don't force it, get a bigger hammer

Contrary to popular belief, and repeated incorrect teaching of history, Henry Ford did not invent the assembly line.  He got the idea from watching how packing houses function by moving the carcass from one station to another on carts.  He only adopted it for his Model T.  But it takes more than an assembly line to increase production speeds, it takes interchangeable parts, which the gun industry had been using for years.  We take it for granted today that when we get a part for our bikes it will fit, just over 100 years ago that would have been considered lucky to find a part that fit, good or bad depending on your situation.  So many manufacturers made their own parts, from fasteners to precision engine parts, and no two would interchange.  The corner blacksmith, would duplicate what he could, or take a part and customize it to fit the job, but the days of going to the shelf for the right part has only been for 100 years.  What Henry brought was putting them all together to make them work, and reducing the time it took to build a car from 12 hours to 90 minutes.  Passing on the labor savings to the public and soon the industry followed, it had to.

Now Old Henry is often misquoted as saying “you can have any color as long as it is black.”  Which he never said.  They didn’t have the paint technology we do today, and black was the easiest to make and apply.  Usually by brush, and it took forever in manufacturing years to dry.  Credit Charles Kettering, Boss Ket with working with DuPont to give us Duco paint and today we have instant drying paints of infinite color possibilities.  100 years ago you got black...or green, blue, brown, and varying shades of gray.  Did I mean today by mistake?  Has all this prosperity and technology brought us back to the color charts of the 1920’s? 

But still it took a plant, an organized schedule of procedures to make a car.  Still does today, and we neglect, if we ever knew or cared, to credit the ones who built the factories.  Who designed the assembly line where a car starts as raw materials at one end and drives off the line at another.  It takes timing on the lines,  a timely source of materials, and a trained work force for it all to come together.  And when it does it is a beautiful thing.  Way back in 4th grade Billy Dotterer’s dad was head of the Ford plant in Metuchen that built Mustangs.  New 1965 Mustangs, and a class trip to end all class trips.  Noisy, loud, with a lot of activity,and lots of new Mustangs,  it was different from the River Rouge tour we took in 2010, watching F150’s being built.  Same processes as the Model T and the Mustang, just refined.  And painting down to a science, where the truck body with doors was assembled, then painted and taken apart to build the truck, assuring uniform paint cover and color. 

Another manufacturing facility I used to visit was a huge SONY plant in Mexico.  It produced over 17,000 big screens a day!  Very tedious work, but good pay for those who could get it.  As modern as it could be, especially compared to a factory making eyeglasses from resin, with no safety procedures in place.  The floor so slippery you skated across it, the resin so dangerous it made your skin red.  When asked how did the workers do it, I was told after a few minutes you would know if you could do the work.  If you had any skin or lungs left.  But the most dangerous was the storage of the resins, which were very volatile, and above a certain temp would explode like bombs.  They were refrigerated the way they had been for generations, stored outside in the heat, sometimes over 100 degrees, with an old man pulling a wagon the length of the yard, putting a cake of dry ice on each barrel, then turning around and repeating the process.  I saw first hand why we need an OSHA, and why third world countries can compete, the worker is expendable.  Part of a process.....and finally the American worker was expendable, they could do it cheaper elsewhere.  Not necessarily better, cheaper.

Many religions will offer you good advice, offer you security, and draw you into their teachings based on some common sense facts.  But they are without completion, as all lies are based on facts, and like the assembly line may turn out a product, but is it one you want?  Or need?  Or can afford?  Today with counterfeit products invading the US of A from around the world, they may look the same, cost substantially less, and even do the job for awhile, but they are short lived.  Made to a cost, and we pay the cost.  They look the same, but are they the same?  No one supplies a better replacement part than the factory that designed and built it.  After market tries, and some products are very good, but nothing fits like a factory part.  From the originator, the creator.

