I observed yet another example of something meaningless under the sun. This is the case of a man who is all alone, without a child or a brother, yet who works hard to gain as much wealth as he can. But then he asks himself, “Who am I working for? Why am I giving up so much pleasure now?” It is all so meaningless and depressing. (Ecclesiastes 4:7–8)
In these verses Solomon astutely observes that, as you climb higher on the ladder of so-called “success,” you get increasingly lonely, you have fewer friends, fewer and fewer personal contacts, less and less accountability. While in the process of acquiring more stuff, you become less involved with in-depth friendships. So it is with the lonely executive.
Let’s take a closer look at that “certain man” Solomon tells us about. Here’s a guy who is all alone “having neither a son nor a brother.” One might assume that his thoughts would go something like this: “Since I don’t have a lot of family to worry about. I’m going to enjoy myself. I’ve got this great position and I’m making more money than ever, so I’m going to lie back and take that hand full of quietness along with this fist full of work and balance the two. I’ll say, ‘Enough is enough.’”
Does he say that? Not on your life! According to Solomon’s observation, “there was no end to all his labour.” See, the tragic truth finally comes out; he doesn’t know how to quit. He can’t slow down. “His eyes were not satisfied with riches and he never asked, ‘And for whom am I labouring and depriving myself of pleasure?’” (4:8 NASB 1995).
Isn’t that something! This executive-type is such a driver that he isn’t stopping and asking the obvious, such as “Why isn’t this satisfying?” and “What’s the outcome?” and “Why am I knocking myself out and enjoying so few pleasures?” Solomon exclaims: “This too is meaningless—a miserable business!” (4:8 NIV).
Face it—the dream of the great society is that we work, work, work; fight, fight, fight; earn, earn, earn; sell, sell, sell; labour, labour, labour to get more, more, more! So is life at the top. It’s crazy, but there’s something so ego-satisfying about being up there. It offers all those perks that we didn’t have down below. And by climbing into that cage at the top, we think we’ll then personify our long-awaited dream: “I’m now in laid-back city . . . relax . . . rejoice. I have finally arrived!”
Solomon says, “Face it, it won’t satisfy.” Will you hear him? Will you be honest enough to pause in the middle of the climb and think about stuff others refuse to think about? Hang on right there. Hang on to that rung and ask, “What do I gain by fighting to the next one?” Don’t resume climbing until you can answer this. “If I’m not satisfied here, why do I think I’ll be satisfied there?”
