“It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of everyone; the living should take this to heart” (Ecclesiastes 7:2).
Stewardship denotes one’s role as caretaker. While many associate stewardship primarily with finances, it also extends to every material and immaterial possession over which we have influence. This includes talents, relationships, creation and the environment, and even the broader concept of our time. Each person is allocated twenty-four hours a day. This allotment is unaffected by social status, position of power, or degree of holiness. Yet while the length of each day is fixed, the total number of days we are granted is not.
Time itself is constant, but the amount of time each person possesses in their lifetime is finite. Therefore, time is a limited resource, and any scarce resource necessarily has an economy. The economy of time emerges from the limited supply of this universally demanded gift.
Imagine a government financial institution deciding to print an absurd amount of currency and release it into the free market, granting everyone unlimited access to as much money as they want. Prices would skyrocket, and the currency’s value would collapse. The economy would crash.
In the same way, I believe we can see God’s mercy even in the sorrow of death. How so? Because death—by placing a ceiling on our time—creates scarcity. Scarcity increases perceived value. Time becomes more meaningful and compels us to live with greater intentionality, knowing our allotment is limited. This in turn motivates us to “redeem the time” as Ephesians 5:16 exhorts.
Why does Ecclesiastes 7:2 tell us it is better to go to a house of mourning than a house of feasting? Because death is the destiny of all, and the living must take it to heart. The awareness of life’s brevity reminds us of time’s economy and the necessity of stewarding well the finite days we are given.
Our culture often avoids conversations about death, confining them to funerals. But if we are to steward our time faithfully, we must face this reality. To speak of death is not to glorify it—far from it. Death was never part of God’s perfect design. Yet with the entrance of sin into the world, what the enemy meant for evil, God has repurposed for good. Death, by limiting our time, becomes a catalyst: it confronts us with the urgency of reconciling with God before our days expire. Through time’s economy, even death points us toward spiritual restoration.
Moreover, death compels us to recognize not only our own need for reconciliation but also the urgency of sharing Christ with others. A heightened awareness of life’s brevity drives us to minister, preach, and teach with passion—while breath is still in our lungs and life remains in our flesh.
Therefore, my admonition is this: remember the economy of time, which is generated by death, and steward your days well.