A Brutally Honest Take on Pleasure

Ecclesiastes has a way of cutting through our assumptions and exposing reality. Where Proverbs often presents life in clean cause-and-effect terms—do this and you’ll get that—Ecclesiastes responds with a sobering reminder: life isn’t that simple. This book gives us a clear-eyed look at life “under the sun,” meaning life as it exists in a fallen, broken world.

Last week, we were introduced to two key ideas that shape the entire book. The first is Qoheleth, the “Teacher,” whose reflections form Ecclesiastes. The second is hevel, a word translated “meaningless,” but more accurately understood as vapor or smoke—something fleeting, elusive, and impossible to grasp. The Teacher’s message is not that life has no value, but that life under the sun cannot bear the weight of our ultimate expectations. We were made for more than this world alone.

This week, the Teacher turns his attention to pleasure.

The Promise of Pleasure

In the ancient world, pleasure was often elevated as the highest good. Today, we use words like hedonic to describe short-term, sensory enjoyment, and hedonism to describe the belief that pleasure should be the primary goal of life. The logic is simple: if it feels good, do it; if it hurts, avoid it.

That mindset feels especially familiar in modern culture. We chase experiences, comfort, entertainment, success, and romance with the hope that the next thing will finally satisfy us. Yet experience tells us something isn’t working. The more we pursue pleasure directly, the more restless we become.

Thousands of years before neuroscientists studied dopamine or psychologists described the “hedonic treadmill,” King Solomon ran a real-world experiment to see if pleasure could satisfy the human soul.

Solomon’s Great Experiment

In Ecclesiastes 2:1–11 (NLT), Solomon describes his pursuit of pleasure in sweeping, exhaustive terms. He explored laughter and entertainment, concluding that constant amusement ultimately rang hollow. He turned to alcohol, attempting to numb the weight of life while still clinging to wisdom. He invested in massive building projects, vineyards, gardens, and infrastructure—accomplishments that would rival any modern empire.

He accumulated wealth, assets, and power beyond any king before him. He surrounded himself with music, beauty, and sexual pleasure, withholding nothing his heart desired. By every standard—ancient or modern—Solomon lived the dream. “Anything I wanted, I would take,” he writes. Ecclesiastes 2:10.

And yet, after surveying it all, his conclusion is devastating: “But as I looked at everything I had worked so hard to accomplish, it was all so meaningless—like chasing the wind. There was nothing really worthwhile anywhere.” Ecclesiastes 2:11.

Once again, the word hevel appears. Vapor. Smoke. Nothing solid enough to build a life on.

Why Pleasure Can’t Deliver

Solomon’s conclusion mirrors what many experience today. Pleasure produces a genuine emotional spike, but it doesn’t last. Over time, what once felt exciting becomes ordinary. To feel the same rush again, we need more—more success, more stimulation, more affirmation. This cycle leaves us constantly chasing, but never arriving.

The problem isn’t pleasure itself. The problem is asking pleasure to do what it was never designed to do. Pleasure can enhance life, but it cannot anchor it. When we treat pleasure as ultimate, disappointment is inevitable.

The Other Extreme

When pleasure fails, some people swing in the opposite direction. Instead of indulgence, they choose denial. This mindset—often called asceticism—assumes that avoiding pleasure makes us more spiritual or more righteous. But Scripture rejects that extreme as well.

From the very beginning, God placed humanity in a garden filled with beauty and abundance. Genesis 2 describes trees that were not only good for food, but also pleasing to the eye. Pleasure was part of God’s original design. He is not anti-enjoyment; He is anti-idolatry.

A Better Way Forward

Solomon eventually arrives at a wiser conclusion. “So I concluded there is nothing better than to be happy and enjoy ourselves as long as we can,” he writes, “and people should eat and drink and enjoy the fruits of their labor, for these are gifts from God.” Ecclesiastes 3:12–13.

This is the balance Ecclesiastes calls us to embrace. Hedonism says, pleasure is my god. Asceticism says, pleasure is my enemy. The gospel says, pleasure is a gift. Gifts are meant to be received with gratitude, not clutched with desperation.

Solomon had everything and still felt empty. Jesus, on the other hand, lived with almost nothing—and was perfectly full. Jesus offers what pleasure never can: “My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life.” John 10:10.

True satisfaction isn’t found in chasing pleasure, but in trusting the One who gives it.