Disneyland-ask the man who owns one

My friend John once bought 40 acres of land near Durango for the princely sum of $100 an acre, and promptly named his ranch The Ponderosa.  This $4000 investment, a lot back in the late 70’s, would soon sell for almost twice that, making him some instant money, and making him look like he knew what he was doing, but the truth was, he was just lucky.  He was given a chance to buy something below value, and sell it for value.  he thought he was shrewd, others thought lucky, when really it was God and His grace shining on John and his real estate venture.  But not all investments pan out so well, and recently the old Packard Plant in Detroit went to auction.  At a minimum bid for this once state of the art manufacturing complex, the bids were to start at $1 million for the 43 parcels, cheap land, even in an area known for cheap land.  But the only buyer backed out, and now it goes to auction again, for the minimum bid of $500 per parcel, again cheap, or $21,500 for this piece of automotive history.  The bidding is about to begin, if it doesn’t sell, then it becomes the property of Detroit, and if they don’t want it, the it passes to Wayne County.  A property rich in history, with promise for the future from a visionary investor, it now sits, no one wanting it.  Next time you go looking for America, learn from this lesson in Detroit.  The only place where land is worthless.  Not even for historical importance.  How far have we   fallen from grace?  Isn’t Toyota or Nissan even interested?  Wonder if John knows about this?

Just to put this in perspective, the very plant that once made the premier luxury car of its time, can be had for less than the price of a new Ford.  Or Chevy.  Or Chrysler.  Keep your Toyota.  All names that once made Detroit great, and made the American made automobile the most desired and best in the world.  But with that comes the cost of demolition, and what to do with this large chunk of Detroit.  Tens of millions would be needed for just the environmental cleanup of the asbestos and all the oil spilled into the ground for the 50 years the plant was functioning.  A bill that must be included, and perhaps that is why no one wants it.  Not that Packard did anything illegal, but under today’s laws and what we know about asbestos the world has changed.  And the plant grounds haven’t.  But I have a suggestion, Disney.  They have the money and resources for an automotive based theme park.  Think of it as Disney City, we already have D lands and worlds.  Make it a tourist spot, and watch as Detroit and the area explode economically.  Why not?  The king of amusement parks and the one time king of luxury cars-two number ones, making another #1.  But who would come to Detroit in the winter?  Maybe the same ones who attended the Super Bowl in Minnesota, and will in NYC this winter.  With today’s technology, make it indoors, sliding roofs, just like a giant convertible or disappearing roof like the Skyliner, and pack it with hotels named after models.  Caribbean, Clipper, and even a 400, the number that used to represent the 400 richest in the US of A.  Build an Assembly land, and watch a car built, driving a car through like the Pirates of the Caribbean, the Caribbean even an old Packard model.  Country Bear Jamboree would be fun for the kids, as the bears work on cars, and kids get to learn auto history.  Hands on, modeling with clay, or drawing their own car.  And what could be better than a haunted house than a haunted factory?  Again all auto based-the ghosts of Packard, Hudson, Studebaker, Pontiac, Oldsmobile, and Plymouth reminding us of what it used to be like.  Why hasn’t someone thought of this?  Is Disney missing the chance of a lifetime?  What would make a person pass up such a deal?  It’s a small world after all?

Such is the story of Abram, in the years before he was Abraham.  When God told him his family would outnumber the stars, he was also given a choice of where to start it.  But he offered Lot the first choice, and he chose the Sodom and Gomorrah area, prime land, the land we would have chosen as an investment.  And Abram got left with what was left, the other side of the tracks.  And we all know someone who lived or lives on the other side of the tracks, and wants to move over and out of it.  But God honored Abram as he promised, and Lot’s choice turned deadly.  Even today Sodom and Gomorrah refer to sin and destruction, and their true whereabouts is unknown.  But as for Abram’s descendants, well more Jewish people live in NYC than in Jerusalem.  But it is all changing...

God is calling His people back to Jerusalem, and Israel, once the land no one wanted, is a verdant area, exporting fruit and vegetables.  It has a mighty military, and somehow its people have never ceased to exist even without a land to call their own, until 1948.  And once again the land no one wanted is being fought over, with Palestinians laying false claim to it, and terrorists attacking to take it.  But soon Jesus will deal with all that, but for now, keep an eye on Israel.  A small country the size of New Jersey, that is the most valuable and important land in the world.  And now with oil being found, perhaps the largest strike ever, the time is right, as we watch God taking care of His people, still.  Now if God can take a desert and make it fertile, giving it a value and desire for others to fight over it for, imagine what can be made of an old car factory?

