Chasing the Wind

New Year's Reflections from a Tissue-Strewn Couch

The plane touched down. 12:30am, January 2nd. Sighs of relief as the long journey home concludes. A gift of holy days spent with loved ones sorrowfully behind us. But also the gracious overlap of three days without work or school to sink into home before the Monday morning hoopla begins again.

While looking forward to rest, we did not anticipate the forced stop by the dreaded post travel cold. All four of us were sneezing, sniffling and generally grumpy. Our house is now shaped by piles of tissues and empty tea mugs and zombie like people wrapped in blankets bemoaning and shuffling from bed to couch.

Oh, and a few spats, let’s be honest.

I bring this all up to say, you will probably better understand, we did not launch into the New Year strong. While the world seems to have embarked on 2025 with high winds, I feel a little left behind. The new year has been worn like an ill fitting suit.

Kinship with a Weary King

What a strange thing I have been allowed to slowly take in, this beginning again, which historically is the countdown and ‘lift off’ announcement for new aspirations. And as I am not able to participate, and definitely influenced by an under the weather moodiness, I can’t help but think, “Look at all the humans chasing the wind.”

Now, I am not claiming the wisdom of Solomon, but perhaps I feel in him a kindred spirit at times like these. Ecclesiastes and existentialism—my contradictory comfort. I see a king sitting on his throne, watching people strive for wealth or fame or pleasure, which he experiences in every way. I can see him a little bored, twiddling with the tassel on his robe, watching them, knowing what they pursue cannot and will not actually quench the flame. Satisfaction—an ever moving marker.

So, yes, maybe King Solomon and I are not the best company on New Year’s Day. The Debbie downers when everyone shares their resolutions. With thick sarcasm, “Nice one Bob, like that will help” or “Sure Susie, then you will be happy.” Some eye rolls thrown in for good measure. (Alastair probably handles this with more grace and less sassiness in his latest book Longing for Joy)

Beyond the Cynic’s Throne

But I will say there is a kindness in Solomon’s work of writing down his knowledge and wisdom. Rather than a cynic laughing at the crowd, rather than a disconnected ruler carrying on with his own agenda, he pauses to write. To share. His voice echoes Lady Wisdom calling in the street to any who will hear.

Isn’t this figure an image of our God?

A King on the eternal throne, having all knowledge and wisdom, watching us fuss over endless tasks and endeavours. Like Solomon, This King does not just stay a detached observer, he stands up, gathers all his resources to come to us and calls out “Listen to me, I know the path to peace, joy, hope, love, everything you ever need, now!” Or as Christians we know better that he says “I am the way” and “Come to me all you weary and heavy laden.” He makes the solution known. He is the salve.

Maybe this is why the books of wisdom are surprising balms to my soul. They speak hard truths, bursting my bubbles left right and centre. A fashion fad, better meal prep, revised chore list, updated financial investment, a new course or new job, while not bad, will not be enough. It is never enough. We ending up chasing an imaginary future self who is happy then, rather than enjoying a current self who can be content in Christ now. (Even when she has a cold!)

On this Twelfth Day of Christmas, the eve of Epiphany, we are at another intersection of seasons:

Our King has come!

Not just for some—but for the whole world.

… and this means something for us at the crossroads of a New Year.

He comes to us with tidings of great joy—and wisdom, how to live this life and be satisfied. Merry Christmas! The gift of an epiphany!

Let us follow the Wise Men to our King.

Start this New Year, this the year of our Lord 2025, with Jesus. And then perhaps, once satisfied in his presence we can chase the wind, go fly a kite, make some fun plans or start a new skill. But the objective has shifted. We move past the kingship of Solomon pointing out toil and striving and empty pursuits. We release our hold on things a little, open hands to a God who saves. And we settle into the stable, the manger, a little family holding everything they need forever, right now.

Perhaps cuddled in warm blankets—with tissues nearby.