in God we trust, not His FICO score

My friend Ted loved Wendy’s hamburgers, and where he lived there was no Wendy’s.  Now Ted was used to getting his way, and being one of the richest men in the area, he and his family developed supermarkets and then sold them to a German company, he didn’t hear no very often when he asked.  But being the rich guy in a small town made him prey for people with great money making ideas, to which he would always answer “ I don’t know anything about that subject, so I won’t invest,” leaving many to find another pigeon for their wild ideas.  When we went to lunch, he had to duck all these good ideas to make him rich, and he would tell them “I’m already rich,” and very few lunches were just the two of us.  So when he wanted his Wendy’s store, he called Wendy’s, identified himself, which didn’t matter to them, and asked what he had to do.  He had money, and was ready. He could already taste the double cheeseburger, but was told they weren’t interested in his cash, what was his credit like?  “No problem,” he told them, his family owned the bank.  Which didn’t impress them either, and his years of paying cash for all his grocery store bills worked against him.  Confused, and not amused, he couldn’t understand why when he had millions in the bank, that Wendy’s was more interested he had an $80,000 line of credit.  And lost interest, he hadn’t gotten his way, and if they weren’t interested in his cash, he wasn’t interested in them either, and never ate at Wendy’s again.

We ran into a similar situation when we moved to California and wanted to buy a house.  We had bought houses in two other states, and had worked hard to pay off all our bills, credit cards zero balance, we owned our cars and motorcycle, and could finally afford the monthly payments-easily.  So with confidence we applied, figuring no problem, for we knew others who were struggling and had gotten loans, only to be turned down.  Because we owed no one, our FICO score reflected it, but not in our favor.  They wanted you to have open loans, to be in debt, so you would have a payment every month, and all our hard work meant nothing, as we were told to go buy a car on credit, and reapply in a few months, our score would be higher.  Maybe it is true, California is the land of fruits and nuts, and your past doesn’t matter, only what you owe today.  The payoff being don’t pay anything off!

Years ago Jean Shepard wrote “In God we trust, all others pay cash,” and it evolved into “A Christmas Story,” about Ralphie wanting his Red Rider gun for Christmas.  And we laugh about paying cash, but now live in a world who rather have you in debt to them, rather than take your cash.  And because of money laundering, anything you buy over $10,000 must have an IRS form to go with it.  Carrying cash has become a burden, FICO rules, and like they ask, “what’s in your wallet?” better not be cash.  Much different from what Jesus advises on money.  “Owe no man nothing,” he advises, and it feels good not being in debt, but puts you at risk to buy anything.  Consider Jesus, wanting to buy a car.  He has no FICO score, he has no home.  No car, as he walked everywhere, and even had to borrow a colt to ride into Jerusalem.  He had to stay with friends, and never carried cash.  But when He needed a coin to show a man about taxes, all He had to do was grab a fish in the sea, and out came a coin.  And He even sent out His disciples with no cash, telling them He would provide for them as needed, and if anyone refused them, kick the dust off your feet, and go on.  I know some banks I would love to kick my dirty feet in, and kick some other things as well.  So what does Jesus know that your banker doesn’t?

So would you give Jesus credit?  Maybe a better question is why don’t you give Him credit, believing the things He says, but not obeying them?  If sick, who is a better physician?  Who is a better money manager?  Who knows the future 100%?  Who is there when we always there when we need Him, and never leaves us or forsakes us.  Who is able to give good advice, which only works when taken.  Who has fulfilled over 300 prophecies about Himself, and yet we don’t give Him enough credit.  Would a high FICO score give Him more credibility?  So then why do we rush to ask others, and seek opinions when He gives us truth?  What will it take to extend all the credit due to Jesus that He deserves?

Don’t let a hamburger get between you and the one who deserves all the credit.  In God we trust, all others pay cash.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

now I know why

Winters can be brutal in the mountains of Colorado.  Temperature well below zero, snow measured in feet rather than inches, and you can create a situation where many cannot get out, sometimes for days.  And living in the country as we did in these pre-cable, pre-VCR days, if the translator went out, you lost your TV signal, and were bathed in an eerie isolation with no contact from the outside.  In the best of conditions we only had five channels, and on this one night only one came through, the PBS channel from Albuquerque, where an old movie was in progress.  When it was over, and the pledge drives began, we found out this movie that had mesmerized Theresa and I was “It’s a Wonderful Life,” a movie now a Christmas tradition, at this time an unknown.  A movie billed as an angel earning his wings, it was about how one man, George Bailey, had influenced others.  Later God was to show me how it was also how others had influenced him, but on this night, it was more than entertainment.

