life begins when legalism ends

For me it started with my best friend Bill Moore and his home made mini bike. I can still remember racing at speeds up to 20 mph up Princeton Avenue, through McGinn School and then across Martine Avenue, as we rode, 2 up, seeking new adventures and girls to brag to them about. Then it was Ricky, and his Honda 50, with the kit to make it look like a real motorcycle. Racing along, actually shifting, and then doing it all over again-in the dirt, along the stream at Brookside Park, we were bad, for no one else had real motorcycles like his. And rush of all rushes, sometimes he would let me ride his Kawasaki 125 sometimes-WHOA! And of course Dave Macrae and his Tecumseh powered mini-bike, racing around the streets by the high school during our split sessions. Believe me-you never had this much fun in the library!

But it was riding in the street, with BH, as a senior that changed my life. A whole new world erupted of sights, sounds, smell, and tastes-a world much different than only previously seen from the backseat of my parents Rambler. Riding to other local towns on his old CL77, then finally on my own CB350, we would follow roads just to see where they went. Time didn't matter, that's what headlights were made for. And when Bill traded his CL for a CB like mine, the roads extended farther-sometimes hundreds of miles farther. Riding almost 200 miles on a 90 cent tank of gas, so many roads, so little time. And we would take turns leading, each leading for an hour, then letting the next one pick up from there. We went places I never knew existed, on roads I never knew were there, and a new found freedom was being released via my throttle hand. The freedom to go where you wanted, when you wanted-while others commuted, we toured. While others took the Parkway, we took the back roads to the shore. And while others borrowed their parents' Rambler, we carried an extra helmet, just in case the few times we got lucky with girls, they would ride with us. But given the choice between girls or cycles-the cycles would always win out. There was always potential with my girlfriend at home, waiting-but the road wouldn't. And life would never be the same.

Until I started riding in groups after I got married. And suddenly they had rules, and would travel at slow speeds, on slow roads, to familiar places. 60 miles per ride, not 60 mph. No excitement here, no sense of adventure, and they took more time to visit than riding. And when I would complain, I was the bad guy. Suggested roads were always too far. Or too curvy. Or too something-stay within the lines-or rules, and let the worst rider dictate the day. And I rode too fast, my bikes were not cruisers, and I was forced to dumb down my riding skills, and ambitions if I was to ride with them. The freedom and enjoyment I had found in riding was gone-if I chose to follow their rules. And I was reminded, that for every rule, a loss of freedom follows. And that some people aren't cut out for freedom, but are happier in a legalistic environment. And never enjoy all the blessings God has for them.

And it carries over into personal lives, sadly, as well. Seems that in this world today, you must have rules to function, and legalism really isn't a new concept. Two sisters, friends of Jesus, had Him over for dinner one afternoon. While Martha had fussed about cleaning, cooking, and then pointing out to Jesus how hard she worked for Him, Mary sat at His feet, worshipping Him. And this even upset Martha more, and she let Jesus know it. But Jesus reminded her, that Mary had the right attitude. And that the legalism Martha showed, caused bitterness. You see legalism is all about you-and the law. She was meeting Jesus on her terms-not His. The Spirit is all about Jesus, and Him leading your life. The law kills, the Spirit brings life. And Martha, although under the law, was bitter to Mary, who in the Spirit was showing the better way-Jesus' words. And just like when riding, when following rules and regulations, or a preset plan, and a detour happens, it only leads to bitterness, and robs the one in the Spirit of his freedom-and blessings.

Ask yourself this-is your walk with Jesus all you desire? Did you become a Christian to be barraged with a lot or rules and thou shalt nots? Have you had enough religion yet? Did you sign up to work in the kitchen? Or be with Jesus-intimately?

Trust God today, and listen to what the Spirit is saying. Break away from the group, and follow Him, and go places that not even your motorcycle can take you. With someone who knows the best roads, the way through the problems, and will always be there for you-even when bouts of legalism invade from others. Where the Spirit of the Lord is there is liberty. And what good is liberty if you don't enjoy it?

