but who wants to be the first to find out?

It has been said that hard work never killed anyone, yet I have yet to find any volunteers to find out if that statement is true. Yet we all think we work hard, or at least harder than anyone else. We find that we somehow suffer the lessers at our jobs, and put up with them despite our obviously gifted talents, and we could do more if only they weren’t there to hold us back. These are found in comments of” you’ll never guess what happened at work today,” or “they’re still doing it, I cannot believe why they put up with it?” Translation is they make too much, I don’t make enough, and if I were in charge, things would definitely be different around here. Which is probably why you are not. But back to hard work, no one thinks they don’t work hard. Look at my calluses, my headaches, my stress. Look at my paycheck! Isn’t a zero missing on it? So we go on trying to impress someone, anyone who will watch of how hard we work. Never realizing that the stress of trying to work hard was killing them anyway.

When I was a Service Advisor at MBSD, there were 17 of us in our shiny, glass walled offices. We could shut the door and keep the noise out, but being four walls of glass, all eyes could be on us, and usually were. To some it was like watching a train wreck, somehow you just can’t look away. For others it was look how beautiful my office is, please don’t come in and mess it up. I work for Mercedes Benz and you don’t. Different personalities would breed different paranoias, you figure. But my office was organized, and I kept my helmet and gloves in plain view to remind me of why I was there, and what I was working towards-the rewards of hard work. Yet hard work didn’t seem to be the answer, for you were limited by hours, and some would stay late, or come in on Saturdays. But when Robert, a lead tech who worked a later shift observed when walking the hall behind the offices that all the others were a mess, against Herr Penske’s rules, but mine was organized and neat. And I wrote more business than anyone, what’s up? And so I explained to him that I try to work smart. I leave myself with a clean desk when I leave, so I have the new day’s problems to deal with, not yesterdays. And although I spend more waking hours at work than with my family, we all do, I work so I can go home to them every night. My job wasn’t the most important thing in my life, although the paycheck many times was. I had other interests, a family, a church, and a God who I rather be with, so I spent my time at work working smart instead of hard. And I produced more, had less stress, made more money, and went home on time every night. Sounds simple doesn’t it?

What it took was a commitment, and the desire to follow God first, then let the others be prioritized. And it still works today. But you must be able to let your pride take the day off, and follow God to make it work. I was asked once to teach at a chapter I used to be active in, and leapt at the chance. But when reminded that another Mike may be out there just waiting to have the chance, I declined. And was blessed, it was the right thing, and we all were blessed. Doing the right thing, God’s thing, and God’s way-what a novel thought! And yet we work hard instead, and still call Him Lord, but we are only subservient to ourselves, and our own desires.

A forward to me today reminded me that it is not us who saves, but Jesus. We are just the messengers, which I have been telling others for years. And while the audience gets smaller, I find that many churches are cognizant of that, but go about it all wrong. They work hard instead of working in the spirit-smart. I was once part of the next generation, and we were told who would God lift up for our generation? And I see many today forsaking the old, advertising for the new, and there is no one to lead. So they work harder, stress more, and love less. Which they would never admit to. Yet when confronted with the reality of how we are to make disciples, we think shouting on the street corner His name is the right thing to do. Discipled means disciplined, or meekness, which is power under control. Your power under God’s control, and His power under yours-in love. Doing the right thing although others would sound ok, working smart! Ministering smart! So as I watch others being taught, and all age groups coming together, I see growth, and God provides it. Whereas I see others changing names, eliminating service, and focusing on a certain age group and the church failing. People should not be invited to church, we are the church. We should take it to whoever God puts in our path, not seek for what committees, groups, church boards, or pastors desire. Jesus taught in the tabernacle, but ministered on the street. And in homes, and to friends and strangers. Even to people who ride, have tattoos, and vote Republican! Can we?

Are you a disciple of Jesus Christ? Do you want to be? Are you willing to be taught, instead of teaching? The closer I get to God, the more I find I need Him. Sin stinks more, I find I know less and need to lean on Him more. My church is more important to me, as the fellowship gives me strength. And included in all this I find I am being discipled, and able to disciple others. I desire to equip others to equip others in prisoner ministries, to those in need, and most importantly to my family. Which blesses me in a way no hard work ever could. Working harder and enjoying it less? Try God’s way, and enjoy the work He has set before you. It may give you more time to spend with family, to relax, to ride, and to do the things you want to do other than sleep late from exhaustion. Busy workers are not necessarily productive or happy. Holy means happy, and brings happiness. So try it God’s way, trust Him. Better to do one thing He asks than many that feed the ego. Pride will always go before the fall. And in spring, winter, and summer too. A perennial that keeps on exacting from us, not bearing fruit. So work as a team as God directs. The farmer who seeded the land moves on to another field. Then those who tend to it move to another field. And yet another group harvests it. Each one doing as needed, but not doing each other’s assignment. Try that with God. And find time for all the things that really matter. A clean desk doesn’t have to be the sign of a disturbed mind. Hard work may not kill you, who wants to be the first to find out?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

