Road to Royalty: A Journey to Relationship

By Charles M Heyworth

"Road to Royalty" reads like a conversation with a close friend over a good meal; at once enjoyable, satisfying, and thought-provoking.
- Zak Weston


The Road to Royalty is a story of a journey. It begins with a fictional adventure in which several characters from a small post-industrial city seek to discover the truth about a place called the King’s Country. This short story, taken entirely from a dream, ends with a question that the author proceeds to explore through the remainder of the book.

Unique among Christian lifestyle books, this book presents the question and its answers within the context of a story. The plot is easy to follow, fun to read, and thought provoking in its depth. Within these pages, the author uses his own life as a test case to prove the ideas that most people will only think about. His straightforward insights into why we think, act, and behave as we do will leave you asking questions about life in Christ that you have never before considered.

These questions have an answer, but the author does not pretend to know it in full. Instead, he describes the path he has discovered to this answer and invites you to walk with him on The Road to Royalty.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9780991207619

Book preview

Road to Royalty

A Journey to Relationship

Charles M Heyworth

Copyright © 2013 by Listen Love Lead Companies

He had been, he thought back to the early days, like the unknown superhero. Unable to find his destiny among that of those he did not identify with, he waited endlessly for an unknown opportunity to present itself.

For what, he wondered, had his imagination pulled his heart away from the world of living into the world of fantasy? Was this invisible life really worth the sacrifice of the visible? Could the pleasure derived from the days and nights spent in hours of sleep between short periods of waking dreams actually be more satisfying than the other possibility?

In sleep only did he realize the potential locked away in his soul. Yet, something inside longed for a chance to experience the feeling of victory when the sun ruled the sky.

Hopelessly, he waited for the milky white of the moon to splash a pathway of light back to the world where he lived.

Table of Contents

Introduction

The Tale of Zorah

An Agnostic Christian

The End of Me

Faith

Hope

Love

Prayer

Pain

A New Road

Road to Royalty

Conclusion

Post Script

Introduction

For one whose only sense of existence comes from shutting out the world and resting in the arms of sleep, waking up can be a painful process. If there is no reason to wake up, the experience can be absolutely devastating. When I first heard the gentle call to wake up to the world where dreams become reality, I did not want to listen.

But the One who called does not lose patience or give up hope. His voice grew stronger though I didn’t have the ears to hear it. All I knew was that my dream world no longer satisfied my deepest longings. I didn’t know what, but I wanted more.

I tried to force the dream to change, but in the process I began to wake up. Then something unusual happened. Usually, a sleeping person does not remember much of what happened while he or she was asleep. But I have been given a special gift.

As I began to wake, I began to write. Through the haze of darkness, my pencil floated over page after page of loose-leaf paper describing things that I did not understand. I did not know that I was about to wake up, but I did know this hazy process was something I would want to remember someday.

Perhaps I could have awakened earlier, but for the first 20 years of my life I was comfortable being asleep and did not realize there was a life to wake up to. Even though one could say I felt a gentle shaking, I never roused myself beyond the point of wondering what it was. It took a lively splash of water to force me out of the dream world and show me something of the life I would some day live.

As my eyes became accustomed to the light that shone around me, I began to see objects that reflected the dream world I was leaving. Or, perhaps the objects in the dream world had been reflections of what I was now beginning to see. I was no longer home in either world.

Seeing neither the reality I knew while asleep nor the world around me as it would soon appear, I wandered about as if sleepwalking. Drifting through a year of broken dreams and deconstructed reality, I attempted to understand what had changed. I knew that I had been woken up, but I could not figure out why.

Then one day my dismal reverie was shattered by a flash of lightning. For a moment, I glimpsed the reality of a world in which light produces clarity. When the darkness is gone, the shadows reveal their true nature. The things I had known in my religious sleep became real as I woke up to the relationship that I wanted so desperately to live.

For a moment, the fairy tale world of the Kingdom of God crashed into my life. In the same moment it was gone. It left behind a burning desire to discover its truth and a whisper of promise that one day I would.

