exercising your tires

More than at any time in history, we have the healthiest people on the planet dying.  Just for sake of argument, say you will live to 75, a fair average for many.  You sleep 8 hours per day all your life, you will be asleep for about one third of your life, or 25 years.  Say you are into working out, 5 hours per week starting at age 21, you just spent another six years a the gym, staying healthy.  And still facing death.  And looking back, I don’t want to have spent six years of my  life sweating, grunting, toiling, and going home tired, just to improve my life.  And when young, do you look forward to the days ahead of exercise, or of retirement?  Can’t wait until I’m 70, and retired, then I can go work out more.  Is that what you worked you r whole life for?  Not me, I believe in being in shape, or more accurately healthy, but I am tired of exercising.  For me I rather be exercising the tires on a motorcycle, and look back with the same fondness I look ahead with, riding until I die. I rather take inches off my tires, and add inches to my memory book of going places, seeing things, and making memories.  A sweaty gym is a poor substitute for a full tank of gas, a twisty road, and the time to do it.  So if I am going to exercise anything , it will be my tires. And my wrist...

Now I am not anti-healthy, but watch in wonder, and sometimes horror as people devote their bodies to their physique.  And just another commercial of a Nordic Track, or some other exercise equipment that promises you great shape with ease will make me sick.  How many homes have you gone into and seen the stuff filling a room, gathering dust, while its owner is waiting for the next machine workout that promises the same thing, and delivers the same thing, as your is emptied.  Compare the mile son your stair climber to the miles on my Tiger.  48 states, memories, beautiful sunsets, and unforgettable meals. What do you have, watching CNN while treading on a treadmill, isn’t life enough of a treadmill already?  I have been in the wind, smelling the fragrances of orange blossoms, of wheat fields, or of the ocean mist.  You have the smell of...yourself.  And others.  While you are building endurance, so am I.  Can you ride 500 miles per day for a month, that takes endurance?  Can you wear all the tire on your exercise bike, I can on any of my bikes.  And how many postcards have you ever sent, or received, saying “having a great time, wish you were here!” from someone at the gym?  Given two weeks off per year, where do you want to spend it, is your idea of cross training crossing as many state lines as you can like mine?  Or time zones?  How many workouts have you had that are unforgettable, and how many of them do you proudly show on your Facebook page? 

So for me, staying in shape is riding as  much as I can.  A daily regimen of miles, smiles, and looking back at roads I look forward to again.  Of seeing how fast I can enter a curve, and how fast I can exit it.  At eating breakfast in San Diego, and diner in Flagstaff.  And lunch the next day in Albuquerque...green chilies instead of powdered paste.  Exercising my mind, as well as my body, and spending time with God, no phones, timers, or personal trainer telling me how I need to increase.  If it’s early, I ride on.  If I want to stop and visit, I do.  With the recipe of repeat the next day the only requirement of tomorrow, and sleeping well, looking forward to more miles, not more reps.   Building endurance that will endure for years in my memories, and stories for both old and young.  Meeting older riders, with stories and of roads yet to travel, how many seasoned citizens do the youth work out with?  No age group criteria when riding, we ride our own ride.  And respect others for theirs.  And you wonder why I rather ride than go to a gym?  Where else can you get a workout like I do, exercising your tires? 

So based on the equation, you have spent 31 of your 75 years already.  Now figure working for 40 years, 50 weeks per year, and add another 38 years of life spent, leaving you 6 years of life left, if you are average.  So what do you do with those six years is important.  But what if you only lived to be 33 like Jesus did?  And what if you were only in ministry for 3 years like Him?  How do you plan on spending your 6 years, can you make them as important and valuable as Jesus did with His 3?  Too many times I listen to people boast of what they are going to do when they retire, and many times find it is things you could be doing now.  Start riding, start living, start being a Christian now.  Why wait for the blessings of God when you can have them now?  Exercise your freedom in the spirit, and you can even do it at the gym, or while riding.  I find Jesus spent most of His time on the road, an example I like to follow.  He ate with new friends, went places no others would go, and had them follow.  He slept every night with the promise of a new tomorrow, another day to show the love of God, another day for salvation for someone.  He made the most of everyday, never missing a chance to spread His love to a lost and dying world.  And we are all dying, Second Law of Thermodynamics proves it, how do you wish to spend your last days, I know how I want to spend mine.  Tomorrow is promised to no man, so start living today, and follow Jesus.  Start exercising the freedom you have that you have never used, and watch as when you get into spiritual shape, your mind will follow.  You will enjoy health you never knew you had, and when tough times come, you can spend it with Jesus, who is the ultimate trainer.  He was physically tough, can you carry a 200 pound cross to your death, after being beaten with 39 lashes?  And hang there for 6 hours nailed to it?  A physical side to Jesus we tend to forget.  but needs to be remembered.  So when He asks you “to pick up your cross and follow Him,” what kind of shape are you in? 