Jesus tells us that He uses the foolish things of the world, the things cast off, for our benefit.  Some days you may feel like the Packard plant, you once were valuable, now not wanted.  Sin has overtaken a once beautiful life, and now it is in ruins.  But just as Jesus was resurrected, so can your life.  True you get the promise of heaven, but can get the benefits right now.  That old building your body lives in can be rebuilt, and given life again.  All for the price of following Jesus.  He has plans for you, and He knows them.  Interested?  Ask Him, and then let Him show you, but be ready...it probably will not be what you think.  It will be better, and the road exciting.  A small investment in faith can lead to profits like John’s, or Walt. D.’s, but you have to make the next step.  Jesus made the first.  Your life is up for auction...do you know anyone who will bid for it, based on what you know about yourself?  Jesus knew the value and paid the price.  Maybe inside that body is a new land, flowing with milk and honey, where now only Cheeseballs and stale chips live.  Will you take the next step?

Abram did, and today is known as a man of faith, despite all his shortcomings, doubts, and sins.  That is how God sees Him.  But it is how he saw God that gave him the faith to obey.  How do you see God?  Like investors see Detroit?  How the world once saw Israel?  Or as Walt once saw some orange groves in Orange County?  Check on real estate near Disneyland or Disneyworld today, isn’t your life more valuable?

Just an old car plant that no one wants.  It will take vision and faith to turn it into something.  Out of the ruins we rise, with Jesus.  Abram got stuck with swamp land, and God made it right.  Let Him make it right for you.  An e-ticket ride awaits those who believe.  To some an old factory, but to the right one riches beyond imagination.  Disney and Packard?  Will it work?  What will it take to call people back to Detroit?  Ask the man who owns one.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

the fear of freedom-would Paul Revere have ridden a motorcycle?

In the 1770’s, if you heard the cry “the British are coming, the British are coming,” if a rebelling colonist, you took cover, for it meant trouble, big trouble.  But fast forward some 175 years, and again the cry goes out, but this time among American bikers, who in the years following WWII, are looking to ride, looking for excitement after our big win.  Many who fought to gain us our freedom, are now home, and for many the lack of excitement is a good thing, but for many they are bored.  And motorcycles provide a outlet and lifestyle for many.  The American Biker is born in Hollister in 1947, depending on which story you choose to believe, when some bikers go crazy and the law is called in.  And the fear of bikers begins, and of course they ride American bikes, Harleys and Indians mostly, and today major clubs, some outlaw mandate you must ride an American made model.  All in the defense of freedom, go figure.  And now that Sonny has switched to Victory, along with his chapter, and Indian is back-again, American bikers again have a choice after their long absence.  But in the early 50’s, some wanted lighter and faster, and with no Japanese bikes yet to ride, another decade away from the Japanese invasion, many looked to England, home of Triumph, BSA, Norton, and Vincent.  Bikes made for the English secondary roads, faster, lighter, and with a sense of sportiness 800 pound dressers don’t display.  The British were not only coming, they had arrived, and soon set speed records at Daytona, and as their sales increased, so did the sport sided of motorcycling.  But somehow the Brits still felt everything from steering to shifting must be on the right, and so they shifted on the right side, via foot, instead of on the left, hand or foot.  So Harley, looking to recapture lost or potential sales, comes out in 1957 with anew model, lighter than the old ones, smaller engine, and with right hand shift, so all the Brit riders could adapt.  Sportster they called it, and for years would be the quickest and most powerful thing on two wheels, and the British vs. the Colonists battle had erupted again.  And it still goes on today, with Sporty and Bonneville shootouts in magazines and on the road.  Each claiming victory, depending upon the criteria used.  But both winners, there are no losers here, we all ride.

For as long as I have been riding, over 45 years, motorcycling has meant freedom, freedom to ride and enjoy the great country we live in, and freedom from boredom, and being stuck in a car.  A freedom that those who don’t or won’t ride will never enjoy, let alone understand, and so we are forced into a minority group, and labeled by those who must find fault with the different.  And spread fear, instead of taking advantage of our offer to ride.  We know many won’t, even after a ride, but the offer is there.  Yet it is easier to profile us, since it is hard to tell what is under the leathers or in the helmet.  Could be a 1%er, or maybe a doctor rushing to the hospital.  But put us in groups, and we become gangs, thugs, and treated like lesser human beings.  By those who are anything but superior to us.  And for me, I have always found bikers, motorcyclists, and those in the industry to be a better group of people.  We have families, too, and we ride to live, not to die.  Remember that as you cross into my lane with your SUV filled with kids, while on your cell phone.  Now who’s dangerous?

