“God, you can do anything you want with me. Just please make me famous.”[1] This was the prayer of a gifted young actor, struggling to find the role that would launch his career into the stratosphere of Hollywood celebrity. Matthew Perry eventually landed the role of Chandler in the soon-to-be insanely popular sitcom, Friends. His meteoric rise to stardom was matched by wealth and all that fame and money can buy. Before the series ended, each of the principal actors were making one million dollars per episode. Though he was suddenly rich and famous, he still maintained his family ties and deep friendships with those who’d known him before. He bought expensive cars and a house in an exclusive L. A. neighborhood overlooking the ocean. And yet, he was generous with his money and gave the fun toys to his nieces and nephews at Christmas. His life was filled with almost every blessing found “under the sun.”
Then, in 1997 a jet ski accident led to a Vicodin prescription, triggering years of opioid addiction. Although he spent decades in a downward spiral of drugs and rehab, he hoped to help others struggling with addiction and therefore spoke openly about his struggles in interviews. Still, he relapsed into drug use repeatedly. In the Netflix documentary, The One About Matthew Perry, his friends spoke of an emptiness in his life, a hole in his heart that he couldn’t seem to fill, even though he had achieved everything he’d ever desired. He’d do well for a while, but then he’d start growing distant, wouldn’t answer calls or return texts, and they knew he was using—again. Then he’d hit bottom and get back into rehab—again. Matthew Perry’s life tragically ended when he drowned in his jacuzzi at home due to the acute effects of ketamine and the coronary artery disease, likely brought on by his years of drug abuse. He was fifty-four years old.
I’m not saying that God honored the bargain when young Mr. Perry prayed for fame. God will do what he wants with us. As the Sovereign Ruler of the universe that’s his prerogative, not a privilege we have the power to withhold or give. The condition upon which the Lord acts, however, is his own glory, not ours.
Ecclesiastes chapter six opens with a man not unlike Matthew Perry. Here we meet “a man to whom God gives wealth, possessions, and honor, so that he lacks nothing of all that he desires, yet God does not give him power to enjoy them” (6:2). The Preacher tells us this is “vanity” and “a grievous evil,” and moreover, it “lies heavy on mankind” (6:1,2). So begins “one of the Bible’s darkest chapters.”[2] We learned in the last chapter that he who loves money will never be satisfied by it (5:10), and the Preacher concluded that the only way we ever truly find joy is by entrusting ourselves to the Giver of all good gifts, being content from day to day with the blessings we are given (5:18–20).
This man in Ecclesiastes 6 was given everything he could ever want, yet God withheld a crucial ingredient, the “power to enjoy them.” “Martin Luther called these verses ‘a description of a rich man who lacks nothing for a good and happy life and yet does not have one.’”[3] In the end, we’re told, a stranger is the one who finally enjoys the blessings, and not the man to whom they were given. Did he lose them all in a bad venture like the fellow in 5:13–14? Was it all snatched away in a Job-like series of unfortunate events? Did he die before he was able to relax and enjoy his many blessings? We’re not told. All we know for sure is that in the end, he was unable to find satisfaction in the good gifts God had so richly blessed him with.
This, according to the Preacher, is an evil that “lies heavy on mankind” (6:1). While this expression “may refer to the severity of the situation, more likely it refers to its frequency. It happens all the time: one person loses everything he has worked so hard to gain, and then someone else comes along to enjoy it”[4] (see Ps. 39:6). It’s the plot of many riveting novels and heist movies, after all—so common as to be predictable.
The lesson the Preacher is reinforcing once again is that the most blessed gift is God himself, for without him we won’t have the power to enjoy the gifts he gives, no matter how simple or lavish. “It is only when we keep him at the center of our existence that we experience any real joy in the gifts that God may give. The fear of the Lord is not just the beginning of knowledge; it is also the source of satisfaction.”[5] The writers of the psalms repeatedly expressed this deep satisfaction found only in God, as we see in Psalm 16.[6]
The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup;
you hold my lot.