the grass is always greener over the septic tank

If you want to embarrass or hurt someone, nothing is better than an audience. And no matter how high or low they are socially, financially, or whatever size their motor, caution needs to be exercised. The first man in our account today is an internationally known race driver. He has won all the major off road races, and just the mention of his first name would give him away. He is filming a commercial with a new director, who wants it done right the first time, and has heard that this man can be hard to work for. No his name isn’t Robby. He goes to makeup, and then the card girl holds up the cue cards for him to read. ACTION! And he starts off and goes off on his own. CUT! Please just read what is on the card, ACTION! Same thing, and then again. At this point the director blames the young girl, hold them straight, are they I order, are they the right ones? It must be her fault, this man is a celebrity. Then off to the side another racer grabs a Sharpee and writes a few words on a card, hands it to the girl, and tells the director, “try this.” ACTION! With the same results. Incensed the director grabs the cards, and reads the top one-all obscenities, and related to the celebrity’s mother. While the director looks up in rage, the other racer leans over and whispers in his ear, “he can’t read.” No one thought to ask if he could, it was assumed. So he tells the racer, just ad lib, tell it like it is, and we’ll edit it later. He does, and a star is born.

Another racing legend is building his own trucks for a race series. He hires a designer, fresh from college, but with racing experience to design the trucks. As the fastener supplier, I was able to lend him expertise based on years with NASCAR, and off road. But the engineer does it like he was taught, lived in Chicago, raced carts, and never saw a desert before. And wasn’t about to change, even though bolts were breaking, and they weren’t for anyone else. No way was his design to blame. Finally confronted by our engineer, Jimmy D. reviewed with him all the newbie had learned, then took it to application. Reluctantly the owner of these new trucks changed, claiming he was paying this man $75/hour, so he had to be right. And an amazing thing happened, no more broken bolts, the trucks went on to be a success, and we were vindicated. It was like one of my techs at Mercedes Benz was asked to look at a woman’s AC. It had quit blowing, and so he reached under the hood, and replaced a fuse. Instantly the AC blew cold, and she was thrilled, until she asked how much. “Twenty dollars,” he told her. “But you only replaced a fuse, and it took no time.” “Yes,” he replied, “but I knew which fuse.” Maybe having a screw loose isn’t the same as a loose screw.

Finally a third man, not famous, worked with me in a Sears warehouse. They would call down for a part number, give a small description, and we would send it up to them. Simple enough. Until Jeff took one request, “send me a green 21345 blender.” Wanting to please, he ran to the shelf, and looking found none marked green. “We have no green, all we have is avocado.” Avocados are green today, I’m told they were 40 years ago too. Blenders may change, but avocadoes don’t. So it is amazing what we know, don’t know, or think we know. Only to be confronted with the truth.

It had been a hard, long night of fishing. From just a look inside the boats, with no fish, you could tell, and the mood of the men reinforced that. All night in one spot, these trained and experienced men were exhausted. They had fished successfully there for years. And then Jesus comes up to them, and asks how is the fishing? What, doesn’t that add insult to injury? But maybe he just wanted to clarify their position. They admitted their fate, and so this carpenter told the fishermen to cast their nets on the other side of the boat. Reluctantly, they did, only to be amazed, the nets became full, and almost to bursting. The boats then were filled to overflowing, and started to sink before they headed to shore. And Jesus’s only comment, soon you will be fishers of men. Tired, excited, dazed and confused, these to be disciples, would surely go on to do what He had said. But tonight, or this morning they were tired, and had a catch to unload. Now you may ask, when Jesus could multiply two fish into enough to feed the thousands, why couldn’t He just fill the boats? Or command the fish to just swim 20 feet to the other side where the nets were? Fish don’t argue. Wasn’t He God? Didn’t He love these men, and didn’t He feel for their suffering? Yet He answered it the best way, in love. Like all His answers, even though we like to advise Him on how and what to do. When is always right now! You see we like to argue, or negotiate with God. He showed them how to be better fisherman, and how obedience, and depending on the Holy Spirit is their key to success. All from a carpenter. And also to show them prophetically how Peter, this rough and tough fisherman would catch/save 3000 souls on the day of Pentecost. Those words just had to have special meaning to Peter that day! He had become a true fisher of men!