Take Paul Revere for instance, businessman, traitor, and horseman.  Traitor, you say?  Remember we all were, those who were rebelling against England, and he could have been hanged as a traitor, losing everything for is stand.  Riding a fast horse, and proclaiming “the British are coming, the British are coming,” while galloping through villages.  My kind of guy, he would have ridden motorcycles today.  Probably an Indian, no Harleys then, but there were plenty of Indians.  Sorry Honda, and no true patriot would ride a BSA-after all the Brits may come riding on them.  So Paul was our sort of guy, he understood freedom, riding, and a sense of adventure.  Sounds like those of us who ride, doesn’t it?  Then as now, those who rode represented freedom.  In 1928 a huge dam broke, flooding through Santa Paula and the valley from Castaic to the ocean.  In the middle of the night, two motor officers, went house to house, warning citizens of the flood coming, saving thousands of lives themselves.  A bronze statue stands across from the train station in Santa Paula honoring them.  Again, those that ride, in the cause of freedom, saving lives, no matter if they ride or not.  Only on a motorcycle could that have been accomplished, no one bothered to profile them that night.  Yet so many are afraid of freedom, so what is it about freedom that scares the masses?  But not bikers?

Some 2000 years ago a man rides into Jerusalem on a borrowed donkey.  Proclaiming to be the savior that is prophesied, He fulfills over 200 prophecies, spanning 700 years.  Yet by the end of the week, He is tried, condemned, and crucified-no crime committed, His major crime was He brought freedom.  A threat to those who are in control and abusing it.  A threat to sin, forgiveness.  Today we read about Jesus in the Bible, and marvel at how that could happen, He was a nice guy.  And as I look around today, I wonder how can the persecution go on against Christians?  We are peaceful, loving, and forgiving.  Yet we get treated like bikers, profiled, and prejudiced, and blamed for inventing rules, when Jesus came to fulfill the law, by doing away with it, and giving freedom in the spirit.  And today He would ride, maybe British, maybe, Honda, maybe Harley, but He would ride, and like many of us, proclaim the gospel.  Showing that freedom comes with a price, it is never free.  Maybe that is why so many fear it and us-they can’t or won’t pay the price.  In the case of Jesus, He paid it once and for all.  In full.  No payment books, no balance due.  You get the title the day you accept Him.  Which may be too much for our monthly payment based society to accept.  Which may be too much for the four wheelers we share the road with to accept.  The freedom to be responsible, not the right to be prejudiced.  Yeah, Jesus was and is my kind of guy.

History is filled with freedom fighters, some we know, some who died faceless and nameless.  We call them heroes.  Paul Revere was a hero.  The two Santa Paula motor cops were heroes.  But Jesus Christ, He is the ultimate hero.  The only one who we call our savior.  The only one who could have done it.  So today when some Christian biker proclaims “Jesus is coming,” pay attention.  A true rebel in a world of sin, He is offering you freedom from your sin, your fears, and pain and suffering.  He may be on a Harley, Indian, Honda, Kawasaki, or Ducati.  But beware-the British are coming, and proclaiming the good news too.  To al y heroes who do, could have, and would have ridden, thanks for the freedom you offer.  But my heart and life goes to Jesus, the only true savior.  Who still rides today...declaring freedom to all on two wheels...and those stuck in four.  Sounds like a moonlight ride may be in order.  Americans, patriots, bikers, and Jesus.  What does your hero ride?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

social engineering-the early years

As a son of parents of The Greatest Generation, to be referred to as Son of the Greatest Generation, or SGG for short, many of the good old time conveniences have been abandoned in the cause of better living through technology.  While listening to two women, generations apart discuss the heat, one wondered how the other got by without AC.  The older woman just smiled and said we did, with much less complaining, point and victory to the older woman.  When I was growing up, in the old days, referred to as the 50’s and 60’s, when it got hot, people sat on their front porches at night.  Sipping lemonade, from squeezing lemons into a pitcher, then adding water and sugar.  And drank it over ice, or rather sipping it, as real lemonade prohibits drinking it fast.  Things were discussed face to face, until it got too dark, and it was time for bed, as things will have cooled off.  Air conditioning consisted of all the windows open and a cool breeze going throughout the house, no in window AC yet, that was for rich people and department stores.  Sometimes we would listen to the radio, listening to a ballgame, while older cars would go by and cause static and interference.  Neighbors would go out for walks, and adults addressed each other as Mr. and Mrs., first names were reserved for closer friends and neighbors.  Some evenings free movies would be shown in the park at dark, sitting on blankets while the loud chirping of crickets and the smell of fresh cut grass filled the air.  Hot at sundown, but by the end of the show, your girlfriend had her sweater on.  We got out and talked to each other, one on one-this was called being sociable.  If we even had a term for it at all.  Long before notebooks, i-phones, and lap tops, we got together face to face, rather than screen to screen.  Today they call it social engineering.  Proving real engineers should only drive trains.

