Commentary - Ecclesiastes 9:7-9

Bird's-eye view

In this brief but potent section of Ecclesiastes, the Preacher pivots from the somber reality of death and the shared fate of all men (Eccl. 9:2-6) to a robust, God-centered command to enjoy the life that God has given. This is not the cheap advice of a hedonist who says, "Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die." Rather, it is the profound counsel of a man who has stared into the abyss of life's apparent futility and has come back with a startling conclusion: the futility itself is a gift from God, and the proper response to it is faithful, joyful engagement with the good things He provides. This passage is a direct application of the book's central thesis. Since all is vanity, and since God is sovereign over that vanity, the man who fears God is the only one who can truly enjoy it. The commands here, to eat, drink, be joyful, dress well, and love your wife, are not coping mechanisms for despair but are acts of faith, grounded in the prior acceptance of God.

The logic is striking and gospel-saturated. The imperative to enjoy life (vv. 7-9) flows directly from the indicative of divine acceptance (v. 7). You are to live this way because God has already approved your works. This is not a call to earn God's favor through a zest for life, but to live out a zest for life that is the fruit of already having God's favor. This is grace, not works. The Preacher is giving us a picture of what sanctification looks like in the ordinary, mundane, and fleeting realities of a world "under the sun." It is a call to receive every good thing, from a slice of bread to the love of a spouse, as a direct gift from the hand of a good and sovereign God, and to do so with a merry heart.

Outline

Context In Ecclesiastes

This passage is one of several key "carpe diem" sections in Ecclesiastes (cf. 2:24; 3:12-13; 5:18-19; 8:15). These passages are not isolated blips of optimism in an otherwise gloomy book. They are the recurring answer to the problem the book relentlessly poses. The problem is "vanity of vanities," the endless, cyclical, and often unjust nature of life "under the sun." The answer, hammered home again and again, is that God gives the gift of being able to enjoy this futility. This is the great gift of God. He doesn't just give us the blessings of this life, He gives us the ability to enjoy them. To use an analogy I've used before, God gives his beloved both the can of peaches and the can opener. The ungodly may have a thousand cans of peaches, but with no can opener, all they can do is lick the label. They have the stuff of life, but not the substance of it.

Coming right after a stark meditation on death's finality and leveling effect (9:1-6), this section provides the godly response. The wicked man sees that death ends all and concludes that he should grab all he can in a frenzy of despair. The Preacher sees that death ends all and concludes that the man of faith should gratefully and joyfully receive all that God gives him now. The foundation is not the fleeting nature of life, but the steadfast acceptance of God.

Clause-by-Clause Commentary

v. 7 Go then, eat your bread in gladness and drink your wine with a merry heart;

The Preacher begins with a command, an exhortation. "Go then." This is not a suggestion for the philosophically inclined; it is a directive for the people of God. And what is the command? It is to engage in the most basic activities of life, eating and drinking, but to do so with a particular disposition: gladness and a merry heart. This is not a call to gluttony or drunkenness, but a call to sanctified enjoyment. Bread and wine are staples, the ordinary provisions of life. The point is that joy is to be found here, in the mundane, not just in the spectacular. The world is full of people who eat their bread with anxiety and drink their wine with bitterness. The believer is commanded to a different way. This gladness is not a product of circumstances, but a fruit of faith. It is a profound joy, not a superficial cheerfulness that refuses to look at the hard realities of the world.

for God has already accepted your works.

Here is the linchpin of the entire passage. This is the foundation upon which the edifice of joy is built. The imperative to be glad is grounded in a glorious indicative. Why can you eat and drink with a merry heart? Because God has already accepted your works. Notice the past tense. The acceptance is a settled reality. This is pure gospel. This is not telling you to go enjoy life so that God will be pleased with you. It is telling you that because God is already pleased with you, you are now free to enjoy life. In the Old Covenant context, this refers to the faithful Israelite whose sacrifices and acts of obedience have been accepted by God. In the light of the New Covenant, we see the ultimate meaning. Our works are accepted because we are in Christ, and His perfect work has been credited to our account. God accepts our fumbling, sin-stained efforts not because they are impressive in themselves, but because they are the works of someone clothed in the righteousness of Jesus Christ. This prior acceptance liberates us from the grim, joyless striving of trying to earn God's favor. We work from acceptance, not for acceptance. And that changes everything.

v. 8 Let your clothes be white all the time,

In the ancient world, white garments were festive garments. They were what you wore to a celebration, a wedding. They were also more difficult to keep clean, and so they represented a certain prosperity and freedom from mourning or drudgery. The command here is to live in a perpetual state of celebration. This is not about literal fashion advice, but about the posture of your heart. Live as though you have been invited to a perpetual feast, because you have. Let your life be characterized by the cleanness and brightness of joy, not the sackcloth and ashes of a morose and gloomy spirit. This is a visible, outward expression of the inward reality of God's acceptance. Your justification should show up in your wardrobe, metaphorically speaking. You are not preparing for a funeral; you are living in the light of the resurrection.

and let not oil be lacking on your head.

