BARBARANNE KELLY | CONTRIBUTOR

What is the chief end of man? (Such a perfectly Presbyterian opening.) Man’s chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.

Okay, but how? How, in the toil and grind of our daily lives, do we actually glorify God?

Do we glorify God by building bigger cathedrals, more orphanages and hospitals, and feeding and clothing those in homeless shelters? Yes. Do we glorify Him by working faithfully at our secular jobs, both white and blue collar? Yes. Do we glorify Him by raising our children in the knowledge and love of the Lord, in the midst of the minutia of endless laundry, cooking and dishes and cleaning, running the errands, mending the clothes, and wiping the bottoms and the noses? Yes, yes, and yes.

Enter the Preacher.

Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher,
vanity of vanities! All is vanity.
What does man gain by all the toil
at which he toils under the sun? (Ecclesiastes1:2–3)

Okay, now what? This passage rings with futility. Is the author of Ecclesiastes saying that there is no point to our work? Is he just a party pooper or a cynical stick-in-the-mud? Does he mean that all our efforts amount to nothing in the end?

No, he’s not saying that our work is pointless. Well, not entirely. If we continue reading we’ll learn that his cry of “vanity” isn’t simply a cry of futility. The Hebrew word used here can also be translated as “breath” or “breeze.” “The Preacher is saying that everything is a mist, a vapor, a puff of wind, a bit of smoke.”[1] His point is that life is short. Ecclesiastes forces us to face the fact that we won’t live forever, and neither will the work that we spend our lives doing. Even the grandest cathedrals, built over hundreds of years, will someday crumble into dust. But rather than reducing our efforts and accomplishments into insignificance, realizing the brevity of our lives is meant to infuse every action with significance. “Death reorients us to our limitations as creatures and helps us to see God’s good gifts right in front of us all the time, each and every day of our lives.”[2]

Glory in Perfection?

One of my all-time favorite movies is Chariots of Fire. This beautifully made film tells the story of two Olympians who run for very different reasons. Harold Abrahams, a Jewish Englishman, runs to prove himself worthy, even superior, in an age of growing antisemitism. Eric Liddell, a devout Christian and the son of Scottish missionaries to China, runs to glorify the Lord. Early in the film Liddell is questioning whether he should go to the 1924 Olympic Games in Paris instead of focusing on the mission work in China. He is concerned that his running is folly in comparison to the more important work awaiting him in China. His father encourages him, saying, “You can glorify God by peeling a spud, if you peel it to perfection.” His point was that the Lord had given Eric the gift of speed; he ran with an absurdly awkward style, and yet he was fast. To neglect this unique gift at a time when he could best use it would not glorify the Giver. Yes, his missionary work was important, but so was using well the gift of running.

Eric went to the Olympics and was given an even more challenging opportunity to glorify the Lord. In the face of enormous pressure, he demonstrated his faith before the watching world when he refused to run on a Sunday, the day when his primary distance was scheduled. Instead, he ran in a different race, winning gold for king and country, a gold medal which paled in comparison to honoring God for standing his ground for his faith.

Harold Abrahams also won gold. He proved himself the fastest man in his race. His idol of personal perfection won the day. But at the end of the day he was left flat, bewildered, and empty. Where could he go from there? He was the fastest man; now what? There are limits to what we can achieve. There’s even a limit to perfection. Once the standard of perfection is reached, what’s next? But for joy there is no limit. Nor is there a limit for the glory of God.

God was glorified not only by Eric Liddell’s running, but also by his refusal to compromise his faith. But let’s revisit his father’s statement about glorifying God by perfectly peeling a spud. His point was that your work glorifies God no matter what kind of work it is, so long as you do it with excellence. I’ve both loved and questioned this. Yes, you can glorify God by doing even secular jobs or menial tasks. “Church work” or missionary service aren’t the only vocations which bring glory to God. No question. It’s the “perfection” that gnaws at me. Must the spud be perfectly peeled for the Lord to be honored? Rather than saying, “peel it to perfection,” I think the Preacher would correct us by saying, “peel it with joy.”

What gain has the worker from his toil? I have seen the business that God has given to the children of man to be busy with. . . . I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God’s gift to man. (3:9–10, 12–13)

Gift, not Gain

And here we find the purpose of not only our toil, but  our lives “under the sun.” The gain from all our work is contentment and joy in the gifts the Lord graciously gives. This is the heart of Ecclesiastes. “Life is not about the meaning that you can create for your own life, or the meaning that you can find in the universe by all your work and ambitions. . . . You find meaning when you realize that God has given you life in this world and (many an actual blessing) as a gift to enjoy.”[3]

Go, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has already approved what you do. . . .

Enjoy life with the wife [or the husband] whom you love, all the days of your vain life that he has given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might . . . (9:7, 9–10)

The Preacher wants us to know that this moment, this task, is a gift from a good God, who has given us a finite number of days in this life under the sun. We are to glorify Him in the here and now, in the mundane as well as in the spectacular moments of our days. Peeling the spuds may be preparation for a glorious feast to come, but the glory doesn’t only wait for the feast, the glory is now, in the washing, the peeling, the boiling, and the mashing. The glory is in every jot and tittle of our lives, if we only slow down enough to see it—to see the gift that it is from the hand of our loving Lord.

After the Paris Olympics Eric Liddell returned to his mission in China and years later died in a Japanese P.O.W. camp, having refused to leave his flock during wartime. Before he went to Paris, he confessed that he knew God had made him for a purpose, for China. “But He also made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure.” Eric Liddell ran his race with joy, lasting, glorious joy.

This too is our chief end in the portion in life and toil which the Lord has given to each of us. To glorify God here and now by enjoying Him now and forevermore.

[1] David Gibson, Living Life Backward; How Ecclesiastes Teaches us to Live in Light of the End, (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2017) 19

[2] Gibson, p. 45

[3] Gibson, p. 113

Photo by Christin Hume on Unsplash