Back then, if you wanted to meet, you talked at school or work, sometimes on the phone.  Which was either a permanent fixture on the wall, provided free of charge by the phone company, and they lasted forever, or one sitting on a desk.  Dial phones, with exchange prefixes, such as ADams, or CHellwood, or PLainfield, ours started with AD2-----.  And you knew what part of town or city the person was from by their prefix.  Some even had party lines, or shared lines, waiting for your turn to talk, so conversation was more important, unless you were a lovesick teen hogging the lines.  Summer also meant dances, over by 10am, per local curfews, but allowing you an hour to walk your girlfriend home, just getting home in time for your curfew.  We were social, meeting, greeting, and talking with each other. 

Sometimes a friend would stay for dinner, your mother making pot roast, in a pressure cooker.  Vegetables bought from the road side stand, cooked in pots on the stove.  Which all took time, and added heat to the room, a tough one in summer, a blessing in winter.  No microwaves or processed foods, recipes were written on cards from their mother, who got them from her mother, passed down who knows how many times.  Again people communicated with each other, face to face, and many relationships lasted the years.  Fathers had areas in the basement for small workshops, usually with an old work bench and radio, to pass the time.  It was called a hobby, and many things were fixed rather than thrown away and replaced back then.  How to advice on all things passed down.  Garages were for cars, not an additional bedroom, or worse storage area for extra junk.  What we didn’t use we donated to the Salvation Army, Veterans, or church.  Only when it was unfixable anymore was it thrown away.  Makes recycling look like a cop out.  In winter your dad would start the car, letting it warm up while he went in and finished his coffee, percolated, not microwaved or fresh brewed.  Thermostat down during the day, manually.  And some like my grandparents who used coal, would arrive to chilly home, until they built a fire, and the house warmed.  They never had a thermostat, they knew what happened if they forgot-so they didn’t.  Extra comforters for winter, open windows for summer.  And again some how we got by without Facebook, Twittering was something birds did, and if you called a girl, be sure her father wasn’t on an extension line listening.  So we used manners, were courteous, and this magical thing happened back-they were courteous and respectful back to us.  Thank you was followed by, you’re welcome, and men held doors for women, not because they were ladies, but because we were gentlemen, like we were taught.  Sadly so much of this has been lost with the SGG getting older, as we Baby Boomers will do, and not taking the time to pass it on to our grandchildren, or the children we are raising for our children.  Social engineering has taken the place of courtesy, privacy, and common sense.  No truth in some profiles, does the picture match the person you never met?  Does yours?

Proverbs tells parents “start them off in the way they should go.”  But somewhere between start and go the rules change.  No one wishes to listen, but we have a generation that is the most informed, but the least educated.  Pushing buttons have replaced dialing phones, and now each member of the family has their own cell.  Which somehow I managed to avoid, and still get by.  Case in point, a woman was late the other night, and called the man I was covering for, knowing he wasn’t there.  Who called my wife knowing I had no cell phone...duh?  I still picked her up, she is always late and we had expected it...but all the social engineering still came down to a person caring and making a decision.  Conflict resolutions were resolved face to face, and many avoided from families talking to each other, like on a front porch.  The F word stood for family, or friends, and we used it often.  Today...

