don't grow up today

"Mom do we have to come in?” we used to cry as kids. “Can’t we stay out and play some more? Just one more inning?” And of course the answer was usually no, for this was not her first attempt, but her final at getting us in for dinner, or to go to bed. “Can’t we stay out at least until it gets dark?” And still it would take more than another request until someone else’s mother, then their father called us in from the dark. We were kids, and our main purpose in life was to play, and we spent all our waking moments trying to fulfill our obligations to it. But unimportant things like school, homework, dinner, and more homework were daily deterrents to achieving this goal. So any excuse was a good excuse to want to stay out and play more. And the games we played were simple. All it took was two gloves and a ball to play catch. Add a third and we could play three way catch-not as much fun, or running bases. Still simple enough, and fun. For football all it took was a ball, and two people. Add a third and one would play defense-just like the pros. Not enough kids for two teams in kickball, there was always flies up. And if an older brother wanted to get involved, many summer nights were spent shagging fly balls until it got too dark to see. All games that required two or three people, a ball, maybe a glove, and the desire to have fun. We had no need to be entertained, we entertained ourselves. Again, we had fun, and came home tired, dirty, sweaty, and sometimes scraped up after contact with the pavement. We were kids, did we really have to grow up?

Remember when a neighbor got a new TV, or a refrigerator? “Can we have the box?” we would ask, and soon the empty box that sat in the front yard to announce to the neighborhood of their recent big purchase was dragged down to ours, and turned into a fort for playing cowboys and Indians. Or a pillbox to defeat the Nazis playing war, and even a spaceship for going where no man had gone before. It could become a race car, the possibilities endless, with only our child like imaginations limiting our fun. Sometimes a simple stick could make a serious rifle, a bigger stick a BAR. How many of us survived nearly putting an eye out playing with them a swords? And when it came to bikes, how many future collectible baseball cards gave up their collectability to serve as noise for the spokes? Making us sound like a real motorcycle, the faster we went, the louder, just like the real motorcycle most of us had never heard. Performing gravity, and death defying leaps from the sidewalk curbs, we went 100mph in our minds. Add a little gravel, and we were soon skidding sideways, wearing out our rear tires, long after we would run out of baseball cards. “Do we have to come in? Can we stay out until dark? PLEEZ!” And off to the bathtub we would go, then to bed. Exhausted, maybe a bit scraped up, and we slept well-dreaming of the next neighbor and their new TV so we had a box to play in, or the next afternoon after school, when all the stress of study released us to the world of play once again.

Being home in the afternoons I miss the sound of kids playing. We have kids in the neighborhood, but it seems that organized activities are now the norm. Playing in safe environments, with no chance to play in boxes, they are responsibly recycled, to stay out until dark, or to add horsepower to their bikes via baseball cards. Now we save them, they may be collectible some day. Bikes are not left in the driveway with fear of Dad backing over them, but locked up behind locked doors. And all the fun we had outside is now inside, where kids play video baseball, with the sound of crowds coming from the Playstation. They are Ivan Stewart jumping their truck on a big screen TV, no way you could ever play in the box that came in. And if more than two or three boys are out playing catch, someone gets nervous and may call the police-what are those boys doing? Are they a gang? Better keep an eye on them. But soon some mother, if she happens to be home, and not at work, is hit with the question,”do we have to go out? Can’t we stay in and finish our video game?” Why, we might even get our Nike Airs dirty! Remember when no one wanted their shoes to look like new? And as Mom sets the timer, and your friend’s mom comes to get him, no one rides home a few blocks anymore, you wonder why kids are so unhappy? Why do they dropout, when maybe they are forced out? School grounds locked, guards in the hall, and signs saying “NO TRESPASSING!” everywhere. So they retreat to the confines of their room, just them and a video game-no gloves, balls, or bikes to be had. Don’t get sweaty, and please don’t get dirty. Germs are everywhere. And fun isn’t.

So I like simple, and still do. A chance to exercise the body and mind. To go places we want, as opposed to being controlled. And sadly, most of this is about control. Not having to deal with the responsibility of raising kids, just sending them off. With others to leagues, teams, and other scheduled activities so we know where they are. So we can go out and play. Showing off our new Nikes, to the others at the juice bar at the gym. No kids allowed, just fun sucking adults. Would someone please buy a new refrigerator just so the rest of us can have a space ship to play in? Can I buy one of your collectable cards, just to add some horsepower to my spinning bike? Can I please go out after school? Until dark?

