parable of the golf date

I would like to go on record as to the fact I do not play golf.  I once did, and in fact wasn’t really too bad a golfer, but any game where the low score wins I lose interest in.  To me golf can best be described as one swing, and 4 minutes walking to the next one.  Boring.  Exercise it ain’t, for no one walks any more.  And for me that is boring.  Time consuming, and expensive.  Which all add up to frustrating, so why golf when I can ride.  How exciting is driving a golf ball when you can ride a motorcycle?  And like I said I wasn’t a bad golfer, I really wasn’t a good one either.  Until mini bikes and motorcycles mixed with girls took over my life, I played every morning in the summer.  I was never a long driver, but straight, very rarely off the fairway.  My putting game was good, usually down in 2 or 3.  But get me with 10-20 yards of the green, and I was looking at 4 shots just to get there.  It was either too much, and finding the downhill run on the other side landing me in the lake, or if I didn’t reach the lake, hitting it too hard again over the green, back where I started. Too much club you could trace my divots to the green, and while those others in the foursome waited patiently, I grew more impatient.  My game could best be described at that point like the old Dennis the Menace cartoon, where Dennis proudly claims “good thing I went along today, Dad got his highest score ever.” 

Now the 17th fairway at Ashbrook was a dogleg to the right, with a pond at the turn.  Good golfers could hit over it, for me I stored balls there for later.  Only to have them resold back to me by the kid who lived right off the green on 17, his wagon filled with balls that had gone in his yard, or he fished from the pond.  Quite the entrepreneur at age 12, used balls for 25 cents.  All from donations from golfers like me.  So I don’t play golf, I don’t even like it the game.  You can have it, and the only redeeming quality I can find it has is that it keeps you from driving on the roads I ride.   And if those who golf drive a car like they drive a golf ball, we are all better off. 

But miniature golf, that’s different.  Or it used to be, I was a good putter and could navigate the windmills and bricks placed between me and the hole.  Strange bends, uphills leading to bends you couldn’t see, I was there.  Until one night on a date with Marcia, and my game fell apart.  I had a bad case of the yips, and made every bad shot you could.  After bragging in front of the crowd how good I was, I was embarrassed, and cussing myself out over every missed shot.  Silently of course.  But as the night drug on, and my shots got worse, hers got better.  You could have blindfolded her and she would make them, and then there was me.....and after the first nine I was still ahead, she was that bad!  But the back nine was her chance to improve, and she did, as I stayed mired in the dulldrums.  And when we sat down she was excited, she even had a couple of holes in one.  We stood and added up each others scores, and I was beyond embarrassed.  She had beaten me, fair and square for what that was worth, and was smiling out loud, laughing.  And I was, well embarrassed.  But cool, so as not to show it.  And then she caught me off guard, giving me a great big hug, she exclaimed “that was so sweet of you to let me win!”  Let’s just say I could not have planned it any better, so kept my mouth shut.  And soon my horrible golf game had turned into the romantic move of the night.  No other strategy could have made her any happier, or think I was more caring than my losing.  And it got better...

As she told her friends on the phone that night after getting home, she bragged how sweet I was to let her win.  All the other boyfriends ridiculed their dates, I had kept my mouth shut from embarrassment and it worked.  My loss turned out to be my gain.  A dating maneuver that others would later claim for their own was started that night by me.  And so you see, I really don’t like golf, but it does have it good sides.  But so does keeping your mouth shut.

Funny how the tongue can get you in trouble, or keep you out.  Being a charter member of the”I’ll Show You and Say Something Stupid Club” I am still learning while silence is golden.  And if you don’t say it, it is harder to be misquoted.  James warns us that the tongue can be evil, with it we both praise God, but then curse his creation.  Or worse him.  Can fresh water and bad water come from the same spring?  Scripture also alludes to us that what is on our heart, will come out of our mouths.  Also our attitudes, hmmm?  Maybe he is on to something here....Jesus tells us the tongue is a world of evil waiting to corrupt us, spreading wildfires like the gates of hell if not controlled.  Both my golf game and putting were out of character for me that night, but by being silent I was vindicated.  In my silence, I lost the round, but won the date.  If only life were that simple, a good reminder can be this parable of the golf game.  If you don’t say it, it cannot be repeated. And is harder to misquote.  But showing love when it is on your heart, which can only come from a loving God, reveals God in you.  No one has seen God, but many will see you today.  Be the one that the Bible speaks of in love, show Jesus in actions and attitudes, using words when needed.  My golf game needed help that night, but my dating game increased because of it.  Proving all things work for good for those called by God.  Right there in Romans.  And if it works for golf, and dating, imagine how it can improve your riding skill?  Social skills?  Your relationship with Christ? 