We have society rotting from within.  Just like history has shown us over 4000 years.  Just as God warned us it would, if we strayed from Him.  it is tough being a parent today, but imagine your kid was Jesus?  And He was perfect?  What instructions would you have for Him?  About girls?  Stealing?  Dating?  Motorcycles?  Yes, Joe and Mary had it rough, but Jesus helped by being the perfect son, too.  But they still raised Him.  Today your kids may be grown, with kids of their own.  Values may have changed, but Jesus hasn’t.  Take time to sit and visit with them today.  Share things of the past, after turning off the cell phones.  Sit on the front porch, or go to a park.  Hard today when filled with druggies, but find that place to visit with your family.  Yesterday it was the garage for Landon and me, checking oil and lubing chains.  But it was the time spent together that is remembered.  Start with God as an example.  When is the last time you hung out with Jesus?  Looking for more of God, hang out with Him, like Psalm 1 says.  Meditating, thinking and praying, but spend it with Him.  Prayer, the original social engineering, from the creator.  Reading the Bible, still nothing like turning the pages of a book.  Go out and greet some neighbors, sit on the porch and watch kids play.  But get out, and be blessed.  Or maybe be a blessing.  Don’t hide behind Facebook, don’t Twitter to a sitter.  Cruise to the Drive-in and talk over Cokes, and soft serve.  Face to face, just like God wants us to be with Him.  And seal it with a hug and maybe a kiss for that special one.  Try that one on your i-phone, and then ask, how far have we really come?

Technology for the most part has been a good thing, but sometimes it just goes on too long.  When all is said and done it comes down to you and Jesus.  Aren’t you glad He has stayed the same?  Aren’t you glad you can still change?  Jesus Christ, God’s technology that was the best from the start.  Call it Jesus.1.  Google Jesus today, no computer needed.  You are all it takes.  And of course there is always the cement pond...

love with compassion,

Mike

mattjew25biker.blogspot.com

 

the wisdom of Julius Marx

Groucho Marx, actor, comedian, philosopher, and game show host once was quoted as saying “I would never join a club that would have me as a member.”  Somewhere in that statement is an abundance of logic, and common sense, except it escapes me at this time.  But having belonged to many clubs, groups, classes, and churches over the years I can tell you the truth is in the belonging.  How I wanted to be a cub Scout, just to wear the uniform, but then got suckered into selling peanut brittle door to door to keep the Cubbies going.  Early use of child labor, under the guise of scouting.  Later in Boy Scouts, it wasn’t the uniform, but the appeal of camping trips, and wild times with friends.  Only to suffer through troop meetings, more boring than pack meetings, and more rules to camp by.  We were supposed to be setting an example, and as we were called the Pyromaniacs, we earned our title.  I can still hear BH or Lello yelling “brush fire, brush fire!” as the trail of jiffy juice took flame.  Why would they get mad at us, we were setting an example?  Oh, they wanted good examples....sorry.  We were known for leaving the camp sight after the bonfire-forbidden, and for at one Jamboree attacking another troop’s tent.  In all fairness to us, they were rather obnoxious, rich kids who when while we were sleeping in canvas pup tents-remember the smell of wet canvas, were sleeping in Army surplus tents, could hold 15-20 standing up!  So we just had to cut the ropes, and watch it fall.  And their latrine, we learned to hold it all weekend, or water a lemon tree, not them.  They had a smaller tent, with toilet paper, and even a flashlight.  Which helped us see to bomb it with dirt clods when their troop leader had a midnight run.  As it collapsed around him and he called for his troops, we were back in the canvas womb of safety.  And while all the other adults were seeking to find out and persecute the perpetrators, we all sat quietly in the tent.  While all the other troops silently thanked us-for they too had been put off by this elite group of snobs, just didn’t have the guts to do anything about it.  I still am wary about midnight runs on camping trips, I know that guy and his followers are out there somewhere.  Would I join again?  Better question, would they let me?

I once was involved in a national ministry about motorcycles.  I just figured your were a Christian, said so on your back, and you knew how to ride.  Boy was I wrong.  Soon I stuck out like a sore riding wrist, riding too fast, too far, and expecting others to behave like Christians in public, or at least among ourselves.  But soon I was singled out, and when it was easier to ask me to leave-fired after 34 years, and keeping known troublemakers, under the guise of growth, I ask where are they today?  I know where I am?  I still ride, I still minister, and I do it more than when under their rules.  How bad can it get, you ask?  During one So Cal rally, we had more national evangelists and people to our home for breakfast.  A friendly break from formal events.  Mike and Dwight arrived early and cooked up a storm.  We all had a great time, except for one.  Who had no part in the planning, and accused us of doing it for our own recognition.  The only people that had supported them, and even had them stay at our home many times.  Even had others whom they invited stay with us.  For our benefit?  Who ministered to who that time?  Would I join again?  Better question, would I ever be asked?

