The Urgency of the Ordinary
Introduction: A Cheerful Realism
The book of Ecclesiastes is a profound gift to the Church, particularly in our age of frantic, candy-coated superficiality. Our culture is terrified of two things: deep thinking and the grave. It therefore bounces between a shallow, forced optimism on the one hand, and a dark, nihilistic despair on the other. You can see it in our entertainment, our politics, and our frantic pursuit of distraction. We are a people running from reality.
Into this asylum, the Preacher, Solomon, speaks with the bracing clarity of a winter morning. He looks at the world "under the sun," from the limited perspective of a man on the ground, and he declares that much of it is hevel, a vapor, a chasing after the wind. The sun comes up, the sun goes down. Generations come, generations go. You work, you strive, you build, and then you die and someone else gets it all, and maybe he is a fool. This is the unvarnished truth, and it is a truth that makes the sentimental Christian very nervous.
But Solomon is not a nihilist. He is a realist, and his realism is the necessary foundation for true joy. Throughout this book, he repeats two great refrains. The first is "under the sun," which describes the vanity and futility of life when viewed apart from God. The second refrain is "the gift of God." The gift of God is the ability to enjoy your life, your food, your drink, your spouse, and your work, right in the middle of all this vanity. God gives His people the can of peaches, and He also gives them the can opener. The ungodly get the can, but they have no way to taste and see that the Lord is good. They can only lick the label.
Our text today is one of the great peaks of this cheerful, robust, and realistic wisdom. It is a command that flows directly from the reality of our mortality. Because the grave is coming, and because the grave is a place of inactivity, we are commanded to live with gusto, with energy, and with all our might. This is not a grim resignation. It is a joyful charge.
The Text
Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might; for there is no working or explaining or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol where you are going.
(Ecclesiastes 9:10 LSB)
The Mandate for Diligence
The verse begins with a sweeping, all-encompassing command.
"Whatever your hand finds to do..." (Ecclesiastes 9:10a)
Notice the glorious practicality of this. It does not say, "Whatever your heart dreams of doing," or "Whatever grand opportunity you hope falls into your lap." It says, "Whatever your hand finds to do." This is a command that sanctifies the ordinary. It applies to the mother changing a diaper, the student writing a term paper, the carpenter framing a wall, the programmer debugging code, and the pastor preparing a sermon. It addresses the task that is right in front of you, the one God's providence has placed within your reach.
We are prone to a kind of romantic laziness. We dream of future, heroic exploits for the kingdom, while neglecting the dishes in the sink. We want to charge the enemy's guns, but we haven't yet learned to make our own bed. But faithfulness is not demonstrated in the imaginary future; it is built in the mundane present. The path to ruling ten cities begins with being faithful in the small things. So, what has God put in front of you today? A messy garage? A difficult conversation? A spreadsheet? That is the "whatever." That is the raw material of your worship.
This phrase demolishes the unbiblical sacred/secular distinction. All honest work, performed as unto the Lord, is sacred work. God is not more pleased with a preacher in the pulpit than He is with a plumber under the sink, provided both are doing their work faithfully. The issue is not the perceived importance of the task, but the diligence of the worker. God gave us the cultural mandate before the fall; work is not a curse. Thorns and thistles are the curse. Work itself is a central part of what it means to be made in the image of a working God.
The Manner of Diligence
Next, we are told how to approach these tasks.
"...do it with all your might..." (Ecclesiastes 9:10b)
This is the death of half-hearted, cheap-grace Christianity. This is a call for excellence, for vigor, for throwing your whole soul into your labor. The sluggard's field is overgrown with thorns for a reason. The lazy employee cuts corners. The slothful student does just enough to get by. But the Christian is called to a higher standard. As Paul would later say, "whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God" (1 Cor. 10:31). How can shoddy, lazy, or dishonest work glorify a God of infinite excellence and integrity?
This "might" is not simply raw, unaided human effort. For the Christian, our might is rooted in the Lord. We work hard, not to earn His favor, but because we already have it. We are not trying to get saved by our works; we are working because we have been saved. Grace is not opposed to effort; it is opposed to earning. And grace is the fuel for all true Christian effort. The might of a Christian lies in the Lord of Hosts. We work, and we pray for God to establish the work of our hands.
This means we are to be professionals. A Christian contractor should be the most reliable contractor. A Christian web designer should not flake. A Christian employee should be the hardest worker in the office. Diligence is visible. It is a powerful apologetic in a world that increasingly values shortcuts and despises honest labor. Cream rises, and the man who is skilled in his work will stand before kings, not before obscure men.
The Motivation for Diligence
The second half of the verse provides the stark, motivating reason for this urgency.
"...for there is no working or explaining or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol where you are going." (Ecclesiastes 9:10c)
This is the cheerful realism I mentioned. You are going to die. This life is the appointed time for labor. The night is coming when no man can work. This is not a morbid fixation; it is a profound motivation. Your time is finite. Your opportunities on this earth are limited. Therefore, do not waste them. Make hay while the sun shines.
Now, we must understand what "Sheol" means here. In the Old Testament, Sheol, like the Greek Hades, is the place of the dead, the grave, the realm of departed spirits. It is not what we typically think of as Hell, the lake of fire, or Gehenna. Before the resurrection of Christ, all who died, righteous and wicked alike, went to Sheol. It was a place of waiting. For the wicked, it was a place of torment. For the righteous, it was a place of rest, what Jesus called "Abraham's bosom." But it was not a place for the kind of "work" we do here. It was not a place for building, planning, writing, or debating. That is the point. The projects of this life cease at the grave.
Solomon, speaking from his "under the sun" perspective, is stating a plain fact: the dead do not participate in the affairs of this world. Their love, their hate, their envy have perished. They no longer have a share in anything done under the sun (Eccl. 9:6). This is why a living dog is better than a dead lion. While there is life, there is opportunity. After death, that particular window of opportunity closes.
For the Christian, this reality is not a cause for despair but for urgency. We know, with a fuller revelation than Solomon had, that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. But we also know that this life is the proving ground. This is where we are to occupy until He comes. This is where we build for His kingdom. The works we do here have eternal consequences. We will be judged according to our deeds, not for our salvation, but for our reward. This life is the time to store up treasures in heaven.
Conclusion: Live Before You Die
This verse is not a license for workaholism. In the immediate context, Solomon tells us to enjoy life with the wife of our youth, to eat our bread with joy, and drink our wine with a merry heart (Eccl. 9:7-9). The command to work with all our might is part of that joyful life, not a contradiction of it. Meaningful, diligent work is one of God's great gifts. It is one of the primary ways we enjoy the world He has made.
The unbeliever hears "you are going to die" and concludes, "therefore, nothing matters." The Preacher says, "you are going to die," and concludes, "therefore, everything you do right now matters immensely." This is the great reversal. The grave is not the end of the story, but it is the end of this chapter. And how we write this chapter has eternal significance.
The ultimate reason we can work with all our might, and with joy, is because of the one who went to Sheol and did not stay there. Jesus Christ descended into Hades. He went there to proclaim His victory and to lead captivity captive. He did not see corruption, and on the third day, He rose again, emptying the "Abraham's bosom" side of Sheol and transferring paradise to heaven. Because He defeated the grave, our labor in the Lord is not in vain (1 Cor. 15:58).
So, look at what is in front of you. Look at the tasks God has given you, whether great or small. Do not despise them. Do not procrastinate. Your time is short. The grave is silent. Therefore, live. Live with vigor. Live with diligence. Live with joy. Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for the glory of the God who gives you both the work and the strength to do it.