“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1)
I was reading in Ecclesiastes and came across this familiar passage where Solomon discusses how there is a season for every matter under the sun. As I kept reading into verse 2 and beyond, I caught myself stopping at verse 3, saying, “a plan to kill.” Hold up! I’m not planning on doing that! I didn’t even realize I had read it that way until I stopped and thought about why that phrase jumped out at me.
At the time, I had been feeling really discouraged because things I had planned were not unfolding the way I hoped they would. I felt like a failure—like I couldn’t do anything right. That slowly turned into fear and anxiety about my role as a mom and a wife and what the future would hold for my family. I was trying so hard to have everything planned perfectly and to prove that I was doing well, being successful, and pursuing the right things—but I kept falling short.
My fear increased my desire to control things so much that my heart kind of spilled out in the way I misread that verse. The truth is, I wish I did have a plan for all these things. I wish I had “a plan to plant and a plan to pluck up what is planted,” and that everything went exactly the way I wanted—successful, safe, and predictable.
The reality of life is that whatever you think you have planned can change. Things you never saw coming can shake you. Priorities shift. Outcomes change. And sometimes, that can send you reeling.
But the reality of the gospel is this: you were never in control. Your plans, your strength, your efforts will always fall short. But God—who loved us enough to send His Son to live a perfect life, die the death we deserved, and rise again—He is the one who establishes the plan. Through Jesus, He made a way for us to have eternal life and be called children of God. His plans never fail, and they are always best.
The correct wording in that passage is “time,” of course: “a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted.” God ordains the time. It cannot be us. It was never us. This truth invites us to rest in the unknown instead of striving to control it. That is not easy. We naturally want to strive—for our success, for our family’s security. And while providing for our families matters, it must be done with open hands, in submission to God, trusting that He is holding us and will lead us.
My pastor spoke about this passage recently, and it confirmed what God was already showing me through this passage. He connected the aspect of seasons to the New Year. While setting goals can be helpful and inspiring, it can also feel like a sudden jolt after the rest of the holidays—pressure to DO something. Hustle. Prove yourself. Make it happen. But what if God is calling you to be still? What if He wants you to rest? Maybe it isn’t a season of planting yet. Maybe it’s a season of preparing the soil. Maybe it’s still a season of pruning, even when you’re desperate for harvest.
Ecclesiastes shows us that life flows in seasons—seasons established by God—and that man’s striving outside of that is vanity. I know I’ve felt that many times, and I’m sure you have too.
What my pastor encouraged was this: instead of forcing yourself into what you—or the world—think this season should be, sit with God and ask Him what season you’re actually in. Where does He have you right now? Walk with Him there.
Anxiety, fear, and pressure to perform are signs that something is off. We are meant to move from a place of rest. The Bible tells us again and again: do not be anxious, do not fear, do not be dismayed (Isaiah 41:10; Philippians 4: 6-7; Matthew 6:34). Isn’t it interesting that it is phrased as a command? Because our loving Father knows the safest place for us is relying on Him.
That is hard. So hard. And it’s completely countercultural. Everything in life tells us, “You get what you work for. You make your future.” However, that is not God’s way. Obviously, it doesn’t mean we become lazy—Scripture is clear about that. But there is a difference between walking where God leads and anxiously chasing a plan that has already fallen apart. Thank God He created us to need Him. That is such a sweet place of rest—knowing He is in control. He will open the door when it’s time. We don’t have to pull at it.
This truth goes all the way back to the cross. So many people are still striving to be good enough to reach God. But we never could be good enough, strong enough, or holy enough. Only perfection could save us—and God provided that perfection in His Son. Jesus is the door. He made the way.
This is what humbles me about Ecclesiastes and the gospel: we are not in control—and there is only One who is.
So as my pastor said, let’s walk into this new year humbly, trusting the God who holds time, seasons, and our lives in His hands.
Good take