The Divine Dictionary and the Folly of Arguing with the Author Text: Ecclesiastes 6:10-12
Introduction: The Creature Forgets His Place
We live in an age of cosmic tantrums. Modern man, like a toddler in a highchair, believes he has the standing to bang his spoon on the tray and make demands of the one who set the tray before him. He wants to renegotiate the terms of his existence. He believes reality is a social construct, that truth is a personal preference, and that he can invent his own pronouns because he imagines he can invent his own person. He wants to be the author of his own story, the captain of his own soul, and the god of his own universe. But in order to do this, he must first depose the true God, the true Author, the true Captain.
The book of Ecclesiastes is a bucket of cold, clear water thrown in the face of this kind of hubris. The Preacher, Solomon, has taken us on a grand tour of life "under the sun." He has shown us the endless cycles, the repetitive futility, the ceaseless striving that ultimately amounts to shepherding the wind. But this is not the despair of a nihilist. It is the realism of a man who has learned the most fundamental lesson of all: the Creator/creature distinction. There is God, and there is everything else. And the two are not on a continuum. There is an infinite, qualitative gap between the eternal, self-existent God and the contingent universe He spoke into being out of nothing.
This is the foundational truth that our generation has forgotten, and in forgetting it, has descended into madness. We think we can argue with God. We think we can put Him on trial. We think we can dispute the definitions He has hardwired into the fabric of creation. But as the Preacher shows us in these concluding verses of chapter six, this is not just folly; it is insanity. It is like a character in a play trying to serve a subpoena on the playwright. It is a fish shaking its fin at the fisherman. It is to sit on the lap of the one you are slapping. Here, Solomon brings us to the bedrock of reality. We are the creatures. He is the Creator. And all attempts to reverse those roles are not only doomed to fail, but they also multiply the very vanity we are trying to escape.
The Text
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.
For there are many words which increase vanity. What then is the advantage to a man?
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?
(Ecclesiastes 6:10-12 LSB)
The Fixed Reality (v. 10)
The Preacher begins by laying down the non-negotiable terms of existence.
"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." (Ecclesiastes 6:10)
This is a profound statement of God's absolute sovereignty over reality. "Whatever exists has already been named." In the Scriptures, to name something is to assert authority and define its nature. God named the day and the night. Adam, as God's vicegerent, named the animals, exercising his delegated dominion. Here, the Preacher tells us that everything, the entire created order, has already been defined by God. The dictionary has been written by the Author of language itself. Reality is not up for grabs. It is not a lump of clay for us to shape with our ever-so-important feelings.
This is a direct assault on the central idol of our age, which is autonomous man. We are told today that we can define ourselves, that we can name our own reality. But Scripture says, "No, you can't." Your nature has already been established. "It is known what man is." The Hebrew word for man here is Adam, dirt-man. It is known that you are a creature, made from the dust. It is known that you are finite, dependent, and contingent. It is known that you are not God. This is not an insult; it is a glorious liberation. You are not required to bear the weight of being your own creator. You are free to be what you were made to be: a man, a creature, an image-bearer.
Because this reality is fixed, any attempt to argue with it is futile. You "cannot dispute with him who is stronger than he is." This is not just a matter of physical strength, like a lightweight boxer trying to fight a heavyweight. This is a clash of two entirely different categories of being. God is not simply stronger; He is the source of all strength. He is the uncreated Creator; we are the created. To argue with Him about the nature of reality is like a pot arguing with the potter about the properties of clay. The pot is in no position to have the discussion. All our arguments against God must first borrow His logic, His air, and His existence to even be formulated. It is the height of absurdity.
The Futility of Argument (v. 11)
Solomon then explains what happens when we ignore the fixed reality of verse 10 and try to argue anyway.
"For there are many words which increase vanity. What then is the advantage to a man?" (Ecclesiastes 6:11 LSB)
When man refuses to accept his place as a creature, he starts talking. A lot. He philosophizes, he legislates, he protests, he pontificates. He generates endless words in an attempt to build a world that conforms to his rebellion. But what is the result? These words do not create a new reality; they only "increase vanity." They add to the hebel, the smoke, the futility, the chasing after the wind.
