Saviour of the World

In a random way...I still live in Christian city. And it's giving me a headache...the books...they're a paragraph on their own.

So thus beginneth my rant.

Ok...this isn't a rant. This is a headache.

This is a tired 22 year old watching the last disc of season 5 of 24.

With countless books sprawled across his mess of a room marked 2, 3, or 4 chapters in. Some are even audaciously marked at chapter 10/14...but very very few actually finished.

Just what is it that I'm trying to achieve? What is it that I'm putting off from doing?

I have a job...I am a worship leader...I am a bass player...

What do I want to be? What do I want to become?

I understand that the whole thing is a journey yadda yadda yadda.

But you know what I kinda feel like I have another useless analogy for where I am in life...and for what is going on in my head. It's one that I'm sure you have seen and heard many a time.

So this weekend gone, my housemate and I decide on an impromptu road trip to the sweet sweet city of Paris.
We leave at 230am Saturday morning and drive to Dover...Hop on a Euro Tunnel train £98 lighter and sleep our way into Calais. We drive for an hour or so seducing the sun to rise sweetly as we carve our way south on the wrong side of the road.
So we stop, we have a coffee, we sleep, then we continue au droit into sweet Paris.

So some road, a couple of toll booths, and a big French stadium pass.

We walk 7 miles (approx) from car park to Eiffel Tower passing through Hindu districts and red light districts, stopping off at 'authentic' art dealers, a rustic cafe where our disability to speak or understand French becomes inherently clear.

SO...long story short.

We walk back another 7 miles to the car and attempt to drive out and find a public house that will serve us some chilled refreshments and allow us to watch the reason we drove (well Dave drove...I 'copiloted'...but that's another story) goodness knows how many hundreds of miles.

So we walk out of the pub post Rugby with our tails between our legs and blisters nagging away at our ankles.

And thus begins the avid search. For our way home. The road bearing the name A1...and thus turning into E15.
Sounds simple enough right?
You could NOT be more wrong.
We then seem to endure what seems to be roughly a 90 minute detour, frustrated exchanges of words debating what turnoffs we should or should not have taken, and the French Police. By God these guys don't like English tourists. Or tired English sportsfans who try and race through an 'amber' light. Last time we try that on the continent.

But it was all fine. We got on the A1 eventually and got back on the train, and slept...I think I owe it to Dave to make it known that I sacrificed the last change we had on a Cappuccino...for myself.
In my defence...Dave was having a quick kip...and my logic led me to believe that he would get sufficient restoration from 15 minutes of light napping...

Being tired can do that to you.

So all in all...a wonderful adventure I assure you - we both got back in time to play music at church and spent our Sunday afternoons on sofas sleeping the whole thing off.

My point.

Is that you know where you want to go. In your head. But your experience at your destination can be rushed, tiring, and can even give you blisters on your feet because you park the car an unusually far distance from where you actually want to go.
My focus is our journey out.
You see I would like to wager that had we stayed in a hostel somewhere and not tried to race back for Sunday morning then we wouldn;t have got lost. We wouldn't have taken the same detour along the A86 and A3 (there is one in Paris...imagine just how sweet it would've been if we had stumbled upon a teleportation road that took us straight back to Guildford...one can only dream...) and I know that I wouldn't have spent 2 hours of the journey punching Dave and asking him stupid questions in a last ditch effort to keep him awake.
Yes I saw a Petrol station on the way home...but I thought it would be funny to see what sleep deprivation did to the driver of a car obviously.

Though life can be likened to a journey somewhere or a road trip that we are all seemingly on, if we do not take the appropriate time out, we end up making rash decisions, the same mistakes repeatedly and we waste time. Time that could be spent elsewhere more effectively.

Does that make sense?

I think it will...and I know it's an analogy that has many times been explained.

The heart behind it is that I'm tired and I need to sleep it off. I need to recover. I need to take back the parts of my heart that have been chipped away over months of work and no rest.

And I do not think that it is ever a bad thing to do those things.

But it's just finding the time right?...


Ironic no?

x x