Sovereign Risk and Holy Ventures Text: Ecclesiastes 11:1-6
Introduction: The Paralysis of Modern Man
We live in an age that is terrified of risk. Our entire culture is a massive, bureaucratic attempt to sand down all the sharp edges of reality, to eliminate every variable, and to guarantee every outcome. We have insurance for our insurance. We have five-year plans, ten-year plans, and a legion of experts who are paid handsomely to pretend they know what the stock market or the climate will do next week. The result of this obsession with control is not security, but a widespread, low-grade anxiety. We have become a people paralyzed by prudence, mistaking our faithless timidity for practical wisdom.
The modern man wants a risk-free life. He wants to sow only when the forecast is perfect, to invest only in a sure thing, to marry only when the spreadsheet balances, and to have children only when the future is tidy and predictable. In short, he wants to be God. He wants to know the end from the beginning so that he can avoid all potential for loss, pain, or failure.
Into this padded, sterile, and terrified world, the Preacher, Solomon, speaks a word of bracing, masculine, and faithful realism. He does not offer us a formula for eliminating risk. Instead, he calls us to a life of bold, diligent, and faithful action in the face of it. He tells us that the very uncertainty that paralyzes the unbeliever is the arena in which the believer is called to act in faith. The world is unpredictable not because it is governed by chaos, but because it is governed by a God whose ways are not our ways, and whose work is far beyond our comprehension. Therefore, the right response is not to retreat into a bunker of cautious inaction, but to stride out into the world, hands full of seed, and get to work.
This passage is a divine rebuke to all forms of analysis paralysis. It is God's answer to the man who is always getting ready to get ready. It is a call to a life of faithful ventures, wise stewardship, and relentless diligence, all of it grounded in the glorious and humbling truth that God is sovereign and we are not.
The Text
Cast your bread on the surface of the waters, for you will find it after many days.
Divide your portion to seven, or even to eight, for you do not know what calamity may occur on the earth.
If the clouds are full, they empty the rain upon the earth; and whether a tree falls toward the south or toward the north, wherever the tree falls, there it lies.
He who watches the wind will not sow, and he who looks at the clouds will not reap.
Just as you do not know the path of the wind and how bones are formed in the womb of the pregnant woman, so you do not know the work of God who works all things.
Sow your seed in the morning and do not put your hands down in the evening, for you do not know whether morning or evening sowing will succeed, or whether both of them alike will be good.
(Ecclesiastes 11:1-6 LSB)
The Call to Faithful Ventures (v. 1)
The Preacher begins with a command that sounds like foolishness to the world.
"Cast your bread on the surface of the waters, for you will find it after many days." (Ecclesiastes 11:1)
This is a metaphor drawn from ancient maritime trade. A merchant would send a ship loaded with grain, his "bread," across the sea. It was an act of faith. The ship could sink, it could be raided by pirates, the market could collapse. It was a high-risk venture. He was, in effect, throwing his livelihood onto the unpredictable waters. But this was the only way to see a return. The principle here is that faithful action requires risk. Hoarding your grain in the barn guarantees it will not multiply; it will only be eaten by rats.
This applies to everything. It applies to business and investment. It applies to generosity; when we give to the poor or to the work of the Kingdom, we are casting our bread on the waters. And most importantly, it applies to the Great Commission. When we proclaim the gospel, we are casting the Bread of Life onto the chaotic waters of a fallen world. We do not know which hearts will receive it.
But notice the promise: "for you will find it after many days." The return is certain, but the timing is not. This requires a long view. It requires a postmillennial patience. We are not called to demand immediate results. We are called to be faithful in the casting, trusting the Lord of the harvest to bring the ships home in His time. The man who demands a guaranteed return tomorrow will never cast his bread today.
The Wisdom of Diversification (v. 2)
Faithful risk is not the same as reckless stupidity. The Preacher balances his call to bold ventures with a call to wise stewardship.
"Divide your portion to seven, or even to eight, for you do not know what calamity may occur on the earth." (Ecclesiastes 11:2 LSB)
This is the biblical principle of diversification. Don't put all your cargo on one ship. Don't invest all your capital in one venture. Why? "For you do not know what calamity may occur on the earth." This is a frank acknowledgment of the reality of the fall. We live in a world where things go wrong. There are famines, wars, plagues, and recessions. Because we are not God, we cannot predict these things.
Therefore, wisdom dictates that we spread our efforts. This is not an act of unbelief, but an act of humility. The man who puts everything on one bet is not being faithful; he is being proud. He is acting as though he knows the future. The wise man acknowledges his ignorance and acts accordingly. He plants multiple fields. He engages in multiple ventures. He supports various ministries. He humbly admits that he does not know which particular effort God will choose to bless, or which one might be struck by calamity.
