cheaper by the dozen, I think

Are you old enough to remember going into McDonalds and asking for a Coke with no ice? Remember how the pimply faced kid would always put in too much ice, forcing you to buy another, or upsize? And then self serve came along, you put in your own ice, and surveys found out something interesting. When you added your own ice, you put in more than the pimply faced kid did. And did it at your desire, and supplied the labor to do it. But we did get to go back again for refills, but there again surveys show many don't. But what I'll bet you didn't know is that McDonalds used what was referred to in the industry as a cheater cup. When the three popular sizes were 12, 16, and 24 ounce-compared to the 20, 32, and 44 ounce of today, McDonalds used a 10, 14, and 22 ounce cup. In essence delivering two ounces less per drink, but at the same price as their competitors. No big deal you say. Consider this, the billions of ounces of Coke sold each year by Sir Mickey D, and do the math. We could live very well of the profit made from skimming those two ounces off. Consider that as you fill your cup next time. Depending upon which side of the counter you are on, they are either crooks, or shrewd businessmen. You can decide.

In a land where large has become the new small, and never buy a medium, they are the most expensive per ounce, we are overwhelmed by what things cost. Gas costs more than milk per gallon. And more than Coke. We have been introduced to the warehouse pricing, and also warehouse sized packaging. Look at the signs in the store, they all share a common denominator of price per pound, ounce, or per serving. So you can compare, see if you are getting a deal. And beware, 10 cents each or 2 for a quarter deals are right there, advertised right in front of your eyes, and as you figure 2 for a quarter is a better deal, I watch-so don't laugh-I may be watching you load up on such a deal. I know, you'll make up the loss in volume.

Imagine if they sold motorcycles by the pound? I can't believe Harley hasn't come up with this one-yet. Take an average Harley at about $18,000, that weighs 900 pounds. Numbers are for my benefit, may not be accurate. You have a motorcycle that costs $20 per pound. Now compare that to a GSXR-1000, which weighs 450 pounds, and costs $12,000. It costs over $26 per pound. You are paying more for per pound, and or are you paying for weight you didn't get? Is that a good deal? It is if you are selling Harleys! Cheaper per pound. They can advertise them like they do meat-save over $6 per pound by buying a Harley. And you thought they were all expensive and overpriced. Supersized already. Can I have fries with that?

How about a new CRF450 Honda, at $9000. Weighs about 250 pounds. $36 per pound. It costs more per pound to ride in the dirt. You could be saving $16 per pound by riding a Harley. Almost enough to buy a new Sportster, at about $18 per pound. They'll finance the rest.

There are many good deals out there, or what appear to be good deals. Don't brag too loud about the deal you got on your house, over 30 years no matter the interest rate, you bought it three times. Financing the Harley, or Honda-you paid about $1.20 per each dollar financed, more if over a longer time. You see there are many hidden costs involved in what we pay for things. Just 2 ounces per a drink, no big deal. $6 per pound savings on a Harley, ok, that sounds like a big deal. But sadly, many are offered so called religious deals that sound good, but won't get them to God. Cults love this ploy, and many times their claims sound true. Remember this-ALL lies are based on truth, and just as Harleys per pound sound cheaper, the bottom line is what you get-what you actually paid for. There are not many roads to God, He made it simple so we could choose the right one. Via Jesus. No Jesus and being baptized. No Jesus and good works. No Jesus and paying tithes. No Jesus and joining a church. No memberships to renew. Just Jesus. And even on a pound per pound basis, still the best deal around.

But why pass up the best deal there is? Salvation is free-a gift, you don't owe anything. It was paid at the cross. No meditation, no drugs, no classes, and nothing to buy. Save your money, for important things like motorcycles. Don't fall for the fake pitch-there is only one way to God-that is His son, Jesus. No religion or denominational differences, they aren't found in the Bible. So go with the winner-Jesus.

Jesus Christ-His deal is already supersized. There are no lines, no coupons, and no specials. No 2 for 1 deals. Just you and Him.

Too good to be true. Maybe. That same Harley, when sold on a horsepower basis, costs over $31 per horsepower. The GSXR, about $7 per horsepower. I don't think we'll be seeing that advertised at any Harley dealers anytime soon. Beware of claims that sound like a good deal, but aren't.

Jesus Christ is the real deal. The choice is yours, the time is now. Saying yes can actually be simpler than buying a new bike. And ask yourself, did you really want a warm Coke on a hot day?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

riding where AAA fears to tread

"Pray for us," I asked. "We are going on a four day road trip. And we are going in the car." Now a four day road trip is sort of a mini trip for us, no big deal. But the words, "going in the car," gave it special meaning. Unlike most people who only drive their cars, and then take an occasional trip on two wheels, we are just the opposite. We travel by motorcycle, so going in the car was to be a real novelty for us. And to add to the novelty, it was supposed to rain for four days, so at least good riding weather would not be wasted by being in the car. And of course, the usually unreliable weatherman was inaccurate, and we only had one day of rain. But it was unusually cold for So Cal, and with high speed winds, so it wasn't a total loss, and we were glad to be in the car. It was like God was rewarding us for taking the car by giving us bad weather so we didn't miss the bike. But I still did. I still waved to other bikes from the car. Old habits die hard.

And since I drive so little, it is always interesting to drive with me. Andrew won't, he says I drive like I ride a motorcycle. And I probably do, I just have a little problem lane splitting with the Mustang, but I learn patience and listen to music, something I don't do while riding. So all in all, we had a great four days of driving, including beautiful weather for being in a car-even turned the heater on a couple of times, and after four days without handlebars, I was ready for a motorcycle again.

Now we particularly love the Central Coast of California. The whole world seems nicer once you get above Santa Barbara, and with the golden hills on one side, and the blue Pacific on the other side, make the ride one that travel magazines for years have tried to express in word and picture, but must be travelled to fully enjoy. As we have travelled these roads very often, we decided to take some back roads we hadn't used in years. Visit some other small towns, before the trendy wine sippers take them over altogether. And sadly, they are getting fewer and farrer between. Los Olivos, once a small farming town, now is wine tasting central for Los Angelinos, with rooms at Fess Parker's Inn going for over $400 a night. Small towns like Orcutt and Guadalupe are evening showing signs of concession to tourists, as once quaint small towns now cater to those on weekends, and force the locals to go elsewhere. Surprised-not really, disappointed-yes, but still some of the prettiest scenery in-between that you can ever see. But like most real road trips, it is about the roads, and where once we travelled 45 mph on two lane roads, through canyons and valleys, now we travelled four lane highways at 70mph-maybe it is true that LA is a great big freeway, and now includes anything within a 200 mile radius. Central Coast-see it while you can, and can afford it.

Listening to a George Harrison song, the words "If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there," describes a perfect ride for us. Follow roads to see where they go, and like Woody says, "as long as you have gas you aren't lost." Follow an old road through the country, and watch the farmers at work. And wave back at them, as they wave first at you. Sit in a small cafe for lunch-at the counter if it has one, and listen to the locals comment on world events, and see how much we really do have in common. Eat some veggies-fresh from the farm, and see how they taste funny compared to so-called fresh from weeks of refrigeration in some mega-warehouse. Eat a hamburger, not preformed, but made by hand, and bigger than the bun it comes on. And like us, since the water in So Cal tastes like a pool, drink the local water-it's free and refreshing.

But what about the mud on the floor? Sorry, ranchers don't remove their shoes to eat. But what about the prices, they seem high. Sorry, ranchers don't get small portions-they need the nourishment. So when the platter, instead of the plate comes full, and fresh, don't worry about getting your money's worth. Clean the platter as a compliment to the cook-not chef, if you can, and you'll see why real cowboys eat with their hats on-so they can pull them down when done, and take a short nap. BURP! Ahh, much better.

