Ever feel like life is just a series of "wait until" moments? Wait until I graduate. Wait until I land that promotion. Wait until I’m retired and finally have the time to think about the big, existential stuff. It's a trap. Honestly, it's the biggest scam we pull on ourselves. King Solomon—a guy who basically had everything from gold to geopolitical power—knew this better than anyone. When he wrote remember thy creator in the days of thy youth in Ecclesiastes 12:1, he wasn't just being a grumpy old man giving a Sunday school lecture. He was dropping a massive truth bomb about how our brains, our bodies, and our spirits actually work.
It’s about momentum.
If you’ve ever tried to start a fitness routine at thirty-five after a decade of sitting on a couch, you know it’s brutal. Habits are like concrete; they’re easy to shape when they’re wet, but once they set, you need a jackhammer to change anything. This ancient advice is essentially telling us to set the foundation before the concrete hardens. It’s a call to find a "North Star" before the storms of middle age start blowing you off course.
The biology of belief and why timing actually matters
Science kinda backs Solomon up here. There’s this thing called neuroplasticity. When you’re young, your brain is basically a sponge, forming neural pathways at a rate that would make an adult’s head spin. This isn't just for learning French or how to code in Python. It’s for values. It’s for your worldview.
If you wait until you’re seventy to think about your place in the universe, you’re fighting uphill against decades of established cynicism and cognitive ruts. Research from the Pew Research Center has shown that religious and spiritual affiliations are often "sticky"—what you lean into during your late teens and early twenties tends to stick with you for the rest of your life.
It’s easier to build a life on a foundation than it is to try and slide a foundation under a house that’s already leaning.
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What it actually means to "remember"
People think "remembering" just means not forgetting a name, like where you left your car keys. But in the Hebrew context of the Bible, "remembering" is an active verb. It’s about alignment. It’s about bringing a reality into your current focus so it changes how you behave right now.
To remember thy creator in the days of thy youth means acknowledging that you aren't the center of the universe while you still have the energy to do something about it. It’s a safeguard against the "I built this" ego that usually leads to a mid-life crisis.
Think about the "evil days" Solomon mentions later in that chapter. He’s talking about aging. The eyes getting dim. The legs getting shaky. The teeth falling out. It’s a poetic, slightly terrifying description of biological decline. The point is simple: don't wait until you're too tired to care before you decide what your life is actually about.
The trap of the "someday" spirituality
We live in a culture that fetishizes youth for its looks and its spending power but ignores its capacity for depth. We’re told that youth is for "finding yourself," which usually just means trying on different outfits or traveling to Bali to take photos for Instagram.
But what if finding yourself starts with recognizing you were made?
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There's a massive difference between a 20-year-old who has a sense of divine purpose and one who is just drifting. One has an anchor; the other is a leaf in the wind. When you acknowledge a Creator early, you start viewing your talents as "stewardship" rather than "ownership." That shifts everything. Your career isn't just about the paycheck; it's about a calling. Your relationships aren't just about what you can get; they're about how you can reflect the love of the one who made you.
Why the "evil days" come faster than you think
Ask anyone over fifty. They’ll tell you the same thing: the years between twenty and fifty feel like about twenty minutes.
Solomon uses this vivid imagery of a house falling apart to describe old age. He talks about the "keepers of the house" trembling—that's your hands. The "strong men" bowing—that's your legs. It’s a reality check. We have this illusion of immortality when we’re young. We think we have an infinite amount of time to get our "spiritual life" in order.
But the "days of thy youth" are the only time you have "maximum capacity." You have the most energy, the sharpest mind, and the fewest regrets. Why would you give the best years of your life to things that don't last, and then give the "scraps" to your Creator?
Misconceptions about religious "rules"
One of the biggest reasons people ignore this advice is the fear that "remembering God" means missing out on fun. They think it’s about a list of "don'ts" that will suck the joy out of their twenties.
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Actually, it’s the opposite.
Knowing there’s a design for life is like knowing the rules of a sport. If you try to play soccer by picking up the ball and running with it, the game stops being fun because the structure is gone. By acknowledging a Creator, you’re leaning into the "operating manual" for being human. You avoid the specific brand of misery that comes from chasing things that can’t satisfy you—like the endless pursuit of status or the hollowed-out feeling of hookup culture.
Actionable steps to actually "remember" right now
It’s easy to talk about this stuff in the abstract, but how do you actually do it? It’s not about suddenly becoming a monk. It’s about small, intentional shifts in your daily rhythm.
- Audit your inputs. Look at what you're consuming. If your entire worldview is being shaped by TikTok algorithms and corporate marketing, you aren't "remembering" your Creator; you're remembering your advertisers. Block out twenty minutes a day for silence or reading ancient wisdom.
- Practice gratitude as a discipline. Don't just feel thankful when something good happens. Actively acknowledge that your breath, your health, and your opportunities are gifts. This kills the "self-made man" myth before it can take root.
- Find a "cloud of witnesses." You can't do this alone. Surround yourself with people who are further down the road—mentors who have "remembered" their Creator into their seventies and eighties. See if you actually want their life. Spoilers: the ones who lived for themselves are usually the loneliest.
- Invest your "best." Take your strongest skills—whether it’s coding, art, teaching, or plumbing—and ask how those can serve a purpose higher than just your bank account.
- Acknowledge the end. It sounds dark, but thinking about your mortality (memento mori) is the fastest way to prioritize what matters. Realize that the "days of thy youth" are a limited resource. Use them on purpose.
The whole point of Ecclesiastes isn't to make you depressed. It’s to make you wise. It’s a plea to live a life that won't make you look back with a heart full of "I wish I had." By the time the "silver cord is loosed" and the "golden bowl is broken," your character will already be forged.
Start forging it now. Don't wait for the crisis. Don't wait for the "evil days." Build the house on the rock while the sun is still shining. That’s the only way to ensure that when the storms eventually do come—and they will—you’re still standing.