I spent a week in Fargo one night. After a day of riding across the hills
of Minnesota, and dodging bird sized mosquitoes, the state bird, I rode into
Fargo, tired and needing rest. After a meal at a local steakhouse, where the
waitress was more interested in my ride than I was the town, I spent a night
that started out quiet at a motel. Safe and secure, I fell asleep early,
figuring I would locate the Triumph dealer the next day, and drive around before
heading west. But sometime in the night, the windows started rattling, and it
was raining-hard. Looking from my second story vantage point, the bike was
upright, but the wind was swirling the rain, so bad you could barely see. So I
did the right thing, I went back to sleep, surely it would be gone by
morning...only to wake up to the fact it had gotten worse. Sitting in the
breakfast room, it was mostly farmer types as evidenced by their bib overalls.
And the older ones were talking of they hadn’t seen a storm like this in years.
And they were staying put. The local news predicted rain and wind all day,
possibly tomorrow, and temps unusually warm, in the sixties. So using all my
uncommon sense, I decided to proceed west. What was I thinking?
Wrapped in my rain suit, with warm clothes underneath, I was warm and dry
underneath. Outside was a different story. I kept figuring, praying that this
rain could not go on forever, hoping forever had a short window that day. But
for 290 miles across North Dakota on I-94, I rode. Maybe the longest single
prayer, if not prayer request ever, “God keep me safe!” I was over the dry
part. How bad was it? The rain was blowing, causing me to lean to the left,
which when I stopped, the left side of my front tire was worn, actually
scuffed, from riding on it. I was wet inside, so much for waterproof, maybe
when they advertise rain suits it is because the rain gets inside, too. I faced
the rain with great disdain on the plain that day, and never have blue skies
felt so welcomed.
I had stopped for gas in Bismarck, all I could think of was the song when I
was a kid about sinking the Bismarck, I didn’t want to sink in Bismarck. So on
I rode, and in Dickinson, North Dakota, the skies turned blue, the scenery could
be seen, it was beautiful, and I stopped for gas and to take off my rain suit.
Mostly dry underneath, it had turned cold, 39 degrees cold. Like 7 degrees
above freezing cold, winter to me. But this September cold was no big deal to
the locals, dressed in t-shirts, and one woman in a summer dress and flip flops
started talking to me. She had more questions about why anyone would ride in
the rain, I was beginning to wonder myself, and did I get wet? As I was
stripping off my rain suit, and watching the steam rise from my clothes in the
sun. So I sat a bit longer than usual, soaking in the sun, and dreaming of a
good night’s sleep, under heavy blankets in a warm motel room. Which was only
another 250 miles away in Montana.....where sure enough it was still 39
degrees.
And when riding to breakfast, and drinking hot chocolate, that or either
tea on the road when cold, a coupe rode in on a Harley, in you guessed it,
t-shirts. It would be in the forties that day, “brisk but not cold,” he told
me, as I sat shivering. So my initial views of North Dakota and Montana may
have been jaded by the rain, and I hope some day to see them again, if I can
figure out which weekend is summer there. And I am dressed better for it. And
maybe even do it in a car, I never want to get rained on like that again, and I
have no one else to blame but myself, it was my decision to ride. Maybe the
first state I ever rode across and saw no motorcycles, no make it two, for I was
the solo rider that day. Fortunately it was only going to rain the next 1500
miles home....
One thing we Christians share with non-believers is in the good times we
forget to pray. Things are going our way, no need to burden God with our
problems. And then the rains hit, and first we complain-admit it, then we beg,
then we ask forgiveness for whining, and then ask God to help. Stop the rain,
make the temp go up, stop the winds. After all those things happened when
others prayed as noted in scripture. But many times they don’t, and only our
perserverence in not giving up takes us through. But more times than not, this
is the time we truly get real with God. We see how outnumbered or outweathered
we are, and turn all things over to him completely. Repenting, promising to
never sin again, to do things right, and never get into another situation like
this. Knowing full well we will. But it is our perseverence in prayer, our not
letting hold of God that keeps us going. Somewhere in the wind and rain we know
he is there. In the midst of the storms, we find peace in his spirit, and cling
tight, hoping not to crash. Hard times, trials and tribulations bring us closer
to Jesus, humbling us, which is better than being humiliated. All things work
together for those who love God, the rain falls on the just and the unjust, and
all trials should be counted as joyful. Obviously James never rode in the
rain. But yet in the midst of the storm that day, I had peace. Which I cannot
describe, inside my Arai was all about Jesus, who took me through the storm. A
reminder of what peace really is in God’s world.
Joy is not the absence of suffering, but the presence of God. So is peace.
A contest was given to come up with a logo for a church. It came down to two
finalists, second place was a serene sunset at the beach. Colors only God could
provide. But the winner showed a mother bird sitting on her nest, protecting
her young, while a storm raged around her. The peace of the Lord keeping her
children safe, a reminder of the Lord in the tough times. Good choice, that one
I can relate to. No beaches in Fargo.
Jesus is not only with us in the storm, but takes us through it. Never was
blue sky so welcomed as when I hit Dickinson, but the cold kept me in prayer.
And for the rest of the 1800 miles, without Jesus the ride would have been cold
and lonely. But I was kept safe, underneath his wings. The same wings that
mount up as eagles, protect us on the ground too. In the midst of the storm,
Jesus is there. He never left me, he just dressed for the rain that day knowing
my decision. Also knowing that based on my decision I would be praying more,
and spending more time with him. Is it possible the rain draws us closer to
God, and that is why he sends it sometimes? When is the last time we praised
him for sun and warmth? Truly it is all about Jesus.
Storms come in all shapes and sizes, we need Jesus in each one. He will
take us through, maybe not unscathed, I was cold and wet, but to the other side,
where we can look back and see how he brought us through. Part of our
testimony, part of our walk. To encourage others, in their storm. That day the
still, small voice of God was heard clearly in the rain and wind. No other
voice sounds so peaceful, so soothing, so reassuring. Don’t wait until the rain
is at your door to start filling sand bags, spend time in Christ today. Let his
spirit, the comforter, comfort you. See a side of Jesus you didn’t know. And
grow closer to him, and see how much he loves us. Enough to weather the storm
of a cross, nothing is too tough for him. Time may fly when we are having fun,
it slows when we are in trouble or distressed. Maybe it is the peace that gives
us rest and slows us down, the desire for the time spent in the spirit to not
end. Maybe that is why James said all trials are joyful, for they end in
prayer, time spent with our Father in heaven. Who sent his son, who left his
spirit to guide us. I’ll just bet James never rode in the rain....
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com