Many don't realize it, but Jesus spent most of His ministry on the road. Taking back roads, going to where the people were, and sitting at the counter when he could. Not to draw attention to Himself, but just to fit in-you see He loves people, and likes to hang with them. Being God, He always knew where He was headed, but also being a man, liked to visit new places, and try new things-He was adventurous. And I can very easily see Him riding a motorcycle. Even when the weatherman predicted rain and wind. He would just command them to stop. He could and does still the waves in our lives today. Food-never far from a good place to eat as long as He was around, from a small meal to eating with 5000, He still knows the best places to eat.

But the difference of travelling with Jesus is He knows the roads you are on. He knows where to detour, where to make time, and when to just slow down and enjoy the ride. He also knows that the best destination is heaven, and encourages you to go there with Him, never forcing His way upon you. And like the perfect tour guide, He gives you the choices, and let's you make the choice-rejoicing when you choose Him and His ways-and feeling sorrow, but still loving you when you reject Him. He waves to you-even if you don't wave back, and even if you are in a car. And spending time with Him, and marveling at His creation, just make the ride that much better. And when we meet other Christians who enjoy spending time with Him, well the Bible calls it church-wherever two or more are gathered in His name. Fellowshipping, sharing testimonies, and learning of new places to ride, eat, and ride. You see we all are passing through, but it only those who ride with Jesus who will pass on to heaven. No other way to get there, and not just any road will get you there.

Do you know where you are going? Jesus does, and wants to be your tour guide for life. Riding more and enjoying it less-let Him lead. Get off the highway of life, and onto a highway of life. Trust Him and go places you never knew existed. And if you must-take the car.

Those of us who ride know of the freedom only riding can express. But those of us riding with Jesus know true freedom, words cannot describe it. So, for four days we took the car, and saw a side of Jesus we hadn't experienced in a while. But still couldn't wait to ride again-that's a freedom I never want to miss!

Get outta town. Pick a road that you've never ridden on. Eat a meal you wouldn't if at home, and spend time with someone who you haven't spent time with in a while. Freedom in the spirit-and on a road that I may not know where it goes-but that I know where it ends up. Take a road trip of the heart today.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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such a deal I have for you

Life was different 40 years ago. We had a different outlook-the space race was going on, and we also were in the midst of a Cold War. But I have found if you want to get a more personal perspective on the people in any time frame, read the ads. Looking back at an issue of Popular Science, a news stand date from November 1963, one that would have been on the news stands before the Kennedy assassination, we see a much different America than we remember, or are reminded by rewritten history.

Wen sold a soldering pistol for $4.75. Pontiac was building Wide Tracks! Universal Schools would train you to be an accident investigator, and make $6.44/hour. For $1.98 you could learn to hypnotize people, money back if not satisfied. New accordions for 1/2 price! Subscriptions-$2 per year. Pall Mall cigarettes-outstanding, and they are mild. Enjoy life with Miller High Life! Enjoy your Kodak 35F camera, for only $129. Take 10 shots with just one fast, manual winding! Crescent Wrenches-made in upstate New York. People who sharpen saws with Foley can make $3-6-per hour! And with an hour's pay you can buy a Dr. Grabow pipe, needs no breaking in.

Here's one-government surplus sale. Right above an ad for US Savings Bonds. Jeeps from $197, carbines from $20, boots, 65 cents, and refrigerators from $5. And all products made in the US of A! Direct from the government-ours! And you can record all this for posterity on your Polaroid Color Pack camera. Life just couldn't get any better.

These are things my grandparents and parents would have been interested in, and it makes me think of things my grandfather never saw. He never had voice mail, yet never missed a call when home. They would call back-what a novel thought. No e-mail either, I still have handwritten letters from him, nothing like the old pencil on a note pad, personal notes. They had an early color TV, remember the NBC peacock, so you would know it was in color, and dream about having one someday? Gas was about 30 cents/gallon, and the attendant would ask if you wanted ethyl? Then check your oil and wash your windshield. We weren't self serviceable yet. He would buy food from the Acme, and I can remember shopping with him once at Two Guys, and commenting on how much junk can from Japan. He never heard of Wal-Mart, or Chinese products. He worked for an American company, Ingersoll-Rand, who made products they shipped all over the world. Exporting, not importing.

Shirts, pants, and socks. Made in mills, some close to their home in Pennsylvania, where the churches raised money by preparing lunches for the mill workers. Good home cooking, and affordable. For these workers helped build America.

And we had no further to look for work ethics than our parents. Or grandparents, who had come through the depression. And knew the value of a dollar, even if it was only worth 90 cents-then. Kids were taught ethics, morals, and didn't need rules-you would not do anything to embarrass your parents, that was a fate worse than death. Not to mention the ever present threat of "getting the belt."

But two events happened in 1963, which changed America, and us. Kennedy was assassinated, and with him many dreams for our age died with him. And age of innocence, even though we were immersed in a cold war. Somehow we were different after that, and events helped usher in the escalation of Viet Nam, and the rebelliousness of the late sixties. But the other important event, was when we took prayer out of schools. Telling God, upon whom our nation was built, you cannot come in the classroom anymore. The Bible-can't read it there. Praying-keep it to yourself, and don't get caught, they don't care even if it is finals week. And with this one heinous action, we lost more than the reading and praying. We lost our freedom, although we didn't realize it at first. Where once we used to want to do the opening of our school day, you had to be elected by your classmates to read the Bible, say the Lord's prayer, say the pledge of allegiance, and sing a patriotic song-now we sang a patriotic song, that was to disappear, and say the Pledge, if you wanted. No requirement to stand and say it. We had lost more than a right to stand, we had lost the freedom it represented. And have never gotten back.

"Be a hero, save a whale, save a baby, go to jail." Whales are more important than life, and we wonder why society is rushing into the toilet. But God-two powerful words, that define a Christian's life, are still present. You see, if not for God, we would be like India, China, and other third world countries. Who by the way, ban the Bible, and public praying. You can be jailed or killed for it-by the government. And who now send us a majority of the products we used to produce here. Where freedom is defined as what the state allows you to do, and we find people still dying for the cross 2000 years after the crucifixion of Jesus.

You see, some things never change. God is one of them. Aren't you glad, so you know what to expect of Him, and from Him? No new revelations, like some cults, and not a socially based agenda. God has always been pro-people, and has always been the best form of leadership. His system works, but He doesn't force it on you.

Try Him today. Ask Him to meet your needs, and heal your land. He promises to listen, if you humble yourself and pray. Silently, publicly, in a group or alone-He hears. But God listens, and responds. may He find favor with our requests, and may we find favor with His answers.

You see, my grandfather wouldn't enjoy living today. Too many rules, junk products, lack of integrity, and the list goes on. It would be a world foreign to him, because it is foreign based. But God is still alive, and here for us. Can we thank Him for never leaving us? And ask Him to forgive us for leaving Him?

What do the ads in your magazines tell others about us? Let your life tell others about Jesus.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

life's a beach-then you wash up on one

Anybody who knows me knows I don't do water well. When others swim or float, I flail and sink. Body surf, I body sink. Tread water, I pedal to the bottom. And when faced with an audience of children, only make things worse.