The gospel is simple, so people like me can get it. Man sinned, Jesus came to save us. He died on the cross, then went to heaven, leaving an empty tomb. And if we believe with our heart, and confess with our mouth He is God, we can too. One to one gospel, straight to the point. All Jesus and no filler. Yet the church, us, has decided over its history to make things more difficult. Like a country club, it has excluded those it feels are not worthy. Don’t dress right, or aren’t religious enough. When you get as good as us, then you can come in, and maybe join. If you’ll agree to tithe. So we all can see how much you give, so we know how religious you really are. After all we have standards...And do you really wonder why some say no when invited to church? When Jesus warns of the rich man getting prominence in his seating, yet all week tries to do the poor guy in by his laws? So many religions keep their flock under control, just like their children, can’t let them explore Jesus for themselves. That old time religion, it was good enough for Brother So and So...it’s good enough for me. Yet neglect how unhappy Brother S and S was, how hard it was keeping up with all the rules, and making sure he never missed a meeting. And then along comes Jesus...

Promising freedom in the spirit, and upsetting the religious types. Showing love rather than demanding it, He hung with hookers, junkies, and even bikers. But also with kids, because kids are cool, and still had a desire for life. They have imaginations, dreams, and desires not yet squashed by the world. They have faith, and want to know the truth? Will you parent show them? Can’t they stay out and play one more hour? Yet those in control, who seek to control, are really out of control. They wouldn’t know what to do with baseball cards and a bike. Playdough, I might get my hands dirty. Drawing, without a laptop? Dad, can you put down your cell, I have some questions. Who is this Jesus they talk of? Why can’t I go to church with my friends? They let me play, and be a kid...I am a kid right?

So we are to come to Jesus as children. Seeking Him, and not more rules. Not more controlled activities. Maybe just a couple of kids out playing catch. With Jesus. One to one, just the thing we fear most. For there is a safety in a crowd, and more to blame when we don’t get our way. Long after our words are forgotten our actions will be remembered. Spend time with your kids today. Let them be kids-it’s hard enough without your help. Play out on the field, maybe get dirty. wind up the Schwinn and pedal your heart out, come home tired and dirty. And happy. Be a kid. Jesus was one once too. He remembers, and wants you to be one too. In Him. And you just may find you get to go to church, rather than having to. “Mom, can I go Wednesday night?” And if you happen to see an empty box out front, even better. It makes a great space ship, race car, fort, or even an empty tomb. Jesus loves the little children, we never get old if our hearts stay young. He was fun long before entertainment. Don’t grow up today.

Or to quote Dennis the Menace, “not a bad party, I busted two balloons and a window.” Life is for the living.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

while waiting patiently for the light to change

Cool is not something that can be defined. It is sorta like demanding patience-right now! Or bragging about how modest you are. Once you verbalize it, or tell someone how cool you are-you aren’t. Cool goes far beyond anything tangible, it comes from deep inside, but can be manifested in the physical. For instance, Christopher and I are sitting at a light on out Bonnevilles, where right in front of us is a new one, with the paper plates still on it. Shiny and beautiful-the bike, the rider thinks he is too, as he is shiny in his new leathers, and exercising his wrist waiting for the light to change. People in cars are looking, as they do at Bonnevilles, and this guy is digging it. The light turns green, and he takes off, and half way through the intersection, the bike bogs down, and wants to quit, starving for fuel. As I pull up next to him, I point at his petcock, and he gives me a blank look. As he pulls over, I pull next to him, reach over and turn his fuel on, and the bike stumbles to life. As it does, we ride off, watching as this rookie mistake has taken all the cool out of his ride. No shiny leathers, not even his cool bike could cover for his rookie mistake. He may return to being cool again some day, but for now anyone who has seen him, or hears of him, knows how uncool he really is. We have all been there, and it seems the bigger the crowd, the bigger the embarrassment. Funny how one simple twist of his left wrist, turning on the gas, had such a profound effect on the twist of his throttle wrist. A lesson he probably will never forget, and if accused will deny. But we know-because we were there. And also because at one time or another, he was us.

