To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heavens
Ecclesiastes 3 opens by turning from the search for profit to a set clock: every human matter has its own season. The question the commentators press is whose clock it is, and what a person is meant to do while living under it.
Commentators read this verse as the answer to the misery of man's life. Sorrow reaches him, and death troubles his conscience. Still, he sees one thing:
Think of how miserable man is. No creature under the heavens is so open to sorrow, or feels it so sharply. His guilty conscience wakes up to what may come, and must come, after death. Yet he cannot help seeing something else too. He lives under a system in which God orders everything that touches this changing life of ours most closely. The verses that follow set this out in full.
The verse gives each thing a time — and that is also its limit. One writer contrasts what time measures with what God does:
Everything under the sun runs by "times." There is a time to be born, and a time to die. Whatever purpose people take in hand under heaven, each has its time, but only its "time." It is not "for ever," and its time passes on and is gone... But under all these passing times there is a "work that God does from the beginning to the end"... God does that work in ways of endless wisdom, and it lasts "for ever." "I perceive that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it."
A reference work makes the same point about the reach of our understanding: man's life is fenced in by time, while God's is not.
Man learns that he lives in time: there is a time for everything "under the heaven," but only "a time."... No one "can find out what God has done from the beginning to the end." God is working out His own end while this time lasts: man lives in time, but what God does will last for ever.
If the seasons are set, no effort can move them. That leaves man one place to take.
Man's anxious toil can change none of the facts. God's hand arranges; man's place is to bow... Man likes to rule, and he likes it no less now that he is fallen, sinful, and set on his own way. But we are creatures. No one can rule well unless he first serves the One who is above him, above all persons and all things. To fear Him is the beginning of wisdom; to forget Him, and above all to deny Him, is folly, ruinous now and for ever.
The same writer adds elsewhere that this danger reaches everyone, and that God has not hidden His own aim.
"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven." Man — whether Israelite or Christian — is likely to make mistakes. Besides, his true place is subjection and obedience. God Himself has an aim before Him which He sets before us.
One writer treats the words "under the sun" as the key to the whole passage. He also warns that people have used these verses to excuse a worldly life. He sets these balanced seasons against a life with one single object:
"Under the sun" there is a time for everything. God has set one thing over against another. If there is a birth, there is a death; if there is a smile, there is a tear; the sorrow stands over against the joy... But look at Paul in Philippians 3. Did he have "a time for everything"? No. "One thing I do," he says. And why? Because he had found his life, his sphere, and his object "above the sun"... We have often heard Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 twisted this way. But it is always by people whose hearts are in this present evil world.
If the timing belongs to God, then waiting is not wasted. One writer applies this to seasons of trouble:
David says, "My times are in your hand." If our times were in our own hand, we would be rescued too soon. If they were in our enemy's hand, we would be rescued too late... God's time is always best. "He has made everything beautiful in its time": when the mercy is ripe, we will have it... Deliverance may be later than our time; but it will not be later than God's time.
- Ordered. Life is not random. Behind the changing seasons is a system in which God "orders everything that touches this changing life of ours most closely."
- Limited. Each thing gets its time — "but only its 'time.'" Seasons expire; only what God does endures for ever.
- Bounded. Man "lives in time," so he cannot trace God's work from beginning to end.
- Submitted. Since "God's hand arranges," the wise response is to bow, not to force a season open. Fearing Him is where wisdom starts.
- Anchored. The balanced pairs are the rule "under the sun." Those who find their object above it can say with Paul, "One thing I do." They can wait, because "God's time is always best."
A time to be born, and a time to die; A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
The verse opens with two events no one chooses: birth and death. Then it moves to the field, where a man plants and later pulls up what he planted. Do these fixed seasons mean life is pointless, or that Someone else holds the timetable?
The book has piled up misery. Yet something else runs underneath it.
Whatever man's misery may be, no creature under the heavens is so exposed or so sensitive to sorrow. On his guilty conscience there dawns the awful thought of what may and must come after death. Yet he cannot help seeing that he is under a system whose providence orders all that most closely touches the changing life he now lives.
William Kelly draws out what that order asks of man.
Man's anxious toil can alter none of the facts. God's hand arranges; man's place is to bow. Cain rebelled and gained nothing but bitter loss. Many others have taken the way of Cain, and the end is always the same. Man likes to rule, and no less so since he is fallen, sinful and self-willed. But as creatures, none can rule rightly who does not serve the One who is over him, over all persons and all things.
