what we have here is a failure to communicate

Theresa and I were sitting eating breakfast in a Black Bear Diner, I was enjoying my lingiuca and eggs, when a couple with two kids sat across from us. They were young, the kids not the parents, and immediately each one got on their cell phone checking messages, playing games, and generally not communicating with each other. I see this so much anymore, but they continued to do this even after the waiter had been by a few times to take their order-and they had yet to look at the menu. Not only rude to each other, but to the waiter, and the others waiting in line for a table. We continued eating, and when we left they were just ordering. The only plus was the restaurant was loud enough we didn't have to listen to their phone conversations. Oh, and the linguica...

I have taken up the habit of whistling the Star Spangled Banner, as loud as I can, when in line and someone is talking on their cell phone. I really don't care to hear of all the stupid things you are doing, and if you wish to bother me, I will express my patriotism even louder. Rude and stupid is no way to go through life, and we really don't care to hear it. Which is why I guard my privacy so much. It is well known that all cell phones also act as a GPS device, and all info will and can be used against you. Did you know that your new car also has a black box set-up, and if the insurance company wants, can access it and see your driving habits, up to and including the accident. And in a no-fault state, you can be found guilty. Apps on your phone-they can work both ways, just like someone is constantly monitoring your internet choices. We marvel at what can be done, but fail to understand it is not for our benefit-but to be used to control us. And when the government tells us we need controlling, they can point to these statistics, which we give them at no charge, and use them against us.

When having lunch a while back, my friend was excited to tell me about a book he was reading that was showing him how to pray better. When I asked, "what book did you read to talk to me," his blank look said none. "Then why do you need a book to talk to God?" And my point was well made. And taken.

Imagine that every night at the same time, a friend calls. After complaining about his day, he goes on to ask for advice. But just when you are to answer, he has to go. The news is on, or he has to get up. Fact is-he really doesn't want your advice. And this sadly shows how many pray to God. They ask, but don't listen. If the lamp is rubbed right, God will answer. If not, they will continue to be miserable, and add that blessing to you. But true prayer is conversation-a dialogue not a monologue. Why ask, if you aren't interested in the answer? How many would talk to you if you didn't listen to them? Another example of God's love and patience. Also imagine a conversation where you talk for 15 minutes, then another talks for 15 minutes. That's not conversation! Interact with each other. Not like a text waiting for an answer-but make it personal. God has. Maybe that is why He has given you two ears, and only one mouth. But more importantly the reason you can control your mouth-but not your hearing! Self control speaks of the holy spirit in your life.

So spend some time praying with God. Thank Jesus for what He has done and watch as your prayers change. And you don't even have to talk-just think it, remember God is a spirit, and must be worshipped as such? He knows your thoughts, and tries to answer. His is that still, small voice you can hear above the music, the exhaust, and above above those on their cell phones. Listen to it, He already knows the plans He has for you-do you? How do you know if you don't listen?

Which is why I love to spend time with God while riding. No cell phones, no radios, and no interference from others talking. If any of the above occurs, you may not be on a motorcycle, even though it has two wheels. Share the time with God, share the road, and tell Him how you feel. Then listen-interact. Make it precious, it is to Jesus. Spending time with God-one of the first examples given in Genesis, walking with God in the cool of the day. With-not in front, not behind, but next to Him. At the same pace. Try that with your cell phone! Are you spending more minutes on it than with God?

Does listening work? A short lesson from a friend with a radio on his Harley. He would speed up and slow down unexpectedly, until we tied his road speed to his music speed. His sound system had more power than his bike! You see-listening does change your life. And if works on a Harley with a loud radio, imagine what you could hear if you really listened! To God?

