Even so, I have noticed one thing, at least, that is good. It is good for people to eat, drink, and enjoy their work under the sun during the short life God has given them, and to accept their lot in life. (Eccl. 5:18)
Work is hard. Even work that you love and believe in sometimes just feels like a job. It taxes us. It demands of our bodies, our minds, our hearts. Hence all the groaning and complaining about Mondays—or whatever day your work week tends to begin. We learn this early on. Even my kids complain about going to school on Mondays, like their father before them, and my father before me.
That’s fine. Complain if you must. Sometimes you just gonna let it out. Just maybe don’t overdo it.
I suppose what the Preacher is telling us is something that we’d really rather not hear: Learn to enjoy working. Learn to see even the sweat and strain as part of God’s good gift. In the life-sucking ordinariness of a hard day’s work, there is joy to be found.
Here are some more cold hard facts: Your days are few. You’re gonna have to work on most of them. Much of that work is gonna be mind-numbing and soul-sucking. Much of it is gonna leave you feeling overworked and underpaid. Much of it is going to be trying to produce something for people who are grumpy and ungrateful.
But that’s the only life you get. Either enjoy it or don’t.
What we have is this: the work set before us today, the table spread before us tonight, and the people with whom we share both. And if we can learn to receive all this with gratitude, then—even in toil—we taste joy.
So today, on Labor Day, I give thanks for the gift of work. For the satisfaction of finishing a task. For the rhythm of effort and rest. For the reminder that joy is not always found in escape from labor, but sometimes right in the middle of it.