In 1975 I visited my friend Brennan in Santa Monica, from NJ. We decided to go to a nude beach, near Zuma, for the obvious reasons. After surveying the territory, you begin to understand why God made clothes-some people's bodies need to be covered more than others. But also noticing the amount of girls there alone, I decided to make my move. I would show off what a great body surfer I was. Catching a few waves, I was the Big Kahuna-at least in my own mind, while Brennan sat on a towel making semi-nude conversation. Then the big one hit, and I don't remember much, or how much ocean I swallowed, but remember landing on shore, wrapped in seaweed, and puking my guts out. For about a half hour, with Brennan somewhere between concerned for me, but more concerned I had ruined his chance with the girls. He didn't even have ask, "do you have a girlfriend for my friend," it seems nothing is less appealing to a California girl than a pasty white, Jersey boy puking up saltwater, while wrapped in seaweed-naked. Next time I'll change my opening line. And what I can't understand is I had even waited 45 minutes after eating before I went swimming!

We all know the story of Jonah and the whale. In my mind it was always like Pinocchio and Jiminy in the whale's stomach, with a light hanging, and benches to sit on. But Jonah describes it different, and for the three days and three nights he was in the belly, it must have been scary, to say the least. Did you ever wake up and not know where you are? Jonah did. The last thing he remembered was sinking to the bottom of the Mediterranean, wrapped in seaweed, and then waking up-not knowing where he was-or even if he was alive.

He had disobeyed God, and didn't realize how God had sent a whale to swallow him and save his life. He was in a very dark place, probably very hot, a whale's body temperature is about a hundred degrees, it had to stink, and the stomach juices would be eating at his skin. It is possible he thought he was dead and in hell. And after three days, he repents and turns again to God, who was with him all the time. Not mad, but wanting Jonah to repent. And then He has the whale spit him up onto dry land-perhaps the world's longest vomit/loogee, as Nineveh was 375 miles from the sea.

It has been recorded that men have lived after being swallowed by whales. One ship's log recorded how the man had no problem breathing, but had passed out from fear. Ever been so scared you fainted? Or so bummed all you wanted to do was sleep? And when he was cut out of the whale's stomach, he was white-even his eyebrows and hair had been burned off from the digestive juices. Just an idea of what Jonah looked like when he escaped.

It is never a good idea to run from God. How do you escape someone who is omni-present? But God sticks with us, and wants us to return to Him, that is why He sent Jesus to die for our sins. You may not be in the belly of a whale, or wrapped in seaweed on a nude beach, but in every situation you need Jesus.

I didn't care where my next breath came from, I only wanted it to come. And God supplies them. And not only saved my life that day, and taught me a thing or two about body surfing, but a week later saved my soul-I came that close to dying and going to hell. Don't make the same mistake! Trust God now.

And as for beach baptisms, I watch from shore, with my clothes on. Just can't trust seaweed, I guess. But I can trust God! And when the ocean waves-I just wave back. Safe and saved.

To go riding.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

Jim and Jesus-they were both really there

What a difference a generation makes. On Sunday, we went over to the Tour de Wangers, an annual car show put on by Jim Wangers, the Godfather of the GTO. In his mid 80's, he still gets around pretty good, and is a link to the past, he really was there, and is a treasure trove of history and anecdotes.

Jim was in advertising in the sixties when GM was the largest corporation in the world. Chevy alone sold over 2.5 million cars annually, about what GM does now in total, and they had over 50% of the market. They used to complain "they were losing one of every two car sales." And the US government talked of breaking them up due to anti-trust laws. Jim got tied in with a rising young GM exec, John De Lorean, who was making his mark at Pontiac. Together they took the muscle car market into new territory, putting a big engine in a smaller, lighter body. Not a new concept, but never done to this degree, and never marketed so well. And within a model year, all GM divisions, Ford, and Chrysler all had big engines in lighter cars, and the Muscle Car race was on. And Jim Wangers was right in the middle of it, he became its heart and soul for Pontiac.

We got to see many GTO's from 64-70, representing what any red, white, and blue young man wanted when young. Judges, a special model based on a Laugh In joke, "here's comes da judge," painted in bright colors, and with all the high performance goodies. There were Firebirds there too, one like Cathy's 1967 convertible. A four speed, red-of course, with the 400 engine, and slicker than snot. And fast. Had the hood mounted tach. And when she banged it into second, would have to find some nice guy to get under the car and dislodge the shift linkage that had gotten stuck. It idled rough, got terrible gas mileage, and leaked in the rain. But from 0-60, put a smile on your face every time. Unless you were running against her.

These were the cars of Jim Wangers, and his advertising genius. GTO tigers were sold in anything from perfume to Thom McAn shoes. A marketing blitz all based on one model of car, one that broke with GM corporate dictum of the day, and helped propel both Jim and John to legendary status. And just as sought after today as they were 45 years ago.

You see when you turned the key, it fired off the starter, not a computer. When you gave it gas, the venturis opened on the carbs, not activate the fuel injectors. You had to replace and adjust points, not download a new tune to the ECM. You actually had to drive the car, instead of point and steer. No ABS, ESP, cruise, or any electronic enhancements. Just man and machine, and maybe that is why we get emotional about them today. We could relate to them.

A few years back BMW came out and was proud of the fact that you could recycle most of their car. So much for collectability, and so much for emotions. The ultimate driving machine, their words, not mine, has become an electronic showcase, and when new technology comes out, will make the new one more efficient to drive, but not necessarily more fun. Put it in D, and the computer learns your driving habits, and shifts accordingly. Traction control prevents burnouts-remember the fun of smoking the tires? And impressing your friends? Technology rules the day, and progress quite probably, a good thing, has gone on for too long. Fortunately men like Jim Wangers, and others who made the history are still around. But what happens when that generation dies, and the scholars rewrite history? I hear stories today of how things were in the 70's, and it doesn't match my recollection, and I was there! Anything to sell a book, or to get across your agenda, and any tweaking of facts to fit the occasion has become OK. And we are the worse, not better for it. Grace Slick sang 45 years ago in "Somebody to Love," "when the truth is found, to be a lie...and all the joy within you dies...don't you want somebody to love?"

And the answer is we do. Not something, as Jim's advertising led us to believe, but a somebody. Someone who will listen to our problems, answer our questions, and tell us the truth. In love. And that someone is only found in Jesus Christ. He had no ad campaign, and only used 12, then 11 itinerant and untrained ambassadors to spread the gospel. But the funny thing about truth, is it sustains itself, and long after lies have tried to replace it, the truth stands. Many doubted Jesus to be God then,and the cults do now. But the truth of his existence, and his resurrection, and his changing of lives still continues today. In fact, more than ever. Just as He promised. And the question of the day is, are you part of the promise, and the promised today? Have you found the peace, love, joy, and security only Jesus can offer? Do you recognize his deity?

Or are you into the latest i-pod god, who promises you to have access to more music, more Face book, and along with it more stress, and charges you for it-monthly? Are you seeking love in something, when really it is found in someone? We all need someone to love. And He loved us first-can you beat that?

Jim Wangers will always be the Godfather of the GTO, and rightly so. He was there at the beginning, was part of the action, and knew the players personally. He was a player. History still records it, and he confirms it. Just like Jesus. He was there at the beginning, was the integral part of the action, knew the players and was the main one. History records it, archaeology proves it, and His spirit confirms it today. And even His titles, prove who He is-not was.

Just a car-don't say that to Jim and his followers. Just a man/rabbi/teacher-that won't fly in the face of truth. Jesus is who he said he was-the Son of God.