Acknowledging Fixed Realities (v. 3-4)
Next, Solomon grounds us in reality. There are certain unchangeable laws in God's world, and there is a foolish paralysis that refuses to act within them.
"If the clouds are full, they empty the rain upon the earth; and whether a tree falls toward the south or toward the north, wherever the tree falls, there it lies. He who watches the wind will not sow, and he who looks at the clouds will not reap." (Ecclesiastes 11:3-4 LSB)
Verse 3 tells us that some things are just the way they are. Cause and effect are built into the fabric of creation. Full clouds produce rain. Fallen trees stay put. This is the givenness of reality. You don't get to negotiate with gravity. A wise man accepts these fixed realities and works with them.
But verse 4 shows us the foolish man who is paralyzed by the variables. He is so obsessed with finding the perfect conditions that he never acts. He is the farmer who "watches the wind" and "looks at the clouds," always finding a reason why today is not the right day to sow. The wind is a bit too strong. The clouds look a little threatening. He is waiting for a risk-free, guaranteed-success day that will never come. The result is stark: he "will not sow," and therefore, he "will not reap." His hyper-caution leads directly to poverty. This is the man who spends his life planning to live, and dies with all his seed still in the bag.
The Great Chasm: Our Ignorance and God's Sovereignty (v. 5)
Here we come to the theological heart of the matter. Why must we act this way? Because of the infinite gap between our knowledge and God's.
"Just as you do not know the path of the wind and how bones are formed in the womb of the pregnant woman, so you do not know the work of God who works all things." (Ecclesiastes 11:5 LSB)
The Preacher points to two profound mysteries in the natural world. First, meteorology: "the path of the wind." Even with all our modern science, the wind remains fundamentally unpredictable. Second, embryology: "how bones are formed in the womb." The creation of a human life in secret is a staggering miracle that we observe but do not fully comprehend.
The argument is from the lesser to the greater. If you cannot understand these basic physical processes that you can see and measure, how in the world could you possibly presume to understand "the work of God who works all things?" God is the sovereign playwright, director, and actor behind the entire cosmic drama. His purposes are intricate, His methods are mysterious, and His plan is comprehensive. To think that we can grasp it, let alone control it, is the height of arrogance.
But this truth is not meant to crush us into inaction. It is meant to liberate us. Because we do not know the work of God, we are freed from the burden of trying to control the outcome. Our job is not to be the master of the universe. Our job is to be faithful servants within it. This glorious, humbling ignorance is the foundation for our diligent work.
The Only Sane Response: Relentless Diligence (v. 6)
"Sow your seed in the morning and do not put your hands down in the evening, for you do not know whether morning or evening sowing will succeed, or whether both of them alike will be good." (Ecclesiastes 11:6 LSB)
This is the grand conclusion. This is the application. Given that the future is uncertain, that calamity can happen, that we are profoundly ignorant, and that God is sovereignly working all things, what should we do? The answer is simple: get to work, and don't stop.
"Sow your seed in the morning." This means in your youth, at the beginning of a project, with your first and best energy. "And do not put your hands down in the evening." This means in your old age, at the end of a long day, when you are tired. Be constant. Be diligent. Be relentless.
And why? "For you do not know." There it is again. Our ignorance is the engine of our diligence. We do not know which seed will sprout. We do not know which venture will prosper. We do not know which gospel witness will take root. We do not know if our early work or our late work will be the most fruitful. Perhaps God will bless both. Since we do not know the results, our duty is to focus on the process. The outcomes are in God's hands. Our hands are for the plow.
The Sower of the New Creation
This entire passage finds its ultimate fulfillment in the Lord Jesus Christ. He is the one who, in the ultimate act of faith, cast His bread, His very body, onto the waters of death. He entrusted Himself to the Father, and "after many days," on the third day, He was found. His resurrection was the great return on that divine venture.
He is the great Sower who sowed the seed of the Kingdom. He did not watch the winds of political opposition from the Pharisees or the clouds of Roman oppression. He sowed in the morning of His Galilean ministry and did not put His hands down in the evening of His passion in Jerusalem. He knew that the work belonged to His Father, "who works all things."
And now, He calls us to follow Him. The Great Commission is our command to take up this life of sovereign risk and holy ventures. We are to cast the bread of the gospel onto the waters of every nation. We are to diversify, preaching to seven and to eight, to every tribe and tongue. We are not to be paralyzed by the winds of cultural hostility or the clouds of apparent failure. We are to sow morning and evening, in season and out of season, trusting that we do not know the work of God who is gathering His elect from the corners of the earth.
Our confidence is not in our ability to predict the future, but in the God who has already determined it. He has promised a harvest. He has promised that the ships will come in, laden with the treasures of the nations. Therefore, let us not be timid. Let us be bold, wise, and diligent, for our labor in the Lord is not in vain.