What Do I Do When Life Feels Hopeless and Worthless?
Do you feel discouraged and as though life doesn't feel worth living? If so, here are a few encouraging words you need to read.
In yesterday's devotional, I asked what you would do if you knew you only had three years left to live. I referenced Dr. Paul Kalanithi, a neurosurgeon who died at age 37 with lung cancer.
Days before his death, Kalanithi–an agnostic for much of his life until finding Christ–wrote a piece titled “Before I Go.” In it, he mentioned the author of Ecclesiastes and made this concluding statement: “Money, status, all the vanities the preacher of Ecclesiastes described, hold so little interest: a chasing after wind, indeed.”[1]
If you know anything about the Book of Ecclesiastes, you know it isn’t made for the faint of heart. It’s not written for those who want to sip martinis and live with their head in the clouds. Instead, it’s an honest look at life and morality.
In these pages, we have the life experiences of an author only identified as Qoheleth, or preacher. The longer you read this book, the more it feels like the author was transported to the 21st century with a message for our time. He opens the book with this dramatic statement: “Vanity of vanities! All is vanity.”[2] Then, he goes on to offer the most discouraging, unsettling, demotivating diatribe one could imagine.
To the casual observer, the first four chapters of Ecclesiastes are little more than a deranged rant. A madman spouting off about life amid a drunken stupor. Seriously, click HERE and read it for yourself.
If I were to offer a paraphrase of this author’s words with my current context as the point of focus, it might go something like this:
Worthless. Everything is Worthless!
I work all day as an author, writing books and devotionals others will soon read and quickly forget. I write only to have other authors sell more manuscripts and publish better content. What is the point of any of the writing I do? This is a question I ask myself often on those days that are slow, and no one seems to care about what I've done.
It feels like I will never make a lasting impact on this world. My kids will grow up, die, and all will be forgotten. With each new sunrise and sunset, I sense my mortality to a greater degree.
There is nothing I can control. Hurricanes seem to be increasing. Idaho summers have little rain, and the winters are cold and miserable.
Sometimes I hate all the work I do. To pass the time, Janan (my wife) and I have done several home renovation projects. We tell ourselves we’re doing this to invest in our futures. But to what end? It’s likely that those who buy our homes one day will enjoy all the renovations we have accomplished more than we have. And God only knows how they will take care of these places.
I go online and notice the house we once owned is up for sale. I also notice that the homeowners after us ripped out the beautiful butcherblock countertops that took me much too long to install. Why did I work so hard? Why did I spend hours painting every wall in our house, only to have the next homeowner change the color scheme?
And then I think of my friends. Those who have spent their lives building better houses, doing wood projects, or interior design. They work so hard, only to see the fruits of their labors enjoyed by others, later to rest in a trash heap somewhere in the city dump.
What is the point of trying? What is the point of working hard? And what about my small business owner friends? They work like crazy during the day and worry about their businesses at night. Will they be able to remain afloat? Will another pandemic wash away all they have worked hard to restore? It’s crazy!
Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy eating, drinking, and enjoying the fruits of my labor. I thank God for this. After all, I would have no enjoyment apart from him. But the pain and brokenness in this world are, at times, more than I can handle.
Sometimes, I scan the news and am overwhelmed by the pain in this world. It is mind-blowing. I see kids who are starving, people oppressed, and kids in sex trafficking, and they have no one to ease their pain. Some days, I think it is better to be dead than alive. It would be better off to have never existed than to live in the pain and brutality they experience.
Again, if you don't prefer my paraphrase, read it for yourself.
