The Offense You Can't Name

Ecclesiastes 2:15–17 (NIV)
Then I said to myself, ‘The fate of the fool will overtake me also. What then do I gain by being wise?’ I said to myself, ‘This too is meaningless.’ For the wise, like the fool, will not be long remembered; the days have already come when both have been forgotten. Like the fool, the wise too must die! So I hated life, because the work that is done under the sun was grievous to me. All of it is meaningless, a chasing after the wind.

Sometimes the offense we carry doesn’t come from a person. It comes from life itself. It’s not a specific comment or betrayal you’re upset about. It’s the way your life unfolded. The dream that didn’t materialize. The child who still hasn’t returned home. The marriage that never got restored. The healing that didn’t happen. You’re not yelling or lashing out. You’re just tired. And underneath that exhaustion is a quiet bitterness you don’t always know how to name.

Solomon, in all his wisdom, wealth, and success, looked around and still found himself disillusioned. He realized that both the wise and the foolish face the same end. He questioned the point of all his effort and striving. “So I hated life,” he said. That is not frustration talking. That is despair. This wasn’t a man angry at someone else. He was offended with the meaning of life itself. His expectations didn’t match his experience, and that gap left him empty.

This kind of disappointment doesn’t shout. It seeps. It settles into the corners of your heart and makes you cynical. You may still smile. You may still serve. But something inside you has shut down. That’s what offense with life does. It leaves you emotionally and spiritually checked out. But here’s the truth: offense with life is often just grief you haven’t processed with God. And God is not afraid of your questions. He’s not offended by your honesty. He’s ready to meet you in it and help you heal.

Prayer:
Lord, I admit there are places in my heart where disappointment has settled in. I feel let down by how things have turned out. I’ve worked hard, tried to stay faithful, and yet some things still feel meaningless. Help me not to carry silent offense toward life. Help me to grieve what didn’t happen, but also to trust that You are still working in what is happening. I give You my tired heart. Restore purpose where I’ve lost it, and show me that hope is still ahead. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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