Impatiently, I waited and tried to force the remnants of my dream world to merge with my new surroundings. But I could not figure out how to live in the real world apart from the lifestyle I had brought from my sleep.

I did not know how to create something new, though I tried very hard. Frustrated in my attempts to create a moral lifestyle from the faith I was coming to understand, I slowly began to realize that I could not live a Christian life.

My failure led to questions of whether the faith I now had was real. Had I simply waked into a dream within a dream? Had I simply adopted a new list of existential principles that I would use as the foundation for my life?

My heart had come alive, but I could not bring myself to live as if this were true. I had once believed my dream world to be real. How would I ever know that the world I had come to know as real was actually real?

Underneath all of the questions, the spark of hope I had received continued to grow until it became a burning desire for love. However, when I began to pursue love, I failed.

I did not realize that the evidence of faith would reveal itself in the fruit of my life as I pursued the One that faith was meant to reveal. If I pursued the results, I would find only frustration and doubt. Ending the search for the reason why I was now bewildered and awake, I began to search for the One who had awakened me. Perhaps He would have an answer to my questions.

We already had a relationship, but it needed to grow. An intimate relationship requires intimate knowledge of the other person. This knowledge comes through interaction and communication: especially listening.

As I began to listen for God, my life began to change in ways I did not expect. As I began to experience His love, I began to feel love and its accompanying heart break. As I began to experience emotion, I began to feel joy and its accompanying sorrow. As I began to experience suffering, I began to feel even more peace.

I had been awakened to love – to life. The questions that I once had did not receive answers. Life is not about the right answers but the right relationship – Molly Reich.

When I pursued the relationship, the questions became irrelevant. When I began to see the light, the shadows of darkness vanished. I knew that I had finally found something real.

In joy, I began to serve the One who had given me this gift. Like most of my relationships, I defined its value based on what I could do for God. I was a servant, but I was happy.

It seemed, however, that God was not content to let me enjoy this new relationship that I had begun to appreciate and attempt to live out. He knew that I would never be satisfied with my service. I would never be able to do enough. There was one more step I needed to take before that burning desire for love became a blazing sun by which I would view my life.

In a life-altering trip to Colorado bolstered by what I had already discovered about God, I came to understand one of the most valuable lessons of Christianity: The relationship of the servant is based on the action of the one who works. The relationship of a son is one that is unchanged by reason of the Father’s choice. I knew that I had been adopted into the family of God. I was on the Road to Royalty

The Tale of Zorah

The night was black. Howling wind ran up and down a long, narrow basement corridor. On the left side, it shook the frail wooden boards lining the walls in a struggle to let in the flood of rain that waited just beyond. Swirling up the little piles of dust that lay deserted on the concrete floor to the right of the hallway, the gasp of air carried them through fluttering wisps of plastic that divided the rooms of this basement. Except for these shrinking remnants of life, the entire floor to the right of the corridor was completely deserted. Abandoned in the darkness, the bare skeletons of rooms stared blankly at the outside walls where they could hear the faint spattering of raindrops.

At the other end of the basement, creaking wooden staircases led to the first floor of this building. There, one could look through an array of clouded glass windows into the stormy darkness beyond.

Scarcely 20 feet away, a massive wooden barricade blocked the view as far as one could see in both directions. The barricade had stood for years between the raging waves of a large sea and the gloomy darkness of this mid-sized, post-industrial city.

Leaving this view behind, one could exit the decrepit building at the edge of the city through a parking garage that had squeezed itself in between the building and a six-lane highway. Immediately to the south, this highway spilled over a great bridge and onto the wide-open country beyond.

In other times, this bridge would have been an impressive site. It had been constructed long ago in the days when grand structures were admired and sought. Three driving lanes ran in either direction with sidewalks bolstering the furthest edges. The white and yellow lines on the pavement were perfectly straight. In parallel, a column of lampposts rested with the stateliness of soldiers and the elegance of chandeliers. They stood erect between the lanes and the sidewalks holding four round lights that introduced a center light elevated about twelve inches above the first four. They stood silent and dark. Nobody had ever found the switch to turn them on and they remained as lightless as the day they were created. They stood guard over the roadway that passed some 10 feet above a quiet river as a silent testament to the pointless existence of the city.

