6:10-12

Bird's-eye view

In this short, dense passage, the Preacher brings us face to face with the bedrock reality of God's exhaustive sovereignty and man's corresponding finitude. Having spent the first part of chapter 6 describing the bitter vanity of a man who has everything but cannot enjoy it, Solomon now zooms out to the ultimate reason why. The reason is God. God is the one who names everything, who defines reality, who determines what man is. Man, in his creaturely limitations, cannot argue with the Creator who is infinitely stronger. This leads to the second point: human words, when used to dispute God's established order, are nothing but an increase of vanity. All our philosophizing and complaining is just so much hot air against a hurricane. The passage concludes with a series of rhetorical questions that drive the point home. Who can possibly know what is truly "good" for him in this fleeting life? Who can tell the future? The answer, of course, is that only God knows. This section serves to humble man, to shut his mouth, and to prepare him to receive the good life as a gift from God, rather than trying to seize it or figure it all out on his own terms.

This is not a counsel of despair, but rather the necessary groundwork for true faith. Until we recognize our utter inability to contend with God or to chart our own course, we will never be in a position to receive joy as a gift. The Preacher is dismantling all human attempts at self-salvation and self-definition. He is showing us the futility of kicking against the goads of divine providence. The problem is not that life is meaningless; the problem is that we are not the ones who give it its meaning. God is, and He does not give an account of His matters to us.

Outline

Context In Ecclesiastes

This passage sits within the third major section of the book (Ecclesiastes 6:1-8:15), where Solomon applies the doctrine of God's absolute sovereignty to the problem of vanity. He has already established that everything "under the sun," when considered on its own terms, is hebel, a chasing after the wind. He has also established that God is sovereign over all of it (Ch. 3-5). Now, he is showing what this means in practice. Specifically, chapter 6 begins with the tragic portrait of a man blessed with wealth, possessions, and honor, yet God does not give him the power to enjoy them (Eccl 6:2). This is a severe evil. Our text (vv. 10-12) provides the ultimate theological explanation for such inscrutable providences. The reason you cannot guarantee your own happiness is because you are not God. You are a creature, named and defined by another. You are not strong enough to wrestle with Him. Your arguments are empty, and your knowledge is laughably limited. This profound sense of creaturely limitation is designed to crush our pride and drive us to the only solution the Preacher offers: fear God and receive each day's joys as a direct gift from His hand, not as something we have earned or figured out.

Key Issues

The Creature Before the Creator

The central nerve of this passage, and indeed the whole book, is the absolute distinction between God and man. Modern man, particularly Western man, has been catechized for centuries in the religion of human autonomy. We believe we are the namers, the definers, the captains of our fate. We think our arguments matter, that our words can bend reality. The Preacher here takes a pin to that balloon. He tells us that reality has already been defined, and not by us. Everything that is has already been named by God. Man himself has been defined by God. And God is stronger.

This is the foundation of a biblical worldview. It is what Paul argues in Romans 9: "Will what is molded say to its molder, 'Why have you made me like this?'" To argue with God is not a sign of intellectual bravery; it is a sign of creaturely dementia. It is a pot telling the potter that his hands are misshapen. The Preacher is forcing us to confront our finitude. We are not infinite. We are not in charge. And until we settle that in our bones, all our attempts to make sense of this life will only multiply our vexation. The beginning of wisdom is not just fearing the Lord, but acknowledging that He is the Lord and we are not.

Verse by Verse Commentary

10 Whatever exists has already been named, and it is known what man is; and he cannot dispute with him who is stronger than he is.

This is a profound statement of divine sovereignty. The act of naming in Scripture is an exercise of authority and a definition of essence. Adam named the animals, demonstrating his delegated dominion. But God is the one who names "whatever exists." He is the ultimate lexicographer of reality. He determines what a thing is, what it is for, and what its nature is. This includes man himself. "It is known what man is." Known by whom? By God. God knows what man is because God determined what man is. He is adam, made from the adamah, the dust. He is a creature, dependent, finite. And because of this fixed, divinely-established reality, man "cannot dispute with him who is stronger than he is." The stronger one is, of course, God Almighty. This is not a courtroom debate between equals. This is a clay pot trying to sue the potter. The case is dismissed before it begins, not on a technicality, but on the very nature of the litigants. To argue with God's providence is to argue with reality itself.

11 For there are many words which increase vanity. What then is the advantage to a man?

This follows directly from the previous statement. If you cannot win a dispute with God, what is the point of multiplying words in the attempt? The Preacher says that such efforts only "increase vanity." The word here is hebel, vapor, smoke, futility. Arguing with God doesn't change God; it just makes your own life more frustrating and meaningless. It is like trying to yell a hurricane into submission; all you get is a mouth full of rain. The more you philosophize against the way things are, the more you complain about your lot, the more you try to reason your way out of God's established order, the more smoke you generate. You are just adding to the pile of meaninglessness. So the Preacher asks the commonsense question: "What then is the advantage to a man?" What's the profit? What do you gain by it? The answer is nothing. You gain nothing but a deeper sense of your own impotence and vexation. It is a call to theological silence, to humble submission.

12 For who knows what is good for a man during his lifetime, during the few days of his vain life? He will make do with them like a shadow. For who can tell a man what will be after him under the sun?

The Preacher now drives the point home with two unanswerable questions that expose the limits of human knowledge. First, "who knows what is good for a man?" We spend our lives chasing what we think is good for us: wealth, pleasure, success, reputation. But do we really know? The man at the beginning of the chapter had all those things, and it was a grievous evil because he could not enjoy them. We think a promotion would be good, but it might lead to a heart attack. We think marrying a certain person would be good, but it might lead to a miserable life. We simply do not know. Our life is described as a "few days" and "vain," like a passing shadow. We are here and then we are gone, and our grasp of what is truly beneficial is tenuous at best. Second, "who can tell a man what will be after him under the sun?" Not only do we not know what is good for us now, we have absolutely no clue what will happen after we die. Will our children squander our inheritance? Will our life's work be forgotten in a week? We have no control and no knowledge of the future. We are hemmed in on all sides by our own ignorance.

Application

The application of this passage is profoundly counter-cultural, but it is the only path to sanity and joy. The world tells you to "find yourself," to "define your own truth," to "be the master of your destiny." Ecclesiastes tells you that this is a fool's errand that only increases vanity. The first step of application is therefore repentance. We must repent of our arrogant attempts to be our own god, our own namer, our own ultimate judge of what is good.

Second, we must embrace our creatureliness. It is not a curse to be a creature; it is a gift. God did not make you to bear the weight of the universe on your shoulders. He made you to live within the limits He has set, and to find your joy there. Stop arguing with Him. Stop shaking your fist at the sky when things do not go your way. Your job is not to understand God's secret providence; your job is to trust His revealed character and obey His revealed will. The secret things belong to the Lord.

Finally, this passage throws us completely upon the grace of God in Jesus Christ. If we do not know what is good for us, and cannot control the future, where is our hope? Our hope is in the one who is stronger, the one who does know all things, the one who holds the future in His hands. The Christian life is not about figuring out the perfect path that guarantees happiness. It is about trusting the perfect Shepherd to lead you. Because of Christ's death and resurrection, the sovereign God who is stronger than you is not your adversary, but your Father. He is the one who gives you both the can of peaches and the can opener. He gives you the good things of this life, and He gives you the gift of faith to enjoy them, right in the middle of this fleeting, shadowy, vain life. The answer to "who knows what is good?" is Jesus Christ. He is our good, and in Him, even the vanity becomes a backdrop for the surprising grace of God.