Pride can be subtle, it can be harsh, or dangerous. It can delay the making of a commercial, be dangerous in building a race car, and even make it hard to find blenders. But don’t let it stand between you and God and the blessings He has in store for you. If you can’t read the cues, ask. If the problem gets worse, change direction. Doing the same thing but expecting different results is crazy. And if you don’t know the difference between green and avocado, go by the part number. Ask if you don’t know! James says you don’t have because you don’t ask, or ask with wrong intentions. So next time your nets are empty, you are tired, exhausted, broken, and without hope, ask. Then listen. The answer will amaze you, and include you. And also one very important person, Jesus. But it only works if you follow His directions. The grass may appear to be greener another way, or on the other side of the fence. And it usually is over the septic tank. There is a reason for that. Knowing Jesus makes all the difference. Now which part of all things don’t you understand? ACTION!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com 

motorcycles-what we took before Viagra

After a hard summer of working three jobs, my best friend Bill Moore and I had save enough money to buy a motorcycle-together. He had built a cool mini-bike, with a chrome moly frame, courtesy of Mr. Dempsey, Linda’s dad, and we had been riding Ricky Schill’s Honda 50 that had the kit on it to make it look like a real motorcycle, and had once ridden his Kawasaki 125-a big bike. But as 15 year olds, we were still two years away from the legal driving age in New Jersey, so the dream was on. We had spent time in the dirt, and on the street, but the street intrigued us more-as it led out of town and to places we had only read about. Now Bill had an older brother, in college, who had a friend who worked for Harley Davidson. Who we spent an afternoon with talking motorcycles, his stories were definitely more exciting than ours. Our ears anxiously awaiting the next tale. But when we told him that our plan was to buy a Sportster, we were shocked at his answer. He advised us no. Which made no sense to us, and was about to crush our dreams. The bike that was claimed to put hair on your chest, and if you had it, to part it, was being denied to us? We had cash man, didn’t money talk? But he went on to explain further, how expensive they were to buy, but this partnership had the money, we could keep it in Bill’s garage, my parents hated motorcycles, and we would take turns riding it. Had it all figured out, until he laid the bomb on us, “don’t buy one, they are unreliable, heavy, a high risk theft item, and you won’t enjoy it. Buy a Honda instead, and enjoy riding more.” This from a Harley employee, what was he thinking? What were we hearing? But yet as anyone knows, the AMF years at Harley were not the best years, and so when I was a senior, I bought a brand new 1972 Honda CB350, and rode, fulfilling all the dreams Bill and I had had years ago. But with another Bill, as he had a CL77 we rode until it died, then sold to the guy at the Esso station for $50, who fixed it up and rode it to school. But I never forgot this advice, given by a man who liked motorcycling and motorcycles. Good advice isn’t always what we want to hear. But only works if taken.

We still cruised the motorcycle stores, Honda was close, and didn’t chase us off, the Norton dealer was open on weird days, Yamaha went ring a ding ding, and they sold BMW’s, in the back of this hardware/bicycle shop. The Triumph/Kawasaki/Ossa dealer was 12 miles away, and the Harley store was in a storefront, across from the train station in Plainfield. Pop owned it, wasn’t too fond of us kids, so the Honda store was where we went and worshipped, knowing we would just meet the nicest people.

Motorcycles-what we took before Viagra. Despite the warning that if it had wheels or wore a skirt it would break your heart, and wallet, we rode. And in this era when the air was dirty, and sex was becoming clean, we chose to ride. Which put us into an elite group, those who rode. And while so many classmates were still negotiating to borrow Dad’s station wagon for a date with Betty Sue, and to be back home in bed by midnight, without Betty Sue, we were out riding. No problem ever with girls, but not the kind you brought home to meet the parents. But with all our funds going to riding, we didn’t mind, we rode. And as another wise sage once said, “motorcycles are almost as good as sex, but you can do it more often.” Not sure about the sex, but more often on my Honda was never enough. So more often was OK with me. And so it was with the old adages, old advice, and the stereotypes we met, and were labeled as. Our heroes were Little Fauss and Big Halsey, we even carried our toothbrushes in our back pocket like Halsey. We still wanted to cruise America like Wyatt and Billy, but on our Hondas instead of the Sportster we had dreamt of. Harley was still almost a generation from reinventing itself with the help of a Federal tax burden placed on imported bikes, you still met the nicest people on a Honda, now just with 4 cylinders, you knew some who were letting the good times roll on the Kawi, and some still Soloed Suzuki. Triumphs were for the sporty guys, who we rode with, but we knew that we would and could outlast them. Just not out leak them. But we all rode together, each of the belief that our bike was the best, but always dreaming of the next, bigger, faster, and more expensive bike to grace our garage. Did you see the cover of Cycle World this month? The dream rekindled. We were young, and nothing would stand in our way. Except cops, parents, the threat of college, jobs, and a girlfriend who didn’t ride. We had it all, including the future to do it in...but something was missing.