The healthiest people are still dying, are you dying to go to heaven?  Exercise the freedom you have in Jesus.  Some may enjoy the sweat and toil of a good workout, while those of us who ride rather enjoy a good day of riding.  Either way get a spiritual exercise with Jesus, getting in shape for heaven.  Use those 6 years you have to your advantage by following Him.  Long after the sweat has evaporated, the odor of life still remains.  I rather smell of racing castor and miles of sun than hours of seat and the gym.  Wherever you spend your time, Jesus is there.  And realize you will never have a better workout partner, or riding partner.  And you can go where He leads if you follow.  It is your choice for the memories you make, make them with the future I mind.  Where you will spend the future is your choice.   For me and mine we will exercise our tires with Jesus.  Never heard of a workout gym in heaven, but it does speak of roads paved with gold....wonder what that could mean?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogpsot.com

the difference between men and little boys is the size of their scars

My earliest scars I don’t remember getting, although after almost 60 years they still show.  It was a Labor Day, about 1958, and a picnic was in our back yard.  My dad was cooking on a little round hibachi like grill, and after we ate I sat on it, thinking it was a stool.  Do not attempt this stupid act at home or anywhere else.  And to this day the back of my calves are scarred.  And it seems 1958 was a good year for scars, as I had my first knee surgery, not quite sure what it was until 2009, and after a motorcycle accident had trouble with that knee.  When the PA called and told me I had no meniscus, confirmation was made.  Again a scar I still wear after all these years.  And as life went on, the many spills and falls from falling off of bicycles, the rock that flew out from underneath the mower an stuck in my shin, and finally my open heart surgery have left many distinguishing scars to identify my body by.  But the ones on my face....are a different story.

It is Easter break, 1969, and Eddie Lynch and I go into New York City.  Suddenly without warning, a man steps out from behind a news stand, breaks a bottle against a pole, then hits me in the face with it.  All in less time than it took to read this sentence.  We chased him down into the subway, where he disappeared into a train, just as the door closed-right in front of New York’s finest.  And as the train pulled out, he got away.  It was the that Eddie cried out “you’re bleeding,” as my left cheek had been cut two places, and a hole was in my hose, a piece of it taken out.  And the blood was pouring out, hitting the ground.  So I took off my wind breaker, noticing my arm cut, where I had blocked two other attempts, and stood on a corner at 8th Avenue and 34th St. waiting for an ambulance.  There must have been 100 people on the corner gawking, and finally a women offered some tissues.  And after a short ambulance ride to the French Polytechnic Hospital, my face was stitched up, my nose repaired, and life went on.  Later I was learn how fortunate I was, as on the same corner, only an hour earlier, another man had been attacked, and had facial nerves and muscles cut-there but for the grace of God was I.  Needless to  say, I have nothing good to say about New York City, nor muggers or the crowds who just watched me as I bled.  And I am told this is normal, and in a poll of one, mine-they fail.

They call NYC the Big Apple, my opinion is different, a big #$*&^%!  And I have the scars to prove it.  Some scars I wear with pride, and some from embarrassment, this one I wish I could have avoided all together.  But God has given me the scars to prove what happened, and remind me of how He rescued me, and took me through the events.  I find it amazing that Jesus will still have His scars in heaven, but He will.  As if to remind us of how He died and suffered for us, but for now we have to trust, and use spiritual discernment when others talk about God.  Many gods trying to get your attention, cars, motorcycles, money, jobs-you name it.  And they all will leave a scar when they are done, for putting anything before God will cause damage.  Some we will see, like my scars, but some are hidden, only God sees them, but we still carry the pain of how we got them.  These are the wounds that take the longest to heal, the ones that only Jesus can heal, and some take time, years.  And some never go away, an inner scar to remind us to lean on Jesus.  Some are scars in our memories, and certain events, dates, or anniversaries trigger them.  Some we share with others, some still too private to share, only God knowing they are there.  And it is important to trust the only true God, the one who bears our scars, and knows our pain.  The only one who can feel with us, the only one who truly knows our pain, and who knows the story behind our scars.  Some from childhood, some from the teen years, and some we reserved for our adult years, the difference between men and little boys sometimes being the size of their scars.

