The Meaning Behind It - Ecclesiastes
The only bucket with “fullness of joy” labeled on the front, with no hole in the side is Jesus. Though His side pierced, He did not remain punctured. I turned the garden hose left, brought it to the front of my chipped gray shed. A pile of pales lay stale, battered and bruised. Thinking this could work, I lined them up one by one. Started at the first, made my way down. By the time I was at the seventh, I skipped back down to one, with light feet, excitement in my step. My face drained just like that bucket, a pool of water gathered on the ground. Meaningless. With barely any wisdom, the tiniest bit of knowledge under the sun...I listened to the falsehood of the world. Untrustworthy source. We have eyes but they’re good for nothing, no change is happening to what we see around us. The life I lived for myself I hated. Everything done for me by me left my heart empty and cold. I bought paint, all different colors. In anger of not knowing what to paint, I globbed it all out from their sealed homes onto the paper and smeared. Hands, forearms, elbows all culprits to feelings. I purchased groceries for the week, tore open the plastic bag to the cereal and shook it out into the trashcan. I read how to live, I studied how to love. I spent my days inside the lines, my arms straight to my sides, my hands outstretched and open for no one. I released bitterness from my mouth and judgment from my eyes. Everything I stored up rotted. Meaningless. The agglomeration of possessions was my heap of treasure. My prescription was erroneous and inaccurate. It gave me a headache but I still thought it was 20/20. Collecting air in the palms of my hands. Gathering stray dogs in my backyard with a wide open side gate. I’d see several in a day and come back to a space uninhabited. Sinking to the lowest thoughts I’d slip my hand into a purse not my own, to have the five dollar bill taken by the gusting wind. Meaningless. I poured tea for one, I drank sips at a time with no conversation in between. I looked down at my own feet, just one pair. A left and a right. Hot headed fuming with all what seemed like hot breath. Meaningless. Nothing brought refreshment, a lightness to what certain looks can bring. My harsh commentary and tone took up all the space in the room, everyone fled. Meaningless. I woke up to the stench of my own wickedness. My eyes were peeled back to the rawness of my corrupt reality. A twenty pound dumbbell sat at the bottom of my stomach, and though none of it was a pretty sight, it was all clear now. Glass wiped with windex never meant what you saw through it was clean as well. I was still a walking mess, the only difference was awareness. Intent to promised tone change, intent to promised motives behind the acts. Large leaps to which were so strenuous when my muscles hadn’t moved that way in so long. My legs weren’t quick to help, my mouth wasn’t quick to compliment or practice patience. Recognition in revolt. I had cried out in my humanness. Spewed hollow words to my Holy God. Vowed to terms set by my Maker. Yet vows like vases smashed like fine fragile porcelain. Meaningless. For it is better to not make a vow than to make one and not fulfill it. In unfulfillment face to face with my God I beg for another chance at this life lived for Him. All the work of my hands dissolved, disintegrated. With a hard gulp I had no right to harbor anger. I stood in thankfulness. Finally footed and ready to be clay in His hands. Life had, meaning. With God granted and given wisdom, more knowledge acquired under the sweltering sun… I stayed in step with the Spirit. My heart hurt for the angry, felt for the rash and abrupt. Felt for the malfunctioning bucket fillers. I lived center stage of an empty theater just as they do. They seem to swim great lakes, run past state lines, all for paper. All for others to know they have it… joy? Meaningless. Name brands hung up on hangers, all different styles but all except that one shade that doesn’t match anything. Thrown in the bag anyway. What is this feeling anyway? Getting up before the sun, wiping the welcome matt with the bottom of your shoes at the start of the moon’s shift. You did it to see days in a more beautiful place. You missed that first ride, the beautiful smile on her face as her sparkle light up shoes peddled and peddled on her big girl bike. And you realize that really, the most beautiful place of all, is right here with the moments and faces He blesses us with. But you got that time and a half… meaningless. You slam and shake your fists to the sky, wipe continual tears as continual build up will bottle up and explode just as the night before. Exhaustion, longer harder hours than the other employees yet still no keys to the building. Bottom of the totem pole always scraping to fill that gaping hole in your chest, hardly any rest. Meaningless. A stir of the wooden spoon, juicy lemons and your red muskoka chairs out front. You’re yelling for those days while sitting down. Though the lemonade tasted sweeter back then, God is still just as good when what you’re sipping tastes sour. You’ve calloused your hands trying to straighten what He has made crooked. For purposes you don’t know unless maybe, you dare listen. Each thing under the sun, including it, has His heartbeat. Sways to the sound of His sweet song. You’ve had earphones crammed in for years. What’s around you will never step to the clap of your own tempo. For if we’re not worshipping Him it wouldn’t hush the crowd, the rocks would even cry out. You can join the dance, or be the loser that knows no rhythm. The dance will continue regardless. I’ve seen the hoarding of currency in case of emergency. While the food never reaches the mouths of the starving, the goose bumps stick around on those who can’t afford a jacket. I’ve seen the waste of what God has gifted. Beautiful voices under the covers, behind shower curtains. Mornings slept away, job offers gone, opportunities forfeited. Meaningless.The extremities are avoided by those who fear Him. I confess that I have been lured into the trap, had both hands chained. Knees that bow come hand in hand with hearts that are wise. Remember. Not taking account of the steps we’ve taken with Him… meaningless. Remember. Remember Him. In the days of your youth He established your very first steps. Remember? Though the world tells you your prescription is fine, remember that you’re better off with your face in the dirt. Continue under His commandments. Flip the script of today in returning to what He’s called you to. Step back into what He’s entrusted you with. Disregard the buckets they try so desperately to sell, they’re all a rip off. To obey holds… meaning.