Avoid the rush of being known as the unstable man, who has problems in all his ways.  Let the words of your mouth and the meditations of your heart be pleasing to the Lord.  Do not be double minded, saying one thing and doing another.  God doesn’t keep score, others do.  And are sure to remind you when you aren’t up to par.  I never let Marcia know I didn’t let her win on purpose.  That was a gift from me I didn’t know I was giving.  Everyone likes to be a winner, she won twice that night.  But so did I. And you can too.  When it appears all hope is lost, remember it appeared that way at the cross.  But three days later it all changed-forever.  Jesus will change your heart, and your game.  And its plans.  He didn’t say he who has a mouth let him speak, he did say he who has an ear let him hear.  Proven one night at miniature golf, on a date we both would remember.  Unlucky at cards, lucky at love....I find trusting Jesus much better.  And you can quote me on that.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

cycle dates

Even more amazing than the fact that we remember at all, is the things that we do remember.  While going through some old mini discs from an older digital camera, we weren’t sure of what date we had been involved in with some of the  pictures.  Backgrounds with cars didn’t help much, as in the time period all cars were assuming the now standard gray, white, or black-with various shades to confuse the curious.  But when we saw our motorcycle in the picture, we suddenly knew the year, and usually the time, date, and those involved.  All by just seeing a motorcycle, we could date the pictures.  And then the memories would come flooding back, of weather, food, roads, and little things along the way that seemed unimportant then, but led credibility to the memory now.  A picture of me putting on a rain suit lost its time frame, until I saw the Tiger, and could place it in 2008, at the New River in West Virginia, and the memories of the road, and later lunch at Skeeter’s came back.  Just by knowing the bike that day, I knew the year.  And a rainy day that God made everything green for our ride down the old road down and over the river.  A 45 minute ride, rather than the 45 seconds to cross the new bridge....8 summers ago, and we still have the Tiger, although it is going up for sale.  A new Tiger, really just a newer Tiger has come into our life, and new photos to tell about our space in time are waiting to be taken, but for over 95,000 miles, 48 states and Canada, this has been the identifying icon in all our trip photos.  Hard to believe 9 years from when we bought it have passed, bikes and us have changed, only the memories haven’t.

I know it is time to sell it, but somehow I feel like I am abandoning an old friend.  In 124 degree temps she never let me down.  Two flash floods on one trip, no water too deep for her to be overtaken by.  So many 500+ miles day they are hard to count, and trips taken that are filed away and not yet retrieved.  And with such high mileage, even though I put 2000 miles on her last month in 6 days, to most she is just another high mileage bike.  For sale for the best offer, it almost doesn’t seem fair, and inhumane.  But I have had dozens of bikes, and sold them to get the next new one, yet this is different.  And setting up the new Tiger obvious comparisons are made.  The bags are smaller, tank smaller, and the seat different.  Two different bikes separated by only one year, but completely different in attitude.  And with 91,000 miles of riding difference between them, the old is being made new again.  I know no matter what the new buyer says, no one will treat her like I did, but I have to remember it is only a motorcycle, and hope it opens up new riding horizons for them like it did for me.  Just an old bike to most who read the Craigslist ad, but a treasure trove of memories for Theresa and I.  And the bike that all others will always be compared too.  The first bike I am looking for excuses to keep....