Today religion offers you many ways to seek peace.  To be successful.  To satisfy.  Many so called great men have influenced religion over the years, from Buddha, Gandhi, Mohammed, Mary Baker Eddy, and Joseph Smith.  All took some form of truth and made a belief system, a religion out of it, but they all fail in one important area, none can save.  None can offer resurrection, no one offers the free gift of salvation but Jesus Christ.  There may be some moral lessons in each other one, but only the truth is found in Jesus.  God got it right in the  beginning, as Jesus was there, and still is there today.  And will be in the future.  His grave is empty, all the others are filled with remains, for they remained, not trusting Jesus to save them.  Maybe Jesus and this belief, maybe Jesus and work hard, maybe Jesus and remain poor, but no one but Jesus can offer salvation, and it is a gift.

Which may make some Christians sound like bigots, it’s Jesus or nothing.  And they are right, but need to show it in love.  Cults can provide love for awhile, they cannot save.  And if the church rejects someone, they are there to rescue them from religion, with more religion.  These others could tell us how to live, only Christ will enable you to do it.  No one else has dealt with the problem of death and been successful, it takes an eternal God and his son to save.  God made Jesus the cornerstone, and there is no other name by which we can be saved.  None.  That is the gospel, good news, we can be saved by confessing Jesus.  No grading on a curve, no classes, membership, tithing, or serving.  It is free...a gift from the creator, who made you, and can supply you with all you ever need.  Factory parts that fit.  If only working on cars was so easy...

Not even all the king’s horses and all the king’s men could put old Humpty together again, yet we go there first.  Why not go directly to God, and get the right part the first time?  The best advice from the wonderful counselor?  The peace we need from the comforter?  And wisdom from the one who is wisdom....can we maybe learn a lesson from the manufacturing world about Christ?  That there is no substitute for doing it right the first time?  Interchangeable parts may decrease assembly times, interchangeable gods and beliefs have an adverse effect on life. 

An old saying says “don’t force it, get a bigger hammer.”  Or “don’t bend it, get a bigger pry bar.”  In both cases forcing an issue, not doing it right.  True you might get the part out, but at what cost?  Why break something to fix something else?  Sound like life?  Insist of factory parts, from the creator of the universe.  He made you, why refer to anything or anyone else.  And he even left you an owner’s manual, the Bible, and his spirit to guide you through it.  And he makes it easy to read, ever try to assemble anything from a picture?  And you thought all pictures were in English...

Just some things you might have been told incorrectly about.  Don’t carry on the tradition, get right with Jesus today.  The madness of life can stop today by trusting him, only one can show us what to do, how to do it, when to do it, give us a new desire and the ability to do it, and give us a new heart and a new outlook on life.  Only one name can do all that, Jesus Christ.  That is what he does, has he done it for you?   Will you let him?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

one morning at the Sunoco station

I miss the old gas stations, the ones with the bells that ring, or rather clang when you run over the hose.  Alerting the attendant, and soon seeing a face to fill your tank, check your oil, and put air in your tires.  A far cry today from where you put your card in the in the pump, and the only interaction is “do you want a receipt?”  I think that most of us of the age of service stations did our time in one, and can remember the smell of high octane, the license plate snapping back when removing the hose from the fuel filler behind it, how many lost digits is still not available, and the group of men who always seemed to be hanging out, with nothing better to do.  Back at a time when the brand you put into your ride mattered, and for us it was Sunoco, 260, racing gas at the pump.  Super premium, because just premium wouldn’t do.  As it we could tell the difference.  But a few extra cents per gallon spent wisely.  And it has been awhile since I enjoyed one, but one morning somewhere in West Virginia will always stick out in my mind.

I was on a ride to New Jersey from Escondido, and I left at 530 pm on Friday night.  I was at the Sunoco at about 10 am on Monday morning, and would end up at my destination in a little under 70 hours, travelling some 2900+ miles.  A lot of things stand out, but this Sunoco station holds a special place, for no particular reason than it was there.  It had been raining, I had spent the night in Lexington, Kentucky, and rode in rain and cool that morning.  Just over the state line into West Virginia, the clouds broke ,the sun came out, and a new day was dawning.  Suddenly the warmth of the sun changed the ride and my attitude, and I couldn’t wait to get my rain suit off.  And the Sunoco station, short for Sun Oil Co. seemed  like a good place.  Filling up, I then sat in the sun on a bench, and took off my riding suit.  I was sharing a bench with an old man, who never spoke, but watched intently.  The owner, who was running things, this station was very busy, started a conversation with me when he saw the California tags.  “How long you been on the road?  Where you from?  Where are you going?”  And the list went on.  But when I told him I had left California Friday night, he was impressed.  So much that he told everyone, and suddenly I was a celebrity.  “Do you know what this man did?  He drove that bike from San Diego since Friday night?”  And a legend was born, as soon the group of men were impressed enough to start sharing stories of their long rides.  Or rides they hoped to do.  Each person that pulled up to the pump was pointed to me, the guy from California.  Rode there on his motor sickle.  And as I took off my rain suit, it was as if they saw who Clark Kent really was.  Or was it the other way around.  That one morning at the Sunoco station in West Virginia somewhere had an impact on many lives, and I am sure the story was told for some time.