Now if he had just turned it on himself, and rode on, that would have been cool. Blame it on the new bike, or the dealer, but when a fellow biker has to do it, that ‘s just not cool. You cannot teach experience, you have to experience it for yourself. Just like cool cannot be described, either you have it or you don’t, grace works the same way. You cannot describe grace, it is something that must be experienced. First hand. And walking in the spirit is the same. I don’t always realize when I am walking in the spirit, but like the man losing his cool, I know when I am not in it. Grace works the same. I can see the grace of God when I trust Him, and let Him lead me, but when I make one wrong turn, grace goes on, without me. But fortunately God’s mercies don’t, and they beckon me back to the right course. Sometimes as simple as turning on the gas, when I repent and turn back to Jesus, the ride continues. But sometimes it takes some time spent on the side of the road, before God can get your attention. It may take a call for help, or to a friend, but grace is not an isolated event. Or experience. It takes two-you and Jesus. Getting your eyes off you, and onto Him. Alone it ain’t grace. But God is always there to offer it, it is up to us to take it.

After Jesus was crucified, He appeared to some men fishing, Peter among them. At the fire, after he had recognized Jesus, Jesus asked him three times, “do you love me?” The same number of times, Peter who did, and does, denied Him. Jesus didn’t deny him, although Peter had denied Jesus. He forgave him, showing mercy and grace. Giving Him an assignment, to take the gospel to the lost. Now that’s cool. Because Jesus is cool. And both He and Peter had a special time together. So special it is recorded in the Bible for others to see. And learn from.

You may be stumbling along today, out of gas, or maybe with it turned off. Things you cannot do alone will face you. It takes Jesus to get through the day, and He is always available. His mercies go with you down the wrong road, just waiting to be asked the direction back. He is the way! Not sown on any map. He is also very cool, not revealing your sin to anyone else, and once it is confessed, He forgets it. But somehow allows us to remember, so we don’t leave the gas off again. But when we do, He is there again to help. If only riding were so simple.

So Jesus is cool. So cool He defeated death. So cool He rose again. So cool He offers it to you. He calls it love. And He is patient-right now! Waiting for you to come to Him. And He never brags on Himself, but always points to His Father in heaven. Way cool. Cool is a lot more than just escaping the flames of hell, cool is a person. Peter found that out, way before cool was popular. Now you do. The question is, how cool are you? Trust Jesus, for without Him you’ll never know. But somehow those around you will know you aren’t. He is waiting patiently for you. What will you do when the light turns green?

Cool? or ....

You did remember to cancel your turn signals after the turn, didn’t you?

be cool, love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

the first Harley stoppie

As we sat at the intersection, the sound of screeching brakes got our attention. Off to the left, we saw a Harley in full rear brake lock sliding sideways, out of control, then backing off as he started to slide, sending him into a minor tank slapper. Fortunately stopping before entering the busy intersection. And from our vantage point, it was evident no front brake was involved, just the simple use of proper braking would have prevented this potential accident. but sadly die to belief in an urban legend of going over the bars by using your front brake, once again had created a dangerous situation. And we missed the opportunity by him not braking correctly of seeing the first Harley stoppie. But all were safe, and he will ride again to brake incorrectly. But at least he is still riding.

With the advent of ESP on cars a few years back, and ABS before that, we now have braking control to prevent skids, and traction control to prevent skids. Where as before we would power through a skid, staying on the throttle, now unknown to us, a computer disables the throttle, or applies the brakes in milliseconds, so we can attend to more important things like texting and using our cell phones while driving. Smarter cars, sadly we cannot say the say thing about the nut behind the wheel-or handlebars. And so as we left the intersection, we commented again on “don’t panic in a panic situation.” Which here was about to cause more damage than what action was needed-use your brakes properly-fronts stop about 70% of your vehicle-Harleys, too, and don’t panic. I have personally seen or attended to too many accidents because of no front brake, and then skidding, then backing off the brakes when skidding, going into a tank slapper, and crashing. Not too late for this guy to learn...

Without electronic enhancements such as traction control or ABS, we used to have power under control. When we would slide, stay on the gas, and power out of it. When braking, go with the skid, then straighten out. Yet so many panic in a panic situation, that now we can’t even power slide for fun anymore-or leave long tire marks on the street from doing burnouts-or from slamming on the brakes. We have given over control, because we were not able to stay in control. We are still out of control, just now it won’t show as much. And our choice is gone-in the name of safety, when all we really needed was to learn to drive properly.

