A sermon preached at Covenant Presbyterian Church of Fort Smith, Arkansas on October 1, 2023.
Remember also your Creator in the days of your youth, before the evil days come and the years draw near of which you will say, “I have no pleasure in them”; before the sun and the light and the moon and the stars are darkened and the clouds return after the rain, in the day when the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong men are bent, and the grinders cease because they are few, and those who look through the windows are dimmed, and the doors on the street are shut—when the sound of the grinding is low, and one rises up at the sound of a bird, and all the daughters of song are brought low—they are afraid also of what is high, and terrors are in the way; the almond tree blossoms, the grasshopper drags itself along, and desire fails, because man is going to his eternal home, and the mourners go about the streets—before the silver cord is snapped, or the golden bowl is broken, or the pitcher is shattered at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern, and the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit returns to God who gave it. Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher; all is vanity (Ecclesiastes 12:1–8).[1]
According to a recent survey, 67% of Americans die without a will, a living trust, or other similar end-of-life documents.[2] The reasons why vary, but the primary reason cited is procrastination. Who wants to think about death and dying while you’re living? I’ve encountered similar sentiment in the church when it comes to pre-planning funerals (which I recommend, incidentally). Rather than consider it practical planning, I’ve been told it’s “morbid.” Well, I suppose it is, but what’s wrong with that?
You are going to die. I am going to die, and I’m ready to die. Are you? Now, to be clear, I don’t have a death wish. I love life, and I want to live as long as the Lord gives me life. I exercise vigorously every day; I eat primarily a plant-based diet and enjoy a glass of red wine (or two); I sleep well, have purpose in my life, enjoy my family and friends, and serve and worship with the best church family I have ever known, all of which purportedly contributes to healthy longevity. My goal is to be a good steward of what God has given me and to live this life for his glory, but this does not negate the imminence of my death. So, I better be ready for it, and I am. And in case you missed it, this is where Solomon has been taking us through these twelve chapters of Ecclesiastes, teaching us to consider our end from the beginning.
Consider Your End
David Gibson writes, “I am convinced that only a proper perspective on death provides the true perspective on life. Living in the light of your death will help you to live wisely and freely and generously. It will give you a big heart and open hands, and enable you to relish all the small things of life in deeply profound ways.”[3] But it is far easier to think about death in the latter rather than the early years. When I think back to all the reckless, foolish things I did as a teenage boy, I wonder how I’m not blind, deaf, or dead. Youth seemingly breeds an irrational sense of invincibility even immortality. Who thinks of dying when there’s so much to living? I certainly didn’t.
And then a friend of my grandmother died. It was the first death that I remember hitting me with the reality of mortality. I remember going to the funeral home and being overwhelmed by the finality of it. She was dead. Dead and gone! The loss overwhelmed me in that moment, and I remember crying uncontrollably. I can’t say that I translated her death into a deeper, more realistic understanding of my own mortality, but perhaps it was a building block of sobriety and progress toward considering the brevity of life. You probably have a similar story, but word to the wise: Don’t skip funerals but go and take your children with you.
In fact, at the conclusion of the previous chapter Solomon addresses the young directly. He encourages them to rejoice and be happy in the days of youth, to live according to the wisdom and knowledge God gives, not sowing wild oats but living coram Deo, before the face of God (11:9). He encourages the young not to be weighed down by worthless pursuits and the anxiety they breed, knowing that youth like the dawn of day will pass away (11:10). Why carry the baggage of sin’s burdens into adulthood, when it is life-giving to please the Lord?
Solomon then says, “Remember also your Creator in the days of your youth” (12:1). To “remember” implies prior knowledge, as every child knows there is a God. Atheism is not innate but acquired, and only the fool says, “There is no God” (Ps. 14:1). But Solomon uses the word “Creator,” implying more than just the reality of God but his self-revealing creation of everything. We may not know, as Solomon says, “the way the spirit comes to the bones in the womb of a woman with child” (Eccles. 11:5), but we do know God made us. We were not present in our creation, but we do know we were created not by chance but design, knit together in the womb. We are not a happy accident but “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Ps. 139:13-14). But, as wonderful as God made us, we are made, created not the Creator, which should instill humility in us all.
We also die, not by design but decided judgment. As the progeny of the first sinner, we inherit sin’s curse and the certainty of death. How long we live and when we die, God only knows. But everyone dies, evidenced in our aging bodies. And this is the message Solomon is conveying in the word “remember.”
