King Solomon's Real Path to Inner Freedom
We keep putting off joy. When I pass the exam, when I get the job, when I buy a house, then I'll smile. But this isn't just a habit. It's a disease. Two men found the cure thousands of years ago: Habakkuk, who lived at the bottom of life, and Solomon, who lived at the very top. Strangely, they reached the same conclusion.
Spicy food, roller coasters, workouts. All painful, yet people pay for them and even wait in line. Why? Because they chose it, they can see the end, and it means something. So it's fun.
Life's pain is the opposite. Illness, job loss, breakups. You didn't choose it, you don't know when it will end, and you don't know why you're going through it. So it hurts. And most of life's pain is this kind.
There's worse news too. When one pain ends, the next one comes. The pandemic ends, then war, more war, then inflation and unemployment. History has never once broadcast, "It's all over now." The next batter is already warming up.
Habakkuk watched his nation crumble. His complaint doesn't sound like someone else's story. The law exists but doesn't work. People who live rightly get hurt. Prayers seem to go unanswered (Habakkuk 1:2-4). A world where hard work brings no reward. That was Habakkuk's era, and it's exactly ours.
But God's answer is strange. Habakkuk expected "I'll fix it soon," and the answer was "I am raising up the Babylonians" (1:6). Not a solution but a bigger storm warning. Habakkuk protests: "Them? They're even worse than us!" (1:13). Here's the lesson. Faith isn't a ticket to things getting better right away. Because pain is a seed of new creation and hope, it may go on and on.
The opposite witness is one no excuse works on. Money, wisdom, power, pleasure, success: Solomon had them all. "You only feel that way because you never had it" doesn't apply to him.
"Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them... Then I considered... and behold, all was vanity and a striving after wind." (Ecclesiastes 2:10-11)
"I said in my heart, 'Come now, I will test you with pleasure; enjoy yourself.' But behold, this also was vanity." (Ecclesiastes 2:1)
He thought joy lived at the top of success, but when he got there, it was an empty house: hedonic adaptation.
Put the two witnesses together and the conclusion is one: joy isn't at the bottom, and it isn't at the top. Which means joy isn't a question of where you are.
Here's what the disease really is: believing joy is a result. "When I pass, when I get hired, when I buy a house, then I'll rejoice." Do the math on this belief and the ending is obvious. A lifetime of worrying, a lifetime of putting it off. You worry until the result comes, and the moment it comes, the next gate opens.
Scarier still: if joy is a result, the world holds the button that permits you to smile. The economy, the news and bad people decide whether you're allowed to smile. So you need a prescription. Two of them.
In Habakkuk 3:17-18, one "though" follows another. Though the fig tree, the vines, the olive trees, the fields, the sheep and the cattle fail, everything people lived on in that era. In today's language: though the acceptance letter doesn't come, though the bank account stays empty, though I have no house, though no one is beside me, though the news offers no hope.
At the end, Habakkuk says, "Yet I will rejoice in the Lord." That's not saying he feels good. It's a decision made without a single condition.
The list the man who had everything finally pointed to is surprising: today's bread, today's cup of wine, clean clothes, the person beside you (Ecclesiastes 2:24, 9:7-9). All this small.
Why small things? Because big things don't go the way I want, get taken away and must eventually be handed over, but today's meal and the face across from me today are in my hands right now. And the Bible says those small things aren't trivial; they're "the gift of God" (Ecclesiastes 3:13).
The "day I'm allowed to rejoice" you're waiting for, the day the wars end, the economy stabilizes and all your problems are solved, isn't on the calendar. So the answer is simple arithmetic: if you don't rejoice now, you'll never rejoice. That's why we should smile even at a leaf rolling by.
Enlightenment in the Buddhist sense means ending suffering, but will suffering really end? A truly realistic path to inner freedom might be this.
Personally, I like King Solomon's advice to rejoice in small gifts. He really was the king of wisdom.