And let Him who can do immeasurably more than we can ask or dream of, be the true Lord of our lives. Something no law could ever do. For me it started at the foot of the cross, how about you?

Never confuse what appears to be careless for being carefree-in the Spirit!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

life's a beach until it snows

More than Christmases can be white in Colorado. I have been stuck behind a snow plow in a July 4th weekend blizzard over Wolf Creek pass, and seen heavy snow at lower elevations in September. You never know what the weather can do in the mountains.

We had just flown back from NJ and Christmas with my parents. Theresa had wanted to live in a cabin by the lake-Vallecito, so we had moved in. Not knowing that it snows-a lot! And the first winter there had 500 inches of snow. That's over 40 feet, or more than your trip from the TV to the refrigerator. And the next winter wasn't much better. We landed in Durango around midnight, and drove back to our cabin-arriving at about 130am. Cold, about -30, and clear, it had snowed, so much that we had to slide the suitcases down the snow to our front door, about 100 feet away. As we waded almost armpit deep in the white stuff, if it wasn't for the light of the moon, we would have missed the front door. It had snowed so much that there was only about an eight inch gap between the snow and the roof! Digging our way through, remember it is cold, and we're exhausted, we finally make it to the front door at the other end of the porch. And it won't open! It is stuck shut, and it seemed no amount of banging or cursing it would budge it. Finally, a gift from God, as it opens-reluctantly. And we are greeted with a steam room on the entry porch, where it had to be over 100 degrees inside! A hot water pipe was misting out steam from a pinhole leak, probably for a long time as the next door was also swollen shut. And I'm not sure what was the worse weather, the minus 30 or the plus 100! But I can tell you when we finally got inside, where it was only about zero, the house within a couple hours had gotten into the 40's-we only had wood heat, and slept late-until the feeling came back in feet! And then finding out the next day they had had 96 inches of snow in 96 hours! Making our cabin on the lake at 8300' altitude a true winter wonderland. Just not at midnight with no heat, but with lots of steam! I am still in awe of how the door separated over 130 degrees in temperature! We'll look for the luggage later!

After heating with wood exclusively for six years, I must admit that wood stoves and fireplaces are more appliance than romance with us. But still nothing beats the warmth of a good wood fire, and is a great place to visit while drinking hot cocoa. And a great place to share testimonies. My prayer for your Christmas this year is simple-that Jesus Christ become more real in your life than ever before. When gathering, focus on Him. Whether at Starbucks with your overpriced, trendy hot liquid, or when bench racing with friends, include Jesus. Share precious times, and realize there are many precious memories to be made. When cold, remember He can warm up your life. When hot, there is no one cooler than Jesus. When stuck, He is the way out. And when all seems hopeless, He is hope in the form of a person. He brings the snow-but also the shovel.

2000 years in a barn, He was born. Today we celebrate it as Christmas-His birthday. Take the time to wish Him Happy Birthday-sing to Him, and spend time with Him. And discover that He is always with you, He never leaves you, and is the way to heaven. He loves you, in truth. May your fellowship with your loved ones include Him this Christmas, and all the days of your life.

From our home to yours, Merry Christmas-wise men still seek Him! The greatest treasure remains for those who seek Him now!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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"endless winter" or "on any snowday"

As a kid, the most exciting winter mornings were ones waking up to fresh snow. And as you anxiously watched the neighbors try to dig out their cars, you kept up the hope that the snow would continue. As you slowly got ready for school, you listened to the radio, my parents always had WOR on, listening to see if Scotch Plains was listed in the school closings. We did have an advantage, as my dad was a teacher, and would get a phone call, but hearing it on the radio, well-that was music to our ears! And then I would call Bruce and Barry, Scottie, Chris Farley, and the phone chain would pass on the magic words we all had waited for-SCHOOL'S CANCELLED! And skipping breakfast, we would get the many layers of clothes on, which could only be done with help from your mother. As you put on long underwear, two pairs of jeans, two sweaters, and three pairs of socks, and finally those tacky, old rubber boots, with the metal closures that would freeze, you would need your mother's help. And 30 minutes later you were ready to ride! Mittens, not gloves, and you were off with your Flexible Flyer, across Hetfield Avenue to the woods behind Raymond Schmitke's house. Where now it is New York Avenue, and houses, as a kid this was the woods, a great place for a kid growing up. In the summer, a place to play war, build a fort-tree or underground, or ride our bikes on the dirt paths. But when it snowed, it came alive-as it was the only place in the neighborhood with a hill big enough to sleigh ride!

