On a beautiful, sunny, afternoon on a beach vacation a few years ago, I noticed some kids, about twelve, skim boarding. That’s where you throw a small surf board looking thing out in front of you along the wake and jump on it to slide across the wake. I told Dana it looked like tons of fun and that I should go try it out. She warned me that I’m not twelve, that my center of gravity is much higher and would make skim boarding much harder. I took her call to caution, to accept the limitations of my adult body, as a challenge.

So I ran back to our rental, grabbed the skim board that had come with it, and threw it out on the wake. I know that, when I jumped, my feet landed on the board, but only for a split second. My feet went out from under me, over my head, and I hit the hard sand head first.

The result was a concussion, which nine days later resulted in post-concussion syndrome, which stuck me in bed in a dark room with no screens for about a week.

All because I wanted to have some fun. I should have accepted my limitations.

Vanity. All is vanity.

That line comes from our scripture for this morning. Qoheleth, the Teacher, the author of Ecclesiastes, has some wisdom to share about human limitations. Hear now Ecclesiastes 8:14-17.

Vanity. This also is vanity.

I think Qoheleth would be amused by our twenty-four hour news cycle. Qoheleth is how we refer to the author of Ecclesiastes; it’s a word that means teacher in Hebrew and a person history has often thought of as the wise King Solomon. Qoheleth would be amused by the reality that we constantly have, at our finger tips or the end of our remotes, access to all the latest developments in the sagas that grip our attention. I pay attention through listening to the news while driving, through reading the news in the morning. I read widely and with depth to give myself understanding, to be informed.

I want to be informed because I want to feel like I have some sense of understanding, some way of making sense of the world around me. Ultimately, I want to feel like I have some control over the world around me by understanding.

Vanity. This also is vanity.

In a moment of significant disappointment in my life, I struggled to accept the disappointing reality, wanting to both understand why it happened and wanting to figure out a way to fix it. Those two things relate well to my personality: I’m a stubborn fixer. If I believe in something, it’s going to happen. If there’s a way to fix something, I’m going to figure out how to fix it. And if there’s understanding to be had, I’m going to understand it. That’s my personality. And it can be a tremendous asset and is why I tend to gain a reputation as one who gets things done.

But it’s also a liability. I often don’t know when to stop. In this case, I ran myself ragged trying, with increasing desperation, to understand the disappointment. Why did it happen? Is there a flaw with me? Is there a flaw with the system? Wherever there’s a flaw, there must be a solution, so how can I fix it? Can I read this book or go to that conference? Can I find errors in my skillset and then address those errors? Can mentors in my life or trusted counsel point out where I’m needing improvement, whether personally or professionally?

Vanity. This also is vanity.

For me, it’s easy to not accept my limits, to stubbornly say that I am capable and that I can do it on my own. I have a tough time believing that there’s anything beyond my understanding, whether it’s skim boarding, the news, or why grave disappointments happen. I feel almost incapable of knowing that there are things I cannot fix. I strive and I fight and I struggle and I work hard and wear myself out trying to exceed my limits. And when I fail over and over again, I get up and fight some more, which makes me sullen, grumpy, withdrawn, and tired.

And yet, I keep fighting. I keep trying to understand. I keep trying to fix. Perhaps you can relate. I think we all have a propensity to act in just this way when financial downturns come, cancer diagnoses occur, people act to harm us, relatives cause drama, disappointment comes our way, car accidents happen, or deep frustrations implant themselves in our minds. We also engage in the same fixing behavior, the same quest for deeper understanding, whenever we gain new reasons for our insecurities or we struggle against poor reputations in town or we fear what others think of us or when we worry about how we look.

These are real problems, things we struggle with, and in the face of them, what are we to do? Very often, the answer we first think of, the very first thing that comes to mind, is to be more disciplined in our relationship with God. That will make us feel better. That will solve the issues. That will bring us release. The pursuit of righteousness will address the difficult, miserable, things of life when they come.

But vanity, Qoheleth says. This also is vanity.

I certainly ascribe to the need for discipline. I’m nothing if not disciplined and my life reflects that. Discipline keeps me going. Without my usual morning routine, I struggle. If I’m unable to follow my usual sermon writing schedule, I struggle. If I’m not exercising on a regular basis, I feel it in my body and soul as both yearn for the release of running. Discipline makes my world go round.

And such is how we’re taught we’re supposed to be. Discipline makes things better. Not only by providing stability and the comfort of routine in life, but also because it makes us better disciples. After all, the word disciple is within the word discipline. To really follow Christ, to grow in righteousness, as we’re called to do, is to be disciplined.

Many weeks, I preach and I call us, myself included, to deeper discipline and thus deeper righteousness. For example, sometimes I remind us to pray the Psalms daily, an easy way to have a daily habit of prayer. It’s not too late to begin, or to begin again, with the schedule located on my sermon website and in my book.