When I was life flighted last summer, had the sack around my heart drained, had open heart surgery, and then my aorta replaced, no one asked me-they told me, this is what we are going to do. And I am glad the surgeons didn’t panic in a panic situation. The only thing left in my control was my attitude, and I was thankful and humbled by the situation. Unable to offer any advice, the doctors and nurses did what was needed without my interference. Sadly the nurses told us of how some curse them, blaming them for their operation, or situation. Anyone’s fault but theirs, we need someone to blame-not us. And whereas the Bible calls it meekness, power under control, God also calls self control a fruit of the spirit. Your choice, self control, a fruit of the spirit. I probably surprised more than me by the way I reacted-but God knew, and now you do too. My choice was to follow Him, instead of my own understanding. Sadly I know of two men, both pastors, who have been there for many over the years, yet when faced with decisions of their own, don’t follow the same advice they would give. The only power they use is to panic, to go into a self pity mode, become depressed, and cause more damage-not only to themselves, but to their families also. Panicking in a panic situation causes more harm, when the choice they should have made was to follow Jesus. “But you don’t understand,” I’m told. And your right, I don’t. And you obviously don’t either by your actions. So why not trust someone who does, when Jesus stands there the whole time offering to take your burden, because He loves you. Leaving the choice up to you-stopping in time or skidding to a stop out of control!

In addition to my advice of not to panic in a panic situation, is do not make any decisions during a high or low emotional time. Why add stupid to any situation by your emotions. Again, I may not understand, but prefer to use my freedom of choice in the spirit to choose God, and follow Him. Your feelings will let you down, He never will. So next time you are in a situation where you can panic, look to God. In that instant where you lose control, He already has things under control, just waiting for you to let Him. Use all the resources He makes available to you, including your front brake. And if you already do, you know the impact it makes on stopping, just like twisting the throttle increases power.

Today you will enter an intersection where your own understanding will not be enough, feel free to call out to God. Better yet before you leave the house, ask for His guidance. No need to skid through life when you don’t have too. Unless you want to, which is your choice. Just not when you don’t need it or expect it. Meekness-power under control, not a new idea, but God’s plan for you. Get your motor running, set out on the highway, looking for adventure, and whatever comes our way. Make sure to take Jesus with you. The impact He can make on your life is better than any accidental impact you wish you could have avoided. Leave crossing it up for those who flat track. Life should be fun, so enjoy it. And I am still looking for the first Harley stoppie!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

terrorarium!

Some things just seem to go with the territory, and being the only grandson often meant rewards. But on one afternoon, I paid the price for disobedience. I had been told by my Grandma that if you ever see Murphy’s tail wagging, don’t mess with him. Murphy was their cat, who spent most of his time alone, and ran the house, all good cats do. But when I saw him, I just had to pet him, surely he wouldn’t hit me. But as I stroked his back, it went up and a big, black paw came out, catching me across the hand, causing it to bleed. So trying to hide my injury, I went upstairs, but my Grandma had heard the whole thing. Then seeing the tears, and the scratches, rather than getting sympathy, I was simply told, “you were told not to touch the cat when his tail was wagging.” And out came the mercurochrome-the universal, healing, germ killing, pain inflicting remedy. Many trips to the doctor had been averted due to this red liquid, and again I was saved. But not from being busted, and would wear the scars for years. To Murphy, it was just another day in the basement, no sympathy from him. And I had found a new respect for petting an annoyed cat. And about warnings.

After the goldfish in the aquarium fad ended, with all the fish dying, a new fad came along. newts, those cute little lizards that could magically change color and hide, were the in thing. And having an available aquarium, turned it into a terrarium, a home for newts. With Norton the newt, we anxiously waited for him to turn colors, yet never did. But we also found Norton to be a girl, and soon we had a newt colony. A family of newts in a one bedroom terrarium. And as our reptile attraction grew, I brought home a huge toad, but where to put him. Not knowing about the wild animal kingdom, he took up residence with the Norton family, for a few days. When we got back after a weekend away, only the toad was left in the terrarium-it had been turned into a terrorarium! The toad had feasted on all the newts, and gotten huge. Not knowing their affinity for newts, we had sentenced the Nortons to a cannibalistic death. And the toad went back to the pond-the terrorararium back on the shelf. And never mentioned again. Except to warn other newt owners.