To me just another fuel stop, in another state, but for those whose daily routine is so routine, a big event.  I left laughing to myself of how the old timers would go home and tell their wives.   And how they would nod and say “yes dear,” and how dreams of a long vacation, or a ride were awakened again.  If that guy could do it, so could they.  But somehow the telling would never be the same as the doing.  Just a 20 minute break from routine in daily lives, for me no big deal, but for those there that morning, the news of the day.  Or week.  And the things that dreams are made of.

When old friends meet, no matter how often or where, the talk will always turn to one event, one thing that they can share with each other, and brag to new comers about because they were there.  It wasn’t legend or hearsay to them, they met the man, saw the bike, took the picture.  They might even be in the picture, but they were there.  And the memories may fade, the details change, but they were there.  In the picture, part of the story.  An approach I like to take in my walk with Christ.  Too many churches, fellowships, or studies have become routine.  The same message told over and over, relating what they were taught but with no new insight.  Like the guys at the Sunoco station, life is predictable, then someone comes into their lives for a few moments and thing change.  Too much religion is like that, the same songs, same prayers, same story at Christmas, Easter, Mother’s Day, or Thanksgiving.  And we wonder why people quit coming to church.  Why they seem to be stuck in a rut?  They have all the gifts of the spirit available to them, but never take advantage of them.  And for those who do, they soon become different, and many times unwelcomed.  A threat to others, as the newfound freedom challenges others, who don’t realize they are dead.  And take umbrage against anything new or different.

But then others like the men at the Sunoco station get excited.  It wakes them up, and they dream again.  They look back to fond memories, and soon are rejuvenated.  One tells of an old ride, then another, and soon the bench racing is alive, where once it was dead.  Or at least in a coma.  God has given each one of us a testimony to share, to encourage, enliven, or to lead to salvation for the lost.  A story we didn’t just hear, but were a part of, and still are.  An excitement is created when Jesus is shared, and the story of how he changed the lives of us.  Others listen attentively, some may turn away, yet we never know the full effect our story may have on others.  We leave that up to God, and his spirit.  Jesus told us as we go share the gospel, the good news of him.  Too many wait for words, looking for the chance, while others live the life, and the words just come.  When St. Francis of Assisi advised “to preach the word daily, and if needed use words,” he was talking to us.  For our light to shine in darkness, but not to blind the one who it was aimed at.  God creates the situations, it is up to us to be who he wants us to be in them.  How many times have I been able to share Jesus with an audience who otherwise would not listen just because I rode?  Just because I ride and love the Lord and take it for normal, doesn’t mean others do too.  “You ride a motorcycle and are a Christian?”  You mean you don’t?  Or aren’t?

One unplanned stop at a non-descript Sunoco station in West Virginia caused a small uproar.  Daily routines were shifted, and a new memory was made.  We never think of evangelizing at a gas station, but why not?  Too many think evangelizing is inviting someone to church, yet we find Jesus lived on the road.  He was where the action was, he was the action.  Tired of hearing but not doing?  Get out and share what Jesus has done in your life.  Quit hiding in a church, and go out and be the church.  Using words when needed.  Maybe talk to the guy at the register.  Or the kid interested in your bike.  All things work together, and if a loving God can use motorcycles to aid in sharing the gospel, what are you missing?  What has Jesus done in your life today that feels better when shared with others?  It may only be a ride to Walmart, but people everywhere are looking, searching, and wanting to know.  Just not preached at, like you.  For me it was 20 minutes out of a 70 hour ride, in a place without name.  The importance of getting out and effecting the lives of others.  A time of refreshing, sharing the love of Jesus.  A time to share about good times.  Today will be the good old days we refer to some day.  By the blood of the lamb and the word of your testimony we are saved.  Jesus did his part, are you doing yours?