Last summer when I had open heart surgery, while in a coma, I spent some precious time with Jesus.  As close to death as you can come without dying, I had this peace, and an experience that goes way beyond words.  The only way I can describe it is I want to go back.  And for every day since then, Theresa will confirm I have stated “I want to go back.”  And I would question why a loving God would show me of all people this wonderful experience, not questioning why, but wondering why me of all people?  Why this incredible blessing?  And then one day He explained it was grace He was showing to my family.  Grace to my wife as she was not a widow, and grace to my sons as they were not orphans.  And I was satisfied with that, way too much to totally take in all at once, but a peace I wanted to share.  His grace went beyond my selfishness of wanting to be in heaven, and looking back today I am glad for His plan.  But if that was not enough, He showed me that I was here also to see my sons realizing their dreams, and even better, them to see me see them realizing them. Now I know why.  And the blessings don’t ever seem to stop, as this week has been very special.

Christopher flew home from Barcelona last night after six weeks of touring.  His dream come true, as he and Reagan are now now living their dream, making music, and I couldn’t be prouder.  I get to rejoice in their blessing, and Christopher gets to see me rejoicing.  To hear from his Dad, “well done my son,” just like a loving heavenly Father told His son Jesus.  Now I know why.  I cannot wait to hear the stories, as his future looks bright, and a father basks in his son’s blessings.  But also this week, we got meet Andrew’s girlfriend from Canada, Michelle, and I got to see the joy of watching them plan a future together.  There is nothing like being in love, growing together while planning the future, a blessing I would have missed, but for the grace of God.  You see we are saved by grace, a gift that cannot be purchased, but He kept me here for grace, to be part of the gift.  I am so proud of Andrew, and Michelle is a great blessing, and I get to see it happen.  And Andrew gets to see me see it!  Well done my son, from a loving father, who couldn’t be prouder of how far you have come.  And just as excited for your future with Michelle.  Theresa may finally get the daughter she has always desired, after raising all her boys.  But it won’t stop there, as God’s blessing continue, and in His mercy I get to see them all...truly it is a wonderful life not only for me, but better yet for my family.  Now I know why. 

And even though I still desire to go back, I know it will be in God’s time, as I am part of blessings I never would have imagined.  That’s grace, that’s Jesus.  Ironically in the 30+ years since first seeing It’s a Wonderful Life, I have only watched it once in its entirety.  We found it in the library in Durango on the big reels, and watched it one night at church.  And even though it is on every year, I even think we have it on DVD somewhere, I never sit to watch it.  For as wonderful as George’s life is in the film, my life is even more wonderful in Jesus.  And my life is not about me, but about Him.  You see, why asks with you wanting favor, but when you realize who the who is, then you can say “now I know why.”  For without the who of Jesus, your life is a mystery, with so many unanswered questions.  It is like being snowed in with no contact with the outside, lonely and alone.  So let Jesus add life to your life, let your life be about who rather than why.  For when you are comfortable with the who, Jesus, you will know why.  It is called love, the person of Jesus, far better than just the emotion.  I am the only person to have what I had, I am medical history.  I wondered why I was chosen by God for this, now I know why.  Heaven awaits, but until then, I have right now-and more blessings than any man could ever ask for.  And my family is here to see it with me.  An incredible influence on me.  Now I know why.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

