This week we are in Ecclesiastes Chapter 1. 

My job involves a lot of reviewing of engineering specifications, reports, and test results. As with most jobs, a lot of it is routine but some smaller percentage gets complicated and messy. When this happens, it’s common for my coworkers and I to ask each other for a peer review. We often use the phrase “a fresh set of eyes” when asking for help. Our concern is that we’ve been staring at the information for so long that we’re missing a problem that might be obvious to a fresh set of eyes. 

Lately I’ve come to appreciate the “fresh eyes” of our six-month old grandson. To a baby, the world is a most fascinating place. He looks at a ceiling fan like I would look at an alien spaceship settling gently on the front lawn. My new favorite hobby is looking at him while he looks at things. 

Solomon had some thoughts about seeing things: 

All things are wearisome, 
    more than one can say. 
The eye never has enough of seeing, 
    nor the ear its fill of hearing.  
What has been will be again, 
    what has been done will be done again; 
    there is nothing new under the sun. 
Is there anything of which one can say, 
    “Look! This is something new”? 
It was here already, long ago; 
    it was here before our time. (Ecclesiastes 1:8-10 HCSB) 

Of course, Solomon is correct that with each new day, our eyes will try to see, and our ears will try to hear, and what they find is mostly like the day before. We turn on the news and might feel like we’re hearing of new problems, but really, they are rebooted versions of the same conflicts, disease, and oppression that have plagued humans since the fall. 

It is dispiriting to know the same sorts of problems seem to never be solved, yet somehow oddly comforting to know that we’re not the first people to deal with them. 

There is nothing new under the sun. Are you weary of what you see? 

Turn your eyes upon Jesus, 
Look full in His wonderful face, 
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim, 
In the light of His glory and grace. 

(lyrics by Helen Howard Lemmel) 

By Mark Stuart 

Mark is the husband of Laura, father of Shelby and Jacob (Bailey), and grandfather of Charley.