Saturday, April 16, 2011

International Roast

My apologies for the atrocious drawing.
Believe it or not, this actually happened to me.
I was visiting a church in Newcastle, and was sharing my long-awaited coffee time with another drummer. In amongst our—as the layman would say—"drummer talk", the topic of the supremacy of "real" coffee to instant came up. Overhearing our conversation, a passing coffee connoisseur proudly boasted that he had never, and never would, have instant coffee—all the while making and, without batting an eyelid, drinking a mug of International Roast.
Oblivious to our stunned and bewildered silence, our connaisseur de café left us.
To be fair, he was a twelve-year-old boy, or twelve-ish.
Much discussion followed, and we decided that he must've been under the impression that instant coffee was the stuff that came in sachets. And that everything else was "real". It was, and remains to be, the only logical explanation for such an act of blasphème de café.

But, there is a lesson to be learnt here. This boy honestly believed that he had managed to avoid the very thing he was feeding himself with.
How often do we convince ourselves that we don't lie, or cheat, or covet, or judge, or idolise, or a multitude of other undesirable clichés, because we just don't realise?

One of my biggest regrets in life is that I didn't correct this boy right there on the spot, maybe saving him a life time of ignorance on a most important matter.
Luckily for us, God isn't easily bewildered, and if we let him, he'll explain.

The moral of the story?