But others have come and gone, 5 BMW’s from the 70’s, the FJ100 with 76,000 miles on it.  The Z-1 from 1975 sold to Tom when I traded for a 1981 KZ750, he wanted it so bad he paid retail for it against my new bike.  The Honda Nighthawk 650 that got horrible gas mileage making Oklahoma seem longer than it is.  A most forgettable XS 500 Yamaha, what step down that was.  15 Triumphs, many with over 65,000 miles ridden on them, and each bike brings back stories.  The BMW R75/5 sold to a man who owed me money, and getting paid back twice, once the cash, the other when he came to the Lord.  Christians waved at the sticker on the bike, and he ended up becoming one.  Some bikes that broke my heart, some that broke my wallet, yet a time capsule just waiting to be opened with each one remembered.  My first new bike, the 1972 CB350, and all the rides it took me on.  And even all the miles done on press bikes from Triumph, I can date them too by rides and trips.  Thousand mile days on Daytonas, once was enough, to riding new bikes not yet available to dealers, each one has a time and place in my files of fun.  Just give me a year, I can tell what I was riding, and the trips and rides come back.  Filled in with where the boys were, where I was working, and where I lived.  All from one photo in time of a motorcycle.  Cycle dating, much better than carbon dating, you’ll have to take my word for it as no cave men are around to argue.  Maybe it is more than just an old bike with high miles after all.

But along with the rides of the past 40 years are the trips Jesus has taken me on.  Along for each mile, on each road, he has never left me or forsaken me.  The memories, rather the testimonies can fill a library, just like John wrote.  So many they cannot be contained, so should be shared.  But many don’t, they keep their light under a bushel, and never see the blessings they could, or should.  Time with Christ once filled their lives, now he is just a memory.  Abandoned, and maybe not even looked back on.  Nothing is more heart breaking than seeing an old friend in Jesus, and finding they have chosen to walk without him.  And their life shows it, the testimonies have stopped, and they don’t want to hear yours.  You both leave shattered a bit, a choice you made to stay with Christ no matter the situations that they didn’t.  But just like bikes come and go, Jesus doesn’t have to.  And if you fell away, he still welcomes you back.  While away you were building testimonies, you just didn’t know it.  And coming back now they can be shared, to encourage others.  The empty years without Jesus can be filled in with new ones today.  Look ahead to things on high, that is where we are going.  New rides and roads, just like the new bikes, just waiting to be ridden.  Riding old memories is fun, anticipating new one is more fun.  The one today exceeding them all.  Today will be a memory tomorrow, just as today was tomorrow yesterday.  Fortunately Jesus never changes, and can change us when we let him. 

Motorcycles will take you places, Jesus can take you even more.  Places of the heart not found on any map.  A relationship that is the basis for all others, who brings new bikes into your life, and your old one into the life of another.  So many times the old bike that is new to the new owner has them more excited than you are.  A new relationship has begun for them too, and soon they will have stories and testimonies of rides.  Works with Christ too.  To some just an old God, but to those who believe new life.  New adventures, and new blessings.  Meeting others who share their stories, and listen to yours.  “I had one like that once.  Met my wife on it, still riding with her.  Wish I had never sold it....”  Don’t let your story of Jesus be the same.  Hang onto Jesus no matter what or where you ride.  Hang onto the precious memories you have, and get excited for new ones.  Old friends take time, so do old motorcycles.  But each day with Jesus can be fresh and new.  Make a date with him today, one you will never forget.  Even better when dated by motorcycle.  So why are you still sitting here when you should be riding?

And so I will put the Tiger up for sale...it is someone else’s turn.  Maybe yours.  Just don’t ask me to give up Jesus.  I hope you can say the same when we meet. 

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

"the T stands for Larry, my father couldn't spell..."