Thanks for the memories, Jim, of a time and a car, and people. It is sad you outlived your creation. But thanks be unto Jesus for a future and a hope. He too will outlive His creation, but the choice is yours. Apply now, the future is sooner than you remember.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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new, old friends

Four score and fifteen years ago, Milo Gilbert was born in North Dakota. And after a long life, and rather full one, he died two weeks ago. Never heard of him? Well, up until last month, I never had either. But through his daughter Teri, I went to visit him in the hospital. He was blind, and I was told hard of hearing-note, I think some old people just get more selective to who and what they respond to, I know I do, and as he and I talked and listened, we communicated just fine. Even told me he would take me up on the motorcycle ride I promised when he got better. The doctors had advised him at 95 years old to have an operation to relieve fluid from the brain, the rest of him was in such good shape. How many 95 year olds are told to have surgery? And I got to meet him the day before the surgery. And as far as I know, I am the last friend that Milo ever made.

I almost didn't go to my new friend's funeral yesterday, but did, as a show of respect for Noella, his wife, and Teri. But a funny thing happened as I sat among the hundreds of people coming out to celebrate his life. I realized I had come to celebrate my friend, and no matter we only met once, and only a short time before his death, we were still friends. And this was more than a celebration of life, it was one of relationships-from his wife, to his children, to his grand children and all the way to his great grand child, each had a relationship with Milo, and the preciousness of each relationship was shown in words yesterday.

I sat with Jessica, who mentioned to me that she thought they were going to do a PowerPoint presentation of his life. But I told her that this wasn't a PowerPoint crowd, not realizing my words at the time. For these emotions and memories went much deeper than a picture. A picture can be worth a thousand words, but a memory-well, sometimes there aren't words, and the best are stored in the heart, where no PowerPoint can invade them.

And as I sat listening to the memories of my new, old friend, I thought of another man, and the last friend he ever made. Some 100 score years ago, Jesus hung on a cross between two thieves. One was soon to die alone, but the other called out, "Save me!" And Jesus promised him that He would see him in paradise that day. The last friend that either man would make on earth, but who would be spending eternity with each other. A relationship of quality, and of a depth no PowerPoint can or ever will fully demonstrate. An eternal friendship, that's what Jesus calls it, for He calls us friends. And I find as I get older, you can never have too many friends, but you can never have one more loving and important than Jesus.

Milo waited 95 years to meet me, I only had to wait for 56. Don't put off getting to know Jesus today. And you will find, that although He died almost 2000 years ago, He is very much alive, and well, and still hangs out with His friends. And will for eternity. Don't miss the chance to spend it with Him. As friends.

He leaves the choice up to you. We may have missed His death, don't miss His resurrection. Milo didn't, and that gives us a few years in eternity to swap stories, and get to know each other. And hang with our other friends, and of course our best friend, Jesus.

Like Milo, I met Him as a stranger, He took us in, and calls us friends. I can't think of a nicer way to say goodbye to my new friend Milo, or a better thing to have in common with him. Our common bond-Jesus Christ. Make Him your friend today. Tell 'em Milo sent you.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

two minute warning

Waking up in Lexington, Ky that Monday morning, I had an easy 700 mile day ahead of me. I had left Escondido on Friday night, and ridden straight through, on my way to my parent's house in Scotch Plains. The weather had been from dry and 120 degrees, to mostly rain, and cold. Interesting for a mid-August ride. I had gotten into the routine of putting on the Frog Toggs, then peeling them off when the sun came out-along with the heat, so I figured one more day was no big deal. And as I hit the West Virginia state line, I did-amazing how beautiful and bright the sun can be when you are cold and wet! But the worst was yet to come.

I had chosen a route that would take me through the Cumberland Gap in Maryland. I had ridden it years ago before the freeway was complete, but decided to stay on the freeway this time, to make time-I would eventually reach NJ in under 70 hours-coast to coast that is! But it got cold and dark going up the pass over the Gap, so as I struggled to put on the Toggs-hopefully one last time, the wind blew as I entered into the fog. And then it stopped. And the lights went out. And I got soaked. I have been in total white outs when in Colorado blizzards, except in a car I at least had my windshield to protect me, and as a point of reference. Not so today, and this was total. I couldn't even see my hands some eight inches away, and the last thing I remember was a semi-to my right at about 2 o'clock, and both of us slowing down. Then I lost him in the fog, and almost panicked-fortunately I didn't. Turning on my flashers-which I couldn't see, I slowed from 70 to about 45 mph, hoping that I wouldn't run into anyone, or that anyone wouldn't run into me. For an eternity, really about two minutes, I crept along-praying-and then the fog broke, and the sun was blinding. And the truck was exactly at 2 o'clock where I had last seen it, a few cars at the same speed ahead, but a safe distance, and no one behind me that I could see-the fog was still thick behind me. God had taken us all through the fog safely! And I rejoiced, and sped off into the light-even forgetting how cold and wet I was. Couldn't make out the face in the truck, it was still too foggy, but I am sure he was glad to see me, as I was to see him make it out OK.

Give me rain anytime rather than fog. Actually, give me sun and warm. And I have only had one other time where it was so bad, but not as bad as that afternoon. I reminded myself that on the other side of the clouds it was sunny, but was totally oblivious as to what was on the ground, in front, back, or sides of me-except my travelling companion in the semi.

But God knew, and when I called to Him, He heard and guided me. Like some sin, I was exposed to no one except to Him, and He guided me. But some sin is obvious, and He loves us anyway. He sees things, like the heart of men, like we can't. We only see the external, like I did that foggy afternoon. But God saw the road ahead, and behind, from above. A much better perspective, and a better way to be led. We can't see ahead sometimes, and make rash and inaccurate judgments, but God is patient and merciful-as He proved that day. And so many others.

Some live their lives in a fog-spiritually and physically, when they don't have to. In all things, God promises a better way if you let Him, and shows you the way through any situation. He will keep you safe, and lead you away from danger-on better roads, and introduce you to people you never would have met, if you hadn't trusted Him.

Your fog may one today of indecision-finances, job, foreclosure, health, or even relationally. You can't see a way out-in fact you can't see at all! But God sees all, and never leaves you alone, not spying, but watching as a loving father, and road captain would. He wants us all to come to safety-repentance in Him. He desires you to follow Him, but doesn't force you to, it is your decision.

That day and many others I let Him guide, and somehow the rides are always better. Even riding alone, like that day, I am still not abandoned, He is there. Trust God, before you do any weather man. They can't even look out the window and get it right, He who causes the weather always does. So let Him. As I rode through the valley of the pass of the shadow of death, I feared no evil-just the guiding force of my Lord Jesus. Don't wait for the fog to call out to Him, He is just as much there on nice days too.

Two minutes out of 70 hours that I will always remember. 120 seconds that made the trip. Even the animals stayed off the road, truly He is in control. Riding by faith, not by sight. Trusting the invisible to guide us into the unforeseeable. That produces works that aren't dead. Only Jesus.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

when you come to a Southfork in the road, take it

Did you know that you can think while sleeping? They are called dreams, and when I first started a family I used to have this great one. Remember the TV show Dallas? Bobby Ewing was the good brother, and my dream was I would pass him stuck on a highway when on my Coke route. I would give him a ride, and he would offer me some money in return for my kindness, which I would never accept. Then the next day a brand new motorcycle would show up at my work, and a man asking me to sign the papers-it was a gift from my new friend Bobby, a thank you if you will. Note-the bike in my dream at the time was a Suzuki GS1100, the gold one from the early 80's. Unobtainable to me at the time. And as in all good dreams, my boss gave me the day off to ride, just happened to have my gloves and helmet with me, and my wife understood when I got home after 9 pm with 300 miles on my new ride. And my call to Bobby the next day showed we had appreciation for each other, I had met his need, and he had met my dream. Don't you just love happy endings?