Let your prayer today be one of a desire to hear from God. Start now by stopping everything else. God I wish to hear from you. No TV, no cell, no radio or i-pod. Just Jesus. Spend some time with your best friend. He did call you friend if you do those things He asked, didn't He? Well if you can't hear, you can't hear Him. And you might miss a blessing. From your friend. If you were God, would you like to be put on hold?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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laiken's race-the tougher the battle, the sweeter the victory

The world of motorcycle road racing was about to be changed forever at Daytona in 1970. After decades of twin cylinder racing, Triumph and BSA were about to unleash their Trident/Rocket 3 to the world at Daytona. Three cylinders at 750cc, it was faster than any bike out there. Honda countered with its new 750cc four cylinder, at the time THE bike to own, ride, and this year to race with. Bob Hansen of American Honda had requested 750's to race on the banked oval at Daytona for 1970, only to be met with resistance from Japan. "Why would want to race, we might lose?" they asked, with Bob telling them it would be a great forum to test their bikes. They denied him, replying "we are in racing to win, not to lose," as their history proved. But a week later Bob's phone rang, and the same man who denied him now wanted to know what kind of top speeds were needed at Daytona to win. Bob added 3-5 mph to what he thought it would take, and they thanked him. Now we know how much horsepower we need, and soon seven bikes arrived stateside.

But the Hondas soon blew up in practice, the cam chain guides were too hard and would self destruct at high speeds, which Honda denied, and so the only engine with newer guides was ridden by Dick Mann. Dick was a racer's racer, and could and had won on every type of racing the AMA supported. But it also threw a wrench in Honda's plans, they had caught Triumph using a higher compression piston than stock-breaking the rules. But just as they were to expose Triumph, one of their motors caught fire, and melted down. It was obviously magnesium-not stock, so they backed off, before someone turned them in. In racing it isn't called cheating unless you get caught.

Race day 1970 had all the Honda's but Dick's 750 go out early, from cam chain tensioner problems, just as they were told. Dick had at one point early on opened up a 50 yard lead over the Triumph of Romero. And Honda with just one entry left, and with six laps to go and a 12 second lead over Gene Romero, they started losing 2 seconds a lap. Which set the Japanese VP into a rage, and he starting calling Hansen and telling him what to do. Ride faster-you're losing 2 seconds a lap. Which Bob ignored, he knew that Dick's bike was only running on three cylinders sometimes, and Dick was doing all he could to get the bike home in first place. Which he did, defeating Romero and Triumph by 2 seconds-the closest that Romero would come to a Daytona win-even though he was to win the AMA #1 plate that year. By the way, he finished running on 3 cylinders, and with only a cup of oil left in the engine.

Dick Mann showed what a racer he was, with the win on a failing Honda. A combination of Mann and machine you might say. But Bob Hansen later in the week was fired, and Yamaha signed him to run their race team, and when you look at what they did at Daytona, and in road racing in the seventies-it was good for Yamaha and Bob-but never again for Honda. The world of road racing had changed forever at Daytona that day. And in an era before it was racing for points to win a championship, Dick had won the race, which is what racing is all about. Sadly today so many race for the championship-tell that to Mann, Romero, Nixon, Roberts, and the others who raced to win. For if you win the race, the championships will come. Mr. Petty, will be happy to explain this to all you other back markers. Winners race to win!

It was four years yesterday that Laiken finished her race here on earth. She was in the race of her life, to win against cancer. And when she finally finished her race that April 22, 2008, she had won. You see cancer hadn't beat her, she had won the race, and when it was over, God called her home. You see, for those who think cancer beat her, they would be wrong. God was in her pits the whole time, and knew the day, hour, and minute her race would over. She had one final lap to go, and just when it looked the darkest, God gave her enough to finish the last lap. The race finished, the race over, the race won-God called her home. To heaven, where the real celebrations began, and continue to this day. Only God can know when our race is over, and we are told to run the race to win-not to finish. To just finish means compromising, but real racers race to win. They use every trick in the book, like Dick and other champions do. But they win-and when the checkered flag drops, the race is over. It is called living-and Laiken lived till the end.

Laiken's checkered flag dropped on April 22nd. She won! Her victory lap still going on in heaven.