Saturday morning for us kids was a treasure trove of cartoons.  Funny,yet sophisticated for  our 1960’s minds, we laughed, but it was later on in our teens when we began to understand the cleverness in the names of them.  Various bad guys like Dishonest John, whose “dirty deeds done cheap, special rates for Sundays and holidays,” would threaten heroes like Beany and Cecil.  Snidely Whiplash was always trying to kidnap Nell Fenwick, while Dudley Do Right would always rescue her at the end.  Yet his affection was always for his horse, poor Nell.  Dudley Nightshade was our favorite on Crusader Rabbit, whose partner in crime was Billious Green, great plays on words.  We laughed at all the names, we knew they were funny, we just didn’t know why.  Later as we got older and wiser at age 10, we had Milton the Monster, with Count Kook, and Heebie and Jeebie.  Monsters were a big thing at the time...at least in our neighborhood of kids.  Boris Badenov and his side kick Natasha were signs of the Cold War, where they reported to Fearless Leader, an obvious Nazi flashback.  But by the end of the show, Rocky would save the day, despite Bullwinkle, a favorite was in returning the Kerwood Derby, a play on words for Durwood Kirby, a news anchor on CBS.  Good and safe satire, entertaining to us kids, and that could be appreciated by adults.  And to start every morning we had Courageous Cat and Minute Mouse, with the coolest jazz music ever on a cartoon.  Later in the day we would laugh at Deputy Dawg, and Vincent Van Gopher with his witty insight.  Tom slick taught us there is no such word as quit, and Fearless Fly was really a meek, timid little fly known as Hiram, until he drank the secret sauce.  If only we were as smart then as the cartoons were, sadly some never make it.  Not the cartoons, us.

But my favorite was Ragland T. Tiger, the sidekick of Crusader Rabbit.  They reside in Lukupu Junction, and the show was perhaps the ultimate test for satire.  Arson/Sterno the two headed dragon, and Seymour the singing Dinosaur, who lost his voice at age 2 like all dinosaurs amused us.  King Kong Wong kidnapped Dr. Ed Foo Young, who was trying to perfect a game of Chinese checkers. We learned Civil War history through Simone Legree, a testament to Uncle Tom’s Cabin, who dealt with S. Crow.  Titus Canby ran the National Holiday Society, Dr. Frank N. Stein lived in Loudmouth, Wyoming, and they panned for gold in Alaska in “If Anyone Can, Yukon.”  Even rock and roll was made fun of, when they went searching for the missing 18th hole in Scotland, where a monster got poor Angus, his roar was really made by playing a rock and roll record at slow speed.  Anything and everything was fair game in the name of fun, so naturally my favorite line came from Rags, who when asked “what does the T. in Ragland T. tiger stand for?” responded, “Larry, my father couldn’t spell.”  And we all laughed at that one.  Funny plays on words, thought provoking, mixed with history and humor, and not a one selling toys.  But what I wouldn’t give for a set of Crusader Rabbit episodes today.   To the Wayback Sherman....

So maybe a sail back with Captain Peter “Wrong way” Peachfuzz is order.  A look at names from the Bible.  Nebuchadnezzar, what other name has two z’s?  Ozzie?  Who names their kids Methusaleah any more?  Live long and prosper, Mr. Spock.  Mushi, Puah, and Nepheg, you wonder how many kids at PS 31 in Jerusalem made fun of them.  We had a dog named Ichabod, whose Bible reference predated Ichabod Crane of the Headless Horseman story by thousands of years.  Zebadiah, son of Asahel, brother of Joab.  Nergalsharezar the Rab-Mag....all names that could be found on any Saturday morning cartoon show in Jesus’ time.  Yet they all mean something to those who named them, and you wonder how many were named by a father like Rags had who couldn’t spell.  Reminds of a friend I knew named AB, the first two letters of the alphabet.  They couldn’t spell....But there are names, and there are names, with one above all names.  Jesus.  Just the mention of the name and even atheists know who we are talking about.  Demons flee at the sound of it, and souls are set free in it.  From the Hebrew it is comprised of two meanings, that when put together means God will deliver his people.  Yet the Jews are blinded by it, and even avoid the New Testament, despite the humble origins.  But to those that believe, it means life, and life abundantly.

And when Christ is added, meaning the anointed, we see him as the one sent from God to be our deliverer, the anointed one.  Name above all names.  But it is important to realize that he was anointed by God, and not by man.  Where we may name kids today after Biblical names, only Jesus Christ was anointed by God, the unique son, unlike no other.  He is the only one who is prophesied of, who was with God in the beginning, and was and is God.  Who died for our sins while we were yet sinners, who rose again so we can too.  So much and so much more in just one name...yet many deny him.  Taking it in vain, while he asks “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”  But maybe the gospel foretold in Genesis 5 tells it best, reading the geneology of the fore fathers and how they tell of Jesus.  Of course it is just a coincidence it all points to Jesus.....yeah right.