a long way to go and a short time to get there

Perhaps the longest year in any male’s life is the year before getting his driver’s license.  For me in Jersey at 17 got you driving privileges, so at 16 you were still dependent on your parents to get you anywhere, which meant no dating yet, or finding someone older who had a license and access to a car.  And in the world of give and take, as you lowered your standards for friends, the car and license older guy was raising his.  Now we had befriended two older guys, both by one year, Gary, chubby and wouldn’t shut up, but thought he was a ladies man, and Franz, shy and German, who was very demanding.  Franz had access to his parents Cadillac, a 1962 Sedan De Ville, and Gary could use his mom’s 1970 Camaro, a brand new car!  And so we would go out looking for dates, with the asset of having a car, but the liability of Gary and Franz.  And after trying every line possible to a Jersey girl, we would always end up asking her “can you get a date for my friend?”  Whose friend always used too much hair spray, too much perfume, had braces or zits, and sometimes would smell of garlic.  Girls with a moustache were automatically excluded, and it was this “can you get a date for my friend” girl who often made or would break the evening.  And it was funny how particular Gary or Franz could be, but such was the price you paid of being underage and not licensed.

Now what we didn’t know, was that the girls could play the same game.  Attractive girls would use a big sister, or cousin, to drive them around, and then we would become the “can you get a date for my friend?”  More than once I endured a girl from South Plainfield, just so my other friends could get a date, knowing some day they would extend me the same favor.  And when you did become the date, you never told them where you lived, they could drop you off where they got you, or a block from home, or at a friend’s house, telling them that that was where you lived.  Your night’s rental had expired, and you soon learned there were two kinds of girls, those you took home to dinner, and those you didn’t.  A mistake you never wanted to repeat, for having them call you could ruin your reputation.  Being of age was a long way to go, and a short time to get there.  And you never gave them your phone number, in this pre-cell phone generation, your parents might answer, and then they would ask questions you couldn’t, shouldn’t, or wouldn’t answer.  So we usually gave them Gary’s number, his mom was proud of his newfound girlfriends.  And such was life in Jersey in the early 70’s.  And every time I see a 1962 Cadillac, I think of Franz and missed opportunities, and when I see a 1970 Camaro, that first year of the new body style, I wince, knowing that even a cool car in the hand of a fool cannot overcome certain limitations.  Maybe there is a substitute for cubic inches, but these guys weren’t it!

Proverbs is a wealth of good advice, if you take it.  It talks of fools, and of wisdom, and also of wayward women who seek you out in the night.  But it also warns “do not be deceived, bad company corrupts good morals.”  And of course we learned early in our Christian walk the importance of good company, by spending time with bad and suffering the consequences.  But what if you are that bad company?  What if you claim to be a Christian, but yet act like you are still in the world?  What if you are the one that she brags about in church, but the one she is warned about when not there?  Such lessons can be invaluable, but even better learned by obedience rather than sacrifice.  I was a new person when I came to Jesus, and looked at women completely different, they were now my sisters.  But some Christian women were still on the prowl for that Christian man, and I fell into the trap more than once.  And it hurt, and would take some time to recover, I had become proud of my celibacy, but not all women were impressed by it.  So I sometimes still found myself being “a date for a friend,” and suffering the consequences.  I had enough sin going on outside of the body, I didn’t need to add sin within the body to it.  So I learned to say no, and stayed away from those who were bad company.  A choice I made, and found an interesting turn of events.  Good girls wanted to go out with me, this once bad company had become good company because of my stand for Jesus, and saying no to temptation.  Imagine the look on some old girl friend’s faces when they wanted something else, and I offered them Jesus!  In a dream sequence form my old days, I even had two girls who were in Gallery fight over me one night, because I told them both no, which made them want me more.  I had come a long way in a short time, but still had a long way to go.

Make up  your mind today you are going to be the kind of person Jesus wants you to be.  It is OK to say no to sin, it actually feels pretty good, and gives you a power previously unknown.  Don’t let sin control you, you control it.  It may be drugs, cars, motorcycles, careers, the girl at work, or anything else that takes your eyes off Jesus.  Say no to it, Jesus has more to offer.  Remember there are the girls you took home to your parents, and those who you gave Gary’s address.  Obedience is truly better than sacrifice, and I know that each no leads to a better yes.  Not bad for a guy from Jersey...and no you can’t borrow my car for a date.  Do not be deceived...and look out for wayward women.  It was Eve who took the first bite in the garden, Adam could have said no.  What will you say?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

