Ecclesiastes 5:12

Ecclesiastes is a wisdom book traditionally attributed to a "Teacher" — often associated with King Solomon — who reflects with remarkable honesty on the meaning of work, wealth, and life. He observes something that anyone who has lain awake at 2 AM might recognize instantly: the person who works hard with their hands falls into deep, untroubled sleep regardless of how full or empty their stomach is. But the person whose life revolves around accumulating wealth finds that the more they have, the more their abundance robs them of rest. The word "permits" is telling — the rich man's wealth is not simply something he possesses; it's something that exercises power over him.

Father, you rested on the seventh day and called it good — and you built that rhythm into me too. Teach me to put things down at the end of the day and trust you with what I cannot carry through the night. When my mind races, remind me that you are already awake. Amen.

There's a quiet cruelty in the arithmetic here. The laborer — who owns the least — lays his head down and is gone. Deep, untroubled sleep. The rich man, who has everything, lies awake calculating. Not because he's evil, but because wealth creates its own gravity: the more you accumulate, the more there is to lose, protect, manage, and dread. Ecclesiastes was written thousands of years ago, but it could have been written last night in any house where someone can't stop running numbers in their head at midnight, checking their phone one more time, rehearsing tomorrow's problems. This isn't a verse that tells you money is sinful or that comfort is wrong. It's a verse that asks you an honest question: what is your abundance costing you? Rest isn't incidental — it's woven into the fabric of creation. A whole day set aside for it. A body that physically requires it. A soul that slowly unravels without it. If something in your life is consistently stealing your sleep, it may be worth sitting quietly with this question: are you holding it, or has it started holding you?