Ecclesiastes tells us of a man searching for happiness. He is rich, handsome, and has many wives and girlfriends. In today’s world he would have many cars, motorcycles, and all the toys. He would be the one with the sign that says “He who dies with the most toys wins.” But underneath you find these guys unhappy. Using all their resources, and credit line, they try to buy happiness. Confusing happiness, and emotion, fleeting and temporary, with joy, an affair of the heart. Wives and girlfriends get traded like cars, always hoping the next one will be better than the last, if not, there are more out there to choose from. We see them show up as posers, shiny leathers, too much chrome, and too few miles, just trying to fit in. It takes more than $20,000 and 20 miles to be a biker, but their approach to life is superficial, like the searcher. He seeks the things of God, believing they are God, letting his whole world revolve around him. He might even be saved, but living in a fallen state, Jesus saved him, but is not his Lord, yet. He tries various churches, until he finds one that will accept him, and his actions. But doesn’t offer any hope to escape the trap he is in.

When along comes someone free in the spirit. Who has decided to give it all to Jesus, and let Him be Lord. And as he watches this man sold out to God enjoy life, he wants that too. But he finds that he is too attached to his things, and cannot and will not give them up. The same things that are bringing him down, he won’t take the advice given. Even when given by another just like him, who has made the right choice. And so he suffers needlessly, always searching, but never finding, when he is only one choice away from freedom.

He is afraid to exercise the little faith he has, to please God and open up the doors of joy. He still seeks other ways, when Jesus reminds him “He is the way, the truth, and the life.” And as he gets older, he gets lonelier. No love in monthly payments. No joy after everyone else has seen your new toy. No blessings to enjoy from God when you are God in your own life. And he finds that the guy who dies with the most toys wins nothing, and his life has been a rehearsal for eternal failure. He had met the nicest people, just not the one who could save him. From himself. Yet so many want to be like him, yet don’t see the sadness in him. If only he had taken the advice given by someone who knew, like the advice Bill and I had taken from our friend at HD. How different things might have turned out if we spent more time fixing than riding in our youth?

How about you? Are you in for repairs too often, when if you took care of your life you could avoid them? Maintenance can be expensive, but can be planned for and budgeted. Who among us plans for failure? So why not turn it over to God right now. Use the tiny bit of faith, and watch as trust grows, as you know Him better. As you experience happiness in the form of blessings, and true joy that comes from the heart. You never know who is watching, you bad example can turn into the testimony that someone else is looking for. Better than riches, cars, sex, and even motorcycles. Jesus is the best and only way. Viagra for the soul, that needs no prescription. A ride to look forward to, not to be avoided. Turning sorrow and grief into joy. And providing more time to ride, and spend with Him. Think about it, are those things you are holding on to that precious you won’t let go of them for eternal joy?

Riding and what you ride is a personal thing. So is choosing Jesus. Not someday a better way, He is the way. All that hard work only to end in broken dreams is no way to live. Live your life in Christ, search no more. For where the spirit of the Lord is there is liberty. Jesus-the only freedom better than riding. Why not choose both today? Good advice from a friend who knows, and made the right choice years ago. And it still only works if taken.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

all in a day's ride

The ad looked good, and the destination an easy days ride. The cause seemed worthy, and the opportunity to minister was a good thing. So off I rode to Paso Robles, to meet up with this group dedicated to honoring 9-11 victims and their families. Usually a 375 mile ride, I was excited to take the Bonneville, and then ride back with them the next day. Usually it is the Tiger or a Triumph Press Fleet bike for longer rides, but the Bonne and I needed some seat time together, so off I went. Turning a 375 mile trip into over 500 miles by dinner time, taking all the back roads without consulting anyone else, and riding my own pace-fast. And arriving at the motel on Paso just in time for the ceremonies to start. Except the only things missing were other bikers, and the ceremony. Even the motel manager knew nothing about it, so I went off to eat, and then checked back. No one else, except for over the road rigs, so it being early, still light in August-100 degrees, I decided to return home that night.

I was making good time, only stopping for gas, and was over Lake Cachuma and into Santa Barbara at nightfall. Only 225 miles and two tanks of gas to go. But in Thousand Oaks the smell of IN-and-OUT overwhelmed me, and I braved the crowds of the cheerleaders, their camp had just let out, and all the rah rah was just what I needed for the last leg of the trip. One more fuel stop, then bed for me. And I was home and in bed by 11pm, riding 875 miles that day, a long day, but longer on the Bonneville, not the touring bike everyone else would have taken. But my choice, and a good one. More miles than I had anticipated, but the true meaning of the road being the destination was on my mind as I fell asleep that night.