Over the years, we had worn in three runs. One was straight down hill, fast, but short, and used mostly while impatiently waiting in line for your turn on the other two. You didn't want to waste even a few minutes waiting for your ride on the white stuff. Right next to it, but running at 90 degrees, was a longer run, that actually went across where New York Avenue would eventually be, and along a creek, and ending up almost in the backyards on Jersey Avenue. But the long one, the skilled run, started at the top of the hills, and curved to the left. Going downhill quickly, you would gather speed, and then a hard right onto the long ride. This was no bunny run to a 10 year old kid. It took skill to steer a sled then, and those of use who were older, 10-12, would do this sitting, and steering with our feet, sometimes with a passenger. One big push from our friends, and we were off. No brakes on sleds, to stop you either ran out of hill, skidded by turning sharply, or fell off into the fresh snow. And the fun lasted until the afternoon, when the sun would come out, the snow would get mushy, and hunger, cold, and wetness would eventually take over. And then back for another short run, until dark.

One Christmas when our boys were 8 and 12, we went back for Christmas-and it snowed, fulfilling two desires-a white Christmas and sleigh riding! But since the hills of my youth were now paved and gone, my nephew Charlie took us up to McGinn School, a long walk of about a half mile. Charlie went into his whining mode early, as I told him we were walking-his mom didn't need to take us. But by the time we got there, we were all pumped from talking about how fast we would go, and the hills we would do it on, and joined some other kids riding their sleds. One black kid, who we nicknamed Urkle for obvious reasons, stayed with us all day. We all had fun, riding the hills, and going faster than some had ever gone due to me pushing them. But by the time it got dark , Urkle had to go, we were wasted, and Charlie wanted us to send his mom back to get him. When we refused, threatening to let him there alone, he considered his choices, and walked with us-talking the whole time about going tomorrow and how much fun he had. But I think the ultimate compliment came from Urkle, who wanted to know what time I was coming up tomorrow so he could meet us! I'm sure the story he told his friends about an old, white guy in a leather jacket with two kids and nephew, from California, could have started an urban legend. "And that guy could really go fast! He didn't get tired or anything!" I don't think it is important for him to know I never saw 8 o'clock that night!

It's OK to have fun like a kid, even when you are supposed to be an adult. And the impact you can make, sharing while sleigh riding with others can be more valuable than preaching at them. It is all about relationships, and it starts with God. And your life will show the world who He is in your life. Just talking with Urkle, he found out about who we were, and we shared Jesus, not preaching, but just talking. No threatening words, just sharing. Like it should be. He respected our actions, and became our friend, then he could respect our words. Not going out witnessing, but being a witness. Having fun, and if anyone should have fun, it is Christians.

Jesus said, "as you go, spread the gospel," and as you go, you should. Your actions, and reactions will tell more about who Jesus is than many words, if your actions don't back it up. So when knee deep in snow with a bunch of kids, be who you are in Christ. And let me leave you with this thought? Would you want to be like the old sourpuss preaching to you, telling you how dangerous the snow is, or how you'll catch cold, even how wrong you are, or be shown love, the love of Jesus Christ while making a new friend? Jesus went sleigh riding with us that afternoon, He is always near, and we had fun. Urkle even told us how he went to church with his parents. I know he'll hear the gospel there, and I know he was shown love and respect that snowy afternoon. And a new way to go fast on a sled.

And I got to go back 30 years in only one afternoon. And be that 10 year old kid-again. My continuing childhood fully intact.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

People only care about what you know, when they know you care. So whether it be a call to sleigh ride, or just ride, do it in love. Never grow up, only grow in God's love. Appearing every snowy day, on a hill near you.

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on my honor...