Is your crew chief Jesus Christ? Hers was. Are you racing to win? Are you walking in the spirit? So many wanna bees, coulda beens, and shoulda beens competing for your affection. Laiken knew Jesus. He had plans for her, and though the race was rough-real races require as much perseverance as skill, she persevered and won. No excuses, no reasons why she could have not finished, she had Jesus. And listened to Him. And set an example of life that I still am amazed at. For four years after her race ended, this special little girl reminds me of how to fight to the end-to the finish. And that to finish first, you must first finish. Keep April 22nd circled on your calendar, I do. And remember her Mom Stacy, who still battles in her race. Remember Jim, her stepdad, who loved her more than can be explained here. Remember Abigail, who came within five months of Laiken becoming the big sister, and meeting her. Abigail will someday celebrate with her big sister Laiken, but for now she has her own life/race to run. And never forget Jesus Christ, who without Him in their lives makes the race a DNF. God has a plan for them, and you. Laiken's plan is over, the race is won. It is up to those of us still in the race to remember why we run it. And how when we are guided by God, the victory is sweeter than any setbacks along the way.

Honda knew how much horsepower it took to make speed. Dick knew how to get the bike home to the finish. Only Jesus know how much power you need to make life. And how to get you home. Trust Him, some laps take longer than others, and the competition will be breathing down your neck-but there is nothing like winning. Ask Dick, a true champion on the track, and ask Laiken, a true champion in the race of life. The tougher the battle, the sweeter the victory. And Laiken's victory lies in heaven.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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tom swift and the holy spirit

After a successful series almost 100 years ago, it was only natural, and profitable that the Tom Swift series be followed up 50 years later with Tom Swift, Jr. Tom, who was the hero of many adolescents, was the 18 year old son of Tom Swift, Sr, a renowned world scientist. Tom was well known also, and had invented such wonders as the Sky Queen, the Damonscope, and other devices to aid in the cold war against communism. A man for all seasons, in Tom Swift and His Diving Seacopter, while inventing the seacopter, a submarine with wheels that could go miles beneath the ocean, he found the lost continent of Atlantis, built a second seacopter after the first one leaked, fought off spies from Brugaria, communicated with an alien spaceship, and then rescued it when it crashed into the ocean. All in 212 pages, with time left to eat his Mom's famous meals, drive his sport scar, and date his girl friend Phyl. And along with his best friend Bud, still have time for extra curricular activities-far beyond those of mortal men.

So when I saw two of his books at an antique shop, and negotiated with the owner, we talked Tom. She loved the stories too, and had always wanted to go for a date with Bud in his fire engine red convertible, but had little chance since he dated Tom's sister Sandy. And we talked about how the books had fueled our teen imaginations, and left us looking forward to the next book in the series. She was refreshing to talk with, as others I have met in this regard only critique, and never enjoy Tom and his escapades. They belittle the books on technical issues, and other issues such as grammar, sentences, plot, and either too much or too little imagination. And being a writer, I get it. I don't like it, but I get it. Read the book as it was intended. Critics I don't need.

More critics I don't need. But under the influence of friends who read my devotions, I responded last year to an add for a Christian writers seminar. But never got a response. Although I did hear from God. Who questioned why I would go to one, particularly on a Saturday when I should be riding. He asked two question-"Why would I need another editor when I have Him?" True, I write to God, and if He likes it, then I send it out. Personally I have written some I liked, but got turned down by God. His second question was "and do you need a better publisher than Me?" You see what you are reading is read on six continents, translated into Russian for a homeless street kid motorcycle ministry, distributed to the troops overseas by the chaplaincies, and used in prisons to introduce Jesus to those who aren't saved, and to aid in Bible studies. Amazing the places God takes you when you let Him. So both answers were no, and God gave me more insight. And reminded me of how He will supply my needs, not by writing. My last check from sales of my book, Are We There Yet, was 86 cents. I am definitely not in this for fame, fortune, or recognition. And have turned down secular writing assignments because my editor advised me to. Him I trust, but that doesn't mean I don't get tempted, sometimes.

So to those of you who are my harshest critics, I listen, then pass the advice on to my editor. When offered distribution lists to further advance my coverage, I talk with my publisher. You see, He is also my business manager, my personal trainer, and my best friend. And He can be yours too. You don't need to go through me to get to God. Trust Jesus. For God has ways that even young Tom would never imagine. And God has sent Jesus so you can get to Him. If you are reading this now, it is because He wanted you too. I hope you are blessed.