Similar to white clothes, anointing oil was a sign of gladness, health, and festivity (Ps. 23:5). To refrain from using oil was a sign of mourning (2 Sam. 14:2). So, the Preacher doubles down on his command. Not only should you be dressed for the party, but you should have the fragrant oil of joy as well. Don't be stingy with gladness. Don't ration your joy. Live extravagantly in the pleasure of God. This is a direct assault on the kind of false piety that thinks holiness is demonstrated by a long face and a sour disposition. The Bible teaches the opposite. The joy of the Lord is your strength, and it ought to be as plain as the oil on your head.

v. 9 See life with the woman whom you love

The Preacher now moves from the generalities of food and clothing to the most intimate of human relationships: marriage. The command is literally to "see life," which means to experience, to enjoy, to live out your existence. And you are to do this with the wife of your love. This is a beautiful affirmation of the goodness of marriage as a central theater for sanctified joy. God did not give you a wife to be a co-miserator in the grim business of life. He gave her to you as a partner in joy. She is God's good gift to you, a primary means by which you are to experience the goodness of life in a fallen world. This is not a throwaway line; it is central to God's purpose for how we are to navigate this vanity.

all the days of your vain life, which He has given to you under the sun, all the days of your vanity;

And here, the Preacher brings us right back to the central theme of the book. He brackets this glorious command to enjoy your wife with a blunt reminder of reality: your life is vain, fleeting, like a puff of smoke. He says it twice for emphasis. But notice the crucial addition: this vain life is something "which He has given to you." The vanity is not a cosmic accident. It is a gift. God has sovereignly ordained that your life be lived out in this context of futility. And it is precisely within this context that you are to enjoy your wife. The joy is not an escape from the vanity, but the God-ordained way to live through it. Only the believer can truly enjoy the vanity, because he knows the one who sovereignly dispenses it for His own good purposes.

for this is your portion in life and in your labor in which you have labored under the sun.

This is your lot. This is your assigned share. God is the one who deals the cards, and your portion includes both the labor and the joy. The joy you find in your food, your drink, and your wife is not an extra-curricular activity. It is your God-given reward for your toil. God has woven the pleasure into the fabric of the labor. To refuse the pleasure is to reject God's provision. It is to look at the portion God has given you and to complain that it is not something else. The Preacher's wisdom is to teach us to accept our portion, both the sweat and the sweetness, and to receive it all with gratitude from the hand of God.

Application

The application of this text is profoundly practical and cuts across the grain of both worldly hedonism and pious asceticism. The world says, "Life is short, so party hard," but this leads to despair because the party always ends. The false pietist says, "Life is serious, so don't enjoy anything too much," which leads to a joyless, ungrateful existence that dishonors the Giver of all good gifts.

The Preacher charts the true biblical course. First, everything must be grounded in the gospel. Your ability to enjoy a sandwich, a glass of wine, or a date with your wife is a direct consequence of the fact that "God has already accepted your works" in Jesus Christ. If you are trying to find joy apart from this acceptance, you are doomed to fail. If you are trying to earn this acceptance through your joy, you have it backwards. Start with the gospel. Remind yourself that you are accepted, beloved, and secure in Christ.

Second, from that foundation of grace, actively and intentionally pursue joy in the ordinary gifts of God. Don't wait for perfect circumstances. Eat your bread, the bread you have right now, with gladness. Love your wife, the one God has given you. Put on the white clothes of celebration even when the world around you is in mourning. This is an act of defiant faith. It is a declaration that our God reigns, and He gives good gifts to His children, even in a world shot through with vanity.

Finally, embrace your portion. Stop envying the portion of others. Your life, with its specific labors, its specific relationships, and its specific limitations, is a gift from God. Your task is to receive it, work hard in it, and find the God-given joys that are embedded within it. This is the path of profound contentment, a deep joy that has looked futility in the eye and has not flinched, because it knows the sovereign God who stands behind it all.