And so over the years, we find it easier to go our own way.  And hopefully it is God’s way.  Which He kindly forgives us when we don’t, and blesses us when we do.  Paul had a problem like that to.  When he wrote “I can do all things through Christ Jesus, he meant if God gave him something to do, consider it done-just do it.  Long before Air Jordans.  And that He gives us all the same opportunities, just not the same things.  But all He wants if for us to obey.  And if asked and we obey, in Christ, we can do it.  Without Jesus, no way Jose.  You will struggle and fail.  And your harshest critics will be there to help you fail, never to succeed.  Relying on yourself, you are nothing.  I know, oh how I know.

So when Paul wrote he was lesser but equal, he was.  And so are we.  Don’t try to fill your day to keep God happy.  He loves you no matter what.  Remember Jesus died while we were yet sinners.  And your good works don’t get you more love-remember the filthy rags mentioned in Isaiah?  Could be the tent material I remember so well.  So listen to God, and ask.  Then listen again, some more if needed.  You will find more enemies when you do, and they will be there.  Recently a man decided to get out and minister.  He was going to change the world, feed the poor, even shuttle them up to swim in his pool.  Until one threatened him, and didn’t play by his rules.  He wasn’t getting the adulation he desired, and now is gone.  No commitment?  Wrong, his commitment was only to himself.  As was the obnoxious troop, and those of us who bombed them.  Sin will always be sin-fortunately God will always be God, and Jesus will always be forgiving.  And it only shows me that obedience is better than sacrifice...on all levels.

So when someone tells you the church is full of hypocrites, tell them it’s not, we have room for more, and invite them.  When someone criticizes you for doing good, take it as a compliment.  We are the church, and when they attack us, they attack Jesus-head of the church.  So be careful going out on your own.  We are all equals in God’s eyes, it is the rest of us who need glasses.  And as for being a Christian, and accepting Jesus Christ, it is the only club I choose to join that would have me as a member.  If I’m OK with God, can I be OK with you?

And yes you can come in, you just can’t use the bathroom.  Try the outhouse out back.  Membership, like knowing Jesus, has its privileges.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com  

the secret of Skull Mountain

“Gas turned on this time?” Bill yelled at the other Bill, while he was restarting his bike.  “Good, let’s go, thank God, we are finally hitting the road.”  And the three of us were off, leaving town early on this three day weekend.  It had been an unusually stressful week, and I was taking off with my two other riding buddies, destination unknown, but with roads to ride and memories to make.  The last few nights after work spent in the garage, 8 track blaring, it of unknown origin, as were the tapes, which was wired to a car battery, again source unknown, with no receipt.  Getting ready to ride, we were listening to the Allman Brothers Ramblin’ Man, up until the battery faded to nothing, as our eyesight had too.  After last minute oil changes in the garage, and putting the other Bill’s front tire, he of the last minute repairs, any romance I was expecting from my live in girlfriend was not to be.  She didn’t ride, what was I thinking, and she didn’t like either Bill, and they never called her by her name, always referring to her as “Your old lady.”  And as I had climbed into bed last night, she was still mad about my last minute plans, made only a week ago, and leaving her with no money, again spent on motorcycles, and so we had fought all week.

She had been particularly hard to get along with lately, and was getting religious.  Which was starting to turn me off, I have needs too, and this last week was interested only in this wise man, who some called a prophet who had come to town.  All she wanted to talk about, but as she had been down this road looking for peace before, I just went with it, and riding without her.  But this last guy was different to her, and as she followed him on the news, he had been arrested, and a hasty trial by jury had found him guilty, and sentenced to death.  Good, maybe we can get back together when I get back home.  But first let’s ride, with our exit road out of town going past Skull Mountain.

Skull Mountain had been named hundreds of years ago, legend has it, because on certain days, in profile, when the afternoon sun hits it right,  it looks like a skull.  So 100 years ago they started doing executions there, the skull meaning death, and this weekend was no exception, as this prophet was among two other criminals to be executed.  To be honest with you the place creeped me out, so while lane splitting past the lookie lous, I kept me eyes ahead, I didn’t need any more stress, with my old lady, and her prophet being executed, no romance last night, and limited funds to travel.  I was out of town, but passing by, somehow something was different, with heavy military presence-this must have been one bad dude to deserve all the attention and guards.  With one last look in my mirror, the traffic broke up,and we accelerated, not looking back, but riding into a great three day weekend.  The old lady would have to wait.