Born and dying, planting and uprooting: these pairs belong to one sphere. Read outside it, they mislead.
We believe the key to Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, and indeed to the whole book, lies in the phrase "under the sun." … "Under the sun" there is time for everything. God has set one thing over against another. If there is a birth, there is a death; if there is a smile, there is a tear; the sorrow stands over against the joy. This is the law of the old creation. But look at Paul in Philippians 3. Did he have "a time for everything"? No. "One thing I do," he says. Why? Because he had found his life, his sphere and his object above the sun.
The same writer warns that people quote these verses to excuse worldliness: "We have often heard Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 abused in the way you refer to."
Every season here carries a limit. A birth has its moment; so does a death; so does the crop you put in the ground.
"Times" measure everything under the sun. There is a time to be born, and a time to die. Whatever people take in hand under heaven, each thing has its time, but only its "time." It is not "for ever." Its time passes on and is gone. … But beneath the exercises of these times there is a "work that God makes from the beginning to the end." … Man cannot find out this work. His sight stops at the horizon of time.
One Person entered this measured scene from eternity.
The centre of it all is the Word made flesh, the person of the Son — an unfathomable mystery known only to the Father. He it is who has been here and has known a time to be born, and a time to die. We bow our heads and worship as we look at Him. His goings forth have been of old, from the days of eternity. His Spirit could say through the prophet, "My times are in Your hand." Yet He took His place in this time scene, and passed through it and out of it, by death and resurrection, to the throne of the Father.
The endless alternation is not aimless.
Now there is purpose in it — a double purpose. Man is abased, God glorified. Man needs abasing, and divine goodness has ordained it. Otherwise the psalmist's words would come true: "Because they do not change and do not fear God" (Psalm 55:19). But for man there is also a resurrection. It is not within the cycle of change, but beyond it. The one who "humbles himself" to accept God's lesson, turning to Him in this way, "will be exalted."
If the seasons are His, then delay is not neglect.
If our times were in our own hand, we would have deliverance too soon. If they were in our enemy's hand, deliverance would come too late. But my times are in Your hand, and God's time is always best. Everything is beautiful in its season: when the mercy is ripe, we shall have it. … Deliverance may be later than our time, but it will not be later than God's time.
- Ordered — God's hand arranges birth, death, planting and uprooting. Man's anxious toil changes none of it. His place is to bow.
- Limited — every purpose under heaven gets a season, but only a season; it is a "time," never a "for ever."
- Paired — under the sun God sets one thing against another: a birth against a death, a smile against a tear.
- Entered — the Son knew a time to be born and a time to die. He passed out of this scene by death and resurrection to the Father's throne.
- Beyond — the cycle abases man and glorifies God. For the one who humbles himself, resurrection lies outside the wheel altogether.
A time to kill, and a time to heal; A time to break down, and a time to build up;
This verse pairs killing with healing, and tearing down with building up. On its own it can sound like fate or an excuse, so commentators ask two things: who fixes these seasons, and how should a person live inside them?
One phrase runs through the whole book and frames this list of times. It marks what the book is looking at: life on earth as man sees it, in the old creation.
We believe the key to Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, and to the whole book, is the expression "under the sun." In this book the Spirit of God has given us a commentary on everything under the sun. It is a vivid picture of the old creation, and of man in the middle of it. "Under the sun" there is a time for everything. God has set one thing over against another. If there is a birth, there is a death; if there is a smile, there is a tear; the sorrow stands over against the joy. This is the law of the old creation.
The pairs are not random. Man is under a hand that arranges the things that touch his life most closely.
However great man's misery may be, he cannot help seeing one thing. He is under a system that orders, by God's providence, everything which most closely affects the changing life he lives now. No creature under the heavens is so exposed or so sensitive to sorrow. And on his guilty conscience there dawns the awful thought of what may and must come after death.
So how should a person meet a time to kill or a time to break down? Not by fighting it.
Man's anxious toil can alter none of the facts. God's hand arranges; man's place is to bow. Cain rebelled and gained nothing but bitter loss, and many others have taken the way of Cain with the same result. Man likes to rule, and being fallen, sinful, and wilful has not made him like it less. But no creature can rule rightly unless he serves One who is over him, over all persons and all things.
The word "time" is itself a limit: every season here runs out. Behind those passing seasons another work goes on.