Boy Scout Troop 104. Scotch Plains, NJ. I was never much of a Boy Scout, at least as far as earning merit badges went. I liked the camping, and we had a pretty wild patrol, as we were nicknamed the Pyromaniacs. Jiffy juice was our thing, aka lighter fluid, and we loved to start fires with it, fortunately we never did much damage. But fun we did have, and many times at other troops' expense. At one Jamboree, this one troop set up a huge Army barracks style tent-these guys were so good it was disgusting. We nicknamed them the Hitler Youth-they were militaristic, and as far as we could see perfection was their only flaw. Did I mention how modest they weren't? And how they hated us. These guys could have stormed the beaches at Normandy! Even their latrine had a small tent around it-that somehow caught fire! More than once! And of course, we were right next to them in our little pup tents, a fact they reminded us of. So the only "good" scout thing to do, was to remind them of who we were, and we cut the ropes on one side of their tent. In the middle of the night, as they slept! And the side fell in, while we just laid inside our tents and laughed, amongst all the confusion going on outside our little tents. While they hurried around trying to repair it in the dark, using only flashlights for guidance. No one even accused us, and we never did fess up to it. So of course could never take credit for it. Until now. Hope there is a Boy Scout statute of limitations!

In a complete reversal, we also had to do demonstrations of various skills, and I was paired with Steve Jacobs, from another patrol, who was knot junkie. This kid could tie all kinds of knots, and could literally tie me in knots, if he wanted to, and that weekend he could have. He taught me a few knots, and I was to demonstrate them. I was the kid who had trouble tying his neckerchief. Fortunately my memory lasted just long enough for Mr. Deyerle and the others to see me tie them, and they were impressed. But poor Steve got passed over, as he had only taught me-I had only demonstrated them. My five minutes of knot tying fame. And although I told Mr. Deyerle I had only just learned them, it was Steve's knot tying skills, I got the credit. And it still bothers me. Steve, if you're out there, I tried-it was all about you. Sorry you didn't get the credit due. Consider it done.

Although we may be reticent to admit it, we all have been in Steve's position. Misunderstood. And not getting credit where credit is due. But too often we blame others for our indiscretions, rather than take credit for our own sin. Job's friend Eliphaz was like that. When he confronted Job in his agony, he told him that it must be sin in his life, that was why he was suffering. Blind to as to what was really going on in heaven. And I watch as a false religious dogma is prevalent in many churches. If you are suffering, "you must be in sin" they tell the oppressed victim. Somewhere they take Eliphaz's attitude that only God knows the sin, it must be so big only He can see it. But when it comes to suffering in their life, then "the devil is attacking them." Manure! And a cop out. God knows what is going on, and just like Job has the situation fully under control. And believe me, those poor in spirit that say these things have obviously never been under real spiritual attack. They don't need to be, they have created their own unscriptural attack, and don't need the devil's assistance. But they do need God's!

God allows tough times so we will run to Him and let Him be God. If you were never sick, you would never know Him as the great physician. No needs-you would be Jehovah Jirah! No sin-you would never have gotten to know Jesus, our Lord and Saviour. You see, God tells us that all things work together for good to those who are His. And what the devil meant for evil, He means for good.

Don't leave the Jamboree before it is over! God will take you through your situation, and bless you! LET HIM! Quit blaming others, and accept responsibility. Give unto God what is His-your life! And watch the blessings flow! He wants to be God, and wants to show a way only He could show you-are you up to the challenge?

A Boy Scout is reverent. And God wants that of you. He is always watching, and knows who cut the tent ropes that night. Boy-am I glad I am forgiven. And even gladder of His justice-those other guys were pretty big!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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you had to be there

FM music was still not yet mainline music in the early seventies. Until the US Government made it mandatory that all car radios include FM, in 1972. The Top 40 was still AM based, but if you wanted to hear the best music, and music from both sides of the album, FM was the only place to go. And unlike today's FM, it was mostly music, instead of commercials interrupted by an occasional song. And they played the album version of the songs-I can still remember hearing the long version of Light My Fire-WOW! But the standout among FM stations in New York City, was WNEW-FM, the first station to leave its format up to the DJ. With DJ's such as Allison Steele, Scott Muni, and Pete Fornatele, they would play endless music, and keep you mesmerized-almost grateful for the occasional commercial interruption, so you could take a break. And they were in touch with the local scene, and were always up to date on the concerts-before and after. Truly a station for the cool! Never to be duplicated again.