Three days of great weather, great roads, and no news had changed all our attitudes.  Even when the other Bill had really run out of gas, he had left it on reserve, thinking it was on, and when he went to switch the petcock, fond another empty, but was able to cost into a general store.  We had eaten well, argued over which bike was best, and I even cut the conversation short when Bill wondered how I could put up with the Old Lady, not telling them they were her biggest problem, not wanting to hurt their feelings.  One look at both reminding me why they rode alone.  But riding back into town after a great weekend is always tough, but this time the traffic was heavier than any three day weekend in memory.  And as we got closer to Skull Mountain, it slowed to a stop, no problem, we lane split.  But as we came over the rise, we saw military road blocks, and were waved back into line.  Asking a man in the car next to us what was going on, he said they were looking for a missing body, that was stolen from the grave.  It was the body of this prophet, which had been under heavy guard, and the military was furious, as they had been made out to be fools.  The rumor was this prophet had promised to leave an empty tomb, and be resurrected in three days, and someone, probably his followers had stolen his body.  Past all the guards we had seen leaving town?  And I wondered about my old lady, if she knew anything about it, but that would have to wait until I got home, later.  And if Skull Mountain creeped me out before, it really creeped me out now, as talk of ghosts, and empty graves, grave robbers, and loaded guns pointed at us brought the weekend back to reality.  Maybe we should just turn around and call in sick tomorrow.

As the officers surrounded us, guns drawn, they looked us over, and poked and prodded at our bungeed packs.  Like where am I going to hide a body?  “These guys are OK,” and waved us on, after a thorough questioning about this body.  After believing we were out all weekend, the dirt on the bike, and the bugs in our teeth and leathers must have been convincing enough, and we passed by.  But what had happened?  But what was this secret of Skull Mountain?  And who was this Jesus they were looking for?

Still looking for peace and a way to God like my old lady?  How many are looking for love, when they should and could be looking at an empty tomb.  An empty cross showing where Jesus had died, bringing salvation to all who believe.  Just like He said, and yes the tomb was empty, just like He said.  The evidence is there, and still is, 2000 years later.  Where is the savior you are looking for?  His name is Jesus, He is here right now, calling you by name.  You cannot avoid Him, and His call goes out until the day you die.  You cannot escape it by leaving town, or drown it out by loud music-or loud exhausts.  His spirit is calling you, He loves you.  For the three day weekend that started with Good Friday, and ended with Easter is still here today.  So, I ask, what are you doing with this weekend?  What are your plans?  Do you ever wonder about the secret of Skull Mountain, or is this all some religious garbage meant to interrupt your ride? To those of us who believe, there is no secret, just the empty tomb.  But our hearts filled by Him because of it.  For Jesus told us that we will be resurrected just like Him!  What secrets do you believe?  Have you ever wondered where is His body?  And why all the turmoil over it, if He was only just another religious nut?

Today I know the secret of Skull Mountain.  A three day ride changed my life.  And sadly many friends have turned against me, choosing not to believe.  But many do that we ride with.  And my old lady, now is my wife, and we ride together.  Maybe she was right about my friends all along.  That’s between them and God.  For now, there are no secrets between God and me, or my wife and I.  We know the truth, and it has set us free.  Gas turned on, tank filled.  Leaving for another ride.  Just another three day weekend?  Not to Jesus.  The real secret of Skull Mountain.  Find out who this Jesus was they were looking for today.  Wise men still seek Him.  He is no mystery to me.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

5 seconds of action, followed by 40 seconds of rest-they call it football

Don’t you just hate those whose lives are so perfect.  Those who always have such a good attitude, who can see the glass half full, while you see it half empty, those who accuse you of being half slow, when really they are half fast.  And we are bombarded daily by ads telling us that if we look better, everyone will love us, we will feel better about ourselves, and our self esteem will carry us to our goals in life.  Not our dreams, those things formed in the mind that God gives us, but goals, things we can write on paper, and then cross off as we attain them.  Proving to ourselves that we are in fact successful, and if we could, give ourselves a pat on the back.  “Good job, self, you did it.”  Now everyone will love you and adore you, your new book on how I did it will be a runaway best seller, and there are no problems we cannot conquer by ourselves.  We will set higher goals, and adjust to fit our egos, while advising all you losers out there who cannot and will not be successful that we are better than them.  And even if our words do not always convey that message, our attitudes can and will.  Nothing succeeds like success, and it is true, success has many fathers, while failure is an orphan.  And while bragging, tell you that you are only as successful as your last game.