one night in Canada

Those of us who ride have a special relationship with our motorcycles.  When we go out to eat, we like to keep an eye on them, so we are careful where we park.  Like an over protective parent, we like to know where our child is at all times, which can create a problem before one exists.  Add to that riding into an unknown area, and we are reminded that we never ride alone, even when by ourselves, for we have our bike along as our partner.  You go figure, I have given up trying, I just rather ride.  When on my first ride into Canada over 24 years ago, the guy I rode with, Bruce, was a world traveller.  But came to find out it was in tour groups, never alone, and in these pre-internet times, was lost without a guide.  It was also his first long motorcycle trip, and he believed all the urban legends about riding away from home, even carrying Harley oil and a special first aid kit in one saddle bag just in case these things weren’t available in Canada.  I had made all the reservations, with Bruce making the first one, and his only one, in Victoria.  We had just survived two days of rain after a week in over 100 in California, it seemed no one had told the Northwest it was summer, and the temps were chilly.  But arriving at the hotel he booked us in, we found it cold, rainy, and having to park a block away in a high rise parking lot.  Which freaked Bruce out.  We had paid for our room, and I just wanted a shower and dinner and a comfortable bed, but Bruce was fretting, which meant he wouldn’t sleep, which meant Christopher, my 9 year old son with me wouldn’t sleep, which meant I wouldn’t sleep.  So I went down to talk with the desk clerk, who was cool, and understood our situation, and refunded our money.  But while still light out at 10 pm, where would we find a room?  So we started hitting every motel in sight, with no success.  Until we pulled into high end motel, one we would have passed over based on our budget. The lady at the desk was so cool, but explained she only had a suite, way beyond our means, but gave it to us a the price of a normal room.  Still hungry, where do we eat?  She explained the restaurant had just closed, but called over to the manager, who said “send them over,” and she did, and we did.  The staff was filling salt shakers and cleaning up getting ready for the next day’s breakfast, but they let us order off the menu, and then fussed over us while we ate.  Even the cooks came out to talk to these foreign motorcycle tourers, giving us insight into the next day’s ride.  We felt so welcome, and had a good room, at a bargain price, we were full, and then the lady from the desk showed up to see how we were doing.  Words cannot describe how blessed we were, and then she stuck the key to the spa and indoor pool in my hand.  “It’s closed, so be quiet.  You can have it all to yourself.”  Which we were, and which we did.  Finally getting my shower two hours later than when we had gotten our first room.  Even Bruce, the world traveller was happy, as we parked right in front of our room, with the bikes plainly in sight.  A good night’s sleep and all the rest, as they say.

Now one of the names for Jesus is Immanuel, which means God with us.  When things are going right, we forget He is with us, and when bad wonder where He is.  But He is always with us, and what was plan B for us, was Plan A for Him.  From both cool desk clerks, to the restaurant, to the pool, He was there.  Even to the parking space, He had it all planned, we just had to get there.  Such is the story of Joseph, another traveller into a foreign land, except he was sold there as a slave.  You know the rest of the story, how God finally elevated him to second in command in Egypt, and despite the famine, was able to rescue his family, the same brothers that had sold him into slavery.  Not what Joseph wanted, or they had planned, but what God wanted.  Pointing out that ALL things work out for good for those who love God, and that what the devil meant for evil, God meant for good. 

Good Friday seemed hopeless for the disciples, and Jesus’ mother.  But three days later, when He rose and conquered death, they rejoiced.  As we do now.  You cannot have Easter without a Good Friday, and it seems in the darkest times, when farthest from home, God’s miracles seem greater.  Which only makes me want to travel more, and farther.  More distance, more miracles.  But also more problems, for the bigger the miracle, the bigger obstacle to overcome.  But this works at home too, so don’t despair.  All things work out for good, and God is good.  And He wants to bless you, so let Him.  I have found that when He gets the glory, you get the blessings.  With or without the internet, Jesus is always with you, just as His name implies. So you never travel alone, and you never ride alone.