How many times did Ralphie hear “you’ll shoot your eye out,” and then think he did. The warnings were there, mort to protect than rob him of any fun, but they were real. For just as cats scratch, and toads eat newts, icicles can fall from houses and take out your glasses. I am sure he had a new respect for his Red Ryder Rifle after that, just as I did for Murphy’s claws, and newts did for Mr. Toad. Yet so many times we hear the warnings, and ignore them. Those of us who were victims must have done something wrong, but it will never happen to anyone else. Not to me! Which is a psychological term called normalcy bias-in other words because it has never happened, or I didn’t see it, it cannot be true. And many live their lives that way, some even denying the threats when they are most evident. But in our 20/20 hindsight we can always look back and see they were there, just ignored. In Jewish history, the Jews were referred to as a stiff necked people-stubborn. And many who turned to Christ, still went about their old life styles. And soon some religious types came up with their own rules, telling those caught in sin after salvation, they were going to hell. You blew it, and now God will get you. Never taking into account God telling them that their sin caught them, not God. And that forgiveness is one time-forever. Past, right now, and again tomorrow. God knows we live in a fallen world, and is there to catch us when we fall, not punish us. So when Paul addressed the Corinthian church, he encouraged them, rather than attacking them. He warned them that sin will hurt, maybe even kill, but God forgives. He told them to turn back to their first love, Jesus, and get on with life. Quit now-and go on. Not quit now or you’ll die. He offered forgiveness rather than retribution. Just as Jesus does.

Screwed up again today? Don’t worry, it is still early. But if you have, Jesus is up earlier, and already forgiven you. Get over it, change your direction, and follow Him. Like He says, “pick up your cross and follow me.” Unclench your fist, and open your heart to Him. And as we get closer to Him, we look at sin, and sinners differently. And we forgive, as He forgives us-for everything. But He also expects us to learn from our lessons, thee hardest ones are the toughest ones. Don’t pet the cat, don’t put the toad in with newts, and be careful with guns. You may only get a scratch, but some 50 years later I can still remember Murphy’s claws. I remember coming home to a newtless terrorarium. And we all will remember Ralphie, and the best Christmas ever. Love covers a multitude of sins, let the covers stay on. No need to go back, look ahead. Look up, and then follow the lead of Jesus. Sin, like stupid hurts. It is supposed to so we don’t do it again. So learn from Paul’s letter to Corinth-they never did. Heed the warnings, better safe than sorry. Just ask the newt family. Be thankful God is patient, and your sin hasn’t caught you yet. don’t turn, and it will. But when you do-it is forgiven. Erased from God’s memory. And you can start over each morning with new blessings and mercies.

The more pain the better the lesson learned. So learn from Jesus-who endured all our pain on the cross. And be like a cat. When one gets burned on a hot stove, all the others avoid it. The warnings are there, but so are the blessings. It is your choice. Stupid still hurts. No need to remind me today. “O-o-o—h-h fudge!”

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

ford vs. chevy-or why we ride motorcycles

My father’s generation was readily identified by the cars they drove. Influenced by their fathers, they were basically either a Ford or Chevy man, I never really met anyone whose family was a confirmed Chrysler man. Although I know they exist. The only exception to the rule was being a GM man, buying up through the Chevy-Pontiac-Oldsmobile-Buick-Cadillac hierarchy that Alfred P. Sloan had successfully instigated, but when it came down to it, it was Ford vs. Chevy. From race on Sunday to sell on Monday, Chevy vs. Ford dictated America’s car buying habits. Now I do not consider myself a Ford man, although I currently own three, and have over the years strayed to Chevy-three times, VW, Mazda, BMW, and Buick-but never to Chrysler. So maybe I am a Ford man at heart, and maybe my experiences with Chevies help perpetuate that.

My first Chevy was a 1973 El Camino, bought used. Used to haul my trials bike, it was pretty basic, always served its purpose, but the 350 liked to drink too much gas for my college student budget. So I traded it for a 1972 MG Midget, great gas mileage when it wasn’t in the shop, the Chevy won the reliability award, but made up for it in fuel costs. Plus you couldn’t put the top down-always the first consideration when buying a sports car. My next Chevy was a 1981 Citation X-11, white with a red velour interior. It was the hi-performance model, and with its wide Goodyear Eagles, buckets seats, and hood scoop-functional, it was a good looking and performing car-when it ran. Back to this later. My most recent was a 1995 S-10 pickup, that I bought many times over via repair costs. Great when it ran, nicknamed the Money Pit. So that is my history of Chevies owned over my 42 years of driving. But back to the X-11.