But it is the scars of Jesus that we need to remember, the seven places he bled for us, He knows, because He has the scars to prove it.  When we think no one likes us, and cannot think straight, the scars from the thorns pushed into His skull remind us of that.  The scars in His hands show how He reaches out, despite the personal pain to us-He knows.  The scars on His back, where He took the beatings, He knows what it is like to be stabbed in the back by friends.  The scars in His feet, He walks with us, never leaving, calling to us to lean on Him, and follow in His steps as He is the great shepherd.  And finally the scar where the spear was stuck in His side, puncturing His pericardial sac, which the heart sits in, a storehouse of all the tears He has wept over us, a storehouse of prayers He remembers, reminding you that we are always near to His heart.  A situation I know about, as I had my sac drained of a pint of pus from infection, but He kept me alive.

Not all scars will show, but don’t be ashamed to show them.  Each one has a story, and if you think about it, a time Jesus was there for you.  Today as I look at the 12” scar on my chest, I am reminded of how he has touched my heart, and literally changed it, both physically and spiritually.  A scar to prove the miracle that He performed that day, holding my heart in His hands.  And how He holds my life in His hands daily.

Scars bothering you today, talk to Jesus about them.  And watch as He can heal them, building a relationship with you through your pain, because of the pain He endured.  Even the ones that don’t show, He can heal.  And even the ones so private, He will never disclose to others.  Binding the wound, healing the scars.  And giving us a reason to face tomorrow.  Leaving His grace as the identifying criteria He was there and still is.  So remember His scars, and turn to Him when hurting, or before you get hurt.  Some wounds are self inflicted, and can be avoided by walking with Him, some need personal attention, some cannot be helped.  But whatever, wherever, and whenever He is called on, He is there.  And He has the scars to prove it.  The identifying difference between false Gods and the real God are His scars-he can prove who He is, will you let Him?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogpsot.com

only rock and roll will never die

They were introduced as “a band you never heard of, but will be hearing a lot from, The Eagles!”  They were that night the opening band for Robin Trower, and after two encores, both times playing “Take it Easy,” jamming the last time, Robin was like watching an arthritic Jimi Hendrix.  And he was the show we had gone to see.  But The Eagles won us over that night, and of course went on to be the superstars of rock they are today.  Another night, another concert, it is late 1974, and we are going to see Chicago at the Felt Forum, a small concert hall at Madison Square Garden.  The opening band is a local group from Jersey, one we happened to stop in on one night, they were good, but we were cruisin’ for women, and the crowd was small.  But this night, the crowd was filled, thousands in this concert hall, and the Garden was to be lit up.  Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band opened with Born to Run, and the place went wild.  The incredible energy of perhaps the greatest rock and roll song ever almost wore us out.  It was the first time played live, and the album was still months away, and I was there.  But we had gone to see Chicago, and as good as they were, and are, we left half way through the show, exhausted.  I never did get to see them play “Beginnings,” another favorite, after Springer we were worn out.  And in both cases an amazing thing had happened, the opening band had stolen the show.  Back when multi act shows were for the same price as for one band, we had been blown away by the opening band, a filler, one to get the crowd worked up, for the main event.  And every time I hear Take it Easy, I remember that night, even having my picture taken with Theresa years later while standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona-what a fine sight to see!  Right next to the flat bed Ford!  And of course the words of Born to Run only reflected my growing up in Jersey in the late sixties, early seventies.  Maybe the best $6 ever spent on a concert. 

But there are shows, and there are shows.  And often we don’t know how great they were until after they are over, and others tell us, wishing they had been there, and impressed when they hear we were.  But opening acts are nothing new, and 2000 years ago the greatest show on earth, and heaven appeared.  With an opening act that was hard to follow. The opening act, John the Baptist.  Spreading the word of the one who was to come, he had many followers, and pointed them to his cousin Jesus.  Baptizing them, he was an evangelist of great power and reputation, but no way could he compete with the main event.  It was Jesus who got the top billing, and it was Jesus who would be our savior, but before Him, J the B led the way.  He was the perfect opening act, but he, like many never stayed for the main show.  Some were content with what John had to say, and like many did at the Eagles show, were disappointed by Robin Trower.  But unlike these opening acts, those who stayed are rewarded, and were rewarded.  Not quite what was expected, Jesus has gone on to perform to more sold out houses, and even small venues, that He is still in demand today.  But yet in many instances doesn’t get top billing.  He falls in behind the signs and wonders, the glitz and glam, the trendiness of what is popular, and many miss the greatest show ever.  They find Him not entertaining, a burden on their life style, and although they talk of Him, it is always Jesus and, or worse yet, and Jesus.  And today many churches are named after John the Baptist, a town in California is San Juan Bautista, and he is known as St. John.  While the name of Jesus is heard more often in terms of cursing, or taken in vain.  Never knowing the true God, the main event, and the greater event yet to happen.  For some they attend the concert, buy the shirt, listen to the album.  And later move on, leaving Him behind with other old albums, never knowing the fullness of what He can give.  For some they remember the night, for others it is a blur.  Who is Jesus in your life?  Have you seen Him live, or are you still waiting for the album to come out? 