And dreams do come true, as we have surprised both my sons with motorcycles for Christmas, even more fun when not expected. And recently, my friend Stu was surprised with the gift of a Gold Wing from our friend Dan. We had visited him many times in the hospital, he finally died from long term cancer. He loved Jesus and loved to ride. He would tell us he was enjoying riding through us, as we would share stories. And it was a complete surprise when Dan left Stu his bike. What a blessing! But although Dan left him the bike, it soon needed tires, and Stu was out of work. Praying, God put on my heart to buy him a set, remember Acts 2 how the church when it had a need told the members, and they met it? No different than when our friends have met needs like food, furniture, baby clothes, or places to live. Tires were a need, and God blessed us by helping a brother. But yet some murmuring has come my way-"if someone is so nice as to give him a free bike, he should at least be able to buy the tires." Thanks for your love, brother. And I have seen some lend money in these situations, when God says don't. You see, the tires were a gift, and if I had fronted them, or loaned him money, it would have put pressure on him even more financially, and become a burden to our relationship-at least until the money was paid back. So God advises to give, hilariously, which we did, and we were all blessed.

That is why in my dreams I am always glad it was Bobby and not JR Ewing who I rescued. JR would have sent the bike, but with a price tag I could never pay. Just like being in debt to the Godfather, a deal I couldn't refuse, but wished I had. Exacting a price I could never pay. No one ever told the Don no! Or JR for that matter.

That is why salvation is free, a gift. You could never afford the price Jesus paid. So He wants us to repay Him through kindnesses to others. Says so right there in Matthew 25. Feed the hungry, and give water to those thirsty. Take in a stranger. Clothe and shelter those who are naked and hurting. Be a friend. Visit those sick, and those in jail. Do it joyfully, and showing His love, and the blessings flow both ways. Give to those who could never repay, like the example Jesus set for us, and then you cannot expect anything in return. Remember, your bank will loan you money, but it gets it back, with interest. True love gives, not looking for any return, but never returns void.

So keep dreaming. As I have gotten older, my dreams seem to get more expensive. But now have taken a turn, as now I want to bless others, instead of asking, I am giving. And find that my dreams come true. "For whoever does these things to the least of these, does them to me," says Jesus. Blessing others in the name of Jesus. Giving and receiving, just like in my dreams. And better yet in the Bible.

May your reality far exceed your dreams, and may you give out more than you take in. Whether it be tires, food, clothes, or a visit-God knows and is keeping notes on you. The reward is in heaven-where it won't be temporal like down here. It's true you can't take it with you, but you can send it ahead.

Richer or poorer, you always receive more from God than you have given. And may the Bobbies of your life far outnumber the JR's! And of course, as reality would dictate, I once gave directions to JR/Larry Hagman, when he was lost and late, and still no motorcycle from him! Be like Bobby!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

does the star spangled banner yet wave? ask a vet

When I turned 18 in 1972, I had to go down and register with Selective Service for the draft. At the time they were doing a lottery, based on your birth date, with the first 30 dates chosen being assured of getting a letter stating "Greetings!" My birthdates came up #364, so unless they started drawing from the bottom, I was assured I wouldn't be drafted. But I still had friends who were, and were to be-and at the time didn't fully realize the impact it was to have on our nation.

While those who got their notice went off, yes there were a few who fled to Canada, the rest of us stayed home-with pretty much the war out of sight, and out of mind. The only grim reminder was watching the evening news each night with my parents, where each night would start with the number of American dead that day. And although the numbers were disturbing, they were impersonal-no face to put a name too. Later that was to change. But for right now, we were happy to go to the peace moratoriums, and listen to liberals bash the war, the government, and God. Thinking that freedom was found in surrendering your values and freedom. Hate of country, confrontation, and of God. Drawing from a dry well, that others had exhausted with their sacrifice of their time, their health, their girlfriends and wives, and some their lives. A group protesting, rather than supporting. And only allowed in a country where because of past veterans, could they protest against their own country.

"Did you ever kill anyone?" we asked those who returned. And the best, but also most sorrowful answer came from my friend Frank. Pacifist, infantryman, and patriot-against the war, but for his country, would say "no one I ever met." You see while others tried to stay sober enough in school to get a deferment, Frank had served. As did my friends Joe and Lance. But only Frank had seen the horrors of death, his story was different.

I go to many veterans events, and watch as so many still haven't come home, although their bodies have, their minds remain in a foreign land. Heroes who answered the call, but were treated with disdain as they returned from doing their patriotic duty-regardless of their personal beliefs. Duty to country to them was a sacrifice they paid, and many still pay it today.

All gave some, the sign says, but some gave all. A harsh reminder that freedom isn't free. That their "greeting" would change their lives, and their loved ones in ways not imagined. And the worse thing today is that after the resistance to the war, and their abandonment by society when they returned, today no one cares. The only thing worse than hatred has occurred, apathy. At least your enemy cared enough to engage you, but coming home to your own country where they don't care-well, you have more in common with your enemy. A sadness that should never have occurred.

We are more selfish than we would ever admit. We each have a price, a breaking point where we will give in to our own morals, and say yes, even when our hearts cry out no. And when society, family, government, and friends turn against us-Jesus is still there. And still loving. He understands being falsely accused. He understands the government turning on Him. He knows all about enemies, and loneliness. He has gotten His "greetings" letter from so many who were only looking out for themselves, yet still made Himself available to those who hated Him. He knows all about a liberal agenda, and how the farther you get from God, the worse off you are. And He still loves, despite all the lies, rumors, innuendos, gossip, and accusations He has endured over the years. He alone was drafted to cover your sins.

He has lost friends in battle, gave three years of His life when called, and is the only way to true peace today. He loves the veteran, and appreciates those who lay down their lives for their fellow countrymen. For He did it for all, showing greater love than anyone has or ever will. He truly gave all.

All without wearing a uniform, or representing a country. He represented much more-God. And still does today. So as we honor our veterans today, remember He still is the truth, the way, and the life. As we seek comfort, and offer thanksgiving for those who served, let us remember where the spirit of the lord is there is liberty.

And healing is always available at the cross. He never forgot a soldier, and sides with those who gave all. And stands ready to welcome you home-your eternal home in heaven, where you will be honored-just for taking His name. For believing in Him. For being a true patriot of heaven.

God bless you veterans-thanks for your service. And all thanks be to Jesus, still serving, at the front lines, so we can be free.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspsot.com

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the most fun you can have with your clothes on

My t-shirt with the Rocket III on it says "size matters." And if you want to have the largest production motorcycle, then this Triumph is the way to go. At 2300 cc,or 125 cubic inches, it is definitely the way to go-size wise. But the rest of us live/ride in a world where fun dictates how, where, when, and what we ride. And of course how. And for anyone who rides, they will tell you that it is the fun factor, along with a certain amount of cool found no where else, is why we ride. Harley even prints shirts stating "if I have to explain, you wouldn't understand." True-for explaining fun, freedom, and the joy of riding is wasting words, when you could be twisting a throttle. And whether it is going for the hole shot, cow trailing with your friends, a Saturday morning cruise, or riding into the next state by dinner time, motorcycling provides the ultimate escape route. For some-there's therapy, for the rest of us, we ride.