And the next night at Biggs I found out they had detoured, too many 300 mile days had worn the group out, and they took the freeway on the last leg. Which made me wonder, did the others planning to meet them find out, or was I the only one planning to meet them? A bit upset, but happy about the ride anyway, I finally realized God had done me a favor and I had missed the chance to ride another freeway. It took them 10 hours to go just over 300 miles the last day, not my kind of riding. You do the math. And the Bonneville would have to wait another day to ride great roads, if I had. So in the end, God had known, but provided me with a great ride, a great day, and a great bike to do it on. What to me was a change of plans, and a detour, to Him was no surprise.

Isaiah 65 tells us that before we even ask God is answering our prayers. Nothing surprises Him, but most of life does us. And just like there are good and bad surprises, God shows us favor in them all when we trust Him. Which can be easy to do, or difficult, again our choice. I could have stayed in Paso at the Melody Ranch Motel, our usual overnight place and a trip back to the 50’s, but I got to enjoy the ride, the cheerleading, and slept in my own bed that night. Next to my wife. Better than any ride. So when Jeremiah tells us that God knows the plans for us, for good things, I like to trust Him. But did you ever wonder, why doesn’t He tell us ahead of time? I thought I was listening to God, when all I found was a surprised motel clerk?

I have found that God doesn’t tell us so that it avoids an argument. Whining, crying, and then arguing with God about His plans for us, would only led us into trouble. We do that well enough on our own, have you ever had to ask for more trouble in your life? But have you ever had to ask Him to rescue you? Also have you ever been able to negotiate with God, thinking your ideas are better, and His are just the starting point? Why argue, when you could be riding? How many blessings do we miss each day, because we complain rather than obey?

Take Peter for example. Imagine if when in the garden, and the little girl accused him of being with Jesus, he said “yes, what of it?” What if he was taken away with Jesus and crucified? Would there have been four crosses at Calvary that day, or only three, and the thief would not have encountered Jesus, and missed Paradise that night? Yet God knew, and still knows, knowing what Peter would say and do, and turning it into something good. Like Joseph related to his family, what the devil meant for evil, God meant for good.

We can all use some more good, can’t have too much. Start by asking God what His will for you today is, just like Jesus advised in the Lord’s Prayer. How about God’s will rather than your own? Did you stop to realize all the blessings you miss by not asking, and how you can interfere with others when you go off on your own selfish way? When the good roads await when you ask. You see I had a great ride until I was told no in Paso, then had to make a decision. I could have been bitter, and missed a great days ride back home, the cheerleaders and waking up in my own bed the next day, by my wife. But I chose to go on, and found myself to be blessed. Calling on God the entire day, alone with Jesus, good stuff. It seems the best testimonies are born out of tragedy, when you let God intervene. Why ask God why when you can be spending time with Him on really important things, like “hey God, where do you want to go riding tomorrow?” Man plans, God laughs. All in a day’s ride...may you have many more of them.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot

I'm going to miss that clown with the red hair

It has been a long day, you’ve missed dinner, and all you want is something fast, cheap, and NOW! Pulling into a fast food place, the Golden Arches welcome you, but seeing the drive-thru line long, you gamble and go inside. Where the lines are shorter but not moving so fast. A burger, fries, and a Coke sound good, so you tell the person waiting on you, “gimme a burger, Coke, and fries.” Whereupon the bi-lingual clerk, English is his second language, asks, “what kind of burger?” And you notice there are a dozen choices of burgers. “Just a hamburger.” “Cheese?” “OK.” “What size fries? Small medium, or large?” “Medium,” a good middle of the road answer. “What kind of Coke? Classic, Diet, or Zero? Caffeine free?” “Classic.” Now, do you want to Super size it?” “NO!” a quicker answer than yes, and as you look at the small amount of change from your ten, you realize why the line is so long, and moves so slow. All you wanted was a quick meal, a basic burger with fries, and a Coke t wash it down, and you spend more time in line, making decisions, than eating it. Remember when fast food was fast, it meant fast service, not the time it took to go through you? And all you want to do now is go home, to escape. And as you sit next to a man sipping his latte, on his laptop, you notice you ‘re not in McDonald’s anymore. You’re in a Mac Café, trendy. And you notice how McDonald’s, the father of all fast food, has morphed into Mickey D’s, and now into a Mac Café. What next, Ronnie D’s? Or Café Ronaldo, giving it an international flair, to match your designer coffee? Happy Meals with little plastic iPods, sitting next to their parents, each one on their own cell phone, talking but not to each other. And all you wanted was something fast to eat?

There is an old story about dog food, where the company is introducing its new dog food to its sales force. They are excited about the new packaging, the new ads, and the new commissions they will be earning from the new sales. But in the midst of this, someone asks, “what do the dogs think of it? Do they like it?” And the room gets quiet, for no one asked a dog, or even thought to ask. Woof! My manager at Bowman used to say “unless you are the lead dog, the view never changes.” Trying to spur us on to take the lead. But I also find the hamster on the wheel always has the same view, and he is not leading anyone. And maybe, he would like some backup help on his ride to nowhere on the wheel. So why am I surprised when all I want is a burger, yet get confronted with so many choices?