The only things that seemed more out of place in this dreary landscape than the magnificent bridge were the bright red roofs and silent cement walkways of a bazaar that rested quietly on the southern edge of the country. The bazaar was several miles from the town, and nothing ever happened over there except for twice a year.

The buildings where the bazaar was held covered a space of ground that was slightly smaller than the city itself. They were solidly built, and did not seem to have suffered for spending parts of the year under water whenever the plain flooded.

Leaving the plain and bazaar behind, one could follow a highway northward as it circled through the heart of the city. It reached its end at a palace sitting atop a small, narrow hill. This hill marked the northernmost point of the city and was the only place where one could look down onto the lake from above sea level. Looking toward the north from this point, one could only see the raging waves of the sea that threatened to flood the city. Toward the south, one could see the city tumbling down the hill and onto the flat plain through which one could reach the bazaar.

If anyone had been watching on this particular evening, they might also have noticed a lonely car creeping slowly down the hill toward the southernmost tip of the city and the building where this story began.

Struggling to control the car against gusts of wind that blew across the roadway, a silent figure peered over the steering wheel into the dark entryway beside his destination. The open wooden doors of the parking garage bid a cautionary welcome to the hapless adventurer seeking shelter inside its hungry mouth.

Just beside them, the grand entrance to the building had decayed into a haunted nightmare with black strips of paint crawling up and down its greying boards. Like so many other buildings in the city, it was only a ghost of the bright red colors, busy industry, and happy days that nobody could remember.

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Although it was not the first time that the driver had visited this place, he hoped it would be his last. He felt incredibly out of place driving a shiny, grey sedan into the decaying rubble of this large building. Pulling nervously at the stiff collar of his shirt, he jerked his steering wheel to the left and felt his car drive up the short ramp to the first floor of the parking garage. Weaving slowly between the shadows cast by overhead lamps, he thought that their dim light somehow made the place appear more gloomy than the stormy darkness just beyond their reach.

They did produce a faint sparkle on his black dress shoes when he stepped out of the car. This reminded Charles, the driver, of the fireplace at his house where he would much rather be resting at the moment.

Instead, his eyes were wandering to the cracked wooden walls where raindrops crept into the building and gathered in puddles beside the uneasy cement columns supporting the roof.

Standing beside the car, Charles shoved his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and gazed vacantly at the low ceiling above his head.

Why did this have to be the night when Adam needed my help? he thought, beginning to walk toward the nearest door.

He lazily wondered if his friend had reached the rendezvous point before he did. He still couldn’t understand why Adam had asked for his help, but he was ready to get the evening over with.

For the past two weeks, the conversation between the two men had played over and over in his mind. Adam wanted Charles to help a kidnapped princess find a way out of this dismal place and back to the country where her father ruled. Though Charles was not particularly thrilled with the idea of running away to a place that couldn’t possibly exist, he knew what usually happened to those caught trying to escape this city.

He shuddered at the thought and walked quickly toward the round brass doorknob in front of him. Turning his hand, Charles pushed the white gateway back into the shivering darkness of the building within. The shadow of light from the parking garage glowed through the maze of abandoned passageways in which most escape artists lost their magic, most philosophers their wisdom, and many people their lives.

Because of the danger involved, one would expect very few people to risk entering this building. Even so, people in the city believed the abandoned rooms inside contained the secrets of a world beyond the city. It was said that certain people had entered here and found their way to a country where the waves did not carry the threat of death, where the sun smiled through the clouds upon a thick forest of trees, where life continued like it did in this city, but where its experience was completely different. It was impossible to imagine a better life than what people could enjoy if they were fortunate enough to find this extraordinarily good place.