For some of us it started with a mini-bike, with a Tecumseh or Briggs and Stratton lawnmower motor attached. But as the market grew, the manufacturers caught on, and started making mini motorcycles-a reduced version, just like dad's only their size. And one of the best father/ son relationship tools ever invented, brought many a family together. And still does today. At the Elsinore Grand Prix this last weekend, we were reminded of this, as the 50cc mini class went off-kids who might not be able to balance a bike, were out racing with others, going over hills, and racing like the big guys. A true family event, as dad was the mechanic and coach-mom took care of food and the gear, and the other brothers and sisters helped out while waiting for their race to start. A fun drug free day for all-the drug of choice having two wheels. Not wondering who your kid was hanging out with, but knowing who, what, where, and why. Not a guarantee they will not go out and try things on their own, but a great deterrent-and fun!

I am fortunate my whole family rides. Christopher's first ride was a 50cc Y-Zinger ATV. He used to do donuts on it at five years old, and raced up and down our alley. Great for learning hand/eye coordination, it turned into a life long love of riding, as for many years his only form of transportation was a motorcycle. And his Street Triple is sitting here today. I enjoy the rides with him, and we can stop and visit and comment on things seen on the ride-things you would never talk about in a car with the A/C on and the radio blasting. Theresa rides, too. Has her own Bonneville, and has ridden over 40,000 miles in five years. No trailer queen here, she rides to San Francisco, and has no problem doing 85mph. And when we take trips together, she leads-until the turns, then we meet at the end. Boys wanna have fun too, but she can also show where she has scraped her pegs. And it is always fun when she gets to talk with other women who wished their husbands would ride with them-or let them get their own. And like the reporter in Oklahoma City who interviewed me on Torches-she said the marriage counselor advised her to ride with her husband, and their marriage would be better. "And it is!" she gushed. And so is mine/ours!

My other son Andrew is the dirt rider, tells me the street is dangerous. So why is he the one who calls me from the hospital after crashing in the dirt? Last weekend I got to see him race at Elsinore, finished 14 of 45 teams, his team member probably cost him a few spots. But more than the competition, it was fun. Riding with your friends, the sounds of the four strokes, and the smell of racing castor. And you see husbands/wives, girlfriend/boyfriend, fathers and sons all together. No age barrier here-motorcycles are fun at any age. And just like the Honda ad says, " I wanna ride, I wanna ride..." And so we do.

One of the first institutions God created was the family. And despite the evil one's attempts to redefine and destroy families today, God still honors families who pray together. Who fellowship together, and who seek Him first. And even though it is common for motorcycles to race on Sunday, many Christian organizations have sprung up to provide support at races. They do chapel services, cruise the pits, pray for the racers, and are an intricate part of racing. For what racer waiting for the flag to drop doesn't pray to someone. Or something. But just like the mom or dad supporting their kids, those who minister at race tracks do it quietly and behind the scenes. Success not being measured on who gets saved, but just by being there. Someone who rides, and talks the language-just without the %^&$#&* included. And many ministries and organizations have sprung up to minister to anyone from 1%er outlaws to Grand Prix racers and all in between. For we all have in common the love of riding, it's just those of us who have Jesus see it from an eternal perspective. And riding since I have been saved has only gotten better.

Watching the sun rise at Daytona, or watching it set at Willow, you see the glory of God. Hanging on in a berm with 65hp of dirt bike between you and the dirt, you feel the awesome power of God. Sweating in 110 degrees, or shivering when it freezes, you see a side of God many never see. The smells, sights, sounds, and tastes are all better on a bike-and the best with God along. Looking for a family function, that's fun. Ride. And watch as you can sit and talk to God with your kids-and they'll listen. Point out the wonders of him, and they will have proof of His existance. And watch as they become part of a brotherhood, and see how the family of God can also be part of a motorcycling family. True brotherhood begins with Jesus, it doesn't end there. Families who pray together stay together. And those who ride together stay together, also.

And yes, we understand it can be dangerous. It is a sad but true part of riding But God knows our days are numbered, so why not enjoy them-get the most from life. Jesus and riding! It doesn't get any better!

Until heaven....but you gotta have Jesus to get there. Make sure the ride of your life has a name-one above all names-Jesus! Kawasaki may let the good times roll, and you can meet the nicest people on a Honda. But only Jesus can make your ride through life the ride of your life. Twist a throttle with Him today-on the street or in the dirt-if I have to explain, you wouldn't understand. For just a little faith, like a little throttle, gets your ride going.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

maybe you still meet the nicest people on a Honda

Getting off the freeway, and cruising old down towns has its benefits. For me, last week I found Honda-Yamaha of Redlands. A big blue Yamaha sign caught my attention on an old building, so navigating one way streets and alleys, I found their parking lot. Located in an old packing house for the last ten years, it was originally built in the 1920's for lemons and oranges. Old brick walls, and hardwood floors, it is old California, the style people pay big bucks for to be duplicated using new bricks and wood-trying to make it look old.

Of course being on a Bonneville caught their attention, and after walking around inside, nice open layout without being called dude, I was about to leave when I got stopped by a guy more my age than young. He had seen the Bonneville, and asked how long I had been riding. "Today?" I answered, and looking at the miles on my face could tell I had been around the block, and maybe the country a few times. "Follow me," he said, so I did. It was then he ushered me into the basement, for a treasure trove of old bikes. Something not everyone has access to. Walking past the service department, we stopped to introduce me to the service manager, and then deep into the back of the basement-in the front of the building. Supported by old hewn beams, this low ceilinged cellar held about 25 old motorcycles. Some historic, some not, but an accumulation of bikes-Hondas and Yamahas the owner had collected over the past 40 years of dealership ownership. His memories, not some collector list, stuff that was important to him, which was more interesting than some collections I have seen.

A KO CB 750, with the sandcast engine. Just needed some air in the tires to ride it. An 81 six cylinder Honda CBX, the touring edition, that never sold. My friend Ash Marshall some 20 years ago tried to buy one from Honda-they never sold, and rather than scrap them, Honda offered them to trade schools. Which passed on them-so they went to the crusher anyway. Some nonsense with federal law prohibited them from being sold after that, so dozens of them got crushed, despite Ash's plea to save them. He offered to buy the whole lot. And here sat one-obviously never sold, and thankfully never crushed. Another bike desired by me at the time, but way out of my budget. Still.

A 1976 Special Edition Gold Wing sat next to it. And in random order, and in no special order, were a 1973 YZ 250-last year of the dual rear shocks, a 1973 Elsinore, again the first year, and other bikes I saw, but never made an impact on me. But what did, was a perfect 1972 CL350, Honda's scrambler model. The one that my Triumph Scrambler looks more like than the old TR 6 it is copied after. The blue and white paint perfect, and remove the sissy bar-which we all had at the time, and I wanted to take it home with me-or at least for a 40 year memory ride. My first new bike was a 1972 CB 350, the super sport model with low pipes. The scrambler could do dirt roads with it trials style tires and high pipes-most of NJ was and is still paved to this day, making my CB purchase more logical-at least at the time. Remember, when trying to talk your parents into getting you a motorcycle they hated, any argument is fair game. Even a near perfect CL77, just like the one BH had, the first bike I rode on the street, except this one didn't have the hand painted by brush tank, and self lubricating engine. 70mph with two SPFHS seniors riding it-if only we had known. Maybe the best $50 ever spent-or invested.

Now these bikes weren't restored, and definitely not over restored. Just maintained, as original. And for that 30+ minutes in the cellar, this man's memory album of live motorcycles took me back to a simpler, less complicated, but more fun and exciting time of riding.