It had been a busy day, a busy week, for Nicodemus. Among all the religious activities and ceremonies he had to perform, a new player had come on the scene, Jesus of Nazareth. A man who claimed to be God, met all the criteria, was at the right place at the right time, but wasn’t whom they had expected. He had to see for himself. So after all the crowds were back at the inns for the evening, Nicky D. plans to meet him after dark. We aren’t told how he arranged it, but he just needed to meet this Jesus. And when he did, all his ideas about religion were about to change. Nicky D. was a Pharisee, head of the Sanhedrin, and also a rich, powerful man. A famous man who could be recognized, and yet was willing to gamble, to risk it all to meet this rebel. And when asking questions, the answers only led to more questions, and confusion. You see as a Pharisee, Nicky was a very public man, and had to obey all of the 600+ Mosaic laws. Any slight indescretion of one could be deadly to his reputation, and also to his belief of reaching heaven. Faced with so many choices, he had to be worn out by the end of the day. Yet, Jesus met with him, privately, and gave him some great advice, advice we all need to take. “You must be born again to inherit the kingdom of God,” spoke this man who was God. And when Nicky could only think in physical terms, how can I go back into mother’s womb, it took a while for him to consider the spiritual message that Jesus gave him. For once he had been told the truth, without religion and its snares. And he had to make a choice, the law of Jesus, to love God first and then our neighbor, or to obey all laws, and correct the ones who broke them. 2000 years later we would have the US of A, who in the Constitution promise freedom of religion, Jesus was offering him more, freedom from religion!

Now we don’t hear about Nicky for 18 chapters in the Book of John, but we see him at Jesus’ grave. His heart has been changed, and he is willing to risk it all-the power, position, riches, and fame for eternal life. He chose one way, Jesus, over many ways. He chose the spirit over the law, and found new life, eternal life. He was born again. From a garden to a tomb, he followed Jesus all way. Now the question is, do you? Will you? Are you stuck in the line of fast food religion, Mickey D’s, too many choices, and still not what you want? Or would you prefer Nicky D’s choice, to be born again? Does your religion leave you hungry or wanting more? Maybe you need to go with Nicky rather than Mickey. A Super sized God without asking. Not trendy, but eternal. A happy meal, with a happy relationship, God calls blessings happinesses. All the Jesus, without all the rules. Less chances to slip up, and when you do, He’s there to catch you, not discipline you. Hands to hold you-nail pierced hands that understand your pain. Shoulders to lean on, arms to hug, and it’s all paid for! All you need to do is step up and receive it.

Too many choices lead to too many wrongf decisions. Make the right choice today-Jesus. Nicky D. did 2000 years ago. Jesus or religion. Have it your way. You deserve a break today. Have a real happy meal. I’m going to miss that clown with the red hair.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com 

a "Mose" by any other name would still be a "Mose"

I recently read an article about the top 10 collectible Oldsmobiles from the fifties. My personal preference is Toronados, the first ones with the long hoods, and 68-72 442’s, my friend George had a 68, Fucci had a fast 1970, and Richard the last year of that old body style in 1972. All fast cars, ones just an afternoon ride in one today would be a treat. But 1950’s Olds were never my favorite, I tend to like the 1956 Chevies more, as did most of America at the time. But jumping off the page at me as I turned them, was a red and white 1956 Oldsmobile 88 two door hardtop. It was Uncle “Mose”’s car, and I remembered it from riding in the back seat when a teen. I ‘m not sure if he was really my uncle, he was my Nana’s sister’s husband, and my mother’s uncle. Confused, I am. But Uncle “Mose” was a cool guy. Whenever Aunt Evelyn, Nana’s sister would send a card, it was always Aunt Evelyn and Uncle “Mose.” So uncle he was. And his 1956 Olds was his prize. A victim of many afternoons under trees hiding from the summer sun being Simonized, it was the shiniest car I ever remembered. With a certain bubbling noise from the exhaust, nothing at all like my Dad’s Rambler. And coming from a family where cars weren’t the stars, his stuck out. My Grandpa had a cool 1962 black Cadillac Coupe DeVille, and later a 1972 Lemans coupe, he used to shift the automatic floor shifter making us feel like he was racing, and pinning us back in the seat. But other than that, it was sedans, Ramblers, and station wagons. So I was naturally drawn to Uncle “Mose” and his Olds.