Critics I don't need. And if you don't like that, take it up with my editor. But please, never stop praying for me. Or those that God directs to me. He is still in control. A fact that I hope Tom finds someday. For unlike Steve Jobs who denied God, I would like to read about Tom Swift and His Quest for Jesus. I can see it now, two friends riding on a nice Saturday, instead of being cooped up inside. When one gets a message telling Him to seek God first. To go to a house on the street called Straight, and a man will tend to you. We can call him Paul, and watch as changes his life. And how he becomes a writer, and ....

I guess that one has been used already. And as always, truth is better than fiction. Try out God's book today. Still the best seller. Tell Him Mike sent ya, He'll know who.

Now back to Tom. When we last left him he was wrecked at sea. Water was pouring in, and they had no hope. Ever feel that way? Let me tell you about Jesus...

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

morals vs. laws-if you aren't sure don't ask a politician

I would like you to consider the following question before you answer it. If it is legal, does it mean that it is moral? And if it is illegal, does that mean that it is immoral? Questions that in a simpler time, considering a society seeking a loving God, would never come up, but with the news lately focusing on Secret Service men and Colombian hookers, and GSA parties in Las Vegas, it is put in national spotlight. And not everyone is as law abiding as us, and not as moral as you think. And no one could ever be as honest as you are. For we all have a tendency to go with what is best for us in the immediate, rather than what is good for others in the long run. Or to put it another way, in New York they stab you in the stomach, in LA they stab you in the back. Please note that either way you are stabbed. I prefer not to be stabbed, none of the above. Is that a choice?

I have always wondered why it is those caught in guilt who always accuse others of being judgmental? How many times have you been falsely accused of being too nice? Truth is we will all be before a judgment seat some day, and we get to choose the one we will stand before-now. The world just doesn't like the procedure. Accept Christ, you will be judged by God for what you have done in His name after being saved. You will be rewarded with crowns from God. Deny Christ, you will go to hell, and be shown true justice for your sin, and will know why you are in constant torment forever. Deny Him here, He denies you after. Accept Him here, He remembers you after. Simple. Why would you choose hell when you can have heaven? Eternity is a long time either way. Salvation-that's grace. Both moral and legal.

But back to the question, is it moral if it is legal? Why is it right to spend $1000 at the Mustang Ranch, when $20 will get you the same rush on the Boulevard? The law. Location-location-location. But-the morals are the same, no matter the location, or action taken. I love when people try to weasel out of a situation based on a technicality. Sin will always be sin-thankfully grace will always be grace. And where sin abides, grace abides even more. Law or no law, grace overcomes the law every time. Turn it around, is it immoral because it is illegal? In over 40 countries where the Bible is against the law, some under penalty of death, is it immoral to read the word? To seek God? To become a Christian? Like Jesus said, "the law kills." Put in that context, do you fear man or God? Immediate or long term? Note-only God is both. Perhaps there is more-or less to the argument. For the only secure answer is to trust God. To have His spirit live in you, of which there is no law against it. As of this morning, love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, longsuffering, meekness, and self control are not illegal. Would you be found guilty if they were? No one will be prosecuted for a love crime, unless it is a perversion of one as in prostitution. Which isn't love-but lust.

But when left to politicians, becomes a political issue. Being caught will always change their perspective. And then another law to exonerate themselves. Politicians, it is noted, are more concerned with the short term-getting re-elected. Where true statesman, are concerned about the people long term. And after watching our Attorney General fumble with questions about Fast and Furious-either he is that stupid or that deceitful, either way he should be replaced, as we watch Secret Servicemen, who are on call 24/7 spending times with hookers in Colombia-ok it is legal there, but still not moral, and how the GSA spends $822,000 on a meeting in Vegas, showing that what happens in Vegas doesn't necessarily stay there. It is no longer about legal issues, but moral ones. And your eternal future is not based on keeping the law-but on grace.