In this age of self serve, who are you serving?  Some believed, and some believed not.  Believe is a verb, is it to you?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogpsot.

the first time you just had to have one

There is always one guy in your group who is just a bit older, and tells better jokes, is a better fighter, better kick ball player, and has cooler things.  In our neighborhood it was Joey, and while only 3 years older, that was a lot in my preteen years.  And while the rest of us were busy begging our dads to buy us the new Schwinn Sting Rays, we usually ended up with JC Higgins from Sears, or Rollfasts from Jay’s Cycle Shop.  Both good bikes, but not the ones the bigger kids had.  But that all changed when Joey got his English racer, just the name sounded exotic, and with low bars tucked under, a racing seat, and 5 speeds, this this thing looked fast just standing still.  And as often as we were teased to take a ride on it, we were only mere mortals in the bicycle pecking order.  But it was the bike to have, manufactured by Ross, it was red, and soon became the standard of all that rode bikes in our neighborhood, and soon in school.  But the buy in price of $89.95 was too much for many of our fathers, so we soldiered on with our older bikes, content until Joey showed up.  I would eventually own a Schwinn Sting Ray, a real one, not some knock off, but never an English racer.  The bike that all others would and will be compared too.  There was just something about that bike....

Again leave it to the older guys bring cool into our mundane lives, and change all the parameters for fitting in.  A few guys in high school rode motorcycles, we had mini bikes, but no dirt to ride in in Jersey, so street it was.  And the first time I saw the Honda CB350, I fell in love.  I had been sharing a CL77, Honda 305 that belonged to BH, painted blue with a brush, but I had to have that CB350.  And I would, and it would change my life.  Midsized, today considered small or entry level,  I rode that sucker everywhere, 6000 miles in les than 5 months.  It was the bike that would define all others I would ever ride, until the Honda 750 hit the scene.  Who could resist those 4 pipes?  The chrome?  The sound and the power?  But still in high school, my 350 was big enough, and besides it said Honda on the tank, I was related by family if nothing else.  But soon Kawasaki would upset the riding world again, with the Z-1, 903 cc’s of power, and a whole new desire was formed.  The two stroke Mach III and Mach IV were fast, the Z-1 was king, and the bike to own.  And for $1875, double the price of my 350, I could have one.  If only I had the money...which in 1979 I did, buying a used 1975, fulfilling the dream, but still the desire loomed.  And drove me on, just like all my other riding friends. It seemed that the dream was only within riding reach until something new came along, and the dream of yesterday became the used bike you had trouble trying to sell the next.  But there was always some kid younger than you, maybe not in your group, but another, whose dream was your old ride.  And his ownership would perpetuate the dream for years.  Or until the next dream came along.

So the first time you saw one, and the first time you just had to have one, was followed by the desire that someday you would have one.  Sometimes way out of reach, but in younger minds where we haven’t learned you can’t always get what you want, the dream lived on.  Posters in the bedroom, worn out pages in magazines telling us “we had to have one” and parents who were against it, they provided reality in the midst of our dreams, many of us would tough it out, persistent that someday, despite all odds, we would have that English racer, that Honda 750, that Z-1, or whatever else the dreams of our youth kept us up nights thinking about.  All of us would get older, but for some of us growing up was an option we never bought into.  And our garages display that.  Still just one bike behind that which we desire, the dream lives on.

