We are all Chasing Peace (How do we get it?)

It is attainable for anyone if you are willing to listen

"Take away worry from your heart, and move pain from your body, for youth and the morning of life are nothingness."

At first look, this seems like good advice to forget bitterness and body discomfort. But, when we look deeper, we find something more complex—an invitation to the mystery of life, the pull between desire and short happiness, and the knowing that all things, even youth, are just passing shadows.

Let's start by seeing the rawness of the words. The Teacher (main voice in the book) talks from a place of experience—an old person looking back on the short path of life, heavy with the quickness of life. The words sound like a mismatch that hits in the deepest corners of our mind: that the things we love—youth, health, energy—are just nothingness. And in knowing this, the Teacher gives odd but freeing advice: take worry from your heart, release the pain that traps you, and accept life's shortness for what it is.

The Fleetingness of Youth: Temporary Yet Enticing

To understand the depth of Ecclesiastes 11:10, we must first fight with the idea of "nothingness," which shows up a lot in the book. The Hebrew word for vanity, literally means "breath" or "steam." It gives the picture of something weak, hard to catch—here one second, gone the next. In this way, youth is like a steam—an experience that looks full of hope, yet goes away before we can hold it.

The Teacher’s thought is not new.

In Ecclesiastes 1:2, he loudly says, “Vanity of vanities, says the Teacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity.”

What does this mean, then, for the bright years of youth and the energy that comes with them? It means that even the most loved times of life are marked by a natural emptiness. Youth, often shown in art, stories, and culture as a time of endless chances and pure beauty, is not safe from the truths of falling apart, anger, and finally disappointment.

Think about the words of Isaiah 40:6–7, which compare the beauty of life with its coming weak state: "All flesh is and all its beauty is like the flower of the field. The withers, the flower fades when the breath of the Lord blows on it; surely the people are." Here, we see the same pull that Ecclesiastes brings up—the beauty of youth, as strong and attractive as it seems, is no more lasting than a flower in the wind. It, too, will go away.

This leads to the Teacher’s call to “take away worry from your heart.” If youth is so short, if beauty and energy are sure to leave, why put our hearts in the stressful hold of desire, anger, and worry over what we cannot keep? Ecclesiastes says that our focus on the short joys of life often brings more pain than calmness. The chase for youth as a lasting idea, or the focus on keeping it, causes anger. And so, the Teacher tells us to free ourselves from this worry—a word that means upset, bitterness, or a biting anxiety that comes from chasing after something that slips through our

Letting Go of Worry: A Call to Liberty

The advice to "move away pain from your body" in Ecclesiastes 11:10 is, in a way, a call to accept the truth of our bodies' temporary nature. Our bodies, like our youth, are open to falling apart, limits, and, eventually, end. It is a world truth that we cannot matter how strongly we try to hold to health or to delay the sure. Pain, body or feeling, is a part of the human state. Yet, in front of such sure suffering, the Teacher pushes us to let go of the extra weights we put on ourselves—the self-made of worry, sorrow, and pushing against the of time.

In Proverbs 14:30, it states,

“A calm heart gives life to the body, but jealousy makes the bones rot.”

Here we find a like wisdom: it is not our alone, but our inside states—our worries, anxieties, and sorrows—that add most to our hurt. The body, in its normal state, is not naturally full of hurt. It is our minds, full of longing or fear, that often bring extra pain. Letting go of worry is not denying the reality of body pain, but rather refusing to let that pain rule our hearts.

The big irony of human life is that, in our bid to control and keep what is short, we often become tied to it. Our desires for more time, more power, more beauty—these things, while normal, often leave us feeling empty and angry. In Romans 8:24-25, Paul writes, “For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with calmness.” Here, we are reminded that the real calmness we seek lies not in the things we can touch, see, or control—but in the things unseen, lasting, and beyond the hold of the temporary.

Photo by Maxime Horlaville on Unsplash

The Beginning of Life: Enjoy the Shortness

The Teacher's main message in Ecclesiastes 11:10 is not one of sadness but of acceptance. He does not deny the beauty of youth or the wonder of life’s starting days. Instead, he asks us to see that these stages are passing—and thus, they should be enjoyed as such. We are meant to live life fully, but not to hold it in a worshipful way. If we always try to keep the beauty and energy of youth, we miss the bigger truth that life’s shortness brings with it a bigger depth of knowing and calmness.

The start of life, like youth, is a time of hope, chance, and energy. Yet, as with all things under the sun, it is finally short. To live by this truth is not to live in sadness but to live with a deeper sense of freedom and In Philippians 4:11-12, Paul thinks on how he has learned to be happy in every in wealth or in need, whether in youth or old age: “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be happy. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to In any and every I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, wealth and need.” Here, happiness is not found in holding tightly to the short, but in giving up control and trusting in God’s sovereign plan.


In the end, Ecclesiastes 11:10 challenges us to face the pull between desire and truth. It asks us to know the weakness of our youth, the surety of pain, and the short nature of life. Yet, it also calls us to let go of the worry and pain that we freely put on ourselves. In doing so, we are invited into a deeper calmness—one that comes not from holding on to what is short, but from enjoying the mystery of life in all its beauty and shortness.