For the most part, though, people were too scared to risk their lives to discover if what they believed was true. Charles was one of the few who thought the reward was worth the risk. Years ago, he told a few of his friends that he was conducting a research project to find out whether this place called the King’s Country was something more than just a fairy tale. After saying goodbye, he had entered the building where rumor said a passage to this land could be found.

A careful observer and scholar, Charles explored the winding passageways that had ensnared so many before him by using what he had learned before entering the building. After searching for some time, Charles realized that every single pathway led to a dead end. Eventually, the hope of finding another place that he had carried with him into the building slowly vanished. He continued to look for some time after that just to prove that there was no possible way the rumors could actually be true. He knew that many of the people who entered before him had gone somewhere and he was disappointed that he couldn’t figure out how to get there too. The day that he left its walls became one of the worst days of his life.

In his misery, Charles began to refer to the beautiful land many called the King’s Country as the imaginary place. News of his failed quest spread through the city and caused many people to reconsider their idea of leaving. This pleased the leaders of the city, who offered Charles a rewarding opportunity. He would pretend to be content with his life in the city and publicly renounce the King’s Country as childish imagination. His public image would encourage the people to be satisfied with their lives and give up their silly ideas about a perfect world. In exchange for this service, Charles was given a comfortable home in the suburbs near the palace.

Moving to the higher districts near the palace had been a life-changing experience. If there was any idea that inspired hope more than the possibility of finding the King’s Country, it was the chance to move into the higher districts. Permission to leave the low-lying areas came very seldom. But when it did, it inspired even the most discouraged to hope that someday they might leave the drumming sound of the waves and the constant threat of flooding that plagued the lower districts of the city.

Those who lived on the hill could visit the rocky precipices lining the edge of the city and look down into the foaming water below. This section of land quickly sank into a valley that was protected from the foaming, crashing waves by a massive seaboard wall. Most of the people lived in this part of the city. They suffered from perpetual fear that one day the wall would collapse and their lives would be washed away in the ensuing flood. Thus, moving to the higher districts away from the constantly pounding threats of the waves was enough hope to live for.

Even in the higher districts, though, the living conditions had grown worse for as long as anyone could remember. Nothing new was ever built. The engineers who worked in the city could scarcely figure out how to maintain the remnants of an impressive and elegant history.

In a world that was falling apart, it should not have surprised Charles that people still left the city in search of something better. He continued to lecture about the imaginary place that didn’t exist, but his conviction weakened every time another person risked a journey and never returned.

Nobody knew what it was that kept the people from coming back, but the ripples of rumors about a good place grew into waves of dissatisfaction that threatened to erode the power craved by the city leaders. If they couldn’t make the people satisfied with life in this city, they would make it more dangerous to attempt a journey to the King’s Country. In addition to making such expeditions illegal, the city authorities outlawed any discussion of the King’s Country. Because of this last rule, anytime someone disappeared, the silence surrounding their departure spoke louder than the innocent questions of children who constantly asked where they had gone.

Parents hushed their children and told them not to speak of fairy tales, but they wondered how the children seemed to know more about this place than they did. Everyone knew that as they grew older, the children would stop asking questions and resign themselves to the drudgery of city life. Perhaps, one day they would even be invited to move to the higher places of the city where nobody really bothered to find this place. So, no one spoke of the King’s Country, but everyone remembered the promise wrapped up in its name. Every time someone else disappeared, even Charles could not forget the reasons why he had once wished to find this imaginary place himself.

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Angrily, he pulled the door closed behind him and entered the building attached to where he parked. Why was he the only one who had looked for the other place and had returned without finding it? After all the time he had spent in the building, Charles knew the passageways inside and out, yet he couldn’t help wondering if he had missed something. Should he have explored that one last opening before he gave up and left the building?

It’s stupid anyway, he told himself, just for kids.

But tonight as he entered the building, something inside of him felt different. Maybe it was nerves.

He didn’t like this building at all. It reminded him of his failure and gave life to his aching dreams of a better place that he had done so well to hide.

Now he was returning to the place where his hope had died in order to use what he