And upon leaving, Scott showed me some others upstairs I had neglected to notice, and even offered me to come back, as the owner has more in his garage at home, and swaps them occasionally. Way cool, and he didn't even try, or offer to sell me a bike. But from him I would, he rides. And we shared a common love of motorcycles. Off the freeways, and away from the superstores, with high overhead, and impersonal service. It was all worth one last walk by the old Honda 50, with the the fuel tank kit. Honda sold a kit for their 50cc scooters, which made it look like a motorcycle, rather than the step thru scooter. And the first bike I learned to fall off of was just like it, my friend Ricky Schill's. And on the way home, I remembered how fast 30mph felt in 1968, and learning to shift and how the first ride is always the most special. Blood, sweat, gears, and all mud, too. If they could see in my full face Arai, they would have wondered what is that old sucker smiling about? No one should wear a smile like that while riding. And there would have been no words to describe it. It is that precious.

Scott reminded me of something that afternoon. He earned my respect, and we shared a common bond. Something forgotten sometimes when sharing Jesus. We need to earn the right to share Him in words, the actions ought to be natural. Get to know the person, and see the need. God will always provide the words. And even if strangers, a bond of Jesus is stronger than even one of bikers-which is pretty strong. Respect, that's it. Looking for long term, rather than just trying to impress or win an argument. Sharing something eternally based, to someone who is temporal-and we don't know for how long. And just like the bikes in the basement, we could talk a language that both of us understood.

I find that trusting God to give me words works best. Christians can use words that the non saved aren't comfortable with. Saved for one. Baptism, repentance, the holy spirit, salvation, and born again-terms that the unsaved don't use-and don't understand the meaning of. Through listening, the words will be made clear by God, and your show of respect.

Scott let me look at the bikes first. It wasn't a tour, where he was the tour guide. We talked, and I asked questions, and he answered. A conversation, not preaching. And two guys, who had nothing else in common except a two wheeled heritage, left friends. And we will meet again.

Show love-and sometimes remember you are just planting seeds. Someone else will water it, but that God changes the heart-you can't. So get off the main road, and try out downtown. Take some time to visit , and stop and chat. And enjoy the day, as the Jesus in you comes out better than any rehearsal, and will win souls when you let God use you.

You never know who is watching, or what is in their basement. How long you been serving God? Today?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

three blind mice-you shall have no other God's before me

The following stories are true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent, and me! They are based on actual events. This is the story of these "three blind mice."

Mouse number one lives between the freeway and me-we must have passed his house thousands of times in the past eight years. He has all the toys-and they can and have been seen from his driveway. His first toy-a huge fishing boat, takes up the whole area reserved for a motor home-so you can imagine its size. Except we have never seen the space empty. If he uses it, it must be under cover of dark, or sneaks it out when we are out of town. He also has the latest BMW motorcycle, the latest off road truck, lifted, etc, and the only time I see him is when he waves to us on our bikes when we pass. I think I might have seen him once in his cul de sac on his BMW, but they all look grey and the same to me. He seems to be a nice man, but if I had to guess on his religion, I would base it on a false prosperity lie. He who dies with the most toys wins. Which they don't, the toys stay, and things on earth provide no guarantee for heaven after. But his FICA score and banker approve, so in the eyes of the world he is more than OK, he is successful.

Mouse number two is a retired businessman. He has had positions with titles, and always made better than average money. But his wife, who looks to support him, is really a liability. His earnings and any position are really about her, she thinks, and uses them for a political base. A facade of caring for others, as long as it benefits her. A veneer so tough it must be medicated just to function. Common in their peer group. Doing things others wouldn't even accept a thanks for, doing the right thing, she holds any gifts over the receivers head, reminding them they owe her. And she is miserable, as her husband works a lot of overtime. The old saying, if you don't get love at home, you get it at the office is true. He doesn't want to come home-she is there. But for appearance, and professional, and fiscal reason, stays married. They both play games with each other, and as long as the checks clear, they will stay together. Or more precisely-she will stay. They live the belief that they are happy, this is what happiness is, and since he is successful in business, he is successful at home. A false religion, based on a warped and twisting of scripture. Don't ever cross them, or expose them-the real them is hiding just waiting to devour you. Feel good theology is not based on love, just the love of-money.

Mouse number three has been associated with a national ministry for many years. Whenever he talks about God, he means the ministry. He recently married, and his new wife didn't realize he has a mistress-the ministry. On the honeymoon, they go camping with others in the ministry-but do find time to spend a few days alone. All activities revolve around the ministry, and although they travel a lot, it is all ministry related. Their time alone is shared doing ministry activities, they are truly never alone. His mistress is always there first. But they will stay married, for ministry reasons. And based upon what the ministry says to do, and their legalistic viewpoints, they will never be happy, but you will never know it. They will never admit it, as his mistress owns him, and in turn owns them. Not what she meant when she said " I do." She thought she was marrying a man.

God simply tells us to seek first the Kingdom of God, and its righteousness. Righteousness-being right with God. And since God also advises "to have no other Gods BEFORE me," other things have gotten between God and the three blind mice above. On judgment day, God will not recognize them. And in vain, they will complain, "but I told everyone what a great God you were by giving me toys. I did toy runs. I own my Bible, see how shiny it is. Like my cars. I was on social committees to help the poor. We even gave 10%, when we could. I gave up my old things when I bought new. We made almost every Christmas program. I gave my life to ministry, and so did my wife. We researched every problem, then gave advice. I even had a title, and was man of the year with them. I never gave them one minute of trouble. We did all things in the ministry's name-for you! We are even up to date on the building fund pledge. In this economy!"

And God will say-"be gone you evil ones, for you never knew me. When I was hungry, thirsty, alone, in jail, or sick-where were you? I was always a means to an end for you. You kept your Bible as shiny as your cars, and never used it. You did all things publicly for others to see, to bring you glory. You supported a ministry, not me. Did you ever spend time sharing and praying with your kids? Did you take in a stranger-no matter what the cost? Did you live in the spirit, or did you have to find assurance for each action by ministry by-laws or legalism? Did you love me first?"

"No all these other things were between us. And they will be eternally." Sadly, it doesn't have to be this way. Trust God. He will provide all your needs. He will fill your cup with mercy to overflowing. He will give you riches, in relationships and with him none other can. He will assure you heaven, and can be in Him, instead of a slave to a ministry. Repent-turn from the wrong, and turn to God.

It is not Him who flees, but the mice who scatter in His light. Are you running from, or to? Others can see what dirty rats you are, only God can forgive. Will you let Him, or is the veneer of life so tough that it has invaded your heart? Three blind mice-before a God who gives sight to the blind. "All I know, is I was blind, and now I can see!"

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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yes Jimmy, there is a super man, his name is Jesus

Different doesn't necessarily mean bad, sometimes different means different. And just because someone stands out, doesn't mean they are outstanding. Yet in history, both real and fictional, people who are different make for more exciting stories. And despite their exceptional talents, life can be harder for them than so called normal folks. Normal experiences for us can be unavailable to them.

Take Clark Kent for instance. With talents and abilities far beyond those of mortal men. And watch him in his teenage years. As all his friends are noticing the changes in girls, he has always been able to look through their clothes, and has a better understanding of why God clothed us-to protect us from how some look naked. No need to check out the girls, he already has, and is bored by now. Lust was no big deal to him, no one had to sneak him a girlie magazine, his version was live. Why even bother to wrap his birthday present-all that fun of guessing was gone too. Picture him wanting to play baseball, but not being able to. Who could catch his fastball, or his change-up for that matter? Stolen bases would be boring. No one would run against him in track, forget wrestling, judo, or karate. Golf-sorry Tiger. Who could return his serve in tennis? And he was good from any distance for a field goal, except who could tackle him. Just throw it up, he'll catch it. When others were enjoying team mates and competition, he couldn't even participate, due to his exceptional skills.