My cousin Steve and I would jump at the chance to ride with him on the infrequent family outings, riding in the back seat, while Uncle “Mose” would drive with his arm out the window. His short sleeves rolled up in the custom of cool in the day. He was a muscular man, and the warning was always that he drove fast, and got speeding tickets-the unforgivable sin in this conservative Methodist family. Are you sure you want to ride with him? Let me think, Rambler or fast Olds, where else would this young gearhead get his fix? A chance to go fast and maybe get pulled over? Which only made us want to ride along with him even more. Always on the lookout for the motor cop out to get him, for we were all sure they knew the car, and were just waiting to nab him. We later found out his real name was Arthur, just like “the Fonz,” but he was always “Mose” to us, a “Mose” by any other name, he would still be a “Mose. “ He lived in Warren Glen, how’s that for a town, two first names, and worked at a large paper mill on the Delaware. His visits always included boxes, 1000’s of sheets of paper, they made poster board, which was used in all school projects, its shininess and toughness only adding to any good grade I would get. It was expensive, but free from Uncle “Mose.” And we could just see him loading it into his trunk after work, maybe having to sneak it out past the guard, and putting it into his trunk in plain sight of everyone, everyone knew that Olds could get you into trouble. He was cool, the way “the Fonz” was cool, without the motorcycle, and even his name was in parenthesis just like “the Fonz;” Uncle “Mose.” Now how cool was that? Sadly as we got older, and “Mose” and my grandparents generation faded away, and so did the memories, but how cool it was to think of him again after seeing the picture. And I wonder how many memories of good times have been lost over the years through death of loved ones. And I am thankful for the cars that tie me to them, and remind me of good times, when we were young and all was right with the world. And the only real danger was riding with Uncle “Mose” keeping a look out for cops. Maybe with the trunk full of contraband paper, and the music too loud. Or the sound of the pipes waking up he citizens. Yup, there was no better way to spend with your uncle than going fast, in an Olds.

Kids today are tethered in the back seats of SUVs, minivans and four door sedans. Mufflers muffling any sound that could cause excitement. And with AC on, windows up and DVD in place, there is no need for conversation within the car. Mom has her iPod, and Dad has his. No driving with the arm out the window, no cool sound of exhausts. And with radar detectors that look out for the cops for you, many just point and steer, with great difficulty. Surely driving ain’t what it used to be. Which makes me wonder, what will the kids of today remember in 20 years? Will they get excited when looking at an old minivan? Will they remember all the good times in the SUV? Remember that movie we watched on the way to Grandma’s house? And where will all the stories of outlaws like Uncle “Mose” be? Who are your kid’s heroes today?

We are told that Jesus had four brothers, by their father and mother, Joseph and Mary. Jesus never had any kids, but his siblings did, making him Uncle Jesus. A way you never really think about Him. So many think of Him as so pious and having no fun, not my kind of God. Yet I can see Jesus at family gatherings hanging with the kids. Checking out handiwork of others, remember He was a carpenter just like His dad. I could see some parents, aunts and uncle and others warning kids to stay away form Him, He has weird ideas. But seeing the kids being drawn to Him despite the warnings of others. You see Jesus will do that to you. He will draw you to Him. Something about Him makes Him cool, and you want to be with Him. Which is why maybe the hookers, junkies, tax collectors, those with tattoos, and those who ride are drawn to Him. And we aren’t afraid to ride along with Him. We see a certain freedom in Him, not a set of rules. A true rebel, but one against sin and those who try to keep us enjoying life. He leads by example, and long after we forget His words, we still remember His actions. He would hang with the biker, the hot rodder, and show a cool that is not found anywhere else, or in anyone else. A cool “the Fonz,” or even Uncle “Mose” didn’t possess. He would love the sound of loud pipes, drive with the windows down and arm out the window. He would talk to those in the car with Him, and tune in the radio with the best songs. If asked which car He wanted to ride in, He wouldn’t mind, but secretly would rather ride with Uncle “Mose” than in a family of religous types. Can’t be heard when a earphone is stuck in your ear. Either can you hear your kids. Listening? He loved them too, but they didn’t much care for Him. Sadly today the Pharisees are still alive and doing too well. Those who know all the rules, and you better obey them, or timeout. Doors locked from the inside, just like their hearts, not allowing anyone in.

Jesus tells us He stands at the door and knocks, He wants to be invited into your life. Funny how He wants to to join you in your hot rod too. Right up front, arm out the window. He wants to ride along with you too, on back if needed, but rather ride beside you, on His own motorcycle. How you see Jesus will make a huge difference in who He is in your life. Sadly to many He only lives within the walls of the church, but you find although He taught in the temple, He ministered on the street. Where the action and the people were. And He is still knocking today? Will you ask Him in for a ride? Let Him throw a leg over your bike?

