Ecclesiastes 4:6 offers a timeless truth:
“Better is a handful with quiet than two handfuls with toil, and a chasing after wind.”
This verse speaks deeply into our modern lives. It reminds us that contentment—found in simplicity and peace—is far more valuable than the relentless pursuit of more. The image of one handful with quiet contrasts powerfully with two handfuls gained through striving and restlessness. In essence, the Teacher of Ecclesiastes warns us that chasing after wealth, success, or even approval without inner peace is like chasing the wind: exhausting and ultimately empty.
Adam Mabry, in The Art of Rest: Faith to Hit Pause in a World That Never Stops, writes with clarity about the spiritual cost of our constant motion:
“Ultimately, rest is an act of resistance against the siren calls of our idols to work for them. By stopping, we take up arms against the great Western gods of achievement, money, and self-determination.”
Stillness, then, becomes a quiet protest—a holy rebellion—against the noise and pressures of modern life. We are not what we produce. We are not defined by what we own or how much we achieve. The spiritual discipline of rest helps us to remember who we truly are—beloved children of God, already enough.
Noise, both literal and metaphorical, has a profound effect on us. One psychological experiment demonstrated that in quiet environments, people were more likely to show compassion. When loud noise—like a lawnmower—was introduced, acts of kindness dropped dramatically. Another study in Los Angeles showed that children living near airports struggled to complete tasks under the roar of jet engines, while those in quieter neighbourhoods performed better. Even in prison studies, it has been shown that noise creates more unrest than poor food or other conditions.
So when Ecclesiastes speaks of “toil,” it isn’t just about hard work—it’s about inner noise. The constant hum of striving, comparing, desiring more. That’s what wears us down and steals our peace.
A prayer of stillness and surrender:
Lord, I don’t know when I started believing the lie that more is better. More things consume my time. More activities pull me away from those I love—and from you. More desires fill me with longing instead of gratitude. Even when I get what I thought I wanted, it often leaves me feeling empty.
Today, Lord, I choose to be thankful with my one handful. It is enough.
Fill my heart with gratitude and remind me again of the futility of chasing after the wind.
Amen.