Only rock and roll will never die.  And Jesus is the original hard rocker.  He paid His dues to sing the blues, but chose gospel instead.  He is the rock, and He rolled away the stone, leaving an empty tomb.  And promises an encore the world will not believe-if only they would listen, for the encore is fast approaching.  The main event is coming to a close, and those who believe are waiting, eyes looking to heaven anxiously.  Telling the same message John did, of one who is he savior.  We are the warm up band, we are the messengers for Jesus.  The show will go on, no matter what you believe, but if you miss it, you will wish you had been there, and it will be to late.  Get your ticket now, admission free, the price already paid.  And we all get front row center seats, so no one will argue or complain.  The encore of Jesus, His return, is about to happen.  Take it easy, Jesus is coming.  Don’t be left standing on a corner in Winslow or any other place.  So open up and let Him-and take it easy!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

I'm not sure who I am, but I'm glad I'm not you

The state of Colorado used to issue license plates based upon the county you lived in.  The first two letters, followed by four numbers would identify the county where the car was registered, telling others where you lived.  Which could present a problem for some who lived in less desirable counties, or if trying to impress the fairer sex.  Now living in Durango, which is in La Plata county gave me VV or VW plates, which I thought were cool, the VW plates on my Rabbit, almost like custom plates that I still can’t afford, until I would see a clapped out Chevy with the same VW prefix, illusion destroyed.  Through Rex, I met two brothers whose names escape me, who lived in Dove Creek, their family owning a large pinto bean farm, in the pinto bean capital of the world.  They had money, but they didn’t have the right prefix.  And explained one night that they would rive the 70 miles to Durango to get the VW plates, so that when picking up girls they had a better chance.  It seems more than once they got burned when the date saw the plates for Dove Creek, and passed on the brother, and his Corvette, and his family fortune.  All over two lousy letters on a license plate identifying your origin, or living quarters.  And somehow I never thought of Durango as that cool, but I did after that.  I had status, I had the plates!  And a wife!

When I worked for Mercedes Benz in La Jolla, many who brought in their car would try to pass themselves off as living in La Jolla.  La Jolla only has two zip codes, one for PO boxes, 92038, the other 92037 La Jolla’s only resident zip code.  Any so many trying to impress would try to pass off 92109 as La Jolla, which is really Bird Rock, south of La Jolla, and technically San Diego.  Thinking we were stupid, or impressed, never taking into account that we really didn’t care, but we could tell anyway.  Just like we could always tell Land Rover owners from Temecula-faking it while not making it, but pretending they were, until given an estimate that a Land Rover owner was used too, and they didn’t do the repairs.  Down and out in Temecula, or La Jolla wasn’t going to impress anyone.  Same with Beverly Hills, 90210.  The zip code, 92011 being close, but the poorer side of Beverly Hills, and not after the TV show didn’t have quite the panache it once had.  So from Dove Creek to La Jolla to Bird Rock to Beverly Hills, people still put up a façade of who they are, and where they live, never knowing that we know, but just don’t care.

Peter had that problem one night.  His was the opposite.  Being from Galilee he had a specific accent.  Like trying to pass off a Texas accent in New York City.  We can tell, and obviously so could the little girl who confronted him about Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane.  “You sound like a Galilean, you must be with Him,” she insisted.  But he strongly denied being with Jesus, or even knowing Him that night.  And after two other denials, wept bitterly after hearing the rooster that early morning.  What do you do when being accused of being a Christian?  Has it ever happened to you, is there any evidence to prove it other than your bumper sticker and t-shirt?  But yet many live the life of living in one way, yet residing in another.  And when found out, will lie even more.  An “I’m not sure who I am, but I am glad I am not you attitude.”  Such was the case on night when in Bible study and discussing hypocrites.  “What would you do if someone called you a hypocrite?”  And the room went silent, until I protested, the most important question of the night, and you want to pass over it?  And then they attacked, “what would you do?” asking in a condescending tone of voice.  I was on the spot, something they didn’t want to be.  So I answered, “I would admit it, that I am.  But that I have a forgiving God, and hope I didn’t mislead you.  Would you accept my apology, and forgive me, just like Jesus has?  And help me to not be one, I don’t enjoy it when I do, and that isn’t who I am in Christ.”  The silence that followed led me to believe I wasn’t welcomed there, and it was the last study I attended there.  We are all hypocrites from time to time, and we don’t want to be-get over it.  And get on with it.  I was hurt that evening, by them, but more for them, we were chosen to represent Jesus.  But just like Peter, blew it.  But he never looked back, he kept on in Christ, and not more than 90 days later, on the day of Pentecost, led 3000 to the Lord, when in the spirit.  What a difference being in the spirit makes.

