Sim Chen Xing

“Meaningless, meaningless,” says the Teacher.
“Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.”
— Ecclesiastes 1:2, NIV

There’s a quiet question that sits under the surface of life:
“Does this matter?”
In the rush of deadlines, the pursuit of dreams, the weight of bills, or even the beauty of fleeting moments, we all long to know—is this enough? Is this worth it?

The ancient voice of Ecclesiastes meets us there—not with platitudes, but with deep honesty. Instead of offering quick answers, it leads us through a journey that strips away illusion after illusion until only one truth remains.

The Life of the Teacher

Ecclesiastes is a thoughtfully written piece by the Teacher (or the קֹהֶלֶת “Qoheleth”). He explores the meaning of life “under the sun”—life as seen from the ground level, through human experience, without presuming divine explanation.

His reflections follow the arc of a life well-lived, but also deeply examined:

In his youth, the Teacher throws himself into pleasure, accomplishment, wisdom, and wealth (1:13–18; 2:1–11; 5:10–17). Nothing is off-limits. He tests everything we often strive for, hoping to find something that lasts. As he progresses with age, he becomes more reflective. He sees injustice prevailing (3:16–22), death leveling the wise and the foolish (9:1–6), and toil leading to futility (2:17–23). The success and wisdom of youth begin to crack under the weight of reality. And finally in his old age, the Teacher looks ahead to the breakdown of the body (12:1–7). It’s no longer a question of what to pursue, but of what remains. And his final call is clear:

“Remember your Creator in the days of your youth.” (Ecclesiastes 12:1a, NIV)

This plea reframes the entire book. Ecclesiastes doesn’t exist to depress. It exists to deconstruct false meaning—to strip life down until only one foundation is left standing. God.

“Meaning”

The Teacher’s quest is not superficial. He is not chasing thrills—he is searching for what truly matters.

And yet, everything under the sun turns to hevel (הֶבֶל)—the Hebrew word for vapor, mist, breath. Not just meaningless in the nihilistic sense, but transient, ungraspable, and ultimately unsatisfying.

• Pleasure is momentary.
• Wisdom helps, but cannot stop death.
• Work can be passed to someone who may not deserve it.
• Wealth is never enough, and often brings anxiety.

Even the morally upright aren’t spared—the righteous suffer, and the wicked prosper (Ecclesiastes 8:14). And in this confusion, the Teacher is left asking: What is the point of all this?

Eventually, he lifts his eyes just slightly higher:

“You who are young, be happy while you are young,… but know that for all these things God will bring you into judgment.” (Ecclesiastes 11:9, NIV)

At this moment, the Teacher recgonises that there is a Judge. There is accountability.
But still… in Ecclesiastes 12:8, the Teacher writes once more:

“Meaningless, meaningless… everything is meaningless.”

The Paradox of Eternity

In a profound moment of clarity, the Teacher affirms:

“The dust returns to the ground it came from, and the spirit returns to God who gave it. (Ecclesiastes 12:7, NIV)”

He no longer speculates—he knows that the human spirit returns to its Maker. There is a God who holds the end of our story.

But rather than resolving the tension, this eternal recognition brings it into sharper focus.

If we return to God, why does life still feel so hollow?

Because simply knowing that God exists, or that eternity awaits, doesn’t erase the frustration of living in a world filled with toil, injustice, and unanswered questions. The Teacher isn’t denying eternity—he’s saying that eternity alone doesn’t satisfy if it remains abstract or distant.

Unless God becomes more than the final destination—unless He becomes the center and companion of our present—then even the knowledge that we return to Him can feel like mist.
What we need is not just a God we meet at the end, but a God who walks with us now.

The Conclusion of the Matter

It is on this note that the Teacher says:

“Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter:
Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.
For God will bring every deed into judgment, including every hidden thing, whether it is good or evil.”
— Ecclesiastes 12:13–14, NIV.

He doesn’t offer a philosophical treatise. He offers a posture.

Fear God. Obey Him. Trust that nothing is wasted.

This is not a sudden turn to legalism or moralism. It is the quiet realization that only God gives life its weight. He is not one category among many. He is not a religious option.
He is the meaning.

• Not just because He gives joy—but because joy without Him fades.
• Not just because He judges—but because judgment without justice is terrifying.
• Not just because He creates—but because only in Him do we find where we come from and where we are going.

Everything else may vanish.
But if God sees, if God remembers, if God holds every breath and every tear—then nothing is wasted. Even vapor has value when seen by eternity.

Applications for the Everyday Reader

You might think, “I haven’t explored everything like the Teacher. I haven’t had the freedom, wealth, or time to do what the Teacher did. How is this relevant to me?”

Precisely because we haven’t, that is why Ecclesiastes is a gift for us.

Ecclesiastes is a voice from someone who’s already run the experiment.
Someone who’s already reached the end of every road, turned over every stone, and come back to say:

“Don’t waste your life chasing vapor. Start where meaning actually begins: with your Creator.”

In fact, the Teacher encourages the reader to begin this journey as early as you can — in the days of your youth (See Ecclesiastes 12:1, NIV).

The message isn’t limited to philosophers, kings, or the privileged. It’s for:

• The weary student wondering if their studies matter
• The working parent caught in cycles of repetition
• The unnoticed caregiver
• The disillusioned dreamer
• The faithful one questioning if God still sees

And to all, the Teacher says:

“Remember your Creator. Not when it’s convenient. Not when you’ve exhausted all options. But now—while your heart is still tender, your days still unfolding.”

Ecclesiastes is not a cry of despair—it’s a call to awaken.
It tells the truth about life, so we can finally stop lying to ourselves.

When pleasure fades, when strength weakens, when answers don’t come, and everything we trusted begins to slip away…

Only One remains.

And God is not a footnote in your story—He is the Author.
Not a distant idea—but the centre of gravity around which everything else must orbit.

Your Creator.
Your Judge.
Your Anchor.
Your Meaning.