It is 1983, and the Carter recession is still strong, we were young parents driving a new 1983 Ford Escort. When one day driving past Morehart Chevrolet in Durango, there was the X-11. And after a few trips around the block had to stop in. It was priced low, should have been my first clue, and after a test drive, was able to trade it straight across for the Escort. Boy was I a negotiator. I had put something over on the car dealer, until the sales manager met me just before signing the papers-“the car has been hit, I don’t know how hard or where, but it checks out OK. Just wanted to let you know.” Words I never heard, a good reason to never make a decision on a high or low emotion. And with a straight across trade, I could keep my old Escort loan at a lower interest rate, just swap keys and drive off. So I did, and the car was great, it seemed to like Colorado, and took us across to California one spring on vacation. But when we moved to New Mexico, it started to unravel. First the trans cable broke-only one I ever heard of, and had to be towed to the dealer. Where they damaged the fibreglass hood when trying to open it, and then fixed it in their body shop. Where a parts man recognized it as his wife’s old car, and showed me the photos of it after the crash. A good sized truck had t-boned it, and totaled the car-and although it was straight, drove straight, and looked good, it had been a mess. In this preCARFAX and pre salvage title world, I had bought a wreck, a very skillfully repaired wreck. The body shop even repainted some black trim for me for free, their work was incredible. But a wreck is a wreck, and somehow some of the patina was gone.

But its final trip was to Texas. Rumored as the best place to buy a used car, it seized a main bearing just outside Brownwood, after Dean’s graduation. Hitching back with a goat farmer, with Christopher who was five at the time, the Chevy store opened it up, pronounced it dead, and treated me fairly on a trade for a 1984 T-bird. The X-11 was dead, RIP, lesson learned, and it was back to the safety and security of Ford ownership. Maybe I am a Ford guy after all.

As many times as the X-11 had failed me, I turned to prayer. But never thought to pray before buying it, despite the warnings. But God showed me mercy during the ownership, and as one bad purchase led to many expensive repairs, of a total wreck, one good decision to trust Him led me back on the right path, not necessarily Ford. We live like that, making bad decisions before asking God, and His mercy never fails to amaze me. He still loves us even when we go astray, staying close so when we are ready to repent, He is right there. Even harder for me to accept as a young Christian was the fact Jesus loved me while a sinner, remember John3:16? But Romans 5 tells us that while we were ye sinners, Jesus died for us. Before we could make a choice, His choice was made to love us. Despite how we acted, looked, said about Him, or what we drove, He loved us first. Never did god wake up one morning and decide to love us, He loved us first. And even though we didn’t wake up one day and decide to find God, His Holy Spirit from day one has been urging us to seek after Jesus. And some of us were pretty tough to convince.

So if God can make good on a bad Chevy purchase, can forgive a Ford guy for going astray, maybe even forgive a Chrysler owner for their questionable choice, imagine what He can do for you? Consider that next time that shiny new car demands you drive around the block, before you are unable to live without it. Or when sitting on that new Harley, or Triumph, that now you cannot live without. Ask God, and when He says no, thank Him. For a better yes is coming. He knows the vehicle’s history and He knows yours, too. No CARFAX could ever replace the knowledge that God has. And if you have been living off of a salvage title in life, He can make that new too. For He makes all things new, the old is passed away. And His warranty is always in force, even when 1000 miles from home. He knows what you need before you even pray. Can GM or Ford promise you that?

Maybe the old win on Sunday is right. Jesus was resurrected on a Sunday. The first day of the week. Are a Sunday winner? Or forced to sell on Monday? One bad decision can steer you away from God, one good one can bring you back. Now what will it take to get you and Jesus together today?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

champions and challengers

It seems lately everyone I encounter has a story to tell about speed, in particular going fast. And as the cars go faster, the stories get more unbelievable. It seems poetic license when it comes to facts is standard issue in bench racing, but when it comes time for the flag to drop, the myths are quickly separated from reality. Take for instance the man with the 150mph Sportster, which would make him the fastest ever. Sadly he was broken down while waiting for a friend with his truck to get him, if not he wanted to race to prove it to me. A legend in his own mind, with a 120 mph speedometer, I wanted to ask how he knew he went 150, seems 55 was the order of the day for him. And possibly a new top speed. Por Favor used to brag how his car, a 69 SS396 pegged the speedo at 120. And still had enough room under the gas pedal to put an egg. When questioned why he didn’t pin the throttle, he replied he didn’t need to, 120 was fast enough. If only the engineers at NASCAR or GM had only talked to him, all his speed secrets never fully utilized. I once knew a man who ran his motorcycle a quart low on oil, reduce weight, and friction. OK. Reminds me of the old joke about tires, the reason they weigh so much is because they have 35 pounds of air in them, so by reducing the pressure, he eliminated weight. Or so he bragged...I once asked an engineer why larger displacement engines weren’t lighter, due to the fact the cylinders were larger, hence less metal. Still waiting on an answer for that one. Or the guy who brags how fast his car is, by showing off all the speeding tickets shoved into his glove box. Want proof, well, there you are. And so it goes, that whoever speaks first, will ultimately be the slowest. Cars only get faster, as our memories fill in the lost details with whatever best fits the occasion, and legends are created.