It is all about Jesus. Who mercifully offers you salvation for free. No needing to look it up to see if any laws are broken, and that is tax free also. I looked. So grace beats the law every time. Put this way, the law comes to convict, the spirit comes to consult. Trust Jesus, the best advice you will ever be given. It is your sin that will be found out, best having Jesus erase it all.

But if you insist on living under the law, my best advice comes via Deputy Barney Fife of Mayberry. Who had only two rules in the jail. First-obey all rules. Easy enough. The second-no writing on the walls-it is hard to remove the ink. Jesus rule came down from over 600 laws given to Moses to one simple one-love the Lord with all your heart, and love your neighbor as yourself. Obey all rules. The handwriting is on the wall-you can decide on the second one.

Or as one NJ crime head once admitted, "you got morals, I got rules." Morals won't get you arrested, and laws won't get you into heaven. Even in Jersey. Or Colombia, Vegas, LA, or wherever. For whatever. I'll take two scoops of grace please. Heavy on the mercy, peace, and kindness. For true freedom was won on the cross-and where the Spirit of the Lord is there is liberty. Trust Jesus-guilty as charged. Are you?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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of course this could never happen to you

After over 40 years in business, Pop had finally decided to close his small grocery store. Although he had talked of doing it for more than a decade, his announcement still came as a surprise to his employees. 27 people, some who had been with him for the 40+ years, would now be out of a job, out of a paycheck. And in this small town, so small many maps didn't show it, things would be different now. For the 27 unemployed represented 27 families who would suffer financial impact. 27 families who wouldn't eat at the corner cafe anymore. 27 families who wouldn't shop for shoes or clothes. 27 families who weren't paying income tax anymore. Within a few months the change was noted, and after the first year many small businesses dependent on these 27 for their business, had either shut their doors, or were barely hanging on. Pop never understood the impact he had made on the community while in business, sadly he did after he closed it down. One business had touched many lives, and would continue to after it closed-just not as anyone had figured it would.

The church on the corner had been there over 20 years. When the original pastor stepped down, he had another man already picked. A young man, who was well liked, but had different ideas. Seemed the church, had gotten stuffy, and this man's plans would rescue it. But rather than grow, it shrunk. Rather than following the spirit as it had since it opened, it embraced legalism, and programs rather than God. Striving to help the community, it embraced social issues, and never once realized the spiritual aspect of them. Soon the church had shrunk-in size and in impact. The spirit was gone-it had been shown the door, and those who remained were followers of the new pastor. God had rescued some out who saw it coming, and those remaining were split into two groups-pro pastor or anti-pastor. They had a form of godliness, they just didn't have God. And sadly didn't notice His absence. New programs, new laws, and a new vision didn't matter-God had taken His spirit and left them barren. It was their choice, and even the heathen in the community noticed. And all the work done over the past 20 years was gone in a few short months, the new pastor ready to place blame on anyone but himself. Unteachable, he would say his flock was, blind to his plans. Blind to the spirit was the real problem, only without the spirit they would never know. When really it was him that had abandoned God, they only followed him as sheep will. No program made by man will ever prosper in God's church.

