The Alchemy Of Enjoying Life.

Pain doesn’t require intention to be experienced, but for goodness to be enjoyed often does. So how do we learn to enjoy more of life when so much of our experience is un-enjoyable?

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On Friday night, I received a call all pastors dread.

A member of our small church was in the ICU.

They had fallen while home alone and hit their head. Thankfully, a family member went to check on them. Unfortunately, they were found unresponsive. A 911 call and less than ten minutes later, they were in the back of an ambulance and on their way to the hospital.

As you can imagine, our church is praying desperately for recovery, and we’re trusting God together. It’s also a sobering reminder that life is fragile.

In God’s providence, I just "happened" to be teaching Ecclesiastes 9:1-12 that same Sunday. If you’re unfamiliar with this particular passage, the Teacher of the book emphasizes the inevitability and often unpredictable nature of death. So, it’s all about living in view of life’s fragility. As it turns out, even the uncomfortable reality of death holds an invitation for us.

Because life is fragile and fleeting, we should enjoy every part of life we can. The Teacher even gives three specific examples:

Enjoy daily pleasures.

In verse 7, he says, “Eat your bread with pleasure, and drink your wine with a cheerful heart, for God has already accepted your work.” This is a pointed imperative. Few things rob life of enjoyment like constantly trying to earn the approval of God and others. It's exhausting. But the Teacher says, “God has already accepted your work.”

Even more, we live on the other side of the cross. As Jesus mustered the strength to breathe His last breath, His final words were, “It is finished.” Those three words mean a lot of things, but they certainly mean that there’s nothing left for us to do in order to be accepted by God. As a result, we should enjoy life’s little pleasures. Even something as small as a delicious bite of bread or a good sip of wine is worthy of being savored.

Living in view of life’s fragility means enjoying daily pleasures.

Enjoy deep relationships.

In verse 9, the Teacher writes, “Enjoy life with the wife you love all the days of your fleeting life…” Marriage is intended to be one of our deepest relationships, but it’s certainly not the only one. So even if you’re reading this as an unmarried person, there is an important implication for you. We all need at least one or two deep relationships—people with whom we can live openly and stop the projecting and self-protecting that consumes so much of our energy.

So here’s a simple question that I don’t think always gets enough reflection: What are some things you enjoy doing with the people in your life? Sharing meals? Going for a hike? Maybe anything other than going for a hike? Playing games? Sitting around a fire? What are some things you enjoy doing with the people in your life? Answer that question and make doing those things a high priority.

Living in view of life’s fragility means enjoying deep relationships.

Enjoy diligent work.

In verse 10, the Teacher says, “Whatever your hands find to do, do with all your strength…” This includes everything we do throughout the day—the time we spend with people, the jobs we work, our labor around the house, running errands, and so on. Literally everything we do is worthy of our best effort. And there is something deeply satisfying about laying your head on the pillow at night and thinking, “I gave this day all my strength.”

Now, sometimes it requires “all your strength” just to survive the day. And that’s okay. The Teacher of Ecclesiastes isn’t promoting hustle culture, nor is he urging us to squeeze every ounce of productivity out of each day. He’s simply saying that there is a special enjoyment present when we give our best effort.

Living in view of life’s fragility means enjoying diligent work.

The Alchemy of Enjoying Life.

That all sounds great. Who doesn’t want to enjoy more of life? I can’t imagine many of us are waking up and making a conscious decision to deny ourselves enjoyment in life. The reality is, much of our experience is simply unenjoyable. Think about it. There is so much about relationships, work, family, finances, and schedule that is not enjoyable.

The thing I’ve grown to appreciate about Ecclesiastes is how honest and gritty it is. The Teacher borders on cynical and pessimistic at times. And while his tone won’t grace the cover of any modern, cheery-eyed Christian bestseller, it resonates with me. It reflects my own feelings much of the time. So I appreciate that the backdrop of his call to enjoy life is the inevitability and unpredictable nature of death. Not because it’s morbid, but because it’s honest. As my own spiritual director said to me recently, “Life down here is just hard.”

So the question is this:

How can we learn to enjoy life when so much of our experience is unenjoyable?

As I’ve been sitting with this question, it made me think about alchemy. If you just got nervous, I’m not talking about the occult or magic. Although I do love Harry Potter, and the idea of “The Sorcerer’s Stone” has its roots in the realm of alchemy. No, alchemy is a philosophical and proto-scientific tradition that originated in ancient times, with roots in Greco-Roman Egypt and China. Furthermore, many historians no longer equate it with magic or the occult in any way. Instead, they understand it as “the proper precursor to modern chemistry.” At its foundation, alchemy aimed to transform base metals into noble metals, particularly turning lead into gold.

And I think that’s a great metaphor for what the Teacher of Ecclesiastes invites us to consider. Much of life feels like lead. It’s at best boring and bland, and at worst, heavy and hard. Yet, Ecclesiastes invites us to seek ways to turn our days of lead into gold. So what is the alchemy of enjoying life?

Triggering Mindful Moments.

Because so much of our lives seem to push us away from it, I believe enjoyment is yet another spiritual practice to be nurtured in our lives. And the most practical way I’ve found to do this is by triggering mindful moments. This means learning to get out of our heads, where we spend so much time with regret, worry, shame, and stress. When you’re “up in your head,” you are not in the present moment. And there is almost always something to be enjoyed in the present moment.

So let me close this out with three brief thoughts about these moments of mindfulness:

First, mindful moments have to be triggered until they become automatic. So, with time and practice, we can learn to make enjoying life a habit. But habits are formed with intention. In other words, habits don’t just happen. So maybe you’d find it helpful to set an alarm on your phone that will remind you periodically throughout the day to stop and be mindful—to enjoy where you are, what you’re doing, and/or who you’re with. The beginning or the end of a meal can also be a great time for this. Take a moment before bed to enjoy the way it feels to be comfortable and moving toward rest. If we’re going to make mindful moments of enjoyment a habit, we need something to trigger our awareness.

Second, mindfulness means being aware of the present moment. That might sound simple, but in my experience, it’s increasingly difficult for most of us to be present. Instead, we’re distracted. The best way I’ve found to combat this constant distraction and be more present is to engage with my five senses. You can do this right now. Stop reading for just a moment and become aware of your five senses. What do you see in front of you? What sounds do you hear around you? What do you feel against your skin? What smells are present? What taste is in your mouth right now? These senses invite us out of our heads and into our bodies, anchoring us in the present moment.

Third, enjoying the moment means identifying the goodness within it. This is as simple as answering this question: What is good about this moment? As the Teacher suggests, maybe it’s the food and wine in front of you. It may be the friend you’re sitting with. It might be the meaningful work you’re doing, or at least the way it provides for your needs. But there is *almost* always something good about the present moment.

To be clear, some moments are simply awful. As I taught this text on Sunday, I did so knowing that a cherished member of our community was fighting for life in the ICU. I taught this while looking into the eyes of a man who is remembering the anniversary of his brother’s tragic death after being hit by a car while crossing the street. I taught this while seeing a couple in the back of the room who I know just miscarried a baby halfway through their pregnancy. I taught while my best friend and fellow pastor was outside our building on the phone, trying to de-escalate a crisis involving another member of our church.

There isn’t good in these moments. So please know that I’m not arguing for some form of toxic positivity that denies the reality of our pain and suffering. What I’m saying is this:

Pain doesn’t require intention to be experienced, but for goodness to be enjoyed often does.

So my hope and prayer is that, in spite of life’s fragility, we would seek to enjoy everything we can. None of us is guaranteed tomorrow, so we should appreciate even something as simple as the gift of our next breath.