"Times" measure everything under the sun. Whatever purpose people take in hand under heaven, each has its time, but only its "time." It is not "for ever." Its time passes on and is gone… But beneath the struggles of these times there is a "work that God makes from the beginning to the end"… and this work, done in ways of infinite wisdom, is "for ever."
These changes are counted and deliberate. And the writer of Ecclesiastes traced them back to God.
The book names twenty-eight "times," beginning with the time of birth and ending with the time for peace. Everything has a fixed time: life–death; seeding–harvesting; killing–healing; breaking down–building up; weeping–laughing; mourning–dancing, and so on. These are the times of the whole race. That is what human life is… The writer of Ecclesiastes recognises that all this trouble must be from God. God has produced these never-ceasing changes, so that they might work on men's hearts.
If each act has its right moment, wisdom is knowing which moment you are in. One writer sees this in Abraham.
Everything, as we read, is beautiful in its season. There is a time to build, and a time to pull down. There was a time for Abraham to be still, and a time for Abraham to be active; a time to be silent, and a time to break silence. And he understood the time. Like the men of Issachar afterwards, he knew the time, and what Israel ought to do. God's principles were Abraham's rules.
People quote this list to excuse whatever they want, claiming there is a time for everything. One writer answers that the believer's life is not ruled by these swings at all.
But look at Paul in Philippians 3. Did he have "a time for everything"? No. "One thing I do," he says. And why? Because he had found his life, his world, and his goal "above the sun" — in that "new creation" of which Christ is the Head and the Centre, and in which "all things are of God." We have often heard Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 abused in the way you mention. But it has always been by people whose hearts are in this present evil world, and who are bold enough to quote Scripture in defence of their worldliness.
- Appointed. God's hand arranges killing and healing, tearing down and building up. Man's anxious toil changes none of it.
- Measured. Each purpose gets a time, and only a time; it passes, while the work God does runs on for ever.
- Balanced. Under the sun God sets one thing against another — a tear for every smile — and that is the law of the old creation.
- Exercising. God sends the twenty-eight changing seasons to work on human hearts, not to leave them comfortable.
- Discerned. Wisdom is knowing which season you stand in, as Abraham did. But the believer's centre stays above the sun, in the "one thing I do" — never in an excuse for worldliness.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
This verse sits inside a long list of paired opposites. Every human experience gets its own appointed slot. Here the pairs are the ones we feel most: tears and laughter, mourning and dancing. Two questions press on the reader. Who decides which season we are in? And does this list excuse us to do whatever we feel like doing?
One writer finds the key to this chapter, and to the whole book, in a single phrase:
We believe the key to Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, and indeed to the whole book, lies in the phrase "under the sun." In this book the Spirit of God has given us a commentary on everything under the sun. It is a glowing picture of the old creation, with man in the middle of it. "Under the sun" there is time for everything. God has set one thing over against another. If there is a birth, there is a death; if there is a smile, there is a tear; the sorrow stands over against the joy. This is the law of the old creation. But look at Paul in Philippians 3. Did he have "a time for everything"? No. "One thing I do," he says. Why? Because he had found his life, his sphere, and his object "above the sun."… We have often heard Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 misused in that very way, but always by people whose hearts are in this present evil world, who are bold enough to quote Scripture to defend their worldliness.
Each item on the list gets a season. Then the season closes:
Everything under the sun is measured by "times." There is a time to be born, and a time to die. Whatever people set out to do under heaven, each thing has its time — but only its "time." It is not "for ever." Its time passes on and is gone… But underneath the testing these times bring, there is a "work that God makes from the beginning to the end."
God's calendar makes room for tears. But one writer asks what kind of tears they should be:
It is clear from Ecclesiastes 3 that God's calendar makes room for weeping. It says, "There is … a time to weep." But we should want our weeping to be intelligent. Some tears in Scripture achieve nothing… We need to be kept from tears that do not match the feelings and movements of divine Persons. And we need to be encouraged to weep as God would have us weep.
Knowing which season you are in is the practical difficulty. One writer put it bluntly, then gave a disturbing illustration of a mind out of joint with reality:
Well, my young fellow-traveller, if there is a time to laugh, God says there is also a time to weep. But you see we are apt to do either at the wrong time. I saw a young lady laugh heartily as her sister lay dead by her side.