She was at the top of her class. Prom queen, and head cheerleader. Everyone knew she would have a great life, but when her dad lost his job when Pop's store closed, all changed. She would now go to junior college, thankfully on a scholarship rather than State as planned. She would have odd jobs between semesters to help out, and when she graduated, her fiancée and her had planned on getting married. They wanted kids, but it would have to wait, as he was still one year from graduating from State himself, and although only one year away-it seemed like an eternity. Both had stayed true to their upbringing, and she vowed to be pure on her wedding night. But one night passion consumed them both in the form of lust, and she was pregnant. Her parents were not much help, to them it looked like another mouth to feed, further adding gloom to their future. When they turned to the pastor, he only condemned her for her action, telling her it was her problem, not God, and to deal with it. She felt abandoned by all. And so she dealt with it, in a way she never thought she would. When the church abandoned her, she turned to the family planning center on campus-aka the abortion clinic. The thought sickened her, and thought of taking her unborn son's life was worse than any thought she could imagine. But they told her she would be able to have children later, when she wanted them, and after a few days would be ok. The state would even cover the expense to her,being poor and all that. But to her it was much more than that, for God had promised her that she would have a son, who would make great miracles in the field of medicine. And as she walked out of the abortion clinic alone-half the people that go in never come out alive, her son aborted, she felt empty inside. Her fiancé and her lives changed, and her future plans dashed. And in her heart she would always wonder if this son she killed had been the one to cure cancer? Or AIDS? Was he the one God had chosen to answer prayers with? Had she killed this child that was an answer to prayer? The physical pain would go away, the emotional pain would last forever. If only she had turned to God, instead of a rogue pastor and church. Their rules wouldn't rescue her now. Broken and alone, it would take another year before she would graduate. And although they would marry, they would always carry the burden of their first son-who they had killed. One bad decision, had left them alone and broken. And a couple were robbed of being called Grandma and Grandpa, no aunt or uncles, either. The even worse decision was the mishandling of their first mistake. Reactions are still more powerful than actions, no need to remind them.

Decisions made for personal gain never take into account how far reaching that decision will be. Just a store closing can affect so many families. A pastor steeped in legalism, and not the spirit can cause damage that lasts for generations. And seeking the world's solution for a spiritual problem will always end in ruin. It seemed like that almost 2000 years ago when on Good Monday, the people cheered their prophesied savior, but who by Thursday, their chants had gone from Hosanna-save us, to crucify Him when they sought worldly solutions rather than God. And all seemed hopeless as they took His body off the cross, and laid it in a borrowed tomb. But Sunday morning it all changed. His tomb was empty, He was risen just as He said. And because of that, we have been given a final chance to accept Him and live, or deny Him and die. Just as one bad choice can spell disaster, one good choice can turn it all around. But it takes trust, and a man who loved us so much that He gave His life so we can die. It takes Jesus!

Seek Him today. His ways are different, and He always has a way through the problem. Not around it, but through it-victoriously. Out of work, sick, foreclosed, lonely and lost? Trust Jesus. Facing jail, divorce, or loss of job? Trust Jesus. If you only make one decision today, make it for Him! Businesses, churches, kings and kingdoms will come and go. Only Jesus is eternal. Join Him in His eternal kingdom today. Life is too short to live without Him. And too harsh to make it on your own. And He leaves it up to you. Choose Jesus. Life is tough enough, don't face it alone. You don't have to-it's your choice!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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I still wave at trains

Long ago when all my politically correct 5 year old friends wanted to be firemen, I wanted to be an engineer-I wanted to drive a train! Just the thought of driving a mega-ton train, with hundreds of cars behind it has always captivated me. And it must be a freight train-no passengers unless they were the obligatory hobos. No this was to be a freight train, taking the goods to market and keeping America strong. I wanted to be the one sitting in the window, and I wanted to wave to all the kids who waved at me. To see America riding the rails. So I still wave at trains today-and they still wave back. It doesn't get much more American than that.

I will blame this on both my grandfathers. My Pappy used to take me to the train yard where he was in charge of checking all the numbers of the freight cars. I thought he owned them, or at least was the President of the line because he had a clipboard and he checked everything. And he said hi to everyone, and they said hi back. Calling him Mr. Murphy. He was important. I could see him riding the rails, waving to kids, one of them me. And I would tell my friends, "that's my Pappy," and they would be so jealous. Cool, huh? And my other grandfather used to take me down to Bangor's roundhouse on Friday nights after dinner. We would walk through the yards, check out the roundhouse, and he explained to me all about trains. Between my grandfathers, I thought trains were the coolest things in the world, and that my grandfathers knew everything, and everyone that was important. People even called them Mister-wow!