Some choose Google the answer for their problems, and right click for the solution.  Jesus is easier.  You can go right to Him, no passwords, delay, or advertisements to scroll through.  He is right there, on the ride, with the desk clerk, supervising dinner, and getting you special passage to the pool.  Even has a place to park your bike, just so you can sleep better.  Keeping an eye on it.  If only we would keep our eyes on Jesus the same way?  He promised to take us through the problems, not necessarily around them.  Blessing all who are in the situations.  Just one night in Canada for us, but a reminder that His love has no borders, except for our lack of trust.  Next time you push your starter button, expecting it to start, and it does, extend the same trust in Jesus.  The three basic needs-food, shelter, and protection are already there, just ask.  But if you really trust, just follow.  Ask Joseph, you never know what the desk clerk has gone through, maybe she too was held captive, and has a testimony to share.  A lot of Josephs out there, all it takes is one Jesus.  While some choose to place their hope in horses and chariots, I rather trust in Him.  So many roads, and such little time.  Let’s ride.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

sink or swim-some of us don't get the choice

I can’t swim, I sink, but that doesn’t, and hasn’t stopped me from enjoying pools.  Notice I didn’t say swimming.  Growing up in Scotch Plains, we had no public pools, the affluent had swim clubs, where we would climb the fence after hours and dodge the cops, so we were excited when we hit Jr. High to be driven to Forest Lodge by our parents.  One parent would stuff all the kids they could into their unseatbelted sedan, with another picking them up.  Carrying on with the windows open for all to hear, or maybe as a warning of here we come, we would invest the $2 entry fee we begged from our parents and spend 8 sun filled hours getting as sun burned as possible, while lowering the pool level swallowing all the water we could, which we would soon recycle.  The pool scene in Caddy Shack was our summers at Forest Lodge, without the Baby Ruth.  But as we were at the age where girls didn’t have cooties anymore, but yet too scared to ask them to put sun tan lotion on us-no self respecting Jersey boy would put it on another, we got burned, which was activated by putting our shirt on for the ride home, or keeping it off and burning worse on the vinyl seats of the sedan.  And somehow these dates always seemed to coincide with a Senior League games, where the pain would continue, I was a catcher, and between crouching and the equipment, many times I wanted to opt out, but the same parents that allowed me to get in that condition, the same ones who chastised me for not using Coppertone, were the same ones who drove us there, would be the same ones who would absolve themselves of all responsibility in your delicate condition, making you go and have fun, and then waking to repeat it the next day.

In our hands and glands Jr. High school age, we had dreams of the pretty college age lifeguard having to rescue us, and give us mouth to mouth, and them falling in love with us, despite all the hunks who could swim and had cars, they had to choose from.  We never tried this theory, as some hairy, Italian kid named Guido would always end up by the high dive where we would attempt this daydream, and he smelled like garlic, which was OK for Italian food, not for Italian boys.  We also could tell they knew we couldn’t swim, as when we would jump, not dive off the high dive, going to the bottom, then launching off it to the side, trying to not look too desperate.  “Don’t make me come down there!” was often implied, with fear of expulsion giving us the ability to reach the side safely.  And 45 years later, much has changed, sadly my water talent hasn’t.

Paso Robles has this great water park, The Ravine, which is not only fun, but you can buy a season pass for less than a ticket to Disneyland, and while you may not have the lines to stand in to see Dumbo, you can be having fun in the pools.  And on the day we went, it was 108, and the water was great.  Our first ride was to go down the slide, into the tunnel, then into the pool.  We had been there a few summers back, and I had done it a few times, so we grabbed our tubes, climbed the stairs, and waited our turn.  I couldn’t wait, as it had been fun before, and with these high school/ college life guards helping, I was ready.  I smiled when this skinny kid ahead of us, stood on his tip toes to make the height line so he could go down, laughing all the way down.  Theresa went ahead, then my turn.  One look at my size and scar, he asked if I had done this before.  “Yes.”  But was I under a certain weight?  “yes, I lied,” how could  a couple of pounds, or in the skinny kids case, a couple of inches make a difference?  And so I was off, heading for the first 360 banked turn.  Give me a motorcycle and this turn is a dream, but in the water, 45 years of inability rose to the occasion, and I turned sideways.  Riding the entire curve sideways, just before turning completely around, and entering the tunnel, backwards.  Where it drops about 3’, sideways again, and then drops you into the pool, where you should land I your tube, only the tube had taken an escape route, and I ended up doing a huge cannonball, backwards, while Theresa stood there and laughed.  Where was the mouth to mouth?  My teenage dream realized, only to have my wife find it funny?  But it was and I laughed with it, still do, and the rest of the day was spent in the wave pool, or floating on tubes down a river like path.  Great fun, no sunburn, she smeared so much on me I must have looked like a buoy, just without the buoyancy, and I lived to return again someday.  All without knowing how to swim, and I wonder, did anybody notice?