Scripture gives a case where sincere sorrow was gently overruled. When the people of Jerusalem heard God's law read out and burst into tears, their leaders stopped them — that particular day had been set aside for gladness:
It was no wonder, for God's word never spares evil; and they justly felt their sins. But we ought as His people to feel His grace to His own. Many fail here, as the people of Israel did until they learnt better that day. There is "a time to mourn, and a time to dance," and that season called for dancing… "for this day is holy to our Lord. And do not be grieved, for the joy of the LORD is your strength."
One writer describes how God played both notes to man — first through John the Baptist, then through Jesus:
When He mourned to him, man had no tears; when He played joyful music to him, man had no dancing. The human heart proved to be no instrument for the finger of God. All was out of tune when God tried it… He would have raised a solemn note through John the Baptist, who came neither eating nor drinking. Then He would have raised a more joyful one through the Son of man, who mixed freely with people. But there was no music in the heart of man for God.
The pairing is not permanent. One half of it is going to be abolished:
Every true tear recorded; every true tear valued by God; but every tear wiped away. Dear friends, let us value the opportunities of the night of weeping. It stands on God's calendar: "There is… a time to weep."… Suppose we were more sensitive to everything that goes against the holy love of Christ, and grieved over it in a godly way. Then there would be answering occasions of joy, for He delights to "give … beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning."
- Sun. "Under the sun" is the key. In the old creation God sets one thing against another, so every smile has its matching tear.
- Season. Each item gets a time — and only a time. Underneath the passing seasons runs a work of God that lasts for ever.
- Room. God's calendar makes room for weeping. But the writers want intelligent tears — weeping that matches God's own heart, not the kind that achieves nothing.
- Timing. The danger is doing the right thing in the wrong season. In Jerusalem, leaders hushed real tears over sin, because God had marked that day for joy.
- End. God records and values every true tear. Then He wipes every tear away — beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning.
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
Ecclesiastes 3:5 sits inside a famous list of paired opposites. A man throws stones down, then gathers them up; he holds someone close, then holds back. Are these swings random? Where should a person stand while the seasons keep turning?
No creature suffers like man. Yet one writer says that even a man in misery can see a hand ordering his life.
No creature under the heavens is so exposed to sorrow as man, or so sensitive to it. On his guilty conscience there dawns the awful thought of what may and must come after death. Yet whatever his misery, he cannot help seeing this too: he is under a system that orders, by God's providence, everything that touches most nearly the changing life he now lives. What follows draws this out fully and clearly.
The scattering and the gathering, the embrace and the held-back embrace, are not unrelated facts. They come in matched pairs. One writer says the phrase "under the sun" explains why — and also shows how people misuse the passage.
"Under the sun" there is a time for everything. God has set one thing over against another. If there is a birth, there is a death; if there is a smile, there is a tear; the sorrow stands over against the joy. Thus it is "under the sun." This is the law of the old creation. But look at Paul in Philippians 3. Did he have "a time for everything"? No. "One thing I do," he says. And why? Because he had found his life, his sphere, and his object "above the sun" — in that new creation where Christ is the Head and the Centre... We have often heard Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 abused in the way you mention. But it has always been by people whose hearts are in this present evil world. They are bold enough to quote Scripture to defend their worldliness.
Each purpose in the list gets a season, and then the season closes. But underneath these passing seasons another work goes on. That work does not expire.
Everything under the sun is measured by "times." There is a time to be born, and a time to die. Whatever purpose people may take in hand under heaven, each has its time — but only its "time." It is not "for ever." Its time passes on and is gone... But beneath the exercises of these times there is a "work that God does from the beginning to the end"... this work, wrought in ways of infinite wisdom, is "for ever." "I know that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it"... Man cannot find out this work, because his vision is bounded by the horizon of time.
Read on its own, the list can feel like a treadmill. The writer of Ecclesiastes did not stop there. He traced the constant changing back to God, and found a purpose in the very restlessness it produces.
The passage names twenty-eight "times." It begins with the time of birth and ends with the time for peace. Everything has a fixed time... These are the times of the entire race; that is what human life is. All moves and changes; all appears to him profitless... But he advanced a step. He recognises that all this travail must come from God. God has produced these never-ceasing changes, so that they might exercise men's hearts... "God has set eternity in their heart" (verse 11). Man has the sense of the infinite in his heart.
(The ESV renders verse 11: "he has put eternity into man's heart.")