Remember, you were created in the image God, and your value exceeds the rest of creation, rooted in your Creator. Remember, you will not live forever, which will be more and more apparent the older you get. Remember, how long you will live, God only knows, but know this: “God will bring you into judgment” (Eccles. 11:9). And lest you think you will stand ready before your Creator, remember that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 6:23). But also remember this: “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:8), and “if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved” (Rom. 10:9). For, though “the wages of sin is death, … the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 6:23). Yes, let the young and old remember this: “there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 8:1). So, consider your end from the beginning and accept your mortality.
Accept Your Mortality
Remembering your Creator and his redemption of you as his child prepares even the young with a healthy perspective of life and death. Though saved unto eternity, we live this life under the sun as mortals, which becomes more and more apparent as we age. Aging is inevitable for every son and daughter of Adam. And while by God’s grace we may age gratefully and gracefully, aging’s not-so-subtle characteristics become more apparent the longer we last.
In what may be described as a series of poetic metaphors, Solomon describes the characteristics of old age, to educate the young and perhaps to entertain the old. He begins with the dimming light of the eyes, our eyesight: … the sun and the light and the moon and the stars are darkened and the clouds return after the rain (12:2). To aging eyes, even full sunlight does not guarantee clarity, and light at night can be blinding. And while age may bring greater perspective, like returning clouds after the rain, what we can see is increasingly clouded.
This is not to say that we will cease to enjoy the sun by day and the moon by night, or even the overcast or rainy day, but each passing day brings with it an increasing deterioration of our physical body,
when the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong men are bent, and the grinders cease because they are few, and those who look through the windows are dimmed, and the doors on the street are shut—when the sound of the grinding is low, and one rises up at the sound of a bird, and all the daughters of song are brought low (12:3-4).
Stability wains, so we are prone to fall, and standing up straight now has a curve. To eat our food we once had a complete set of cutlery, but some have dulled or been lost over time. The doors have been closed to what we once heard, while the window opens for the slightest noise at night. The songs we once loved, we no longer sing quite as well, and the hair we once had has blossomed white or blown away. Our sense of fearlessness has been replaced with a fear of falling, and the legs that once ran now drag along. Even the intimate passion that once seemed ablaze is all but extinguished.
As an aging man, it’s hard for me to call this beautiful imagery, poignant perhaps but telling certainly. What Solomon describes serve as signposts of the inevitable. Yet, how many of us are in denial? Are you planning to attend your own funeral? No one has yet, but your loved ones will. And as they mourn their loss, will they awake to the reality of their mortality? Will they consider their own silver years, as the body grows taught and snaps? Will they consider their golden years, when the bowl that once held their vitality is irreparably broken, and the pitcher that once carried life is shattered, no longer to be filled, no more to pour out?
We read in Genesis that God made Adam “from the dust of the ground” (Gen. 2:7 NIV), and so as Adam’s progeny “the dust returns to the earth as it was” (12:7). Arguments over how the body is buried are superficial. The fact is the body returns “earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,”[4] but not the spirit, which “returns to God who gave it” (12:7). It’s a sobering thought that should not leave us despondent but reflective: How does the truth that “the dust returns to the earth as it was” inform how I live today?
God’s Truth Abides
In the English translation of Martin Luther’s hymn, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” we sing,
That Word above all earthly powers
no thanks to them abideth;
the Spirit and the gifts are ours
through him who with us sideth.
Let goods and kindred go,
this mortal life also;
the body they may kill:
God’s truth abideth still;
his kingdom is forever![5]
In simple verse, Luther reminds us of the eternality of God’s Word, the abiding presence of his Spirit evidenced in his gifts, all of which transcend this mortal life and prepare us for eternal life. It’s a sanctifying reminder in this mortal life that screams for our attention and devotion, encouraging us to fear and fight not to lose it: this life is not eternal, but God’s Word is. God’s truth abides; this life does not. So, what do we gain by fearing death and obsessing over this mortal life, when all that we have and all that we will be is secured for us in Christ? As Jim Eliot said, “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose.” So, let us live this life for Christ. Unlike this life, “his kingdom is forever!”
[1] Unless referenced otherwise, all Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version (Wheaton: Crossway Bibles, 2001).
[2] https://www.cnbc.com/2022/04/11/67percent-of-americans-have-no-estate-plan-heres-how-to-get-started-on-one.html
[3] David Gibson, Living Life Backward: How Ecclesiastes Teaches Us to Live in Light of the End (Wheaton: Crossway, 2017), 11.
[4] https://bcp2019.anglicanchurch.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/35-Burial-of-the-Dead.pdf
[5] Trinity Hymnal, Revised Edition (Suwanee: Great Commission Publications, 1990), 92.
Planter, Pastor, Preacher 