The end of this column, not the end of the story

“There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven (…).” — King Solomon, Ecclesiastes 3:1

Ecclesiastes is the Greek translation of the Hebrew word “Qoheleth,” found in the Septuagint — the Greek translation of the Old Testament. In the New Testament, the root of that word — “ecclesia” — is used to describe God’s assembled people: the church.

In the Old Testament, “Qoheleth” refers to the leader or teacher of the assembly of God’s people, often translated as “teacher,” “professor” or — most commonly — the “preacher.”

Although the author of Ecclesiastes is not formally named, most scholars agree that King Solomon wrote the book near the end of his life. Its pages reflect the wisdom of a man who experienced life’s extremes — seeking meaning in every pleasure and purpose in every sorrow. In the end, the preacher reaches a sobering conclusion: “All is vanity.” Life, he reminds us, only finds meaning when viewed through the lens of eternity and God’s sovereign purpose.

He closes the book with these words:

“The conclusion, when all has been heard, is: Fear God and keep his commandments, because this applies to every person. For God will bring every act to judgment, everything which is hidden, whether it is good or evil.”

I am saddened to type these words today, as this is my last column for this paper after nearly 14 years of writing. As most subscribers know, the AJC print product concludes at the end of December. As part of an evaluation determining which columns would remain for digital-only subscribers, leadership has decided to close the Faith and Values column at the end of 2025.

As I read the email announcing the expiration of my column, Solomon’s familiar words from Ecclesiastes echoed in my heart: “There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven.” He goes on to describe the seasons and rhythms of human life — the time lapses between joy and sorrow, gain and loss, mourning and celebration.

I could not help but reflect on the truth of those words, keenly aware that 2025 has been a year marked by significant losses.

My husband lost his mother and stepfather in the first three months of the year. Shortly before his mom passed, he lost his job. Then, in August, my already grieving heart took an even more brutal blow when I lost my dad unexpectedly. It has indeed been a year of grim “appointed times.”

Perhaps you, dear reader, are facing the end of this year as I am — with a broken, grieving heart. Maybe the heavy weight of loss threatens to steal your peace and dim your hope for the new year. Yet, as I have written countless times before in this very column, whether walking through dark valleys or standing atop sunlit mountains, I have no doubt that God is still at work — faithfully weaving all things together for my good and his glory.

Nothing happens under the sun apart from God’s permissive will. We may not understand it. We may not like it. But Yahweh — the covenant God whose purposes are higher than we can ever comprehend — appoints times under heaven with eternity in mind. And he will always bring beauty from the ashes of every burned dream, and fill the empty spaces with his presence and with treasured memories when one of his children passes on.