Now being a sinker, water stories tend to bore me, but I have always been fascinated by Jesus walking on the water.  Which I am told to believe by faith, but I just believe it anyway.  Why would God include such a story if it wasn’t true?  And I have heard the doubters claim the water was only ankle deep.  That being the case, I walked many times on the water in my parent’s flooded basement.  I don’t buy into his floating sandals theory either, or I’m sure they would be sold on TV, for $19.95, and if you order now they would include a second pair free.  Clogging all the closets of beach goers everywhere.  Sorry, another myth exposed.  Atheists who don’t believe in God, just the fact you argue belittles your specious claims, as if there wasn’t a God, why would you argue?  Ah, quiet at last.  But we find it true, that Jesus did, in a storm, with waves and wind.  Tough act to follow, although Peter did, for a short time, falling in within arm’s reach of Jesus, taking his eyes of Him.  So close, yet so far, and we seem to remember the fact he fell in more than the miracle he walked on the water?  Maybe an insight into how we see Jesus, and how He affects our lives.  So close we fall in, or so close we obey when called?  Sink or swim?  With no pretty life guards in sight, yet He is there when we need Him.  Maybe explains why I still attempt water parks, I know if I fall He is there.  But despite our lack of water skills, sometimes we don’t get to choose, and suffer.  With Jesus, we get a choice, sink or swim.  Or as the bumper sticker says, “smoking or non?”  We choose heaven or hell, and escape the fiery death of hell, and the watery death God promised to never inflict on earth again as judgment. 

Just another day at the water park?  If you haven’t been baptized yet, I recommend it.  Safe in the arms who can hold you, and supported by the feet that can walk on the water.  A public testimony of faith and trust in Jesus Christ.  Which I replay every time I swim, or try to.  Why hang 10 when you can hang onto Jesus?  Now where is that pretty lifeguard when I need her?

love with compassion,

Mike

mathew25biker.blogspot.com

summer evenings and the speed of light

After a long hot summer day, cool summer evenings are a welcome reward.  Lately I have been able to get out and ride after all the noise and hustle and bustle have calmed down, and the memories of rides of old have flooded my thoughts.  Rides with friends, heading out of town after meeting for a cold one-ice cream that is, and then heading out where the streetlights end, and the stars light the way.  Where you can truly hear the sound of your exhaust singing a special tune that you can’t hear during the day, and stopping by a pond, listening to the crickets, and bullfrogs, as they begin their evening serenades.  I often have been amused by how in the dark I can hear more, maybe it is because of less background noise, or maybe because I have to pay more attention, but no matter the excuse, my senses seem to be amplified.  Sitting quietly by the side of the road, you can hear the sounds of the engine as it cools down, the exhaust pinging as the metals sing while cooling down, and how you can tell a Harley from a Honda, even though they may be miles away.  How voices seem to carry from farmhouses where their lights are dimly seen, and you find yourself talking softly.  All because it is dark, and it is a summer evening.

I can remember riding enduros with only a 6 volt headlight to guide, recognizing things only after you had passed them-maybe you can ride faster than the speed of light.  How when I bought my R90S with its H-4 halogen headlight, suddenly you could see where you were going, and your friends wanted you to lead.  And last night riding home on the 2014 Explorer XC with driving lights nothing was left to chance not being seen.  I can remember parking with a girl friend, then walking with her away from the bike, and foolishly leaving the parking lights on-and coming back to a dead battery.  No way to impress a date, worse than the old “I ran out of gas excuse,” which I never tried.  But without everything being electric, and still in the age of kick starters, you got home safe and sound, battery recharged, and waiting for tomorrow night to come.  This time no lights, in reverence to electric starting.  Such is romance.  But summer nights seem to bring out the best in people, even when we just sit on our front porch.  And as you watch the neighbor’s bedroom lights go dark, you wish them a sweet sleep, while you just sit and reflect.  A certain peace is found at night, one that no matter the days circumstances, finds you.  Whether it is clock driven, sun driven, or night time driven, shaft or chain driven,

it doesn’t matter.  Things are different when the lights go down, the headlights come on, and the road leads out of town to nowhere.

