You learn more at a funeral than at a feast— After all, that's where we'll end up. We might discover something from it. Ecclesiastes 7:2 (MSG)

As a pastor, I performed many weddings and many funerals. People think I'm strange when I tell them that I prefer presiding at the latter. It's not that I don't enjoy celebrating life and love. I think the joining of a couple is a great event. Yet, like Solomon, I've noticed that, from a spiritual perspective, there is more going on at a funeral than at a wedding.

Weddings are, too often, a spiritual distraction. The bride is stressed out about every detail from her dress to the flower arrangements to the stupid veil that won't stay in place. The mother of the bride is stressed about making this the wedding she never had and wanting everything to be just right for her guests. The father of the bride is stressed about the cost. The parents of the groom is wondering if their son is man enough to take care of and provide for this woman. The bridesmaids, if they are single, are wondering when it's going to be their turn. The groomsmen are hungover from the bachelor party and just want to get to the reception. The groom is just wanting to get to the wedding night. God is generally a long way from people's thoughts at a wedding.

At a funeral, there's a dead body in the room. For those in attendance, there's no escaping the reality that someday it will be you lying in that casket. Funerals are often the only place that people honestly consider their eternal destiny. If someone is wondering where they're going when they die, I'd like to be there to have a chat with them.

Creative Commons photo courtesy of Flickrand Derek_B

Even if someone lived a thousand years—make it two thousand!—but didn't enjoy anything, what's the point? Doesn't everyone end up in the same place? Ecclesiastes 6:6 (MSG)

I've been thinking a lot about what I en-joy, those things in which I take joy, or the things that bring joy to me. It's an interesting question to ponder. What gives me joy? I find that the things which give me the greatest joy require very little in terms of material things.

A long, leisurely dinner with loved ones and friends gives me joy, or an evening of conversation on the back porch on a summer evening. Quiet evenings with my wife gives me joy, and reaching out in the middle of the night to feel her lying next to me. Sitting on the dock at the lake, or having a cup of coffee with my parents on the glider rocker in the morning gives me joy. The warm embrace of my daughters gives me joy, and when they slow down long enough to sit next to me and share their day, or their heart. Writing a just-for-the-heck-of-it, handwritten letter gives me joy, as does receiving one. There's more, but you get the idea.

As the holidays approach, I think about the gifts I give and the gifts I receive. Will they bring en-joyment or facilitate that which brings joy? Or, will they just be another needless, useless piece of clutter?

Creative Commons photo courtesy of Flickrand Thom Watson

But in the end, does it really make a difference what anyone does? Ecclesiastes 3:9 (MSG)

I appreciate Solomon's search for meaning, and I identify with his struggle. I have cycled through my own periods of feeling life's futility. This morning, however, I found myself getting a little irritated at his question, "Does it really make a difference what anyone does?"

My parents gave me a good home, provided for my needs and loved me. That made a difference.
My first grade teacher loved me and prayed for me. That made a difference.
My friends invited me to a conference where I heard God's message. That made a difference.
My boss met me on Tuesday mornings to teach me God's word. That made a difference.
Friends and family continue to forgive my stupid mistakes. That makes a difference.
Friends and family continue to support and encourage me. That makes a difference.
My wife lives out her love for me daily, hourly, minute-by-minute. That makes a difference.

Yes, Solomon. What we do really does make a  difference.

Creative Commons photo courtesy of Flickr and ginnerobot

I said to myself, "Let's go for it—experiment with pleasure, have a good time!" But there was nothing to it, nothing but smoke. Eccesiastes 2:1 (MSG)

My college age daughter left this past Saturday. She's flying to the other side of the world where she is going to work with the poor and the handicapped and to share the love of Jesus. She has been faithfully raising funds, studying and praying in preparation for her trip. She wants to make a difference in the world. I'm proud of her.

She had a weekend at home before she left and she hooked up with all of her high school friends who were back home from their freshman year at college. It was then that it struck her how different her path was from theirs. She listened to them talk about their indulgences with pleasure and freedom. I imagine their attitude was much like Solomon's as he searched for meaning in life. She left feeling a bit sad and alienated, I think.

I see plenty of people still chasing after pleasure and hoping that, this time, it might fill the void in their hearts. I watch men and women climb the social ladder and accumulate the biggest, fastest, newest, best stuff. Yet, the emptiness remains in their eyes as you talk to them.

I don't want to live for that which is smoke and spitting into the wind.

Creative Commons photo courtesy of Flickrand finessimo