It's Christmas time in 1973, and a weirdo I worked with, Charlie Fanz and I are talking about Emerson, Lake, and Palmer. Charlie is a bit older, has a Hitler mustache, and talks like WC Fields. And always greets me by saying, "Mohn, you're nuts." A strange dude, even by my standards, we shared a love of music, and an appreciation most didn't. We talked back beats, and bass lines, guitar riffs, and other subtlest lost on the AM crowd. And when we talked of ELP, we decide to go to their Christmas concert, on the 17th. With an opening act of the J. Geils Band, this show will rock, and being at the Garden, there would be over 19,000 of us! Not the best acoustically, but the place to go when you couldn't make it to The Capital Theatre in Passaic, or the Convention Center in Asbury Park. Major concert draws all, with only the Fillmore East, recently closed, able to out do them all.

We drove into the city-and took our seats in the mezzanine, stage left. And when J. Geils lit the place up, most would have been satisfied and gone home, but ELP, whom I had seen before, and had come to see, was worth the wait. Keith Emerson on keyboards-and during one song, while playing his baby grand, he and the piano rose, and then started spinning in the air-while he was playing! No concert had ever been like this! And as they played their 90 minute set, they left us hanging. Waiting for the traditional encore. Exhausted from listening, I can only imagine they had to be fatigued.

"MORE! MORE!" we yelled, and it seemed an unusually long time between sets. And in the darkness, you could see many figures moving, which we just assumed to be roadies setting up for the encore. We were not prepared for what came next!

Suddenly the lights came up, and the band broke into a wild version of Pictures at an Exhibition, classical music set to ELP only beat! And the place was on its feet! What a way to end a show-give 'em your best to take home with them. But ELP, still the masters of the show, weren't through. Suddenly the stage went dark, broke into an acoustic version of Silent Night. Just Greg Lake, on an acoustic guitar, in the spotlight, and you could have heard a pin drop. And as the lights came up, you could see the stage filled with a chorus of over 100 singers, in red robes, joining in! And then it started to snow-on stage! And the world's largest gasp, took place, as we were filled with awe, and overwhelmed by the beauty of the song. So we all joined in! 19,000 voices! No other time I sing Silent Night will ever come near to that, and each time I sing it I remember the ELP version. And the snow!

And true to form, when we were driving home, with the radio on, WNEW-FM, was reporting on the events of the concert. And almost tearfully, telling of the Silent Night concert. And we were there! Me and the Charlie, probably one of my weirder friends, but the right guy, because we both saw the big picture that night in the music, and the show. But we also saw the small things, that made it all special.

So many only see Christmas a holiday. With names to usher it in like Black Friday, and Cyber Monday, they forget who it is all about. Take the time, today, right now, and step back and listen to the music of Christmas. Enjoy the story, and the message, and reflect on who Jesus is. And what He did. Listen to the words, and if you don't have a special Christmas memory, ask God to give you one this year. And if you do have one, bask in the glory of it, with a God who loved you so much He sent His only son. Truly, there is no Christmas season without Jesus-the only reason for the season!

Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright. That's the song I remember, and the Garden was the place. An intimate moment shared with 19,000 concert goers, a chorus of 100, and just an acoustic guitar. And-the snow!

Smile when you think of Christmas-and smile everyday as you remember Jesus. "Do this in remembrance of me, " Jesus says of communion. Commune with Him today! Spend time with Him. Enjoy His company, and share Him with someone. Wish someone Merry Christmas! And show them the love of Jesus.

And may all your Christmases be white!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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it's the most wonderful time of the week

Hope you all had a great weekend. As we struggled here in So Cal with weather in the 80-90 degree range, I watched the Pats beat the Bears at Soldier Field in a 26 degree snowstorm. I'm sure with people here complaining of too much heat, and Chicago too much cold, somewhere in the US of A, Goldilocks' weather was just right.

