Cheerfully Saintly
Book Club | Eat, Drink & Be Merry: Chapter 1
Welcome to week one of Book Club 3.
Here’s the view from my kitchen table, where I read our chapter this week.
It was lovely—hot americano in a pretty cup I thrifted a couple weeks ago, fresh flowers from some friends on the table, morning light streaming through the hundred year old windows, a beautiful painting from a local artist on the wall.
Delightful.
But soon after this photo was taken, the warm light through the window faded as the sun continued to run his course, my americano grew cold before I finished it, and the picturesque moment had escaped me.
Reflecting on this moment is the reason Ray says Solomon wrote Ecclesiastes:
“Solomon wrote Ecclesiastes to help us do two things on our journey through this life: accept the shortness of it and enjoy the goodness of it.” (p. 2)
Picturesque moments are quickly fading, but are still delightful.
Our lives follow the same glorious pattern—in Ray’s words, “both spikes of happiness and stretches of ordinariness.” (p. 4)
Life is full of mountains and mundane.1 Easter is followed by a Monday. The Fourth of July celebration is followed by the fifth of July.
Reflecting on this reality—good things gone—can really be a drag sometimes. But Ecclesiastes helps us to look this reality in the face, and instead of growing bitter, “we can grow wise and even saintly—cheerfully saintly” (p. 3)
I actually think that phrase could sum up my whole aim in life—cheerfully saintly.
That’s what I want to be. That’s what I want to become. That’s what I think we’re made for. And I think part of how we get there is what Ray says Ecclesiastes gives us: “the wisdom that accepts the blahs and savors the joys” (p. 4).
But I don’t think that’s where the story ends. I think there is another way we can grow cheerfully saintly in light of the mountains and mundane.
The way is this: see the mountains in the mundane.
Take the mundane—holding your child while they cry for what feels like hours, completing tasks in your not-so-flashy job, holding hands with your spouse as you drive to the grocery store, attending your small local church void of a celebrity pastor and a grammy-winning worship band.
Now consider these in light of the Truth—the created order set forth in Genesis of Man and Woman made in the Image of God to cultivate the garden, have dominion over the earth, and dwell with the Creator together in love.
Holding your needy child transforms into reflecting the gentle care of our heavenly Father, who hears our cries and holds us close.
The monotony of work transforms into subduing the earth, taking part in the call of God to cultivate the ground He has made.
The simple act of holding hands transforms into the very embodiment of love—taking the invisible and making it visible, physical even.
Sitting in your row at the church you’ve gone to for years, listening to the pastor who’s not quite as eloquent as the guy in that podcast you listen to transforms into a room full of saints saved by the grace of a dying and rising Savior, listening as the shepherd who visited your sick mother in the hospital last year proclaims God’s razor-sharp, living word for the edification of the Church—the Body of Jesus Christ on Earth.
Those are mountains, hidden in the mundane.
I think learning to spot these hidden mountains correlates directly to our measure of cheerful saintliness.
It’s not the whole of becoming a Saint, but it is a part.
We should receive earthly joys, which are “prophetic whispers of your eternal future in Christ” (p. 4). But we should also embrace the simple joy of being—created by God with a purpose which finds fulfillment even in the quiet, unassuming times and places.
There’s lots more goodness in this chapter I could go on about—and spring off of—but I want to hear from you!
What stood out to you?
Do you agree with his interpretation of Ecclesiastes?
Did this change your perspective at all?
How do you think this might affect the way you live?
Share in the comments, and engage with the thoughts of others!
See you next Saturday (6/13) for Chapter Two!
Reference to Gable Price and Friends’ Mountains and Mundane