Taking Risks in Faith: Lessons from Ecclesiastes

In a world that often prioritizes comfort and security, the concept of risk can be daunting. Yet, as we delve into the wisdom of Ecclesiastes, we're reminded that risk is not just an inevitable part of life—it's an essential component of faith.

The ancient text of Ecclesiastes presents us with a paradoxical truth: to truly live, we must be willing to risk. "Ship your grain across the sea; after many days you may receive a return," it advises. This imagery, rooted in the perilous maritime trade of ancient times, speaks volumes to our modern hearts.

In those days, sending goods by sea was fraught with danger. Storms, pirates, and shipwrecks were constant threats. The sea itself was often used in Scripture as a symbol of chaos and unpredictability. Yet, the writer of Ecclesiastes doesn't shy away from this risk. Instead, he encourages it, with a caveat: "Invest in seven ventures, yes, in eight; you do not know what disaster may come upon the land."

This advice goes beyond mere financial wisdom. It's a call to diversify not just our investments, but our very lives. We're challenged to be generous with our time, talents, resources, and relationships. Teach a class, reach out to others, support missions, mentor someone younger, volunteer—we don't know which of these actions will bear fruit, but God does.

The text goes on to remind us of the rhythms of nature: "If clouds are full of water, they pour rain on the earth. Whether a tree falls to the south or to the north, in the place where it falls, there it will lie." This isn't just a meteorological observation; it's a call to pay attention to how life works, to learn from the patterns we see around us.

But there's a warning too: "Whoever watches the wind will not plant; whoever looks at the clouds will not reap." How often do we find ourselves waiting for the perfect moment? The ideal time to share our faith, the right financial situation to give, the perfect life circumstances to volunteer. If we're always waiting for everything to align perfectly, we'll never act. We'll never plant, and consequently, we'll never reap.

The truth is, we can't know everything. There will always be an element of mystery in life and faith. "As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother's womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things." This isn't meant to discourage us, but to liberate us from the paralysis of needing to have everything figured out before we act.

Instead, we're called to "sow your seed in the morning, and at evening let your hands not be idle, for you do not know which will succeed, whether this or that, or whether both will do equally well." This is a call to consistent, persistent action in faith, not knowing which of our efforts will bear fruit, but trusting that God will use them.

This principle is beautifully illustrated in the life of William Carey, often called the father of modern missions. Carey spent seven years in India before seeing a single person come to Christ. Seven years of consistent sowing, without visible results. Yet he persevered, and today, because of his work, there are Bible translations and churches throughout India.

The message is clear: we're not called to determine the results. We're called to be faithful in our actions, leaving the outcome to God. We're not on the planning committee for how things will turn out; we're on the welcoming committee, ready to embrace what God will do.

This call to risk goes beyond finances. It's about risking our time when we serve God instead of indulging in comfort. It's about risking our resources when we give sacrificially. It's about risking our relationships when we share our faith. It's about risking our comfort and security when we obey God's call into the unknown.

The sobering truth is this: if we refuse to risk, we refuse to trust. And if we refuse to trust, we're refusing to walk by faith. Faith without risk is not faith at all—it's control. And while we may like to control our lives and circumstances, faith calls us to let go of that control and turn it over to the God who created the heavens and the earth.

Consider the story of Peter walking on water. He risked drowning, looking foolish, and being ridiculed by his peers. But if he had never taken that risk, he would never have experienced the miracle of walking on water with Jesus. As long as he kept his eyes on Christ, the impossible became possible.

Jim Elliott, a missionary who gave his life sharing the Gospel in Ecuador, wrote in his journal: "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose." This profound statement encapsulates the heart of risking for God. We cannot keep our earthly lives and possessions forever, but by risking them for God, we gain eternal rewards that can never be taken away.

So, what are we risking for God? What is He calling us to step out in faith and do? Are we willing to risk our finances, our friendships, our comfort for the sake of following Christ?

As we reflect on these challenging words from Ecclesiastes, let's not be content with memories of past risks taken. Instead, let's ask ourselves: What am I risking for Christ now? How am I stepping out in faith this week, this month, this year?

May we be bold enough to diversify our spiritual investments, wise enough to observe where God is moving, and diligent enough to keep sowing seeds of faith. Let's not let the fear of risk paralyze us, but instead, with our eyes fixed on Jesus, step out onto the waters of faith. For it's only when we risk that we truly position ourselves to witness the miracles God wants to work in and through our lives.