My friend Bouke was fast, and if someone was ever faster, he sold that bike and built another. Street or strip, or on the track, he had backed up his reputation, and was well known. Now in every town across the good old US of A there is a hangout for the gear heads, or those of us who like fast cars and bikes. In Middlesex, it was a McDonalds, with a huge parking lot, where all those who fast cars still couldn’t get them a date hung out. Bouke was the exception, as he was married, and on more than one occasion cleared the lot just by arriving. On one Friday night, even the weirdest guys had dates on Saturday night, the three of us pulled in on our motorcycles. Bouke’s Z-1 was well known, and we had been told no one would test that fact. It was a warm summer night, and the lot was filled, but as we pulled in, cars started to leave. Much to early for curfew, a day early for dates, yet the lot quickly emptied. With only a few others on bikes remaining, we got off and asked what was going on. One nod to Bouke was all it took to figure it out. These fast cars were intimidated by him, and as fast as they were, they were no match for him. And didn’t want to risk embarrassment by being challenged. Seems someone was always bragging about how they could beat him, yet that night all challengers took off in search of safer grounds, or at least a less fast parking lot. Just his pulling in cleared the lot, this guy was truly an intimidator. Yet he just liked going fast, and never challenged anyone else, I guess he never had to. And the $1.50 spent on a Big Mac, fries, and a Coke was our victory dinner that night.

On the other end of bragging, I went to high school with a guy who had a fast Mustang, until Vinnie showed up in his Boss 302. This guy was used to intimidating others by only racing for pinks, and had never found a challenger. Until Vinnie said OK, and then suddenly he had to go. Clearing the lot faster than Bouke did, and missing after school for a number of days, just in case Vinnie came by. And to me the legend was born, “losers have excuses, winners have testimonies.” It is competition that brings out the best, and worst, some just getting their their pussy cat car in trouble by their alligator mouth. And I never got to know how fast Vinnie’s car was, no one would race him. And Bouke had few challenges as time went on. And the legends grow...

Sadly some who call themselves Christians approach God like that. Bragging on Him, but never asking Him into their lives. Living on legend, hearsay, or whatever the pastor says and thinking this is what it is all about. But with Jesus it is personal, and it takes participation. From you. Some claim to know all about Him, and waste little time trying to impress. Some hide from public, afraid of those who walk with Him, in case they should be called to testify. While others live in the shadow of doubt, claiming to believe the Bible, but doubting it can happen to them. Healing, not for them. Go straight to worry. Finances, it is easier to seek better employment than to seek God. And when it comes to marriage, settle on divorce, while telling others how to run their marriage. God must have been wrong, or they wouldn’t be dissolving their marriage. When the problem lies with them, and believing lies rather than truth. So when I hear testimonies about miracles, I want to believe them. But some like Vinnie’s Boss are based on legend, rather than reality. So when the truth does come along, we tend to doubt. Like when I share about my plastic aorta, even nurses doubt it, “no one lives through that.” But when I show them the scar, they believe. Proof that God was there, that Jesus healed me. It seems we want to believe, we just need a little more faith to do it.

I get upset when Thomas is referred to as Doubting Thomas. Nowhere in scripture is he referred to as that, and he wasn’t a doubter. He wanted proof, and all the others had seen Jesus. While hiding in an upper room, wondering what would happen to them. Yet he desired the same, and told them so. Unless I touch those wounds, yet when Jesus confronted him, he never touched the wounds, he knew his voice. “My Lord and my God,” and now he believed. Just hearing His voice was enough.

God gave Thomas a testimony like many of ours, we doubt what God can do. If I can only see Him, then I’ll believe. Yet we are told that believing is seeing, just the opposite. Today you will be required to trust God based on who He is, and may not see or feel Him. That is faith, trusting God when there is no evidence of Him. But His spirit will guide you, and when obedient, you will be blessed. And a testimony made to be shared, to encourage others. You may not be called upon to part the waters, or even walk on them. Maybe just buy a Coke for a thirsty man. Listen to a stranger. Hold a place in line for someone. Something simple we can do. But the challenge will be there, are you up to it? Better yet, is God up to it? Due to Bouke’s reputation, many never saw how fast he really was, or could be. We never saw how fast Vinnie’s Boss was against some loud mouth. And I have never seen a 150 mph Sportster. Legends, but never seen by me.