Hebrew English
Adam Man
Seth Appointed
Enosh Mortal
Kenan Sorrow;
Mahalalel The Blessed God
Jared Shall come down
Enoch Teaching
Methuselah His death shall bring
Lamech The Despairing
Noah Rest, or comfort.

A man appointed to sorrows, blessed God who came down to teach, his death will be despairing , but will bring us peace.  Rest and comfort.  God made mortal.  So we can be made immortal.

Life has come along way from those Saturday morning shows, sad too many have fallen away.  But Jesus is the way back, the original Wayback Machine.  He forgives, and even if your father couldn’t spell,  he knows just who you are.  He knows your name.  Count Kook may have put the wrong brain in Milton, but God put his spirit in Jesus, and offers it to you today.  Good deeds done daily, special rates on holidays and Sundays.  Today is the day of salvation....he’s “comin’ Beany Boy...”  he’s comin’.  And to him there is no word as quit!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

 

days that end in why

Many a comedian has joked about coming to the fork and the road and taking it.  But what if it is a “Y” in the road, like in Ohio, on the Y Bridge?  Still take it....just not sure which way, but be assured each road will lead to somewhere.  Days can be like that too, like waking up and wondering why?  Why did I sleep so well last night, or why didn’t I?  Why does my dog immediately upon being let out sniff the air?  Why is it harder to hear noises on cloudy days?  Why do we have to go to work?  To school?  To church?  Why when it is cloudy here it is May Gray or June Gloom, but back east means rain?  And so we do many things in life before we cross the Y bridge of life wondering why.  Some will just settle for what their mother used to tell them, “because I said so, and I’m the Mommy!”  Insuring a life filled with Wheatina, and with all the nourishment, just none of the flavor.  Fortunately God has instilled a pioneering spirit in many of us,who rather than just begrudgingly obeying Mom, want to know why.  And so maybe why has an attitude about it, we want to know, maybe to learn enough to remember to pass a test, as seen on the freeways with so many bad drivers.  Or maybe just curious of how things work, like knowing when your bike runs best at what RPM, to get the best performance.  Which can lead us to making things better, or just duplicating them, “almost as good as a Xerox” with no pun intended.  Which is why factory parts work best, and may cost more, but in the end will keep you out of trouble.  Life will deliver us too many imitators, while we tend to question innovators, and end up either way asking why. 

But the one answer that asks more questions is because.  “Why?”  “Because I said so...”   Which can build resentment, but really never answers the question why.  One philosophy has us taking a fatalistic view, whatever happens happens.  To which I ask “then why pray?”  “Because...”  And once again we return to the fork in the road.  It seems we can stay out of a lot of trouble if we just don’t ask why.  Yet many will sing the song of The Mickey Mouse Club, where we ask “why?”  And even then the answer is “because he loves you.”  But when it comes to the things of God, we ask why only when we don’t agree with him or his decisions.  Why did God let my husband die?  Why did he allow earthquakes?  Why did he let me lose my job, my home, my family?  And worse yet, rather than asking why, blaming him.  Why did you make me lose my job?  Why did you make storms?  Why did you make make my wife leave me? Why do you make us go to church?  And finally, why do we fall asleep wondering why, when we are looking for justification?  Why do so many days, tough days end in why?

Maybe it all goes back to Mickey’s song, “because he loves you.”  First love is more than an emotion, it is the person of God manifest in Jesus Christ.  And because, that word again, he loved us first, he calls us back to him, so we can love him.  Not the other way around.  God will never demand his own way, but will allow events to occur so we can change direction and turn back to him.  “Why did God send me to jail?”  He didn’t, your crime did, and many come to salvation while in jail.  Who might not have any other way.  Why do we get sick?  Why did I have to have open heart surgery?  To show the greatness of God in every situation.  So why pray if God is going to have his way anyway?  To communicate, listen then speak to what he has to say.  After my open heart surgery and the miracle God performed in me, and for my family, I never asked why, I just knew in words I cannot express.  Jesus never leaves you, even while in a coma, or when your heart is out of your body.  He stays, the spirit never vacating you.  And I am thankful for the many prayers, maybe millions on prayer chains around the world.  Thank you all, I believe you asked seeking an answer, just like I did when I asked God, if you are going to do your will, why pray?  Did all those requests make a difference?  His answer may surprise you...and have you look at prayer differently.