So take heart, it may be important to you where you live, but how important is it to where you will spend eternity?  No zip codes in hell, or heaven-saved you miss hell.  And we should all want to go to heaven.  No attraction to hell sounds attractive to me.  And if I screw up, pride taking me over, forgive me, as God does, and as you want to be forgiven.  And do what I do, the next time someone tells you the church is full of hypocrites, agree with them.  But tell them it is not quite full, there is room for one more-them!  And invite them to hear the gospel of Jesus Christ.  Good news, and we all can use a little good news.  Pride may fool the girls at the bar, or the service advisor at the dealership.  You may even fake your accent, but as any Texan will tell you, there is something special about being a Texan.  Now if we could all show how special it is to be a Christian, to know Jesus, when showing His love it just may make a difference.  He came down to your address, and welcomes you to His, will you accept the invitation?  There are zip codes, and then there are zip codes...where do you want your mail forwarded too?  Sorry I can’t understand your accent......Jesus the best address, hypocrites welcome.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

suck, squeeze, bang, blow

“Hee hee, I just put gas in it and drive,” the blond giggled.  And whether she was blond or brunette, male or female, she is more representative of most drivers today.  A computer takes care of all the engine functions, telling it when to do what is next in the required driving sequence, the internal combustion engine being remarkably more efficient than it was when first designed.  And every time electric, LPG, natural gas, or hydrogen is used, we still find gasoline is still the most efficient.  And plentiful, despite having lived through two politically based few shortages in the last 40 years.  And as long as it is available, we will complain about the cost, but still use it all we can.  I like to watch when filling the Bonneville, it takes 3.5 gallons when I flip the petcock to reserve, and grin while the yuppie next to me fills her car to $100, then drives away thinking I am crazy for riding.  All she knows is that it takes $100 to fill up, and has no concern for what the gas does once it is in her tank.  And it is true with almost all of us, for the Otto Cycle engine, or 4 stroke as we refer to it, is a masterpiece of internal combustion magic.  Keep the tank from running dry, and despite lack of maintenance, abuse, and poor gas quality, it just keeps running, sometimes to the amazement of many a mechanic after driven without any oil in it.  But the 4 stroke is very simple, and can be referred to a suck, squeeze, bang, blow.  The four steps in a four stroke engine.

Simply put, an engine is a air pump.  It sucks in fuel, squeezes it under pressure called compression, it explodes, combustion when mixed with electricity and bangs, then forces the air out.  Get it, now you are smarter than 95% of those driving.  A simple theory, but complex in operation.  How much fuel is sucked in is important, hence fuel injection that meters it precisely.  More compression, more power, think of a great big hug, after a while too much hurts.  And can do damage, why we need premium fuel, so it will react correctly to the squeeze.  Timing is important, too soon or too late, you lose power, or the engine will not run at all.  The computer does this for you, making changes thousands of times per second.  And if it can’t, the check engine light comes on, a warning that the computer cannot make the adjustments it needs to.  Meeting the squeeze at just the right time.  And finally out the exhaust goes the residue of the power created.  And the system repeat itself over and over, some 3000 times per second at 60mph, 360,000 per minute.  Something I just made sound so simple is really so complex, and the opportunity to misfire, or fail altogether happens all too often.  But when it does, it is a beautiful thing.  Suck, squeeze, bang, blow-welcome to the 4 stroke world of internal combustion.

I can remember the first time seeing a man drop a lit match into a bucket of gas, and it went out.  Amazed, we all went OHHHH!, but as he explained it took oxygen to make it ignite, we grinned as the rookies went OHHHH the next time.  Air plus fuel plus spark makes power.  DO NOT attempt this yourself, as it is the fuel vapors that ignite.  Don’t find that one out for yourself.  Stupid hurts, always has, always will.  Trust me if you haven’t learned that one already.