Jesus was cool long before ducktails, Buddy Holly, “the Fonz” and even before Uncle “Mose.” He was the coolest hippie, the coolest biker, and the coolest hot rodder. More like us than we ever thought possible. Give Him a chance today, open your door and let Him in. He offers us a chance to be like Him. To paraphrase Ringo, “let Him step into your car and into your life...now He’s your angel divine.” More than an angel, He is who He claimed to be. And loved us anyway. All this remembrance because of a picture in a magazine. He asks you to “do this in remembrance of me,” all things. And they all work for good to those who love Him. Pedal to the metal, pipes wide open. Throttle pegged, wind in your face. Arm out the window. That’s Jesus. Now that’s cool.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

I can't be overdrawn, I still have checks

There is an old story told of one man’s disastrous day, and the unhappy ending. The man is first called into his boss’s office late in the day, and is told he is fired for something he didn’t do. In shock and depressed, he goes out to find his car is gone-stolen. Looking to drown his sorrows he goes to the neighborhood bar, only to find his wallet missing, where the spare car key had been. Borrowing some change, he takes the bus home, only to find his wife with another man, she didn’t expect him home so early. At this point he decides to end his life by hanging himself, but the knots keep coming untied. In desperation he calls his best friend, and tells him of the day’s events. And asks for help. Which the friend provides, by explaining to him how to tie a proper slip knot. Ever have a day like this, or friends like this, that meant well but just didn’t get it?

Last week my computer started acting up, better yet it quit acting at all. Deciding it was time to replace it, I took it to J and B Computers, where Jim the owner helped me out. But what was supposed to be an overnight visit, turned into five days of no computer. And in the mean time, life went on. The rains continued so I couldn’t ride, and with no computer, which I consider only a tool, just like a hammer is only a hammer, and was cut off from the outside world, and from writing. But Saturday morning arrived, and the new computer Jim had for me wasn’t ready, my old laptop was dead, the hard drive corrupted. It would take more time, and maybe Monday, which went into Tuesday. But the blessings were still there, and not in the form of know tying. He knows I am in ministry, and to help me out added another 500 bits of memory-for free. A great blessing as you not only know how computer geeks can be, but how much it can cost. But the storms continued. On Monday the rain quit, and it got cold. For So Cal that is, highs in the 50’s. So I took the Trophy back to Mick, and was going to pick up a new Scrambler from the Press Fleet. All was well tucked in behind the huge fairing, until within a half mile of his exit on the 91, a warning light came on, saying low voltage, no audio. And I ended up coasting to a stop. Crank, no start. No gas maybe? But after pushing for almost a half mile, I decided to try and start it again-and off it went, to the gas station. Putting in a gallon just to get me the last mile, I told Mick about it. “Of the three Trophy’s, one battery wouldn’t fully charge, I figured it would after riding it.” Sadly 1200 miles later it wasn’t, but I was safe. And on my way on the Scrambler.

And on it goes, without the computer, no e-mail, so I didn’t find out until Tuesday about Larry’s funeral, 130pm on Tuesday until then. And that Pastor Doug had e-mailed me wanting me to teach at the Dustin Arms Ministry that night. We did connect, after his persistent phone calls, to my “old lady',” and I was able to share that night. Tired from all the above, I came back to find a flat tire on my car, at about 900pm. Fortunately Doug gave me a ride home, but today, after a doctor’s appointment for Andrew, I will try to call AAA, find a new tire, and get it towed. By the way, did I mention it will be warm today, and I have this new bike to put miles on?

We just started Deuteronomy in our Thursday Bible study, and the first two chapters have been very revealing, to me. It amazes me how our loving God continues to take care of this grumbling and complaining people He calls His own. And as Moses relates the stories of how God rescued them fed them, and led them after 40 years to The Promised Land, I am amazed. One, because whenever the obeyed God, they won the wars. When they didn’t, trouble followed. Just like us. But how after all this time, and even coming face to face with God on the mountain, Moses didn’t enter the Promised Land himself, because of disobedience. But even more amazing is how he is found on the Mount of Transfiguration with Jesus! He may have missed the Promised Land, but not the Promised One! And how often do we look for the something we need when really it is a someone, Jesus? So be encouraged, we may forget about God, and we won’t win every game. But He never forgets about us. He never promised to take us around the problem, but to be with us and take us through it, with the promise of heaven awaiting those of us who believe. So keep your eyes on Jesus, and not the situation. He sticks with us on the trip, when out of gas, money, battery, or direction. He never fails. Can our faith ever be as strong as our memory?

Andrew just reminded me about his doctor’s appointment. Oh, and can I loan him $40 till payday? He spent his last $200 fixing the truck. And we are out of milk...but I still have some checks left, dare I open the letter from the bank? Life goes on, and on sometimes, it is these little reminders of how much we need God in our daily lives. Seek Him today, and for more than a knot tying lesson. Whether in the valley, on the Mount, or wandering after the Holy Land, seek after the Promised One, and watch as all your needs are met. Did I mention it is also tax time?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com