A Vapor of Joy: Finding the Eternal in Life’s Fleeting Moments
The Paradox of Meaninglessness
You’re going to die.
That’s not a fun way to start a podcast, is it? But let’s not dance around it. You will die. I will die. And in the grand scheme of things, our lives are as brief as a breath on a cold December morning—here for a moment, then gone.
That’s not nihilism talking; that’s Ecclesiastes, the book of the Bible most Christians don’t want to admit they secretly love—or hate.
"Meaningless! Meaningless! Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless." (Ecclesiastes 1:2, NIV)
It’s not the verse you’d find on a Hallmark card or stitched into a Christmas stocking, is it? And yet, there’s something so achingly honest about it. Life is fleeting. We pour ourselves into work, relationships, achievements—and for what? Another year goes by, another calendar gets tossed in the trash, and the treadmill keeps running.
But here’s the thing: Ecclesiastes doesn’t leave us drowning in despair. It shoves our faces into the abyss, yes, but only so we can see the flicker of light that’s been there all along.
And that light? That’s what Christmas is all about.
Part 1: Life as Vapor, and Why That’s a Good Thing
Let’s start with the bad news.
Ecclesiastes tells us, over and over, that life is fleeting. It uses the Hebrew word hevel, which means “vapor” or “breath.” Picture it: you exhale into the winter air, and for a split second, your breath is visible—then it’s gone. That’s your life.
And the Teacher—probably Solomon—doesn’t hold back. He systematically dismantles every illusion we have about what gives life meaning.
Wealth? Pointless. You can’t take it with you.
Wisdom? Great, but the wise die just like fools.
Work? Sure, you can build something amazing, but someone else will inherit it.
"What do people gain from all their labors at which they toil under the sun?" (Ecclesiastes 1:3, NIV)
If you’ve ever sat in your car after a long day and thought, What’s the point of all this?—congratulations, you’re reading Ecclesiastes without even opening the Bible.
But here’s where the Teacher flips the script.
The fleeting nature of life isn’t something to fear. It’s a wake-up call. The fact that life is short doesn’t rob it of meaning; it gives it urgency. It forces us to confront what really matters.
Part 2: Finding Joy in the Fleeting
Let me ask you something: when was the last time you actually noticed your life? Not in a distracted, scrolling-through-your-phone kind of way, but really noticed it?
The Teacher says this:
"I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God." (Ecclesiastes 3:12-13, NIV)
At first glance, it sounds like a cop-out: life is meaningless, so just enjoy your food and drink? But it’s deeper than that. Ecclesiastes is telling us to be present. To embrace the fleeting joys that God gives us, instead of chasing after the wind.
Think about Christmas. What makes it magical isn’t the big, grand gestures. It’s the little things: the glow of the tree in the dark, the laughter of kids tearing into gifts, the quiet moment when the chaos settles, and you sip your coffee in peace.
Those moments are hevel. They’re brief, but they’re beautiful. And if we’re paying attention, they’re where we see God.
Part 3: The Eternal Crashing Into the Temporary
This is where Ecclesiastes meets Christmas head-on.
The Teacher wrestled with life’s fleeting nature but didn’t have the full picture. He saw the vapor but couldn’t yet see the eternal breaking into it.
And then came Jesus.
John 1:14 says:
"The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us."
Think about that for a second. The infinite, eternal God stepped into our brief, fragile, messy lives. The Creator of the universe wrapped Himself in hevel—in the same vapor the Teacher wrote about—and showed us what it means to live fully.
Jesus wasn’t born into wealth or comfort. He didn’t come to overthrow governments or build empires. He was born in a stable, among animals and dirt, to a poor couple with nothing to their name.
Why? To show us that meaning isn’t found in the grand or the permanent. It’s found in the ordinary moments where heaven touches earth.
That’s the message of Christmas: the eternal breaking into the temporary, giving it weight and meaning.
Part 4: Living in the Tension
So, how do we live this out? How do we hold onto the truth of Ecclesiastes while embracing the hope of Christmas?
1. Stop Running from the Vapor
We’re terrified of life’s brevity, so we numb ourselves with distractions—work, screens, busyness. But Ecclesiastes dares us to stop running and face the truth. Life is short. Good. Now pay attention.
2. Practice Radical Presence
When you sit down for Christmas dinner, don’t just eat—taste. When you hear laughter, let it echo in your soul. Don’t scroll past your moments. Dive into them.
3. Hold the Temporary Lightly
The Teacher reminds us not to put ultimate hope in temporary things. Enjoy the gifts of this season, but don’t cling to them. Let them point you to the Giver.
4. Anchor Yourself in the Eternal
Ecclesiastes leaves us with a question: if life is a vapor, what’s the point? Christmas answers it. The point is that God entered our fleeting lives to give us eternal hope. Anchor yourself in that truth, and nothing can shake you.
The Gift of the Vapor
Life is fleeting. It will slip through your fingers no matter how tightly you hold on. But that’s not a curse—it’s a gift.
Ecclesiastes teaches us to treasure the vapor. Christmas teaches us why.
Because God stepped into the vapor, and in doing so, He transformed it. He took the fleeting and made it sacred. He took the temporary and tied it to eternity.
So this Christmas, don’t rush past the fleeting moments. Don’t dismiss them as meaningless. Savor them, because God is in them.
And when the chaos settles and the tree comes down, remember: the eternal hope of Christmas doesn’t fade.
It’s here. It’s now. It’s forever.
Take the Next Step
As you reflect on this, I challenge you to do something radical this week: stop. Breathe. Notice the fleeting moments. Write them down.
And as you do, let them point you to the eternal hope of Christmas.
If you want to explore this more, check out FaithLabz for tools and resources to help you anchor your fleeting moments in eternal truth.
Merry Christmas, my friends. Find joy in the vapor, and hope in the One who came to dwell among us.