And so a life in Christ is like a 4 stroke engine.  We take Jesus in, and the process begins.  We hear the word, and respond to His invitation, but nothing happens.  It takes the spirit, a gentle squeeze to make the love ignite, to cause it to grow.  It takes the light of Jesus in our life to make the combination of fuel of the spirit to ignite, and then we want to go out and share Him with the world.  But like any engine, we need to stay in tune.  We need to be careful what fuel we take in, beware of lies or those who deny the deity of Jesus.  We need to suck in the word daily, the fuel that starts our day.  Without the spirit, the fuel is wasted.  And even can be the wrong type of fuel.  Gas engines don’t run on diesel.  It takes the spirit to interpret the word, just reading a few words that meet your situation don’t help, and can only confuse.  And reading so much will flood the system, again the spirit giving wisdom.  And when the two meet, we have combustion, we explode in Christ, and the fruit of the spirit is found in our lives.  But timing is critical, too soon and you lose power, too late and you backfire.  it takes the spirit firing you on a cylinders, and suddenly this simple walk seems difficult.  Which is why you cannot do it alone, you need Jesus.  And what comes out the tail pipe is what and how it is mixed.  Too much you, the world can tell by your witness, not enough Jesus, they can tell too.  But when the mixture is right, and Jesus is Lord of your life, the process is perfect, and the people are drawn to Him through you and your witness.  Not your witiness.  See the difference I makes? 

Life can be as simple as a smooth running engine, or leave you stranded when it doesn’t start.  So stay in tune, look for the warning signs.  Stick with Jesus in the spirit, and let Him lead.  Long before computers He was the perfect blend of power, spirit and energy, and He still is today.  Stay in the word, pray and ask, then listen.  Trust and obey, and beware of those things others tell you to clog the system.  Cheap fuel can ruin the system, Jesus runs on premium.  He likes the good stuff, and offers it to you, why accept anything less?  And keep going when the times are tough.  Sitting idle is damaging, and a car at idle gets zero miles per gallon.  Doing nothing, missing church, not praying or reading-you are just idling wasting fuel.  The engine runs, but like you it is going nowhere.

Get all the Jesus you can.  Keep your air filter, your mind clean.  What you put out depends on what you take in.  And down to the headers, the exhaust, you too can make a wonderful sound, pleasing to the Lord.  A message others want to hear, not just a loud exhaust.  Fuel and air ignite to make power.  In just the right ratios, at just the right time.  Just like a Christian walk.  Without the spark of the spirit, all fuel and air, all talk and preaching is useless.  Obtain the power in the spirit today.  Get the most mileage out of life, and use less energy.  If a computer can do it for your car, imagine what the spirit can do for you?

So whether you get your power by a twist of the wrist, or pedal to the metal, it takes fuel and air to ignite.  Only in Jesus will you make real power.  Life so simple as a 4 stroke engine.  Diesels, 2 strokes, and rotaries all make power, but none as efficient as the 4 stroke.  How much power does your God make?  What you take in, will tell what you put out.  His meekness is power under control.  Some will just put in the gas and go-where and how far you go depends on the fuel of the spirit.  Hang on for the ride of your life....

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

call me Ishmael

It is traditional for the oldest son, usually the first born in Texas to have the nickname of Bubba.  Over the years though too many have become Bubbas, and the reference has become diluted.  But still my ears perk up when in the Lone State and I hear someone at the table being referred to as Bubba.  Within certain families it is still a respected title and position.  The Italians have their Bubba, they call him Sonny.  As in Sonny Corleone.  Being the first born gave him  a status and also a responsibility in family matters, and he like Bubba, was the first to inherit the throne when Papa passed on.  He was groomed to accept responsibility, and also got the first fruits as the oldest.  He was favored, and many enjoyed the power and position of being the first born.

We will call him Ishmael, for that is his name.  Born of Hagar, when Sarai, when she lost patience with God and His promise of a son, she told Abram to sleep with her, and they had Ishmael.  But God, being true to His promises, wasn’t done yet, and some 13 years later Isaac was born from Sarai, now Sarah.  Fulfilling His promise, His way, not Sarah’s.  Giving a party for Isaac, when he was weaned, when at the party, when others were laughing, Isaac means laughter, she heard Hagar and Ishmael mocking him, making fun of him.  And she told Abraham, “get rid of them.”  A sudden change in her had produced anger to them, and Ishmael, who once was the only child, and in line for he promise of God, was banished.  Breaking Abraham’s heart, for he loved His son.  Both his sons.  And you have to pity poor Ishmael, this Bubba of 4000 years ago.  One day the next in line, the next out of line, and on his own.  But God heard his mother’s plea, and reminded Abraham of His promise.  True, his lineage would be through Isaac, and would become the Jewish people, but Ishmael would also become the lineage of a people, the Arabs.  And since then, since that day, when the two were separated, the nations they fathered have never gotten along.  With one exception, the burial of their father, for when Abraham died, they both attended the funeral, and made peace, if only for the day.  One father, two mothers, two sons, and one promise.  Two nations.  God honoring all the promises, but finding favor with Isaac, whose name means laughter, to get the birthright over Ishmael.  But God not forgetting Ishmael, and making him a father of a great nation, just not a blessed one.  And for 4000 years, the brothers fight still continues today.