I can remember the trains rolling through Pen Argyl and past my Aunt and Uncle's house. Miles of coal cars, box cars, and tank cars. We knew all of them. They were loud, even better. And how sadly when they tore up the tracks when the coal mines went bust, due to the steel mills closing in Bethlehem. A deafening silence. The beginning of the end in many ways. I also remember the tracks between South and North Avenues-running from Elizabeth to Plainfield and beyond, past my house-and how after school we would stand on the bridge on Hetfield or Martine Avenue and watch them. Trying to count the cars, but never quite completing the task. Waving to the train as it approached, and without fail, the engineer waving back. Sometimes a blast from the horn, which we would think was meant for us, but usually just a safety warning. But it was personal-did you hear that, they were blowing the horn for us? As they went thundering below us.

But trains don't run like that anymore. No more cabooses, now they have computers. Whatever happened to the great names like the Jersey Central, Pennsylvania RR, Erie Lackawanna, and the Lehigh Valley? Names we grew up with, now gone and replaced with non-romantic names like CSX, BNSF, and others. Only the A,T, &SF-the Atchison, Topeka, and the Santa Fe remain. But mostly in my memories. Sing on Judy G!

But times change, and so do we. The things we learn early in life get filed somewhere in the past, as new and more exciting things replace them. Or so we think. From peer pressure, to social pressure, to life interfering, we now have a tendency to look back instead of looking ahead. Maybe the outlook of the future has something to do with it. Just watch the news, it ain't good. It seems we have no future-even Amtrak has never made money-another leisure activity of the Federal Government. No thanks. But yet I watch and wonder as people turn to the government for help instead of turning to God. I listened the other morning as a Christian friend told of how she needed money, and was asking her friends for help-to little or no avail. I listen as churches ask their people for money, or as missionaries tell us how they can't make it without financial help. It has to come from YOUR support, so dig into your pockets just one more time. And I sit disappointed as man relies more upon man for help, rather than going directly to God. Trust me, my finances are shaky on a good day-so why ask me for help? Wouldn't it make more sense to go directly to the one in charge? To go directly to God, from whom ALL blessings flow?

How would you feel if you were God, and had all the resources to fill all the needs of the world-and your people went to other sources first? How many times do you need to hear Matthew 6:33, "Seek first the kingdom of God, and its righteousness, and then all things will be added unto you..." before you believe it? But more importantly, do you trust it? As Christians we all claim to a belief in God, but do we trust Him? When Jesus says to trust and obey, why don't we? Has our relationship gone the way of the railroads, supplanted by government endowments, 401k's, loans, and good paying jobs? Have we let life interfere with the one who gives life-and gives it abundantly?

Why not go back to the the early times when we first believed, and trusted God-just because He was, and is, and will always be God? Let's go back to when we first met Jesus, and somehow knew our lives had been changed, and that He had everything in control. Let's go back to when it was personal-for like the trains, it wasn't the trains that left the track, or God who changed-it was us! So today I challenge you-pray for something, being so brave that only God can solve it. That it will fail unless Jesus can intervene. And that only God will get credit for it. For unlike the engineer who waved back at us, He waves first. He loved us first, while sinners, and still loves us today. Look for that familiar wave of Jesus, inviting you to spend time with Him. Get out of your roundhouse of pride, and trust God. And wave to others, and marvel as they wave back. Jesus calls it love-and that is why I still wave to trains. And why I trust God today more than ever. The important things are slipping away everyday, don't let Jesus be on your list of casualties. But more important, don't be on His list of those that turned away. For the next train may not be going in your direction.

Jesus Christ. Can I hear an amen? ALL ABOARD!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

highway 1 revisited, again

Rider magazine's first issue in 1974 had an article called "highway 1, you ultimate one..." about the PCH between Cambria and Carmel. It was some 3000 miles away from this Jersey boy, but over a million miles away in my dreams that I would ever ride it. But dreams do come true, so do miracles, and less than 18 months later I was to take the first of many trips on the this ultimate road. In fact so many times that I became "Highway 1'ed out," and the road had lost a lot of its appeal. But the love is alive again, and here are some trips that made it special. With my trip last week in the truck with Theresa flooding my soul with precious memories. It is always more fun travelling with your best friend.