It started off to be a great weekend. Watching American Pickers on Friday night, they went to Bushkill Park, near Easton, where I had been as a kid. As I began to tell Theresa about the Dodgems, the Whip, and the Fun House, they went to all these places. But the most fun was the Fun House, the oldest one in the US. I remember the big slide, and landing on mattresses at the bottom. I remember the swaying bridge, and stairs that moved. But my favorite was still the huge, rotating barrel. And I got excited when I saw it! As it rotates, you try to stand up, and hang onto the walls with no handles-still think I can do it! Just give me the chance! Yes, it's going to be a great weekend.

On Saturday morning, we were going on a toy run to Children's Hospital with Bigg's Hog Group. We went to the local Walmart, and no one was there. Checked another-no bikes. so went by Biggs, where they had left an hour ago. Jerry checked out the web site, and they had changed Walmarts, and although the flyer said San Diego-duh Mike? the address shown said San Marcos. And we missed it. Oh, well, I had a new Scrambler courtesy of Mickey to ride, and it was t-shirt weather, and Bigg's was having their Grand Opening of their new store, I'd just go back later for a free pulled pork lunch. Yes, put the cole slaw on the sandwich-the proper way to eat it.

But leaving the parking lot, I noticed the crossbar was loose on the handlebars, so I went by to see Tom in service. Who found his dusty, metric Allen keys, and catastrophe averted. A Harley guy helping a Triumph guy, could things get any weirder? As I went and parked with Theresa, she had made a new friend, who also had misread the flyer. And then Tom brought a friend over to see the Scrambler. And her Bonneville. Then Spud was there, and pretty soon, we-the Triumphs, were the center of attention. At the Grand Opening of a Harley dealership! Later when I told Spud I felt bad not owning a Harley, since they were always so nice to us, he said "You guys have nice bikes too." Remember when it wasn't what you rode, but that you rode?

Our next appointment was a Rushing Winds Church, a biker church we helped start years ago. I was looking forward to seeing some old faces, and doing some catching up. But with the exception of James and Laurie, they were all new. And no one to share old times with and catch up on. I was the stranger. Even looking at the picture of an early biker church group, the one Biker Tony sent me, failed to enhance any conversations-no one else here had been there! Where are they all now?

Sunday we planned to see Andrew race at Ocotilla, about 100 miles east of here. Going on the Tiger, it was warm already, and no wind-until we started out of Alpine. Then the breezes hit, right where they always do, and then the gusts, so we tried Old Highway 80-no better. So went to Julian, where we hoped to go down Banner Grade, the back way, but a friendly CHP officer told us the wind was bad going down, as always, right after he showed me I was parking in a red zone, would I please move? So we missed Andrew race, but he did too. They were doing a team race, and his partner, Joe, took the first lap, and crashed before Andrew could ride. Bummer. And they were 8th of 60 riders at the time of the crash!

It has been said "man plans, and God laughs." Well,this weekend, "Man whined, and God still loved us." Not a bad weekend, just not what we had planed, or looked forward too. And through it all, God was with us, and I was reminded in His gentle way, he has everything under control. Unlike me. For like Andrew reminded us, we don't know what he may have protected us from. Did my son really say that? But it's true. And I have other tales of times where I got delayed, or stopped, or lost-like the time we went to Boone, only to miss the 600 lightning strikes in Charlotte-I thought the Billy Graham Library was in Boone, so we went there, and no one knew about the library, and my ignorance kept us out away from Charlotte, and probably death.

God knows what is ahead, and we need to let Him guide us. I have learned that flexibility is a key to success in travelling, and also with God. Not compromising your values, but bending with Him, instead of breaking down in the world. And blessings usually follow it. We got to put up our tree, without too much stress. How's that for a blessing? And had a nice lunch together on Sunday. Two periods of rest I am thankful for.

