When Everything Is Taken Away, What Remains?

 

Dear Reader,

At times I find myself reading one passage of scripture alongside another message of faith, not because I already understand the connection between them, but because I am searching for it.

That was my experience as I considered Ecclesiastes 12 together with Elder Ulisses Soares’s message, “God Knows and Loves You.”

At first, I was not certain they belonged together at all.

Elder Soares speaks with assurance, hope, and tenderness. He reminds us that Heavenly Father knows us, loves us, and will never forget or forsake us. His message is one of eternal identity, trust, and divine love.

Ecclesiastes often sounds very different.

Its voice seems older, weathered, and sobering. It looks upon life and sees the passing of time, the fading of strength, and the limits of human effort. Throughout the book runs the thought that so much of what we chase, build, worry over, and cling to is like vapor—here for a moment and then gone.

That is what first drew me to the comparison.

I wondered whether Ecclesiastes stood almost in opposition to Elder Soares’s message. One seemed to speak of life as fleeting and uncertain. The other spoke of something eternal and secure.

Yet the more I reflected, the more I began to see that perhaps they are not in conflict.

Perhaps they are answering two different parts of the same human question.

Ecclesiastes asks what remains when youth begins to fade, when strength declines, when the body weakens, when cherished plans do not unfold as hoped, and when many of the things we once believed gave life meaning begin to slip through our fingers.

It asks what remains when everything temporary finally reveals itself to be temporary.

And that is no small question.

Many of us have lived long enough to know that life does not always unfold according to our wishes. Health changes. Relationships change. Abilities lessen. Dreams are delayed, altered, or sometimes lost.

We labor, strive, acquire, plan, and often hope that if we can arrange life correctly, we will finally secure lasting peace.

Yet Ecclesiastes reminds us that much of what exists “under the sun” cannot be held forever.

That truth can sound discouraging.

But perhaps it is intended not to drive us into despair, but to strip away an illusion.

For if everything upon which we have leaned in this world could one day be taken from us, then eventually we are brought to a deeper question:

What cannot be taken away?

That is where Elder Soares’s message speaks with particular power.

Ecclesiastes asks what remains when everything we thought gave life meaning is finally taken away. Elder Soares answers: God remains—and so does our place in His love.

And Elder Soares does more than simply tell us that God loves us. He points us toward the greatest evidence of that love:

“God so loved us—loved us so intensely and fully—that He sent Jesus Christ, His Firstborn, His ‘Beloved and Chosen from the beginning,’ to be His Only Begotten Son and the Savior of the world. Jesus Christ’s atoning sacrifice is the ultimate and most glorious expression of the Father’s love for us and for all His children.”

To me, this is where the balance between the two messages becomes complete.

If Ecclesiastes teaches that earthly things fade, weaken, and pass away, then the Atonement of Jesus Christ declares that God’s love does not pass away.

If life “under the sun” often appears fragile and fleeting, Jesus Christ points us toward something beyond the sun—toward resurrection, redemption, forgiveness, and eternal life.

Elder Soares reminds us that through Christ, sin and death have been overcome and that all will be resurrected, while those who turn to Him may repent, receive forgiveness, and continue toward eternal life.

That changes the question.

The question is no longer simply:

What have I managed to hold onto during my mortal life?

Perhaps the greater question is:

What has God made possible for me through Jesus Christ that mortality itself cannot take away?

Ecclesiastes teaches me not to place ultimate trust in passing things.

Elder Soares teaches me where my trust may safely rest.

Ecclesiastes reminds me that earthly possessions, strength, accomplishments, and even life itself do not endure forever.

Jesus Christ reminds me that death does not have the final word.

Ecclesiastes humbles the soul by showing the limits of mortality.

The Savior lifts the soul by showing the limitless reach of God’s redeeming love.

Put together, they offer me a truth both sobering and comforting:

If I build my life only upon what is temporary, eventually I will experience loss. But if I build my life upon God and Jesus Christ, then even loss cannot take from me what matters most.

This understanding also changes the way I hear the closing words of Ecclesiastes.

The writer tells us to remember our Creator while we still have life before us—before the difficult days come, before strength diminishes, and before the dust finally returns to the earth.

That is wise counsel.

But Elder Soares allows me to see something even more comforting:

While I am trying to remember God, God has never stopped remembering me.

Before my strength was mine, He knew me.

In the midst of my joys and sorrows, He knows me.

When life feels uncertain, He knows me.

When my abilities diminish, He knows me.

When I pray and cannot understand why an answer has not yet come, He knows me.

Elder Soares teaches that Heavenly Father knows our circumstances, our challenges, our joys and sorrows, and even the thoughts and intents of our hearts.

And when this mortal journey finally reaches its conclusion, I do not return to a stranger.

I return to the God who gave me life, knew me before mortality, watched over my journey, sent His Son to redeem me, and loved me all along.

There is peace in that.

It means that my worth is not measured by how much I have accumulated, how much I have accomplished, how long I remain strong, how well others understand me, or how perfectly my life has unfolded.

My worth rests in something far more enduring.

I am a child of God.

And the greatest testimony of His love for me is Jesus Christ.

So perhaps Ecclesiastes is not merely a book of hopelessness.

Perhaps it is a book that gradually loosens our hands from everything we cannot keep, so that we may learn where to place our trust.

And perhaps Elder Soares provides the answer my heart was searching for while reading it.

When possessions fail, when plans unravel, when age reminds us that mortal life is brief, and when everything “under the sun” seems unable to provide a lasting answer, one truth remains:

God remains.

Jesus Christ remains.

And so does our place in Their love.

That is not vanity.

That is not vapor.

That is eternal.

With faith and reflection,