Revelation 1 tells us John bore witness of the things he writes.  So we can be blessed, so God gets the glory.  it isn’t about us, but for us.  And herein lies the answer.  As he told me “so when you share your testimony I get the glory.”  So I could testify to his greatness.  To encourage, to rescue, to save those who doubt.  Who speak but don’t listen, and then wonder why.  To bear witness of the everlasting love of Jesus Christ.  Why, because he loves you.  And finally C, he “will see you soon.”  God wants to spend time with us, to bless us, to have us tell of his love.  To tell others.  Yet we cannot see him, no one ever has, so he needs us to show his love to others, so they can see him.  And when we love others as he has loved us, he means our enemies too....why? Because we were all enemies once, and his love changed us.  Our love for others is the evidence that he loves us. 

So if your day has been one of “why Lord?” know why.  Sometimes your sin will find you out, but each case Jesus has provided the way back.  That’s love, and for some it takes a storm, a disease, a jail term, or catastrophe to see God at work.  Yet when we do, we wonder why doesn’t every one else?  You may have started your day wandering, or wondering why.  And even in the in between times where we spend most of times, wondering why.  But we can end the day knowing why, knowing that the answer is a person.  Jesus is why, and who.  And when we know him and trust him, we bear witness of him, and to him.  So the next time someone asks why, now you know.  Revealed years ago by his spirit, and sung by millions over the years on TV.  “Because he loves you.”  Isn’t God being God enough to just love him?  “Em-Oh-Yu-Es-EE.”  Have trouble showing his love, sing Mickey’s song.  And if you have trouble singing, you can always show it. Maybe the best way to show the gospel anyway, using words only when needed.  Don’t start or end, or spend your day wondering why, when you can know who.  And why the gospel is so simple, so we can get it.  Getting into heaven is easier than getting into Disneyland if you know the right person.  Why?  “Because Jesus loves you...”  Isn’t that enough?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

a battle of wits with an unarmed man

ip Code:	56902
City:	Parcel Return Service
State:	DC [District of Columbia]
Counties:	DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, DC
Multi County:	No
City Alias(es):	Parcel Return Service Prs Parcel Return Svc

IP Code 56902 2010 Census Demographics

Current Population:	0
2010 Population:	0
Households per ZIP Code:	0
Average House Value:	$0
Avg. Income Per Household:	$0
Persons Per Household:	0.00
White Population:	0
Black Population:	0
Hispanic Population:	0
Asian Population:	0
American Indian Population:	0
Hawaiian Population:	0
Other Population:	0
Male Population:	0
Female Population:	0
Median Age:	0.00 years
Male Median Age:	0.00 years
Female Median Age:	0.00 years

# Residential Mailboxes:	0
# Business Mailboxes:	0
Total Delivery Receptacles:	0
Number of Businesses:	0
1st Quarter Payroll:	$0
Annual Payroll:	$0
# of Employees:	0
Water Area:	0 sq mi
Land Area:	0 sq mi
113th Congressional District:	98
113th Congressional Land Area:	61.40 sq mi
Single Family Delivery Units:	0
Multi Family Delivery Units:	0
# Residential Mailboxes:	0
# Business Mailboxes:	0
Total Delivery Receptacles:

