For the longest time I wanted to be a big rock musician. This was the season of my life that pre-dated the season where I wanted to be an evangelical rock star pastor. I guess I’ve always wanted the fame, the attention, and the spotlight on me. I always thought it would be the coolest thing to write songs, record songs, hear my songs on the radio and play my songs to an adoring throng of people who knew all the lyrics and could sing them back to me while I pranced in front of them on stage like Mick Jagger (well not like Mick – maybe more like Bruce Springsteen). This was my dream as each band came and went. None of my bands produced the desired rock star success I had in my head when I started each band. Sure we had a few good gigs here, some fun times there, made a few recordings, but we definitely were not rock stars. I mean we couldn’t even tell stories of hitting the road in a single beat up van, playing smoke-filled backwater bars, and emptying our pockets just to share one big Mac at McDonald’s. I never even experienced the worst part of being in an aspiring rock band. U2 we were not.
Years later, I found myself reading all about the greatest rock band in the world. I was reading Bill Flanagan’s great travelogue/bio “U2 at the end of the world.” It is an impressive story that covered this amazing band’s world tour at the height of their creative power. They traveled with every amenity one could possibly imagine. They would transplant from one continent to another, transplanting their families into single luxury hotels, and then flying to every city on that continent from that one hotel. Imagine sitting poolside with your family at lunch, hopping on your own plane, flying to a city, getting off the plane and then walking onstage at 9pm with the sound system set up, your drums tuned, your guitars ready, and all you have to do is rock out with your buddies and your adoring fans. That was their story. As I read this book about this amazing tour I was shocked when this single thought kept running through my mind, “I’m glad I never became a rock star.” I was surprised at myself. I thought, “Did I just think that?” I thought some more, “Really? You’re glad you didn’t get what you thought you wanted so badly so long ago?” The honest answer was, “Yes.” I honestly felt like I could visit the U2 world tour for about one week, but that would be my limit before I would want out of the rock star ride described so well in the book. What I once wanted so badly so long ago, I now didn’t want so much. That prompted me to wonder, “What does that mean for what I want so badly right now?” I found myself sitting with a very uncomfortable question, “Will the things I think I want now, prove to be worthy of my pursuit?” Ask yourself that question and discover what you really think.