Jesus is real. Invite Him into your daily routine today. The challenges are there. Ask to see Him, touch Him, and be with Him. Exercise the little faith you have, the same amount given to all, and watch as legends become reality. And reality becomes a daily occurrence in your life. And when it encourages others, watch as the devil flees when you show love to the unlovely. You see, the reputation of Jesus Christ is waiting for you to spread the story of Him, the gospel. The legend lives on, only to be supported by evidence. Share some today, and not a glove box full of tickets. For losers will always have excuses, for the rest of us we have Jesus. He has the scars to prove it. What’s your testimony?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

in remembrance

As a people, we are obsessed with celebrity. We willingly will pay more than an item is worth due to a name connected to it. Take a mundane four door sedan, and have a star’s cook use it for fetching groceries, and automatically it has attained a status to be worth more. Maybe not to us, we are too smart for that, but someone will always be willing to pay the price. Hang a Harley Bar and Shield on anything and the value goes up. Mention Steve McQueen and the value goes up. Mediocre ball players who no one remembers, now sell their autographs to fans who stand I line and get to pay for it. The value of a name, or truly a memory is not to be taken lightly. And an audience is always there and waiting to be fed. Through Triumph I have put break-in miles on Christina Aguilera’s Bonneville. Did the sound for Angelina Jolie’s ride in SALT. I have sat on the MI3 bike, and on the white Rocket Flo rides in Progressive commercial. All now more valuable because a name is attached to it-just not mine. Yet we all drop names, to impress others, and even ourselves. And it is nothing new.

“George Washington slept here” is found on many old buildings back east. Poor George must have been tired from all the personal appearances just to sleep. No wonder it took so long to win the Revolution. But jut as many trendy signs stating “on this date 100 years ago, nothing happened here” is more accurate. But my favorite is from a kid if he knew Lincoln’s Gettysburg address? His answer, “I never knew he lived there, how could he have an address there?” Four score and seven was not his home address. As a real estate agent once acknowledged, when inflating the price of the property, “there are names, and then there are names.” For instance, remember General Grant? Won the War Between the States for us. One night while staying at the Cedar Grove Mansion, in Vicksburg, we ended up sleeping in his bed. No not with him, or even his ghost. They advertise this bed is the one he slept in. I was just glad for a place to sleep, and clean sheets. No comment from the General.

So there are names, and there are names. But the one we most remember is our own. Our own gospel, if you will. And to find it written in the Book of Life, now that’s important. Something you cannot buy, and more valuable than having power over demons Luke says. Written in there by the same hand of God that shows the nail holes from where He was nailed to the cross. The same hand offering you salvation, with an open palm to prove it is Him. the same hand that gently knocks on the door to our hearts, asking if He may come in. An invitation no one else can offer, with no gift shop for prayer cloths, holy water, or t-shirts as souvenirs. Do this in remembrance of me,” He talks of communion, but how many commune with Him daily? An offer n t-shirt or sticker could fully advertise, and at a cost so high no ne could afford it-so Jesus made it a free gift. Many years ago William Randolph Hearst was a multi-millionaire. He built San Simeon and filled it with treasures from around the world. Some so valuable that upon his death, no value could be put on them that his estate could afford. So they donated the estate to the sate of California, and escaped the tax. Now it becomes the state’s estate, and their obligation-no longer the Hearst family’s. That is how valuable we are to Christ. Wecouldn’t afford the tax levied on sin, so He took it. Paid it, and today it is His responsibility. Paid in full, it shows our name in the Book of Life. Now we are His, and it is is responsibility to take care of us. He calls it love, we call it salvation. And He did it in remembrance of us...

Many today use His name in vain, without reverence to the only one who can save. They don’t know His name, but He knows theirs. And the Holy spirit is talking to them daily about Him. Just like He did to you, or is now. What will you do in remembrance of Him? He offers you a place in His book, will you accept it? No name dropping will get you in. No card signing, book signing, or convention gains you access. Knowing scripture will not help. It takes knowing the one who died for you, on the cross. More than a celebrity, more than a superstar. He is bigger than any studio, and carries more wallop than any ad campaign. And someday we will al stand before Him. It is called Judgment Day. And who you say He is, and the fact you know Him will be the most important, the only thing that gets you to heaven. Accept Jesus today. Do that in remembrance of Him. Been there, done that. No t-shirt needed. For my name is written in the Book. Only one way to know. Ask Him into your heart today. Like I said, there are names, and then there are names.