Like many, I can relate to Ishmael more than Isaac.  Living the great life, having a good time, when along comes a circumstance that changes everything.  The boss calls you in-fired.  The doctor calls you in-life flight or die.  Your house faces foreclosure, the bank wants to repo your car.  Your wife falls out of love, and wants a divorce, and suddenly all is wrong with the world.  Your world.  And too many times we look at the circumstances, instead of the cross.  We forget the promises of God, and doubt, fear, and confusion take over.  “Where is God when I need Him?”  And we become bitter, just like Ishmael.  But God never forgot, and He never forgets, He too knows the pain of losing someone.  And reminds us of Jesus, and when we turn to Him, see the promises of God fulfilled.  A choice we make, follow the Lord, and watch as He makes us a way, or become bitter, and having the doubters make fun of us.  Thinking God forgot, when it is us who forgot, and turned away.  It is the tough times that Jesus is there, and many tough times are to show His love.  He is the great physician, but you must get sick to need one.  He is the great comforter, showing compassion in times of trouble, but we see Him more in those times, how easy we forget when things go our way.  He provides when we can’t and has all along, it is foolish to think our job did, God provided that one too.  And He even shows His grace, when things get tough and we forget, He still loves us, and takes care of us.  No three strike law with grace, even Jesus answered to forgive 7x70, 490 times for us public school attendees.  What may seem to us as forgetful, is really part of the plan.  Sarah lost patience, and then banished the gift she thought she had ordained.  But Hagar, Ishmael’s mom, never forgot.  She loved her son.  And Abraham loved his son, too.

“For God so loved the world,” we quote, John 3:16, yet we forget that love is patient when things don’t go our way.  We rebel, and turn away.  Thinking we know best, that we deserve all the favor.  Yet as we know, Abraham in all this was called to sacrifice his son-only at the last minute did God intervene with the ram.  His plan all the time, but He wanted to see how much Abraham really loved Him.  So Abraham could see God’s love for Him.  After all, didn’t He promise tat Israel would be through Isaac?  Today you may be facing a trial like Abraham, and you ask “where is the ram?  Where is the promise of God?”  Fact is they never left, they are the same today, as they were yesterday, and will be tomorrow.  But you must turn to God, trust Him,and not lean on your own desires, understanding or experience.  It is in the darkest hour that light shines brightest, and God shines the brightest.  We may not all be Bubbas, or Sonny’s, but we all will have times of Ishmael.  Hang on to the promise of Jesus-“I will never leave you, nor forsake you.”  Patience leads to salvation, and out of the situation.  And the mightiest have the same testimony, Joseph in the well after being sold by his brothers, King David after the death of his son Absalom, and even God, turning out the lights on earth after the death of His son on the cross.  But where there is pain in the night, we find Joy in the morning.  Three days later Jesus rose, the grave empty.  David gets an insight to heaven, Absalom cannot come to him, but he can go to Absalom.  And Joseph becomes the next in line to Pharaoh.  And provides food for his family.  Ironic as he was the next to youngest, the 11th son, and became the Bubba, or Sonny of the family.  Got has a plan for all you Josephs, Absaloms, Ishmaels, and every Tom, Dick, and Harry.  For all who call on His name, will be saved.  And delivered, something the lesson of Ishmael reminds us of. 

So don’t wait until a funeral to get back with God.  Don’t let it take a catastrophe like Ishmael did to gain your inheritance.  It is available right now, let God be God, and all men liars.  And watch as when you seek Him first, then all things will be added unto you.  It works in Texas, and for Bubbas everywhere, and even for the Godfather.  Jesus, now that is an offer God makes that you can’t refuse! God hasn’t forgotten about you, take the time to turn to Him today.  Abraham was over 100 years old at the time, and God honored Him.  I hope you don’t have to wait that long, but if you do, you aren’t alone.  The wait is worth it, and heaven awaits. It will all seem so short in eternity, so let’s begin now.  Today in Christ, is truly the first day of the rest of your life.  Call me Ishmael, for I am blessed.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspto.com