If the seasons are set, then striving against them is wasted strength. Commentators draw a practical conclusion here, and back it with a warning from the first family in Scripture.
Man's anxious toil can alter none of the facts. God's hand arranges; man's place is to bow. Cain rebelled and gained nothing but bitter loss; and many another has taken the way of Cain with the same result, always. Man likes to rule, and no less so now that he is fallen, sinful, and self-willed. But we are creatures. No one can rule rightly unless he serves the One who is over him, over all persons and all things.
The same writer states the mistake plainly elsewhere, and points past the problem to a Person:
Man — Israelite, Christian — is apt to make a mistake. Besides, his true place is subjection and obedience. God Himself has an aim before Him which He puts before us.
- Time. Every purpose named here gets a season — but only a season. It comes, it passes, and it is gone.
- Pairs. Under the sun, God sets one thing over against another. There is a gathering for every scattering, and a holding back for every embrace.
- Purpose. The endless changing is not accidental. God gives it to exercise our hearts, and He has set eternity in them.
- Forever. Beneath the passing times runs a work of God that lasts for ever. A person whose vision stops at the horizon of time cannot trace it out.
- Bow. No amount of anxious effort alters the arrangement. Our place is to bow. And the answer to the endless round is not "a time for everything," but the "one thing" of Philippians 3 — life found above the sun in Christ.
A time to seek, and a time to lose; A time to keep, and a time to cast away;
Ecclesiastes 3:6 sits inside a long list of paired opposites, each with its own set moment — seeking and losing, keeping and throwing away. The question is simple: does man control this rhythm, or does God hand him a world he cannot rearrange?
One writer finds the key to this chapter in a single phrase. He also warns that people quote the list to excuse the way they live.
We believe the key to Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, and indeed to the whole book, lies in the phrase "under the sun." In this book the Spirit of God has given us a commentary on everything under the sun — a glowing picture of the old creation, and of man in the middle of it. "Under the sun" there is a time for everything. God has set one thing over against another. If there is a birth, there is a death; if there is a smile, there is a tear; the sorrow stands over against the joy. So it is "under the sun." This is the law of the old creation. But look at Paul in Phil. 3. Had he "a time for everything?" No. "One thing I do," he says. We have often heard Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 abused, and always by people whose hearts are in this present evil world, and who are bold enough to quote Scripture in defence of their worldliness.
Gaining and losing are not ours to arrange. Since God sets the pairs, man's part is to bow — and Cain shows the cost of refusing.
Man's anxious toil can alter none of the facts. God's hand arranges; man's place is to bow. Cain rebelled and gained nothing but bitter loss; and many another has taken the way of Cain, no doubt with the same result. Man likes to rule, and no less so because he is fallen, sinful, and wilful. But we are creatures. No one can rule rightly unless he serves the One who is over him, over all persons and all things.
Two incidents in the Gospels show the two halves of this verse held together in the same Person. In one, a costly gift is poured out and defended; in the other, scraps of bread are collected up.
He knew when to cast away, and when to keep. People criticised the woman for breaking the jar of costly perfume over Him, but He said, "Leave her alone... She has done a beautiful thing to me." Yet after feeding the crowds He said, "Gather up the leftover fragments, that nothing may be lost."
That pairing rules out both stinginess and carelessness. The same commentator draws out why the crumbs mattered as much as the ointment.
If the lavish service of the heart or hand in worship is no waste, the very crumbs of human food are sacred, and must not be thrown away. He who defended the spending of 300 pence on one occasion, on the other would not let the fragments of three loaves be left on the ground. In His eyes, such fragments were sacred. They were the food of life, the herb of the field, which God had given to man for his life. And life is a sacred thing. God is the God of the living.
One writer applies this verse to the Samaritan woman at the well. She left her water jar behind and went to tell others about Jesus.
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven, a time to seek, and a time to lose. So she rightly felt the all-importance of the moment, not for herself only but for others. Her ordinary duty could well wait... To know Him was the great business. Another time was equally good for the water jar.
If God can ask back what He has given, then the grip we keep on His gifts decides whether they stay a joy or turn into a burden.
Let us learn from this that God may ask us to give back to Him what we least expect. If He gives gifts, is it not so that we should hold them fully subject to His will?... The moment we grip a gift as our own it becomes a source of worry, and exposes us to God's discipline. But hold every gift in the hands of the gracious Giver, and leave it always at His disposal. That is the surest way to enjoy it and keep its comfort.
