I sense in my kids, and possibly in the generation they represent, a sense of boredom. This is the generation that has been born with the internet; with no cords; with constant access to any and everything. And yet less and less wonder, and more and more cynicism. That makes sense I suppose – they have seen it all. Been desensitized by it all.

We live in amazing times. Truly.

I find myself increasingly talking to our kids about “the old days” – when we had to go to the library to do research papers. When you had to go to the video store to see if the movie you wanted to watch was available. When you had to go to an actual store if you needed to buy a new pair of socks. But not any more.

Because we live in amazing times. Times with amazing efficiency. Amazing information. Amazing options. Amazing technology.

And yet I sense in my kids, and possibly in the generation they represent, a sense of boredom. This is the generation that has been born with the internet; with no cords; with constant access to any and everything. And yet less and less wonder, and more and more cynicism.

That makes sense I suppose – they have seen it all. Been desensitized by it all. All the time. And now here they are – here we are – bored, and yet thirsty for the ever elusive “else.” For something that, at long last, can truly fulfill our expectations. That can “wow” us. That can take our breath away.

The next generation? They need a book like Ecclesiastes. Because a book like Ecclesiastes will resonate with them. With this book, they will say, “Yes! That’s what I think!” Or even more powerfully: “That’s what I feel!”

Ecclesiastes is an almost scientific reflection on every pursuit ultimately leaves one disappointed. Our natural propensity is to find something that brings us the slightest amount of joy, the slightest amount of comfort or happiness, and we give ourselves fully to it. We lay down our lives for it. We worship at its altar only to find that our thirst is not truly quenched; our desires are not truly satisfied; our longings are not truly fulfilled. In the end, that which promised us happiness leaves us with a gaping kind of inner sickness.

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