We all want to be more righteous. That’s part of why we come to church. It’s why we’re disciplined. It’s why we have expectations of ourselves and why we hold ourselves to those expectations of discipline and growing in righteousness.

And we might believe that becoming more righteous will make our lives easier, or will give us greater understanding about the world, or will aid us when life gets tough. There’s some truth in all those statements.

But Qoheleth argues in a way contrary to that thinking. In our scripture this morning, Qoheleth says that the righteous get treated like the wicked and the wicked like the righteous. This is just the way of things in the world. He seems like your grumpy old uncle who, after you describe your problems, says, “Life’s a jerk.”

Life where the unrighteous prosper and the righteous suffer is, according to Qoheleth, inscrutable, inexplicable, beyond our comprehension. It’s just a way of life, he says at the end of our scripture. No matter how hard we study God’s ways, and no matter how wise some become in the ways of God, none of us will ever have full understanding; we will not, in his words, “find it out.” God’s ways are beyond our ways, God’s rationale for why the righteous are treated as the wicked and vise versa are beyond our comprehension, and so we are simply resigned to this fact: that life is just this way.

To which Qoheleth says vanity. This also is vanity.

This ought to strike us as odd because we tend to think of ourselves as highly capable people. Certainly I think of myself that way. We’re taught that we can do anything we put our minds to. We’re taught that if we study hard enough, we can understand anything. But Qoheleth says to us that it’s in vanity we do so because we refuse, at a certain level, to accept our limits. That’s what Qoheleth has to say to us this morning: we have limits. We cannot comprehend why a good God allows the righteous to be treated as the wicked and vise versa. No matter how wise we may become, we cannot understand the ways of God. They are ultimately inscrutable, unknowable, out of our reach.

And so, it’s in vanity we seek to change others hearts and minds. In vanity, we try and fix injustices or disappointments or evil things that have happened to us. In vanity, we attack people, trying to create justice. In vanity, we try and regain wealth squandered. In vanity, we try and mend broken relationships by ourselves. In vanity, we try and change people who have hurt us. In vanity, we labor to fix ourselves when we’ve proven unacceptable. In vanity, we beat ourselves up over how we look.

It’s in vanity because all of these things we ultimately cannot fix. We cannot change people; only God can do that. We cannot change relationships on our own; only God can do that. We cannot create justice alone; only God can do that. We cannot control how other people perceive us; only God can do that. We cannot fix our shortcomings alone; only God can do that.

In other words, we have limits. There are things in this life that we cannot fix; things over which we have no power. Those are the arenas of faith; the spaces where only God has power. When we push back against our limits, when we try to understand the things that we can’t and we try and fix the things we have no power to fix, we play God. That’s why it’s vanity: it’s us trying to do what only God can do. This doesn’t mean we don’t try and we don’t seek wisdom. No, in order to know where our limits are, we must first try to fix the problems in life, try to understand and comprehend the way of things. We must seek after God through discipline to grow in righteousness, for there are moments in life where that yields a fix or wisdom. And that growth in righteousness teaches us where we have limits; where to stop our vain striving and let God be God.

And so the reality is that we can either fight against our God-given limits, trying hard to fix or understand what is beyond our ability, or we can let God be God. When we have done everything we can do, when we have sought all the wisdom there is to know and it has yet failed us, when we have tried every fix imaginable and it’s not worked, it’s time to let go, it’s time for release, it’s time to declare that life is just that way and we will perhaps never, in the words of Qoheleth, “find it out.” Life sometimes comes with things we cannot control, we cannot understand, we cannot fix; things we cannot work our way out of.

Our discipline and righteousness eventually reach their limits. Spiritual maturity, the kind that grows under discipline and life shared with God, should lead us to know where those limits are and be accepting of them, believing that God will take care of what we cannot.

The point of this scripture is this: to continue to try and push past our limits is vanity. It’s our attempt to play God. Instead, scripture says to us this morning: know and accept your limits.

What are we, mere humans, mortal ones as Qoheleth says in Ecclesiastes, to do?

This can sound like reason for resignation, to be resigned to our fate, to sit and be sullen. But there’s great power and joy in releasing ourselves from believing that we have the power to fix what we cannot, that we have the power to control what we cannot, and that we have the power to comprehend what we cannot. There’s great power in accepting our limitations as humans and great power in allowing God to be God. There’s amazing power in accepting the wisdom that life is sometimes just a jerk to us and there’s nothing we on our own can do about it.