It was August of 1975, and John from Jersey, whom I had met in Santa Monica was riding back home with me. Everything to him was "outrageous," and so was Highway 1. The road never seemed to end, and although we were to go to Yosemite, Grand Canyon, and Carlsbad Caverns in the next few days, none would have the affect on me the coast road would. And still does today, I found out 37 years later.

My first motorcycle ride up Highway 1 was with Rex in 1982. We weren't sure where it began, so from San Diego up to Cambria, any sign that said 1 we got off on, and wasted a lot of time. Ignorance will dot hat to you. But when we finally got to the road, we were disappointed to find it closed-a huge landslide had closed the road to all but local traffic, some 32 miles north of Cambria. Our dream ride over, or so we thought. So spending the night in the Piedra Blancas Motel, we listened to the rain and wind howl, bummed out. Two riders, two friends, who made a pact that night that if anything ever was to happen to me, Rex would take care of Theresa and Christopher-no Andrew yet. Then it dawned on us-if the road was closed, that meant no traffic, and a 64 mile round trip with the road to ourselves. So the next day, we awoke excited, it was cold but sunny, and we raced up and down that section 3 or 4 times, as fast as we could, using both lanes as there was no traffic to deal with. Better than any dream I could have ever dreamed. Sadly this was the last ride Rex would ever take, as he died less than a week later. And I had to find it out from reading it in the obituaries. I'll never forget that night, or that day. And I still miss Rex. Maybe Highway 1 is the ultimate, the last ride. It was for Rex.

Don Short and I made the same trip next March. He was on his new Interceptor, and we were both riding too fast-stupid fast. The road was clear, but cold, and we were shivering, but pressing on. Suddenly we came around a corner, and leaning against the cliff wall was a Suzuki, that had been down. Like a warning sign for us, we both slowed down the pace, but not the fun. That vision still stands out in my head, and I ride smarter today thinking of it.

We were going to meet Brett and Jeff and then the 8 of us would go to San Francisco, then down the coast. It was cold, and in Coulterville Milt and Jackie had split off from us-the seat of his V-Max threatening to end his marriage. But the rest of us carried on, and raced down Highway 1 at ridiculous speeds. In very cold, rainy, and dark weather. We were to spend the night in Santa Barbara, and I called ahead because we were running late. No problem, the owner left the key under the mats for the rooms, and we got in way after midnight. Again Highway 1 tempting and testing us, but all of rising to the occasion and beating her once again. My first north to south ride. Six friends, 4 bikes, one road. And one way cool motel owner.

Highway 1 in so many ways is the ultimate road. But just prior to my first ride in 1975, I met the ultimate one, Jesus Christ. And I need to testify that being on the road with Him is the ultimate ride. I have never seen Highway 1 without Him, so I cannot compare the beauty before I met Him. But I do know this, any road with Him is much better than the same road without Him. Jesus Christ makes the difference. He is more than the bike, the road, or the company you ride with. He is with you, all the time. And for me, He points out such beauties, lets us have divine interventions that others call luck, and has given me life. Life I didn't know I didn't have. And it continues just as fresh today as it did 37 years ago.

Stopping in Gorda last week, I talked with an old local, who had seen so much of Highway 1 and those who fall in love with it. When I mentioned the landslide in 1983, his face it up. He remembered it too, and without many words shared, we both went back to our landslide trips in 1983. Roads will change us, and Highway 1 did in ways I didn't know. And sharing the ride with Theresa last week brought many back-and invigorated new ones. For as beautiful as the road is, it comes alive with someone you love to share it with.

Just like life. Share your life with Jesus. Enjoy the trip, and as the memories grow, and as you change, enjoy the fellowship with Him. Only heaven will be better, but for now the roads we travel here will have to do. Just make sure your road leads to Him, so that it leads to heaven. Jesus Christ-the ultimate one, who gave it all. Who makes any road I travel with Him the ultimate road because He is with me. It had been too many years between trips up the 1, don't let any more time slip away from you and Jesus. When you find that ultimate road, don't stray from it. You never know what is around the next corner, it is so reassuring to ride with someone who does.

That's my story. What's yours? Stop and thank Jesus now. And let the good times roll...and ride!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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