An important lesson learned while at Land Rover was that the support help was no better off than you were.  Nothing was more frustrating than calling the tech line for help, only to have them reading out of the same book as you had.  But it seems lately that this is and wasn’t related only to Land Rover, they were just so screwed up they had made it a fine art.  Yesterday was a case in point.  We had sent some merchandise back ordered on the Internet, that bastion of integrity.  Checking on the progress, the tracking number from UPS directed us to the Postal Service.  The package was available to be picked up.  Leading us to believe it had been sent back, which the woman at the PO thought too.  But not being able to find it, and using the same web site as I did for tracking, called for a supervisor.  Who told me the package was not here, it had been sent zip code 56902.  When I asked where was that, he didn’t know.  Oh, I’m sorry, I thought he would look it up.  Only to find he didn’t have the brains God gave geese, and couldn’t find it.  But assured me that it would be delivered.  It had sat at this 56902 point for 8 days, I wasn’t so sure.  I was tempted to press him further, when I realized it was fruitless.  He was stupid, didn’t have a clue, and barely spoke English.  Too much for me to expect, I am in the US of A, this is the US Postal Service, and they do deliver mail.  All while only losing billions of dollars each year.   They must make it up in volume.  So I quit while I was ahead, and went home to check out zip code 56902.  See the facts below, no one lives there, but they sure do get a lot of mail.  Suddenly it all made sense....

Googling 56902 it popped right up.  Back in the days of 2009, because of s much Internet business, leading to so many returns, they set up 56902, right in Washington, DC to handle all the returns.  Forwarding them to the addressee.  Did I mention this was in Washington, DC?  A leisure activity of the Democratic Party?  When you get a return label from the sender, this is where your package goes, something every postal employee is aware of.  Except for the fool, supervisor fool, who didn’t know.  It seems this man was too stupid to suspend, so they made him a supervisor.  More pay, less hours, less work, less knowledge.  All for the same price, frustration added at no extra charge.  I had engaged in a battle of wits with an unarmed man. 

Which raises the question, since 2009 when UPS, FedEx, and the USPS all combined to handle returns, while wasn’t this man aware of it?  There own web site describes it in detail, with itself referring back to itself if you have any questions.  I guess we have come a long way from putting stamp on a letter, and the mail man delivering it.  We are only as weak as our weakest link, and I have found him.  Curiously this is the same city where a clerk went postal, inventing the term going postal.  The only thing worse was that someone had hired this fool.  Which meant someone had hired him, and so on.  Endless stupidity all for the price of a 49 cent stamp.

Maybe a quick reminder that most of the New Testament was letters sent by Paul,l and that somehow they got there.  Imagine if you will, the church in Ephesus getting a letter from Paul.  The pastor opening it up, or unrolling it, and reading to the congregation.  Just as it was written, no chapters and verses.  Flowing as the spirit had given it to him.  Think of Timothy getting his letters from Paul, words of encouragement he needed to remind himself of the battle he was in.  Titus, the church at Corinth, really getting 4 letters, with only two recorded in scripture.  How the Romans must have cringed at first, but when under God’s love saw Christ as never before.  Letters written to the church to encourage and instruct as needed.  Trusted to be delivered by a postal service.  Without tracking numbers, zip codes, or web sites.  It is never mentioned how much money was lost in those early postal days.

So I am left with a question, for me and you?  If we trust the words of the Bible so much, if we say we trust Jesus, why don’t we trust him as much as we do our postal service?  We know idiots reside there, yet we buy stamps and then mail letters without thinking.  Believing they will arrive.  Yet we stumble over God’s promises?  How many divine letters from the Lord have you received, and didn’t have to look at the return address to know where they came from?  And that we can send them back via prayer, and that we will return with Jesus some day to heaven?  No zip code, but no other place with as much zip.  What would happen if we trusted God as much as we do the post office?

E mail is replacing snail mail.  I will miss the magazines, even the ads and junk mail.  But with so much e mail, can we find the time for some knee mail?  To get on our knees and pray?  I once heard that man is tallest when he is on his knees.  Rather than surrendering to the enemy, surrender to Jesus Christ.  All correspondence gets through to him.  He knows your address, will never address you as occupant.  He will return, the best return on investment you’ll ever have, and you can bypass the Beltway.  But for now, 56902, will be where all returns go first.  Where you return to is up to you. 

Did you ever consider the miracle of the letters in the Bible being delivered by mail?  Almost makes you want to mail something.  Consider Jesus today....no one lives at 56902, yet they still get a lot of mail.  He’ll answer every time.  Much more than a zip code.  Which sorta makes you wonder, where do all the bags lost from the airlines go? 

love with compassion,

Mike

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