For when we choose to accept this fact, when we choose to release, when we choose to accept our limits and say, “Ok, God, I’ve done all I can do,” we discover the wisdom of Qoheleth in the middle of our scripture this morning: “So I commend enjoyment, for there is nothing better for people under the sun than to eat and drink and enjoy themselves, for this will go with them in their toil through the days of life God gives them under the sun.”

Instead of fighting so hard to fix what we cannot; instead of striving so hard to understand what we never will; when we have naturally reached our limits, God says through Qoheleth this morning: it’s time to go be happy. It’s time to eat, drink, and be merry. It’s time to engage in the things that God has given us that bring us joy.

If this sounds familiar, and I hope it does, it’s because it’s one of the points of a regular sabbath practice. Regular time for rest, set aside and unencumbered by work and obligation, releases us to enjoy the things that God has made us to enjoy, things we might not have time for otherwise: gardening, video games, fishing, hiking, woodworking, crafting, watching TV, cooking, and the like.

Qoheleth’s call, and indeed God’s call on us, is to eat, drink, and be merry, as older translations of this text say. When we try to do what only God can do, we bring much despair into our lives. When we try and fix what only God can fix, we bring much exhaustion into our lives. When we try and control what only God can control, we bring much frustration into our lives.

When we admit that we cannot, we discover that we can, in the midst of the difficult things in life, find joy.

When bad news comes that we cannot understand, it’s time to grab some comfort food and sit with a close friend. When family or friends cause drama, it’s time to go engage with our favorite hobby. When life is just crappy, it’s time to go fish. When people are mean, it’s time to go play golf. When someone makes you angry, it’s time to go bike riding. And when life gives you great disappointments, it’s time to go seek comfort from the presence of loved ones.

Eat, drink, and be merry isn’t a call to drown sorrows in food, drink, or partying; it’s a reminder that we’re made for joy. In joy, God made us, including giving us certain things we naturally enjoy. This means, no matter the difficulties of life, joy is offered to us. There are things we naturally enjoy doing, there are activities that give us great joy and peace and restore our souls. The call, on a regular basis but especially when we have reached our limits, is to go and engage with those.

God offers a different path for me, and for any of us this morning who sound like me. Instead of fighting, striving, struggling, wearing ourselves into exhaustion, to understand what we never will, or to fix what we cannot, or to control the uncontrollable, we’re called to go and delight in the things that bring us joy. We’re called to let God be God: both in accepting our limitations and in believing that God desires for us to live a life full of joy.

To phrase it another way, we shouldn’t let life rob us of joy. Instead, God’s call is to go eat, drink, and be merry.

I have to preach this to myself all the time. In my line of work, I run into limits all the time. There’s only so much I can do because I cannot control people and because this is ultimately God’s church. My job is to lead us to follow where God is leading. Sometimes, that’s frustrating because I think I know best. Sometimes, it’s frustrating because I see a problem and I want to fix it myself. Sometimes, it’s frustrating because people are difficult or because relationships are torn asunder. So, I have to preach this message to myself, so that I remember that I have limits.

And so that I go play the piano. I’m teaching myself to play. I’ve always wanted to play and I’m a little musically inclined, having played trombone through college and having been a music major my first three semesters of college. Playing piano is one of the things I do when I’ve hit my limits. It’s a way of joy. It’s not escapism; the problems still exist. It’s a way of experiencing the joy that God designed me for; it’s a way of accepting my limitations. Playing piano is one way I follow Qoheleth’s advice to eat, drink, and be merry.

Which means when it begins to feel like a chore, I stop. When it starts to feel like something I’m trying to achieve, I stop. When it moves from anything other than joy, I stop and return on another day. Which means I’m not very good, but that’s not the point. The point is joy.

When you reach your limits, when you face inscrutable problems, when you cannot fix what you want to fix, when you cannot change what you want to change, what do you go do? Better put, in the words of Qoheleth, how do you make merry? What brings you joy? God’s invitation is to accept our limits, which is just another way of saying, “vanity, all is vanity,” and then go and eat, drink, and be merry.

This is not escapism. It’s accepting the joy, the freedom, that comes from accepting our limits. We are only human, we are not God. We can only do so much. When we learn to accept that, we find the joy of life that allows us to really, truly, be happy.

Accept your limits. Let God be God. To be disciplined and to pursue righteousness is not a magic formula that somehow makes our lives easier. No, part of discipline, part of pursuing righteousness, is accepting our limitations and choosing to engage with the joys of our lives. It’s accepting that we are not God, we do not have control over everything nor do we have the ability to understand all things. At some point, we all reach our limit, and the disciplined thing to do, the righteous thing to do, is to go find some joy.

So no matter the hardships you encounter nor the limitations you face, eat, drink, and be merry, for “this will go well with [you] in [your] toil through the days of life that God gives [you] under the sun.”

Whatever problems you’re facing, go find some joy. God says so.

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Amen.