You Love Me Like That. Finding Light in a Vapor World
I knew the story I wanted told had to come from my own heart.
When I looked for what to say, I looked to a book that’s not easy or light but honest. Ecclesiastes. It opens with a line that sounds almost cynical:
“Vanity of vanities; all is vanity.”
That Hebrew word vanity really means vapor. Smoke. Here and gone. Solomon, the son of David, the king of Jerusalem, had it all. Wisdom, power, money, entertainment, legacy. And he said it still felt empty.
He tried what we all try when we’re searching. To get smarter, work harder, build bigger, party more, fill the silence with music, drink, wealth, relationships. Every road ended the same. “I considered all that my hands had done… and behold, all was vanity and a striving after wind.” He got what everyone says will make you happy and found out it didn’t.
Then, in a quiet moment, Solomon said something different:
“There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This also… is from the hand of God.” (Ecclesiastes 2:24)
Joy isn’t something you engineer; it’s something God gives. Meaning isn’t something you build, it’s something you receive.
And then comes that passage so many know:
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven…” (Ecclesiastes 3:1)
A time to weep and a time to laugh. A time to break down and a time to build up. A time to love. A time for peace. Even the hard things, the uncomfortable seasons, somehow, God uses them. “All things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8:28)
That’s where faith comes in. “Without faith it is impossible to please God.” (Hebrews 11:6) You can’t always see the plan; you trust the Planner.
When I think about love in that world of vapor and seasons and mystery, I think about the song used for my wedding ceremony and inspiration: Adam Hood’s “You Love Me Like That.”
I don’t want no money, fortune or fame;
I don’t give a damn if the whole world remembers my name…
I just want a love that’s strong and true,
one soul in the world that knows what I’ve been through.
That’s what love is. Not the flashy, empty stuff Solomon warned about, but the quiet, fierce, undeserved grace that shows up and stays.
Paul describes it in words you’ve heard at weddings:
“Love is patient and kind; love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.” (1 Corinthians 13:4–8)
I realized I didn’t need someone else to preach that for me. I’ve lived enough of the emptiness Ecclesiastes describes. I know enough of the seasons. I’ve found a love that’s “strong and true.” So I stood and became my own minister for my wedding.
Because what matters isn’t a perfect script. It’s the truth you’ve lived.
That’s why I made a new tradition for us. My family. I gave a candlestick. A simple, small, shining thing. Because life has dark rooms. Pride gets loud. Work gets heavy. Days get long. But if one of us can strike the match and spark the flame again, we’ll never be left alone in the dark.
So you’ll be my candle and I’ll be your spark…
Maybe we won’t leave each other alone in the dark.
That’s the promise. To hold the light for each other when the world feels meaningless. To keep choosing love when pride would rather win the argument. To trust God’s unseen purpose in every season.
Solomon ends Ecclesiastes saying:
“Fear God and keep His commandments… For God will bring every deed into judgment.” (Ecclesiastes 12:13–14)
It’s not a threat; it’s a promise. Your life, your love, matters. God sees it. And He’s the one who makes it last.
Don’t waste your life chasing vapor. Don’t measure your worth by noise, wealth, or winning. Receive joy as a gift. Build love that’s strong and true. Stand by each other through the long nights.
And light the candle when it goes dark.