Think of the Tower of Babel. That was a project built with the words of rebellious men, a monument to their desire to make a name for themselves. And what did God do? He confused their words, and the project collapsed into vanity. Our modern universities, our halls of government, our media institutions are all towers of Babel, churning out millions of words that deny the fixed reality of God's creation. They talk endlessly about fluid gender, about the relativity of truth, about the non-existence of sin. And what is the result? Not liberation, but an increase of confusion, misery, and smoke. It is a great gathering of fools, all trying to shepherd the wind with their mouths.
The Preacher then asks the logical question: "What then is the advantage to a man?" If all your arguments against God, all your attempts to redefine what He has already named, only result in more futility, what have you gained? The answer is nothing. You have gained more smoke. You have labored for the wind. You have exchanged the solid ground of God's created order for a swamp of your own verbiage.
The Limits of Knowledge (v. 12)
The final verse drives home the point by exposing our profound ignorance. The reason we cannot successfully argue with God is that we simply do not have the necessary information.
"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?" (Ecclesiastes 6:12 LSB)
Here is the ultimate checkmate to human pride. You want to tell God how the world should be run? You think His definitions are flawed? Very well. Tell us, what is definitively "good" for a man? You can't. One man's dream job is another's nightmare. The wealth that one man seeks would corrupt and destroy another. The suffering that one man avoids is the very thing that would sanctify another. We live our lives "like a shadow," flitting and insubstantial. Our perspective is radically limited. We are creatures of a few days, and we cannot see the beginning from the end.
Furthermore, "who can tell a man what will be after him under the sun?" Not only do we not know what is truly good for us now, we have absolutely no knowledge or control over what happens after we are gone. The empire you build will crumble. The legacy you leave will be forgotten or twisted. The children you raise will make their own choices. To live for what comes "after him under the sun" is the ultimate vanity. Your entire life is a brief shadow, and you are ignorant of what is best within that shadow, and completely blind to what comes after it.
This is not meant to drive us to despair. It is meant to drive us to faith. It is meant to make us stop our arrogant disputing and start listening. The point is not that there is no good, but that we are not in a position to know it apart from divine revelation. The point is not that the future is hopeless, but that it is not ours to control. This is a call to humility. It is a call to stop trusting in our own fleeting wisdom and to start trusting in the one who is not a shadow, who knows all things, and who holds the future in His hands.
Conclusion: The Gift of the Can Opener
So where does this leave us? It leaves us exactly where the gospel finds us: helpless, ignorant, and without a case to argue before God. Our mouths are stopped. And this is the best possible place to be. Because it is only when we stop talking that we can begin to hear the good news.
The Preacher has shown us that life under the sun is a series of locked cans of peaches. There are many good things, many blessings, but in our fallen state, we have no ability to open them and enjoy them. We can't know which can is truly good for us, and we can't get it open by our own striving. Our many words, our philosophies, our rebellions are all just useless attempts to pry open the can with our fingernails. It only increases the vanity and leaves us with bloody fingers.
The answer is not to deny the goodness of the peaches or to curse the one who gave them. The answer is to recognize that the same sovereign God who gives the cans must also give the can opener. And this is the gift of God in Jesus Christ. The Preacher tells us elsewhere to fear God and keep His commandments. Why? Because this is the posture of faith that receives the gift of joy. When we cease our disputing, when we accept that God has named reality and that we are His creatures, we are then in a position to receive His gifts.
Christ is the one who knows what is good for us. He is the Word who was with God in the beginning, the very one through whom all things were named. He is the one who is not a shadow, but the substance. He is the one who knows what comes after, because He has conquered death and holds the keys to the future. By faith in Him, we stop trying to justify ourselves with our own vain words and we receive His perfect righteousness. And in Him, God gives us the spiritual taste buds, the can opener of the Holy Spirit, to enjoy the life He has given us, even with all its futility and shadows.
The world says, "Define your own truth." Solomon says, "God has already defined it." The world says, "Argue your case." Solomon says, "Your arguments only increase the smoke." The world says, "Know yourself." Solomon says, "God knows you, and you are dust." The Christian response is to joyfully agree. We are creatures. He is Creator. And in that great distinction is not our bondage, but our truest freedom. Let us therefore stop arguing with the Author, and instead learn to delight in the story He is writing.