I grew up there and I still don't know where it is

We’ve been to Mayberry, in fact we spent a night there.  At least the town that Andy Griffith based his long running series on, and the town is Mt. Airy, North Carolina.  They even have a mountain named Pilot Mountain.  And the town is all about being Mayberry.  And when entering the Exeter Mercantile in Exeter, California, some 3000 miles west, we were greeted by the owner, “welcome to Mayberry.”  Go figure.  How many have been to Metropolis, aka New York City, the Big Apple?  And did you know the Daily Planet Building is really in Los Angeles, and is three buildings-the opening shot is the E. Clem Wilson Building, the front door is of an unnamed building a few doors down on Wilshire, and of course Los Angeles City Hall is them most famous shot we all remember.  Look up in the sky, it’s a bird, it’s a plane...it’s LA!  Ever visit the Beav and Wally at 211 Pine Street, Mayfield, USA?  No state given, but Leave it to Beaver fans can claim it in many states. Watching the show I feel as if I have been down that street many times...maybe I have.  There are eight towns called Mayfield in the United States.   A rerun of Starsky and Hutch the other night showed BCPD on their jackets, Bay City PD, which is really San Pedro, south of Los Angeles. Many Bay City residents from Michigan to Texas take note.  And of course the most famous address in Malibu, 29 Cove Road belongs to Jim Rockford, been there many times, and courtesy of a wide angle lens, it looks bigger on TV than it is.  The real address is really Paradise Cove Road, and the restaurant there will not let you park unless you eat there-sorry Rockford fans, and on the occasion we did, the food was OK, but no where near enough to warrant a return. Sorry Jimmy.  Note this also the beach where Gidget surfed.

They say everything is bigger in Texas, and maybe  it is true.  Been to Southfork, home of the Ewing’s?  My wife has, and it is again made to be larger than it really is using a wide angle lens.  But it is in Texas.  Just as Miami in Miami Vice is, and Boulder where Mork and Mindy lived-again been by the house.  So it seems there are many places we grew up with on TV and have been to many times, but we still don’t know where they are.  Not on any GPS, map, or not even a local to ask directions, they exist only on film and in our memories.  And due to reruns we can go there just about any night of the week.  Sometimes trading reality for the 25-50 minutes of show minus ads, retreating to a world where Ward always tells Beaver the right thing, Andy knows best, and Jimmy catches the real crook.  Starsky burns through another set of tires, and Mr. Kent returns from the store room.  And JR puts another deal together, and we al cheer his badness.  But in real life, we have towns like Poway, Scotch Plains, Hillside, Yonkers, and Farmington.  Towns where families raise kids, and then they go off to seek their fame and fortune elsewhere.  Towns that never grow in population, but remain steady, with no real reason to leave, and no real reason to stasy either.  And if not for us living there, they have no real reason to exist.  Everytown, USA, bed room communities, and fly over America, which is where most of us live.  Whoever came out of these places?

The same question was asked of Jesus.  He was a Nazarene, and Nazareth was a town of no reputation.  They wondered “can anything good come out of Nazareth?”  He was just Joe and Mary’s kid, with a brother or two, who helped in his dad’s carpentry business.  But was to go on to great things, once He left Nazareth.  We are never told how much of an influence Nazareth had on Jesus, but we know what kind of influence Jesus had on Nazareth,, and the rest of the world.  An example worth following and repeating, wherever God has us now , or will be sending us.  From Texas to Pennsylvania, to New Jersey, back to Pennsylvania, Florida, New Mexico, Colorado, back to New Mexico, and then to California, my course was not plotted by me, but by God.  And someday to heaven-again reserved by God.  For where we are now is not our final destination, we are only passing through, sojourners-I like that word.  And we can leave an impact on those we meet on this trip.  Just like Jesus left an imprint on our lives. 

I am lousy at giving directions, but can get you there.  I don’t remember road names, but landmarks, and where to turn, where to eat, and where to stay.  Many times places not on any map, places in the middle of nowhere, but in the middle of someone’s life.  So I try to take Jesus’ advice to the disciples, “as you go, preach the gospel.”  An ongoing gospel, to whoever, wherever you are.  Using words when needed, and watching as Jesus changes lives along the way.  You many never visit the Cleavers, a perfect family, but you will encounter Eddie Haskell’s, who need Jesus.  You may be sitting on a park bench, and someone come up to you and pour out their life, like has happened to us.  Somehow they knew you would listen, and love them.  You may never see Paradise Cove, but can encourage someone about the Paradise the thief on the cross went to that Jesus promised him.  So don’t feel lost when you remember these towns you grew up with, but have no idea where they are.  They are where you are, and where you are going.   A trip to heaven, with many stops along the way.  And someday we will look up into the sky, and it won’t be a bird, it won’t be a plane, but it will be a super man.  It will be Jesus calling us home.  Riding along getting our kicks on Route 66, watching the sunset over Paradise Cove, and seeing the sun rise on Miami.  No vice, just life.  Wherever you live, so does Jesus.  Invite Him into your home, and accept the offer to visit His.  All who believe will go there someday...and I still don’t know where it is-glad He will show me the way.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com