And when his older friends got into motorcycles-that would go the ton, he feigned interest. As much fun as motorcycles looked, and sounded, he could fly. No challenge, man made or other, outside of Kryptonite could stop him. Which left him with no challenges at all, except having to put up with the likes of Jimmy Olson, Lois, and Perry White. Criminals-boring.
Asteroids rushing towards earth, boring. Need an x-ray, see if your insurance covers him. All that ability, and no peer group worthy of him. So he hides behind Superman, in his suit, and has to have a dual identity. Just so others would play with him. Poor guy, can't even go to the beach without someone wanting to have him rescue them. Ten foot waves, he rides them, easy. And without a board! And even the great whites throw him back.

Maybe he could play guitar, but not even Dennis Agajanian or Clapton could keep up with his riffs. He definitely has a good beat, but is tough to dance to. And in all his superior talents, he would be bored, and eventually lose interest. Both to his loss, and ours. Do you think he ever wanted to be just normal ,like any other kid?

Clark Kent, a lonely man in a normal world.

Joe and Mary's kid was also unique. The perfect son, perfect student, perfect brother, and perfect friend-he could do no wrong. He would never cheat, when he said he didn't do it, you knew he didn't because he never lied, and imagine being his little brother-they always knew you were guilty. He never got sick, so he never missed a day at work. Didn't need health insurance. You never went hungry when you were with him. How's the fishing, just ask where they are biting today. And like Superman, he had talents far beyond those of mortal men. But where Clark would someday face mortality, he faced eternity. If he lost his hearing,would it still be better than ours? Superman could catch criminals, only Jesus could offer them forgiveness. And yet, despite his obvious superiority, both physical, intellectual, and spiritual-they called "crucify Him!" He was too different. For he was truly God and truly man. A combination that no comic strip would allow. And no comic strip could duplicate. God even calls him unique-His only, begotten son.

Your chance of ever meeting Superman are nil-he is make believe. But fun to believe in. You can know all about Superman, but never know him. Then there is Jesus. 2000 years after his crucifixion, He still lives. And you can know Him far beyond any TV or magazine article. You can not only know about him, but know Him! And he doesn't want fans, he will call you brother, and friend. A true hero by any standards.

But yet so many choose not to believe. And I wonder, we can even believe the stories we were told growing up, who say he isn't real, but that Santa and the Easter Bunny are-when we all know they aren't. Why do we easily go with a lie, when the truth is so readily available?

Break out of normalcy today, and trust someone immortal. A hero, but one who stands closer. The only one worthy of worship, who stands alone when it comes to Super Heroes, and their performances. And while others are legends-He is truth for right now.

He paid the price of fame in humility. Don't you think he deserves a chance in your heart?

Truth, justice, and the American way!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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endowed by our creator

Did you ever want to be something different than you turned out? When you were a kid, did you want to be a doctor, lawyer, cowboy, or fireman? Jobs that looked so glamorous, based on getting good parking spaces and making lots of money as a doctor or lawyer, riding the range as a cowboy, and meeting cowgirls, or steering the back of a hook and ladder? How many of us played super heroes such as Batman or Spiderman? But never realized the drawbacks to being a hero like them.

Consider Batman, and I prefer to remember him as the sixties version on TV, not the dark personality the movies of today have made him into. Consider the following, things we all take for granted. We all like attention, but this dude can't go anywhere without being identified. Try getting a romantic table for two, Bat daters. And if it is formal, does he wear a tux with tails over his cape? Does he always wear his gloves when eating? When he gets a Big Mac attack, does he get special sauce all over them? How does he eat pizza? And when walking her to the door, does he Bat kiss her goodnight, old chum? And if he tries to hug her at the drive in, remember the Batmobile has bucket seats, and "hey Batman, your belt is cutting into me." To whom much is given, but is required.

And what happens if our intrepid hero is conducting a safe driving seminar at Woodrow Roosevelt High, where Bruce Wayne's young ward, Dick Grayson, aka Robin is Student Council President. Does he even have a driver's license? Which means he had to have a birth certificate. Who were his parents, is he here legally? What is his address? Did he takes drivers ed, and does he have an insurance card in the Batmobile. "Sorry officer, I left my wallet in my other tights." Sorry Batman, $20 or 20 days. Just keeping the laws of Gotham City may be trying for such a hero.

And I have always wondered, what is a young ward? Is Dick being groomed to be like Ward Cleaver, Beaver's dad? And somewhere is some lady being groomed as a young June? Stay tuned...

And does he have a summer costume-it has to get hot in the summer in Gotham City, and the Batmobile has no a/c. Can you imagine the Caped Crusader in shorts, a wife beater, and sandals? Does he have a lightweight cape for those days with Santa Anas? Does he have a summer mask? Holy heat wave, Robin! Where does he fill the Batmobile? Can you see him at the self serve, using his debit card? And whose credit did they check, and does the card say Batman on it? Who are his credit references? Does he have a checking account with overdraft protection? Does he have a PIN number? Or even a social security number? And does he pay in? The Democrats want to know-so they can tax him. and when is the last time he prepared a tax return? Could this be the end of our caped crusaders? Are they duped like Al Capone for not paying taxes?

And finally as he gets older, and puts on weight, does he ever tire of running around like Peter Pan in tights? To the Batgym, Robin. Got a big date tonight. Maybe if you used the Batstairs instead of the Bat pole. And inquiring minds want to know, is it tough to go to the bathroom in your outfit? I notice there is no zipper. What if you get the urge after too many Batcolas, and...well, I think you get it. "Give me 20 minutes Boy Wonder, I've got to stop at the next rest room and relieve myself. Excuse me citizen, this is an emergency, can I go ahead of you?" "I've really got to have Alfred install zippers in these things." There are some things even a superhero can't control.

But don't blame Batman, these things aren't his fault. They are his creators fault, who had no insight as to the future, and little concern for day to day living. A man whose vision fell short, and whose design has many flaws. Probably created in his image of what a hero should be, but forgetting the details. But whose shortcomings were forgiven, if only because the Caped Crusader is so humble, but even more so because of the incredibly ignorant citizens of Gotham City. Please, don't get me started on Chief O'Hara. Would you let him even cross your kid across the street? But a true creator knows all these things, and when God created us, from the dust of the earth, He made us perfect. No need for heroes, but then we sinned, and all the laws, sacrifices, and kings and their men couldn't restore us. It took a real hero, one who is really super, and that is Jesus. Uniquely created like no other, He was both fully man, and fully God. And born of a virgin, and died and was resurrected. By His father, the perfect creator of the universe, even including the citizens of Gotham City. And He died so we can live-now that's super, My Hero!

And it gives us time to stop and be thankful of how we were created. Why five fingers, and not four or six? Isn't it good the hand came before the glove. Why only two arms? Why do we have only one mouth, but two ears? Note-to listen twice as much as you speak. But the important thing is, you were uniquely made in the image of a loving God, and given a heart, so you could make the choice of serving Him or not. And when we do, there is no need for heroes, as love covers a multitude of sin. God knew what he was doing then, and He still does today. Even Batman would agree with that.

Which makes me wonder? Where does he go to church? Does he attend a Bible study? If he is a true hero he does. Quick, to the Batcave Robin. We are almost late for church.

"Holy -------, Batman." And remember Robin, there is only one who was found worthy, and holy. Remember Him next time you blurt out an euphemism. "You're right Batman, can you forgive me?"

"And Jesus always will." And He does it all without wearing a cape. And we never got a chance to thank Him!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogpsot.com

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