The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance. —Psalm 16:5–6
Continuing his theme, the Preacher gives us the hypothetical example of a man who is blessed with an extremely long life (two thousand years!) and fathers hundreds of children, and yet, “his soul is not satisfied with life’s good things” (6:3,6). This is sad indeed, for “In the Preacher’s day, long life and numerous children were among the best of all earthly blessings.”[7] The Preacher then makes a shocking comparison, saying that the stillborn child who never saw the light of day is better off than this discontented old father. “For it comes in vanity and goes in darkness, and in darkness its name is covered. Moreover, it has not seen the sun or known anything, yet it finds rest rather than he” (6:4–5). Though this man “had the best life that anyone in Old Testament times could imagine . . . the man still wasn’t satisfied, presumably because he didn’t have God in his life. Notice that it was his soul, specifically, that was dissatisfied. Something was missing in his life spiritually. There was a hole in his heart.”[8]
Given the “grievous evil” of this man’s misery despite possessing every outward blessing, “the Preacher entertains the thought of non-existence. . . and “considers the strange blessedness of a stillborn child.”[9] The child who dies before birth has never felt the warmth of the sun or the chill of winter. Neither has it known the loving gaze of her mother nor the cold stare of an abuser. It won’t feel the thrill of success nor the despair of failure. “The stillborn child never has to endure pain, or see suffering, or struggle with the guilt of conscious sin. Best of all, the child is first to die and therefore the first to find its eternal rest.”[10]
Even the man who hypothetically lived for two thousand years would die eventually, but only after living a long and miserable life devoid of any appreciation of God’s blessings poured out upon his life. Remember that we are looking at life “under the sun,” not life “under heaven.” The Preacher has not brought God into this hypothetical situation. But he is showing us that even the wealthiest, most outwardly blessed person still needs something more—or rather, some One more—to fill the hole in their heart which no amount of fame, cars, houses, or money can fill. All the wealth in the world will not bring us enjoyment if God doesn’t give us the power to enjoy it. And if that is our lot in life, perhaps it would have been better if we’d never been born.
Before concluding the chapter with several rhetorical questions, the Preacher continues on his downward spiral, bitterly wondering if we can ever find satisfaction (6:7). Does the wise man have any advantage over the fool when it comes to finding happiness in this life? How about the poor man? Perhaps he’s better off if he at least knows how to live (6:8). “Yet when it comes to satisfying desire, the poor man will be as disappointed as anyone. Neither wisdom nor poverty proves to be an advantage.”[11] Our desires are always looking for the next thing, for more, “this also is vanity and a striving after wind” (6:9). “The truth is that only God can fully satisfy—though his Word, through his worship, and through the help that comes from the Holy Spirit when we turn to him in prayer.”[12]
I may be stretching here, but I can’t help but think of my favorite Christmas movie, It’s a Wonderful Life, in which George Bailey, an ambitious man who has trouble seeing the blessings which God has given him in talent, family, steady work, and the love of his community. He never got the big break, never went to college, and thus never landed a job which would make him rich. One dark night, when he was pressed to the edge of despair, he prays to God for help, but when rehearsing his miseries afterward, he concludes that it would be better if he’d never been born. So the Lord grants him an opportunity to see what the world would be like without George Bailey. In the end, George’s eyes are opened to the multitude of blessings among which he’d been living, and his heart is filled with joy. It’s a beautiful reminder that the Lord is the One who gives good gifts and the power to enjoy them. But he gives them for the good of those who love him, and for the glory due his name.
Whom have I in heaven but you?
And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
For behold, those who are far from you shall perish;
you put an end to everyone who is unfaithful to you.
But for me it is good to be near God;
I have made the Lord God my refuge,
that I may tell of all your works. —Psalm 73:25–28
[1] Quoted by friends and family of Matthew Perry, in the Netflix Documentary, “The One About Matthew Perry“
[2] PR 140
[3] PR 140
[4] PR 141
[5] PR 141
[6] See also Psalm 42:1–2; 62:1–2; 73:26; and 142:5, as well as many others
[7] LB 42
[8] PR 141
[9] PR 142
[10] PR142
[11] PR 143
[12] PR 144
