“Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity.” – Ecclesiastes 1:2 (ESV)

When King Solomon penned the opening words of Ecclesiastes, he wasn’t simply sharing poetic despair. He was speaking from the deep well of a life lived long, lavishly, and—by the world’s standards—successfully. But this verse doesn’t open with praise for riches, power, or even wisdom. It opens with something startling: “Vanity.”

Solomon doesn’t say, “All is evil.”
He doesn’t say, “All is meaningless.”
He says, “All is vanity.”

Why Vanity?

The Hebrew word used here is hevel, which literally means vapor, breath, or smoke—something that appears briefly and then vanishes. It’s not solid. It slips through your fingers. It can look beautiful, but try to hold it, and it’s gone. When Solomon says “vanity,” he’s not necessarily saying life has no meaning—he’s saying life, as we pursue it, is elusive and insubstantial. It’s a mirage.

Solomon could have accused the world of wickedness, and he would’ve been right. He could’ve called it meaningless, and he wouldn’t have been far off. But “vanity” is a mirror turned on us. He’s not just describing a broken world—he’s describing our broken approach to the world.

The problem isn’t only what’s out there—it’s how we chase it.

Even Wisdom Is Vanity?

That might be the most unsettling part of Ecclesiastes 1. We might expect Solomon to say riches are vanity. We might even accept that pleasure and power are vanity. But when he says that even wisdom is like “striving after the wind” (Eccl. 1:14), it hits differently.

“For in much wisdom is much vexation, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.” – Ecclesiastes 1:18

This is the same Solomon who asked God for wisdom. The same king who ruled with God-given insight. And now, in his later years, he seems almost regretful. Why? Because with wisdom comes sight. And with sight comes sorrow. Wisdom shows us the cracks in the foundation. It reveals the weight of sin, the futility of our efforts, the brevity of life.

It’s as if Solomon is saying, “I asked for something beautiful, and God gave it to me. But I wasn’t ready for the burden that came with it.” He’s reflecting on how his quest for understanding—even that holy desire—was entangled with personal ambition, pride, and a desire to master life.

Wisdom, too, can become a form of vanity when it’s rooted in the wrong motivation.

Rooted in the Right Soil

So what do we do with this uncomfortable truth? If even our highest pursuits can be vanity, what hope do we have?

The only answer is to reorient the purpose of our lives—not to chase after what we want, but to submit ourselves to what God wants for us. That’s not a call to give up on wisdom, but to understand its place. We don’t seek it to build our own kingdoms, but to better live in His.

The book of Ecclesiastes ends not in despair, but in clarity:

“The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.” – Ecclesiastes 12:13

That’s it. Not “accumulate knowledge.” Not “achieve greatness.” Not even “understand everything.”
Just: Fear God. Keep His commandments.

Solomon’s lament about vanity becomes a gentle warning to us: Even good things become meaningless when they’re pursued without God at the center.

So How Do We Live?

• Stop chasing the wind. Let go of the illusion that life is about fulfilling our own dreams or understanding everything.
• Begin asking a different kind of prayer—not “Lord, give me what I want,” but “Lord, what do You want for me?”
• Accept that even wisdom, when misused, can become a trap. But when surrendered to God, it becomes a light on the path He’s already laid out.

Don’t live for your own ambitions, desires, or understanding. Live for Him—and in doing so, find that what once seemed like vapor becomes substance, rooted in eternity.