Many in our generation were raised in Sunday school, and when we got older, left the church.  Part of it, reluctantly, and in name only, but the lessons we learned or were force fed stayed with us.  And after all the self inflicted wounds of life, come back to church.  But still looking, knowing church is good, but not the answer.  That thrill that once made us want to ride still dominates, there has to be more to church than religion, than lessons, than attendance.  And we finally give in to Jesus, the spirit telling us “you need Jesus,” and the shackles of religion are broken.  And the first time you meet him you just know nothing else will ever do.  Where as you were seeking, now you found.  Where you knew something was missing, now you had it.  You just had to have Jesus, religion didn’t cut it, it leaves you empty, and all the lessons of youth now have answers.  In the motorcycling world many are returning, called born again bikers, returning after 20-25 years, only to find the bikes they once lusted over are gone, and the replacements offer more than they ever could dream of.  They buy into, but sometimes cannot get over their past, seeking to relive it.  Their 500cc of dream fulfilled now only found among newbies.  And soon the bike is for sale, the thrill is gone, and they leave unfulfilled, playing golf or tennis.  Happens in churches too, we have many coming back, seeking Jesus, and wanting more from life.  Many have come out of drug filled lives, bad marriages, business failures, and other failures in life.  And we hand them a 12 step program, a set of tapes, classes on Tuesday nights, and send them on retreats.  Not bad things in themselves, but where is the Jesus they are seeking?  We tell them he is personal, than hand them off to something that isn’t.  The are seeking forgiveness and acceptance, and the church lets them down.  I have actually attended churches where sinners are told “you can come back after you get your act together with God.”  Leaving them just sitting on the curb as the kids on newer bikes ride by.  And many times returning to their past. 

Jesus loves you as you are, he just doesn’t want to leave you that way.  Just as the new bike or motorcycle would change you, you wanted to be different leaving the store as from when you entered.  Jesus is that difference, and many old saints are coming back.  Finding the Jesus they learned in Sunday school is real, and loves them.  And forgives them.  And he is personal, it isn’t a competition, and you can be the person he wants you to be, yourself.  Once you meet Jesus, you know no one or no thing will ever do, you just have to have him.  And aided by the spirit, you will.  So I encourage those of you seeking but not fitting in, Jesus is still seeking you.  He wants to make it personal, he forgives your past, and better yet he knows it is part of your testimony.  He accepts you...don’t confuse the acts of some churches with Jesus Christ. 

You are never too old, too far gone, or too much a sinner for Jesus to love you.  In fact the worse off you are, the more you will change and grow.  And have a testimony to share.  He who sinned much was forgiven much, you will be surprised when you really meet Christ how much.  Today many still dream of that English racer, or Honda 750, ebay is full of dreams for those who can afford them.  Stop dreaming, and give it over to Jesus.  Find everything in life you were missing, and watch as he uses your testimony, and your new life to influence others.  You just may be that older guy in the group with the 10 speed English racer....and others are waiting to hear about it.  Offer them a ride with Jesus today....remember the first time you just had to have one?  Burnouts on bikes are fun, burnouts in life aren’t. 

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogpsot.com

look out for Falling Rock

When we were kids we loved to sit around camp fires with the Boy Scouts and listen to the ghost stories.  Anything to be a little scared, and then go back to your tent flash light in hand, hoping the mad slasher, or the Jersey Devil, or Muldinky’s Ghost weren’t true.  And among these stores many urban legends sprung up, among them the story of Falling Rock.  It seems Falling Rock was an Indian, a young man who was the son of the chief.  He was destined to be the husband of another chieftain’s daughter, but wanted no part of it.  And he made it known, which was blasphemous.  He refused to marry someone he didn’t love, or was preordained to marry, he wanted it to be his choice.  But despite warnings, he refused, hoping his power and personality, he was very popular with everyone, would win out over tradition.  The night before he was destined to marry the princess he didn’t want to, the traditional party was thrown, and the sacred honors made public for him.  He reluctantly went through with the ceremony, but had no intention of marriage.  Covering up his bitterness as best he could, he went to bed afterwards, and the chief felt all was well. 

But the next morning his tepee was found empty, with only a note.  “I will live on the road before I marry one I do not love.”  And he was gone.  The chief in a panic, and not wanting to embarrass his fellow chief or his daughter, began a frantic search.  Sending his scouts out to every road in the area.  But Falling Rock was never found, no trace of him, and today after many generations, the hunt still goes on for Falling Rock.  As evidenced by the signs on many freeways, particularly in the mountains that were his favorite, “look out for Falling Rock.”  And thus an urban legend was born.

