By Elizabeth Prata
I have seen all the things that are done under the sun, and have found them all to be futile, a pursuit of the wind. (Ecclesiastes 1:14).
How pointless it is to pursue the wind. But that is what the unsaved do. It is what I did for 40 years, and it was vain. I heard Billy Joel’s song Movin’ Out this morning and I remember when I first heard it. The song is basically about the meaninglessness of life. The main character in the song decided that everything was meaningless, pursuing life to get a big house in the suburbs, saving up for that special car, working all the time, paying overtime taxes to Uncle Sam…the guy asked, what was it all for? He was moving out. To where and to do what, is not stated. But the same meaninglessness will pursue him there too.
I watched a British documentary called The Good Life. Different Londonites weary of the city rat race, dirt, grime, and crime, chucked it in to buy a farm in the country. The couples the documentary tracked said they will work animals, sell cheese, breathe fresh air. They studied, saved, and made the jump.
Except I didn’t finish the second part. What the different couples found was work-work-work. A grind they didn’t even begin to understand when they commuted to offices and dreamed of being their own boss in the fresh air. Animals need constant daily care. In the rain. In the snow. At night. On Christmas. The cheese took a while to make and to catch on at market. Nothing to live on meanwhile. They insisted their decision to move to Wales was a good one…but with less conviction. Their haunted eyes looked back at the camera puzzled. Where was ‘the good life’? Not here either.
Striving after wind is pointless. We learn in John 3:8a that
The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes.
Our souls are anchored in a fleshly body for the duration but before salvation the soul is just milkweed seed, drifting along in the wind, trying to catch it, bottle it, market it, live on it. The seed leaves its flower and drifts to and fro, seeking knowledge, home, life satisfying. It does not find it.
Only when the winds of regeneration breeze over our soul and it becomes anchored in Christ does the soul settle, planted in rich soil and bearing beautiful fruit for His name.
Sisters, treasure, value, hold fast to the gracious salvation given us. Our pointless journeys are ended, our striving after wind has gratefully concluded. Rest, pilgrim, rest in Christ.