Left to itself, the cycle of gaining and losing ends in a shadow. Only light from God changes what the turning means.
So, "for everything there is a season," and a season only; but the generations pass, and do not return... The bat's wing of death throws its dark shadow over everything. Beyond it, "who knows?" Here only God, who is light, can give light, and revelation is our one source of certainty. Then the wheel still turns; but the wheel of fate becomes the chariot-wheel of God.
- Season. Under the sun, every gain has a matching loss. God has set one thing over against another. This is the law of the old creation, not an excuse for worldliness.
- Submission. No amount of anxious work changes the arrangement. God's hand arranges, and man's place is to bow. Cain rebelled, and gained nothing but loss.
- Saviour. Christ knew the right moment to keep and the right moment to let go. He defended the broken jar of perfume, and still gathered the leftover fragments so that nothing was lost.
- Stewardship. Gifts we grip as our own turn into worries. Gifts left in the Giver's hands are the ones we enjoy.
- Shadow. The wheel of gain and loss casts death's shadow until revelation gives light. Then the wheel of fate becomes the chariot-wheel of God. Like Paul, one thing replaces a time for everything.
A time to rend, and a time to sew; A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
Ecclesiastes 3:7 sits inside a list of paired seasons. It holds two of the most human ones: tearing and mending cloth, and keeping quiet and speaking up. The verse does not say which is right. It says both have their moment — so who decides when that moment has come?
One writer finds the key to the whole list in a phrase repeated through the book:
We believe the key to Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, and indeed to the whole book, lies in the expression "under the sun." ... "Under the sun" there is time for everything. God has set one thing over against another. If there is a birth, there is a death; if there is a smile, there is a tear; the sorrow stands over against the joy. Thus it is "under the sun." This is the law of the old creation. But look at Paul in Philippians 3. Had he "a time for everything?" No. "One thing I do," he says. We have often heard Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 misused, and always by people whose hearts are in this present evil world and who are bold enough to quote Scripture to defend their worldliness.
Tearing your clothes was the public sign of grief. God wants the sign to match the heart:
God does not want grieving people to be without feeling. The Lord wept at the grave of His friend Lazarus. But He wants reality in everything. He had to say to His people, "Rend your hearts and not your garments" (Joel 2:13).
The clearest picture of a time to keep silence is Job's three friends, who came and said nothing for a week. Writers read that week in two different ways. One sees it as genuine sympathy:
This is very touching and fitting, and the silence of seven days shows how real their sympathy was. They wept with the man who wept. They could not help with words, so their silence showed how deeply moved they were.
Another reads the same silence as cold judgment that finally broke Job:
Job could not understand that. If they had not been there he might have stood it. But sometimes we can bear alone what we cannot bear in the presence of other people ... their sitting there so stiff and proper, judging him the whole time, with not a word of sympathy — this provoked Job.
So silence is not wise in itself. What lies behind it decides everything.
At His trial before the Roman governor Pilate, Christ kept both halves of the verse perfectly:
In the perfection of His way, He knows when to speak and when to keep silence. For the truth He will speak, but when it is a question of meeting personal malice against Himself, He is silent. Good for us to profit by His perfect example ... There is a time when silence will produce a far greater effect upon the conscience than any spoken word. Still, such silence is entirely foreign to our fallen nature. So Pilate was amazed at His silence.
Silence at the wrong moment carries a cost. There is a silence that shelters wrong:
The first case of guilt concerns someone who forgets that there is a "time to be silent," and forgets too that there is a "time to speak." He has failed to tell what he was responsible to make known. Among the people of God it does happen that those who could have testified have kept a shameful silence in order to shelter someone doing wrong.
And there is a silence that withholds good news:
There is one class of people in this world with whom silence is criminal. They are Christians ... who share in eternal life; and yet they stay silent as they think of the terrible doom of the unsaved.
Nothing in the verse tells you which season you are in. The counsel given is dependence, not a formula:
If you really wait on Him, He will teach you when to speak and when to keep silence. There is a danger of speaking in a rush of temper instead of in a spirit of love ... we must remember that a serious, dignified silence is very often a far more powerful witness than talking for talking's sake. But the Lord will guide the lowly dependent heart ... Then, you may rest assured, the speaking and the silence will each be fruitful in its season.
