Ecclesiastes 8:9

The writer of Ecclesiastes — called 'the Teacher' or Qohelet in Hebrew — is a philosopher-king who spent his life observing human behavior with unflinching honesty. 'Under the sun' is his recurring phrase for life as we experience it in this fallen world, full of contradictions and irony. Here he notices something painfully counterintuitive: when a person uses power to dominate others, the very act ends up injuring the one wielding it. The word 'hurt' here carries the weight of real damage — not just regret, but harm done to oneself through the misuse of authority.

Lord, show me the places where I've been using power over others in ways that damage both them and me. Give me the wisdom to lead without dominating, and the humility to serve rather than rule. Protect me from the slow corrosion of unchecked control. Amen.

There's something almost poetic about the way control corrodes. We tend to assume the person being dominated is the one who suffers most — and they do. But the Teacher turns his unflinching eye toward something we rarely examine: the one gripping the power is also being eaten by it. Not immediately. Not obviously. But slowly, the tighter you hold someone beneath you, the more it costs you — your empathy, your relationships, the quiet integrity of your soul. Think about the spaces in your life where you hold some measure of power — a workplace dynamic, a family role, a friendship that quietly tips in your favor. Power itself isn't what the Teacher is condemning; it's the 'lording it over' that does the damage. The question isn't whether you have influence — you do — but whether you're using it to lift people or to keep them beneath you. What is the exercise of control actually doing to you? The Teacher isn't offering a moral verdict. He's handing you a mirror.