Read the original (Korean) →
Pain you pay for vs. pain that drags you along
Spicy food, roller coasters, workouts. All painful, yet people pay for them and even wait in line. Why? Because they chose it, they can see the end, and it means something. So it's fun.
Life's pain is the opposite. Illness, job loss, breakups. You didn't choose it, you don't know when it will end, and you don't know why you're going through it. So it hurts. And most of life's pain is this kind.
There's worse news too. When one pain ends, the next one comes. The pandemic ends, then war, more war, then inflation and unemployment. History has never once broadcast, "It's all over now." The next batter is already warming up.
① Born with nothing in a world full of the wicked
Habakkuk watched his nation crumble. His complaint doesn't sound like someone else's story. The law exists but doesn't work. People who live rightly get hurt. Prayers seem to go unanswered (Habakkuk 1:2-4). A world where hard work brings no reward. That was Habakkuk's era, and it's exactly ours.
But God's answer is strange. Habakkuk expected "I'll fix it soon," and the answer was "I am raising up the Babylonians" (1:6). Not a solution but a bigger storm warning. Habakkuk protests: "Them? They're even worse than us!" (1:13). Here's the lesson. Faith isn't a ticket to things getting better right away. Because pain is a seed of new creation and hope, it may go on and on.
② Born with everything, unable to feel pleasure
The opposite witness is one no excuse works on. Money, wisdom, power, pleasure, success: Solomon had them all. "You only feel that way because you never had it" doesn't apply to him.
"Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them... Then I considered... and behold, all was vanity and a striving after wind." (Ecclesiastes 2:10-11)
"I said in my heart, 'Come now, I will test you with pleasure; enjoy yourself.' But behold, this also was vanity." (Ecclesiastes 2:1)
He thought joy lived at the top of success, but when he got there, it was an empty house: hedonic adaptation.
Put the two witnesses together and the conclusion is one: joy isn't at the bottom, and it isn't at the top. Which means joy isn't a question of where you are.
Joy isn't a result
Here's what the disease really is: believing joy is a result. "When I pass, when I get hired, when I buy a house, then I'll rejoice." Do the math on this belief and the ending is obvious. A lifetime of worrying, a lifetime of putting it off. You worry until the result comes, and the moment it comes, the next gate opens.
Scarier still: if joy is a result, the world holds the button that permits you to smile. The economy, the news and bad people decide whether you're allowed to smile. So you need a prescription. Two of them.
Insight ①: Habakkuk, rejoice "even without"
In Habakkuk 3:17-18, one "though" follows another. Though the fig tree, the vines, the olive trees, the fields, the sheep and the cattle fail, everything people lived on in that era. In today's language: though the acceptance letter doesn't come, though the bank account stays empty, though I have no house, though no one is beside me, though the news offers no hope.
At the end, Habakkuk says, "Yet I will rejoice in the Lord." That's not saying he feels good. It's a decision made without a single condition.
Insight ②: Solomon, rejoice "in small things, now"
The list the man who had everything finally pointed to is surprising: today's bread, today's cup of wine, clean clothes, the person beside you (Ecclesiastes 2:24, 9:7-9). All this small.
Why small things? Because big things don't go the way I want, get taken away and must eventually be handed over, but today's meal and the face across from me today are in my hands right now. And the Bible says those small things aren't trivial; they're "the gift of God" (Ecclesiastes 3:13).
If you don't smile now, you'll never smile
The "day I'm allowed to rejoice" you're waiting for, the day the wars end, the economy stabilizes and all your problems are solved, isn't on the calendar. So the answer is simple arithmetic: if you don't rejoice now, you'll never rejoice. That's why we should smile even at a leaf rolling by.
Enlightenment in the Buddhist sense means ending suffering, but will suffering really end? A truly realistic path to inner freedom might be this.
Personally, I like King Solomon's advice to rejoice in small gifts. He really was the king of wisdom.