- Season, not licence. Under the sun God sets one thing against another: birth against death, joy against sorrow. The verse describes how He orders life. It is not a permit for whatever we please.
- Tear the heart. Torn clothing was the accepted sign of grief. God asks for the reality behind the sign: "Rend your hearts and not your garments."
- Silence cuts both ways. Job's friends sat wordless for seven days. Writers differ over whether that was real sympathy or silent judgment. Silence is only as good as the heart behind it.
- Christ is the pattern. He spoke for the truth. He stayed silent under personal malice. That kind of silence, one writer notes, is foreign to our fallen nature.
- Waiting supplies the timing. Holding back a word you owe is guilt. One writer calls a Christian's silence over the doom of the unsaved criminal. But the Lord teaches the dependent heart, and then both the speaking and the silence bear fruit.
A time to love, and a time to hate; A time of war, and a time of peace.
This verse ends a long list of paired seasons with the sharpest opposites of all: love against hate, war against peace. Is that a picture of life as it runs, or an excuse for doing whatever you feel like?
One writer finds the key to the whole list in a single phrase.
We believe the key to Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, and indeed to the whole book, lies in the expression "under the sun." In this book the Spirit of God has given us a commentary on everything under the sun. It is a vivid picture of the old creation, and of man in the middle of it. "Under the sun" there is a time for everything. God has set one thing over against another. If there is a birth, there is a death; if there is a smile, there is a tear; the sorrow stands over against the joy. That is how it is "under the sun." This is the law of the old creation.
People have used this list to excuse the way they live. The same writer answers that a believer's life does not run by these swings.
Look at Paul in Philippians 3. Did he have "a time for everything"? No. "One thing I do," he says. Why? Because he had found his life, his sphere and his object "above the sun." He found them in that "new creation" of which Christ is the Head and the Centre, and where "all things are of God." We have often heard Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 abused in the way you mention. But it has always come from those whose hearts are in this present evil world. They are bold enough to quote Scripture in defence of their worldliness.
Each pair in the list gets a season. That season is also its limit.
Everything under the sun is measured by "times." … Whatever purpose people take in hand under heaven, each has its time, but only its "time." It is not "for ever," and its time passes on and is gone. … But underneath the exercises of these times there is a "work that God does from the beginning to the end." … Man cannot find out this work. The horizon of time shuts in his sight, and his own powers and senses take in only the things measured that way.
Hatred sounds impossible for a believer — until you ask what he is meant to hate. One writer applies this phrase, then at once sets its limits.
There is a time "to love, and a time to hate," and there are certain things a person must hate. If he does not hate them, he has no right estimate of God. Some things ought to be hated — not the persons, of course — "do not let the sun go down on your anger." We must not confuse natural kindness with grace. But that is easy to do, and then we grow indifferent to God's honour.
Commentators differ on the war clause. One separates what a nation must do from what an individual Christian can do.
If a nation acted on Christian principles it could not strike back when struck. It would have neither battleships nor sword to strike back with. … The individual Christian can carry out these commands willingly and gladly, but for a nation it is impossible. … As the world now stands, force is needed to hold up authority and whatever measure of righteousness is kept, whether between nations or within them.
Another writer weighs the believer's own hand on the weapon:
It has always been a hard question for the children of God. How far does the obedience we owe the governing authorities allow or excuse taking up the sword in the service of the State? "You shall not murder" has been, and still is, thank God, quite enough to settle it for many a simple soul, who is set, like the apostles, on obeying God rather than man.
The list of pairs ends on peace. One writer explains why that peace is still out of reach.
War is always a cruel thing, and hateful to all who love God. It is hateful also to Him who said, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God." … But when the world rejected the only One who could make wars to cease, it drove the possibility of peace from the earth. That peace waits for the appointed time when He steps in with power. Then He will "scatter the peoples who delight in war," and bring in a reign of peace.
- Sun. Every pair — loving, hating, warring, making peace — is life "under the sun." That is the law of the old creation, where God sets one thing over against another.
- Time. Each of these has its time, but only its time; it is not "for ever," and it passes.
- One thing. The believer's answer to these swinging seasons is one object above the sun: "One thing I do."
- Hate. There are things you must hate, or you have no right estimate of God. Hate the deeds, never the persons — and never past sundown.
- Peace. When the world rejected the One who can end war, it drove peace off the earth. The list ends on the word that still waits for His return.