And so we long for peaceful evenings, when all seems right with the world.  But I find a promise of Jesus that doesn’t require after hours participation.  He promises you peace, an early inheritance gift from Him if you will.  For no matter the situation, He is that peace.  In the storm, He was able to still it by just talking to it.  While the disciples would be fretting, He could sleep.  Day or night, no matter the circumstance.  Maybe that is the peace that  summer evenings call to me, and I am thankful for them.  But I am even more thankful for the peace that can travel with me at any time, anywhere, day or night.  Even when not riding.  A peace that accentuates the sounds of nature at night, and gives me time to look at the stars-which He knows by name.  To watch for a falling star, listen to the bullfrog wooing a mate, and fireflies dancing in the dark.  An isolation without the isolation, just being with Jesus makes it all right.

It is at the times of no peace that we can return to Jesus, and find that special peace that only He can provide.  Roads seem to go on longer, the stars are brighter, and the one you love hanging on to you in the curves seem more romantic.  “Peace I leave with you,” Jesus tells us, maybe that is why just having Him in my life makes life more special.  A peace that no trip to Hawaii, no bonus check, no new motorcycle, or summer night can replace.  It takes Him in the midst of it to make it special-for He is that peace-He is peace.

Today we get bombarded with peace signs, peace talks, and politicians talking of peace agreements.  As Christians we already have all of them, for peace is not the absence of suffering, but the presence of God.  Lost that peace, stop and ask Him back-He never left, nor did His peace, you did.  And then go out, fire up the bike, and go for a ride.  Just you and Jesus, on a summer night, on road that must go somewhere, but the where is not as important as the who.  It never is when the who is Jesus.  Maybe that is why the wise old owl is always asking “WHO?”  He knows who is the peace, do you?  Maybe he is just a reminder asking you to reconsider Jesus.  Don’t try to understand it-just go with it.  Summer nights only last for a season, Jesus lasts forever.  Now about that ride....

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

where were you on the 4th of July?

Independence Day, July 4th, the 4th of July-all the same day, but each one has a certain, special importance to us.  Some 237 years after we declared our independence, many forget or never knew what it is like to be under subjection to a government that restricts our freedom.  Today it has become all about car sales, clothing sales, picnics, and another day off with pay-but the reason we are able to enjoy these things is freedom.  Something hard to explain until you don’t have it.  Much like when the Supreme Court Justice was asked to define pornography, and answered, “I can’t describe it, but I know it when I see it.”  FDR even came out with the Four Freedoms, and were exemplified by a famous Norman Rockwell painting by the same name-we have freedom to worship, freedom from want, freedom from fear, and freedom of speech.  But with freedom comes a responsibility so that we don’t abuse them and in turn lose those freedoms.  So for many years we have looked for the perfect 4th of July celebrations when we are on the road travelling nationwide.  We have had some special times in Quakertown, Pa. enjoying their Family Day celebration-baseball games, cars shows, great food, firemen competition from the volunteer fire departments, band concerts, and then the fireworks.  A great day of fun which totally wears you out-great fun usually does that to you.  So you can sleep better.  But this year being close to home, Central California, we decided to revisit Templeton, Arroyo Grande, San Luis Obispo, and Paso Robles.  Four towns all within 45 miles, leaving us enough time to catch all their ceremonies.  In the past there have been variations on the theme, such as the Hollister Independence Day Rally, fireworks at Pismo Beach, and church picnics.  Real America-the real freedom to enjoy.

This 4th of July had us starting out in Templeton, watching the parade that goes around the block.  Old cars, Sherriff’s posse, kids on tractors, shepherds herding goats, and the various social clubs all participate, and in 100 degree heat they still manage a smile.  Then it is on to the City Park, where clubs have set up booths, a live band plays in the gazebo, and anything from pulled pork to grilled corn on the cob is sold.  Children’s games, an auction, and a time when the old folks get together and tell stories of how it was when they were young, a time to relive precious memories of this town and time of 4000.  So as we sat and ate our pulled pork sandwiches, sold by the local baseball club, we sat at a long picnic table, tired from the parade, and listened to the locals tell stories.  Across the field some large inflatable balls had kids inside them, rolling around in water, and food was everywhere.  Not being a local, you can feel left out, but Templeton made us feel welcome, and it was good to return there after being in Quakertown the past few years.

