The preacher of Ecclesiastes paints a haunting image: a silver cord snapping, a golden bowl shattering, a pitcher broken at the spring. These symbols of beauty and sustenance destroyed point to the fragility of life’s goodness. Evil enters not as a force equal to good, but as the absence of what God designed to flourish. When the cistern wheel crumbles, creation groans under the weight of decay. Yet this breaking redirects our gaze to the Giver, not the gifts. [21:19]
“Remember him before the silver cord is snapped, and the golden bowl is crushed, and the pitcher is shattered at the spring, and the wheel is broken at the cistern.”
(Ecclesiastes 12:6, ESV)
Reflection: Where have you seen “crushed bowls” in your life—goodness eroded or lost? How might this ache point you to Christ’s promise of restoration?
Ecclesiastes names aging as evil: almond trees blooming (white hair), grasshoppers dragging (stiff limbs), and failing caper berries (waning vitality). These are not neutral signs of maturity but markers of a world unraveling. To call this “evil” is not ingratitude—it’s honesty. Our bodies were made for unbroken vigor; their decline is a theft. Yet this theft tutors us: Eden’s echo grows louder in the cracks. [10:17]
“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.’”
(Ecclesiastes 12:1, ESV)
Reflection: What physical limitation or ache most frustrates you? How might it become a daily reminder to hunger for resurrection?
The preacher warns of a day when songs cease and only unclean birds circle—a stark image of divine judgment. Revelation mirrors this: nations hiding from the Lamb’s wrath as creation itself recoils. Kohelet’s bleakness is not despair but clarity. To ignore coming fire is madness; to name it is love. The Christian’s strangeness—speaking of hell at Christmas—is a gift to those asleep at the cliff’s edge. [19:23]
“Then the kings of the earth… hid themselves in the caves… and they said to the mountains… ‘Fall on us and hide us from the face of him who is seated on the throne.’”
(Revelation 6:15–16, ESV)
Reflection: When has your faithfulness felt “strange” to others? How can you hold both joy and sobriety about judgment in tension?
Life “under the sun” chases cisterns—broken vessels that cannot hold water. Careers, accolades, even family joys become vanity if disconnected from their Source. The atheist’s feast is a funeral meal: all flavor, no nourishment. Yet Christians walking through Vanity Fair clutch a secret—the Well beneath the well. Every shattered pitcher whispers: “You were made for more.” [24:13]
“Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher; all is vanity.”
(Ecclesiastes 1:2, ESV)
Reflection: What “cistern” have you patched repeatedly? How might releasing it free your hands to receive living water?
Ecclesiastes ends where Revelation begins: dust returning, but the Spirit rising. God does not minimize our “evil days” but transfigures them. Every groan becomes a birth pang; every loss, a window. The same Christ who cried “Why?” on the cross will wipe tears in the new city. Our honest grief becomes the shovel that digs deeper foundations for hope. [34:42]
“He will wipe away every tear… Death shall be no more… Behold, I am making all things new.”
(Revelation 21:4–5, ESV)
Reflection: What current “evil” in your life could you surrender as seed for Christ’s promise to make all new?
Augustine’s answer to the Manicheans frames the argument: evil is not a thing God made but the privation of good. The text then lets that definition do its work. If God created a world that was “very good,” every reduction of that goodness, whether 1 percent or 99 percent, counts as evil. A seagull without wings illustrates it. So does sex without the covenant that should be there. Evil shows up as something missing that ought to be present.
Kohelet names those missing goods as “evil days,” and he has permission to say it straight. Aging is not “great.” The failing memory, the sore joints, the receding hairline testify that something God designed to be whole is now deprived. Faith, as Rabbi Sacks says, “feels both sides of the contradiction.” God exists. Evil exists. The more real God’s goodness becomes, the more fiercely faith protests what should not be. Jesus’ own cry, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” validates that protest.
Kohelet presses that protest toward compassion. Real empathy refuses to paint a plaster smile over another’s pain. Romans 12:15 calls for tears with those who weep. Naming evil as evil actually shares the load and lightens it.
Ecclesiastes 12, though, is not only about old age. The imagery widens into eschatological weather. The darkened sun and moon, the trembling rulers, the grinders stopping, the doors shut, the music lowered, the bird-cries of carrion over fallen Babylon, the mourners in the streets. Revelation and Matthew confirm the scene. The judgment will be a day of both longing and sorrow. Maranatha, but also “they will look on him whom they have pierced” and mourn.
Then the picture tightens: a silver cord snapped, a golden bowl crushed, a pitcher shattered, a cistern wheel broken. Finally dust returns to dust and the spirit to God. What is that but goodness going back to its source and leaving created things empty of their borrowed shine. That is why Kohelet repeats his bookend conclusion. “Vanity of vanities.” Life “under the sun” is life without reference to God, and it is a waste no matter how exquisite its opera or harvest.
Yet the “evil day” is a severe mercy. It trains the soul to look above the sun. Christians will seem strange for speaking of death and hell in a world desperate to stay happy, but that strangeness is sanity and gift. Even the unexplained blue day can be a summons, not to consume one more distraction, but to say, “This world is not enough,” and to fix hope on the One who promises, “Behold, I am making all things new.”
If life is really about being healthy and slowly day after day after day I lose more and more of my health and I get weaker and weaker until I die, then this life is meaningless and therefore when I lose my health and I get older and I weaker and weaker and I start to die, I'm reminded there has to be more to this life than the things that I enjoy. There has to be a heavenly world. There has to be something above the sun. And so Christians are strange. We walk by vanity fair like in Pilgrim's Progress and all these people are having fun and singing and dancing and pretending like death will never come.
[00:26:31]
(40 seconds)
Just like Jesus Christ was exalted after what? He was humiliated so often when we're reminded of these words like Kohelet reminds us of the difficulties, of the evils, of the sad parts of this life, and we don't turn away from them. We don't pretend they don't exist. We say this is terrible. Often when we acknowledge that and don't run from that, then we find this great peace. Reminded, but Jesus, but Jesus, but Jesus, but Jesus reminded of what he says in revelation 21. I'll wipe away every tear from your eyes.
[00:33:53]
(32 seconds)
Depression is this horrible experience that happens to so many people where you're unable to delight in the day. It might be objectively a great day. Things might be going well but you're unable to delight in them. And we're not supposed to say, well, it's all your fault. You need to try harder. You need to just enjoy life. You need to change your thinking. We're allowed to say that's an evil thing. That's horrible. God designed good The the world to be good and he designed us to enjoy that and when one of those two things or both of those two things aren't happening, it's an evil.
[00:06:15]
(30 seconds)
It's okay for us like the preacher of Ecclesiastes to say, this is evil. This is not the way it's meant to be. It should be better than this. Oh God, why is it this way? What did Jesus, one of his seven words from the cross, my God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Jesus fulfilling the perfect old testament and new testament man cries out to God and says it should be otherwise. There's a problem here. These days are evil. It's okay for us to recognize this.
[00:08:16]
(33 seconds)
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