God knows the plans He has for you. So let Him guide you. Travel with Jesus, and you will find the best roads-and the best one, the one He planned for you. Detours to take you different places, and not to annoy, but to bless and protect. And to meet new friends, new diners, and see a side of God you would have missed. Yep, it wasn't so bad after all-except for this guy in a mini van, when we were getting the tree, whose inside looked like the stadium after a Raider's game, but who was worried about tying a tree to the roof and scratching it! And blocked us in, he wasn't going to move until that tree was just right, but we escaped the lot, and him. Funny how watching his selfishness, put it all in perspective. More worried about what was showed on the outside, than what was on the inside. Remember rule #4!

Take care of the big things, and God will take care of the little things-and all else in between.

"Hey Mike, what are you doing today?" Don't ask! Nothing planned. Sometimes the best plans are no plans at all!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

the Jimmy Stewart movies of my life

Special moments, times not planned, and times that could not be choreographed-times that just happen, and we are the better for them. As I sit here I think of all the special moments that God has provided for me, times that just happened, not planned or prayed for, but given in a very special way. Here are just a few.

We were at the start of the Baja 1000 in 1998. The Trophy Trucks were staged, and ready to go off in a few minutes. Don Tebbe, crew chief and co-driver for Simon and Simon, a fellow Christian, sees me and we decide to pray. Along with Andrew, we stand at the starting line, just the three of us and start to pray. Looking up after a minute or so, we find that we are surrounded by 100's of racers and fans, and ESPN is filming us. A special moment that God allowed, and all the glory goes to him. And no, the Simons didn't win the race, but they have won something more important, as both Dave and Paul are both saved.

We are at the crash site of Flight 93 in Shanksville on September, 11, 2005. Standing among a group of a few hundred bikers, we are fogged in and cold this morning. While waiting for the program to begin, a man steps out of the crowd, and starts singing the National Anthem. Spontaneously, the crowd joins in, and I can still feel the chills as we sing. A special moment, as we thank God for our country, and the heroes of flight 93. And then, as we finish the song, the fog lifts-right on cue, and as the field appears, we see the flag, 100 yards away, placed on the impact site! Tears were mandatory that morning, as seeing that the "flag was still there," brought a special meaning to the song that morning. And reminded us all of the great land God has given us, and how he continues to "shed His grace on thee!"

We had not seen my parents in New Jersey for years at Christmas. So we planned on going back, while both boys were still living at home-and surprise them. Flying into Newark in a snowstorm, the limo driver got us through to Scotch Plains using all the back roads, and avoided the highway traffic jams. Showing up on December 23rd, at about 8pm, we knocked at the door-and my dad answered in shock! "Michael!" And he couldn't call for my mother fast enough. A special gift to all of us, as later my mother told me this was the best gift she ever got. We had the 24th to shop, while she cooked, and it gave a new excitement to Christmas, as all her family-including grandkids, were home. A time we will never forget, and were blessed to be part of.

Three special times, that God has allowed us to be part of. My parents never would have expected their Christmas visitors, and that made it more special. Just like Jesus coming into the world, He was unexpected, although prophesied. No pomp and circumstance, just an intimate teenage couple, in the barn, while travelling. Little did the innkeeper know He had a king being born in his stable that night.

Somehow we have this holiday thing backwards. Like Thanksgiving-we should give thanks 364 days a year, and have only one day to be a grump-Grumptaking! And when it comes to Jesus, we should celebrate every day-for every day is worth celebrating when He is part of your life. Today you will have many opportunities to encounter Him. From various sources, and various people-don't miss one chance to thank Him. Make today count!

Just a race-no much more in the eyes of God. Just a memorial to American heroes-no much more in the eyes of God-and His spirit guided those heroes on the plane-reciting Psalm 23 and bringing 40 strangers together in unity-and helping preserve America so that more history could be written.

And yes, we were just some crazy people in a snowstorm. But we would do it all over. For in all cases, when we gave of ourselves, and honored God, we received more blessings than the blessings we were willing to give.

Call, phone, e-mail, or visit someone today. Tell them you care, and ask what you can do for them. Tell them Jesus loves them, and show it by your kind words and actions. You'll find precious memories just waiting to happen to you-if only you believe!

love with compassion,

Mike

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