Now how true that was or is doesn’t matter, we believed it as kids.  And the signs are still there today.  And it is good advice to look out for falling rock.  And some of the hard core even tell of how the evidence of his being there is found after storms when rocks are found on the highways.  So in some way we all look out for Falling Rock.  But do we look out for Jesus the same way?  Is he an urban legend, a story told around camp fires, a mystical person like Falling Rock or is he who he says he is?  Picture Peter on the day of Pentecost, 50 days after Jesus was resurrected.  His body was never found either, yet no signs of looking out for Jesus Christ are found.  But he left a hole in our hearts to desire him.  Imagine if you were, one of the audience that day, and after hearing Peter’s account of Jesus and his crucifixion, then his resurrection, your heart is changed, the spirit reveals himself to you and you repent.  But still are burdened with the fact that it was you and your friends who were there that day yelling “crucify him, crucify him!”  Suddenly you are faced with knowing the one you persecuted was who he said he was, and you have to repent.  Perhaps the ultimate revenge, facing your enemy and telling him you were wrong.  But the truth of Jesus Christ is that he forgives, and people like us are the reason he died on the cross.  The sick don’t need a doctor, the unsaved need a savior and Jesus is the one.  And the only.  You can only imagine the emotion that swept through the crowd that day...when they realized who Jesus really was. 

The force of Peter’s arguments, his testimonies when backed up by the holy spirit left no doubt that day.  And still leave no doubt today.  Jesus is who he said he was, and is, and his resurrection proved it.  No one else, no other so called religious figure left an empty tomb, and we know just where he is, sitting at the right hand of the father making intercession still for those who deny him.  But unlike the revenge the world thinks of, he sends forgiveness and love, mercy and grace.  A gift, for no one could afford it.  So Jesus rests his case, no matter what you believe, he is truth, and all others are liars.  The very forces that their lives depend on are in him and of him.  There is no way you can go through life without seeing his handiwork, or without his spirit touching your life.  But since his love is true, it demands a choice, a choice not provided for Falling Rock.  He even understood that love is not based on tradition, the difference being he is legend, Jesus is real. 

Now at Christmas time we see signs that tell us “wise men still seek him.”  But maybe those highway signs about Falling Rock carry more of a message than we know.  Jesus is the rock, and we are the fallen.  But don’t tell the highway department, they might think it is religious.  For right there on the signs are the invitation, to look for the rock of ages, who saved our souls, and changed the world.  All lies and legends are based on truth, only Jesus is truth.  If not already, some day you will come face to face with Jesus Christ.  Whether you like it or not.  Remember those on Pentecost, if the spirit could change the hearts of those who had seen him, imagine what he can do for you who hasn’t?  Sin will always be sin, thank God Jesus will always be Jesus. 

Look out for falling rocks, but it is wiser to base your life on the rock.  Just like the wise man who built his house upon the rock, who you put your trust in will make all the difference.  And yes, wise men still seek him....the signs are there....everywhere.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

attn Postman: no one named occupant lives at this address

Talking with our mail lady the other day, she was explaining how the post office was thinking of going to a 4 day delivery.  It seems the amount of mail has dropped off drastically due to emails, and some days there isn’t enough to warrant sending out the mailman on his route.  It seems after “best food day,” the day all the ads come out, usually Wednesday, but here Monday, the mail load drops off drastically, so the cutback may be needed.  Of course at the other end is the Sunday deliveries via the post office from Amazon, but even lately I have noticed Amazon emblazoned vans in our neighborhood.  All new and clean, the opposite from the postal Jeep that chugs to our house.  And even the periodicals have declined, as evidenced by the growing online amount, the dreaded TV Guide day a thing of the past.  But some how they stumble on, managing to lose millions of dollars per day, all at our expense.  But to their defense, probably the most efficient mail/package delivery system in the world. 