But having stayed too long in Templeton, we missed SLO’s ceremonies, and headed to Arroyo Grande.  Where the temperature was a pleasant 78 degrees, cooler but still not as cool as going through Pismo in the fog in the 60’s.  Amazing how the 60’s can be warm in winter, but cold in summer.  And Arroyo Grande was, and always is the best part of the day.  They feature a band concert in the park, playing in the gazebo.  The town band, quite good, plays songs from the 40’s, WWII songs, and patriotic songs.  Almost 4000 people gathered in lawn chairs, blankets, and the seating provided.  A group of women my mother’s age sang all the songs, they were still in high school when the war broke out.  This group from the Greatest Generation was enjoying a freedom that had cost them, having grown up in the Great Depression, and knowing or knowing of someone who lost their lives in the war-to help us keep our freedom.  While young children marched to the tunes, and old men reminisced, the band played on.  I still enjoy a live band, with no electrical enhancements, so good to hear the flutes, clarinets, saxophones, and bells-all reminding me of freedom.  From the Star Spangled Banner, to their traditional ending of playing the Armed Services Songs, with each group standing when their song was played, we got to acknowledge them and thank them one more time.  But a highlight for me was during intermission, meeting a man called John, 93 years old, who had served under Patton in North Africa, and then in Korea.  Who from age 21-33 served his country, mostly in battle, and how he was so filled with a pride for what he had done.  A special day for him.  Another one was eating my choclate dipped, frozen cheesecake, and having another older couple giving me a hard time because I wouldn’t share it.  They ended up with their own.  And no they didn’t share.  But hearing the stories, seeing the quilt raffled off, and seeing the community together as one reminded me of how great America was, and still is today.  Even parking the Tiger next to a 1939 Cadillac seemed to be right.  And as the band played longer than usual, we passed on SLO’s Farmer’s Market-a must any other day, and headed back to Paso, where the fireworks had been cancelled due to budgetary constraints.  But that was OK-as tomorrow was Hollister-and we needed the rest.  Another great 4th of July celebration.  I was on overload-and so glad to be an American.

Fr. Al’s favorite song was God Bless America.  How many times we sang it at the chapel.  And the words echo in me today.  God bless America, beautiful words that to me have lost their meaning to many.  They don’t know Jesus, who made our freedom possible, and freedom for them is just a day off.  Another six pack, and not acknowledging God for America.  This wonderful country that God has shed His grace on, is hurting.  We have lost our focus, and instead of being on God, and what we can do for others, it is on us, and what they can do for us.  We are giving up our freedoms by not exercising them.  Because of Jesus we can worship Him as we want-in freedom.  He promises to meet all our needs-freedom from want.  Psalm 23-I shall not want.  We should have no fear, as if He is for us, who can be against us?  It is hard to find even the hardest vet denying God has played a part in the US of A.  Jesus and patriotism just go together.  And we have freedom of speech, which shows our freedom of choice.  Jesus doesn’t force Himself on you-it is a choice you make to accept Him.  And we can still pray, and express ourselves freely in most places today.  For if God hadn’t sent Jesus, we would have no freedom to enjoy, and His grace would not have been shed on us America.  Remember that next time you sing a patriotic song-make it a hymn to God-a time of worship and praise!  He’ll provide the fireworks.

Where the spirit of the Lord is there is liberty.  And the US of A proves that more than any other country in the history of our planet.  Endowed by a Creator, and proving that all men are created equal-we are all born into sin, it takes Jesus to rescue us out of it.  Remember 2Chronicles 7:14 today, let it be your prayer for America, “if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray, I will hear from heaven, and deliver their land".”

Where were you on the 4th?  More importantly, where are you with Jesus?  God Bless America.  Today let America bless God!

love with compassion,

MIke

matthew25biker.blogspot.com