It seems most of the mail I get anymore comes addressed to occupant.  Not sure who occupant is, male or female, but we get their mail.  And a lot of it.  Years ago MAD magazine started a protest as a joke, which some people took literally.  They advised mail recipients, us , to return any mail addressed to occupant, stating no one by that name is at this address.  Potentially flooding the system, while making a statement about junk mail.  Today I just toss it, but have my own form of protest, per Andy Rooney.  All those ads that come with postage paid return envelopes, I return them, empty.  Keeps the USPS busier, and hopefully sends a message, don’t bother me.  Still working on a way for phone calls at dinner time advising me of the prize I won in the contest I never entered.  I hear a high pitched whistle is effective...

But also from time to time, I send back the postage paid envelopes with a tract inside, sharing Jesus with them.  Not sure if they are machine processed, but someone somewhere has to end up reading them.  Just my small way of spreading the gospel, for free, like the gospel, to anyone who is within mail receiving ear shot.  But I must confess, I like getting mail, so I send mail.  True, most is in the form of email, but I still handwrite letters from time to time, making it more personal.  A day and age that has passed, cursive isn’t even taught in schools anymore, and texting has made it OK to not know how to spell, as if the recipient could tell anyway.  But on my desk I keep an old letter, dated 12/5/75, from my Grandpa.  I had just moved to Albuquerque, and it was short, but loving.  Very personal by his writing, not the happy faced icon placed at the end either.  He spelled words correctly, and signed it in a way I always remember, “be good to yourself and others, and abundance of everything, Grandpa.”  A letter of love all by itself.  A keeper, maybe the good old days were that much better.

When reading the New Testament we forget, if we ever knew, that many are letters addressed to a church, to a person specifically, written in love.  Hand written, on scrolls, delivered by a post man, and anxiously received by the addressee.  Can you imagine how excited the church in Galatia was when it received the letter from Paul?  The anticipation of having it read publicly while gathering that night after it was received.  How excited and encouraging his words were.  Written in a letter form, they read like the letters they were then even today.  We just have the luxury of having chapters and verse to refer to, but you can imagine someone in the audience saying, “read that part about Jesus again..” and maybe the scroll was even passed around.  Seeing how their prayers were answered, how things were going for their letter writer, and learning more about Jesus.  They read the New Testament first hand, back when it was referred to as the teaching of the Apostles.  How many in Phillipi would have ever dreamed that it a letter to them would be part of a new book called the Bible?  Do we read the Bible as a letter and get excited, or is it memorization, studying, or reading an assignment?  Think how different it would be if you read it like the letter it was when sent.  Taking a bit of liberty with John 14:4-7, this may give you an idea.  And make Jesus more personal.  And the scripture come alive. 

“Dear Father,

I brought glory to you here on earth by completing the work you gave me to do.

Now Father, bring me into the glory we shared before the world began.

I have revealed you to the ones you gave me from this world.  They were always

yours.  You gave them to me, and they have kept your word.

Now they know that everything is a gift from you.

Your loving son,

Jesus*”

italics mine

Reads much different doesn’t it?  Just as it was written, and probably read.  For any and all to read.  Maybe the Bible was the first letter addressed to occupant.  The first letter for any and all to read, to be read personally, and read over and over again.  Somehow magically stored on scrolls that survived thousands of years, protected and preserved by the same God that inspired them.  If he can preserve scrolls, how much more can he preserve us and resurrect us?  Take some time to read the letters from God today.  Spend some time with his son, and get to know him better.  He took the time for you, take some time for him.  Be as excited as the first church, waiting to hear more about Jesus, and being the first recipients of this new thing called the gospel.  Read it with the spirit guiding you, as it guided every word written, and find yourself getting closer to God.  No letter from home will ever have more of an impact.  And they are addressed specifically to you, to me, to us, the church.  Occupants here on earth until called home for our final address. 

So maybe MAD was wrong, many occupants do live here at this earthly address.  But remember the words of Jesus, “ I brought glory to you here on earth by completing the work you gave me to do.”  A loving letter to a loving father.  He probably could have signed it “be good to yourself and others, and abundance of everything,” maybe that is why I save my Grandpa’s letter.  A letter written some 2000 years later in love, without the verses marked.  To be read just like it was sent, in love.  Can we read the Bible the same way and be so blessed?  Jesus Christ, for like the mailman, he knows here you live.

love with compassion, and an abundance of everything,

still doing the job you gave me to do,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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