I watched an NFL show yesterday, where a coach whose team had just won the Super Bowl, biggest entertainment event on football, interrupted periodically by the game, that they were to enjoy the win, savor every bit of it, because next year it won’t matter, only what they did today, so enjoy it now, a new season starts.  They have met their goals, and now have to set new ones, while the rest of us prepare to watch what essentially is 5 seconds of action, followed by 40 seconds of rest in between.  They call it football.  Without the rest, the 5 seconds would not be possible, unless you are Payton Manning.  Whose goal every year is to win the Super Bowl, but only has once, does that make him a loser?  But what about his dreams, how about yours?

Matthew, once a scum bag tax collector, writes “seek ye first the kingdom of God, and its righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.”  And even though this wasn’t written in the Old Testament, so the Apostle Paul could read it, he had a heart after God.  The most successful Christian worker since Jesus, and at one time their biggest prosecutor, he looked to Him for all his guidance, and all his dreams.  He learned that falling back on the law only showed our sin, which led to death, but that Jesus led to grace, and salvation.  And he could have boasted of many great accomplishments, among them starting churches, eloquent speaker and teacher, and best selling author-he wrote most of the New Testament.  But yet we find him confessing in his weakness, showing that the weaker he is, the strength of God is made perfect in him.  And he boasts of having to be lowered from prison, escaping in a bucket.  He would later die in prison, beheaded for his devotion to Christ, and claim no acclimation to himself.  He sought the kingdom of God first, and then God added onto him, in ways that couldn’t be measured.  Imagine his to do list, how does it compare with yours?  The difference may be as close as Jesus, giving you dreams and a vision for your life.  When you are ready, so you will not argue with God or change His plans.  Wonder why you don’t know the will of God for your life, He isn’t asking you for advice, or an opinion, He wants to include you in His plan.  He has a place for you.  But it is His plan, for you, not yours for Him, no matter the lies you are told.

I learned all this first hand last summer when I had to be life flighted and then had my open heart surgery.  None of it was my idea, but it was God’s, and the whole time we knew it was all about Him, not us.  How we would begin to boast about what God had done, and is doing every chance He gives us to share it.  How I had to seek Him, I had to depend on His righteousness, and He added all the things I needed to my life.  And continues to today.  So instead of bragging on my successes, which bring me glory, I rather brag on my weakness, my sickness, the time when the only hope I had was of God, and there was no way I could lose.  Alive, I could still praise Him and tell others, be a witness of His love and healing power.   Dead, I would be praising Him from heaven, my first choice, but not yet, in God’s time table.  Like Paul, and like you, God has plans for us, and they include us.  So that in our failures we can be a witness, to show the love of Christ.  And if we are only as good as our last game, I am ready for the final buzzer, with Jesus Christ guiding me into glory in His strength, not mine.  When He gets the glory, you get the blessings.  Now that is what the Apostle Paul would call success. 

So next time someone brags about how great they are, ask them  if they can resurrect the dead?  Tell them about the worst part of your life, and how Jesus took you through it, and you were victorious.  How without Him, you could only fail, with Him you can only win.  And how you can carry that victory into the next season, or test, and enjoy it forever.  The Super Bowl is once a year, you have Jesus every day, every season.  Best seats available, where the action is.  Where the 5 seconds of testing, will bring you 40 seconds of rest.  You will be refreshed, just like Paul was, when you see the prize that lies ahead.  Real victory will be yours when not measured in points or runs, when you are not paid for your stats, but when you have run the race, like Paul did, despite all the adversities, and you will win-forever. 

Pray today that God will spend time with you today taking you back through that toughest time.  And then ask Him to show you someone to share it with.   And all these things will be added unto you-alleluia!  Take it from a tent maker, a tax collector, a hooker, and a biker who knows.  Even over achievers have a chance for success in Jesus.  Your glass may be only half full, or half empty, but mine will never run out.  Now, back to the game.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

"and we never even got his name"

For many years I have been known as Theresa’s husband, which is fine because you’re not and I am.  When growing up my older son was known as the dinosaur kid, because of all the dinosaur shirts my mother made him and he wore every day.  My younger son was known as the dirt bike kid, after the movie of the same name, he memorized all the lines by age 5.  And throughout the years we have met people identified as Bill’s kid sister, the guy who lives on the corner, or the man in the corner cubicle.  We know who they are, but who are they, we don’t know their names.  But fame can be an enduring thing, even if no one knows who you are.  Take a Mr. Schwump on the Andy Griffith Show.  He was in 26 epiosdes, but never spoke a word, but was seen with Andy and others.  But no one until recently knew who this uncredited man was.  What was his real name?  It turns out he was Patch S. Wimmers, I prefer Mr. Schwump.  It must have taken some talent to work in such anonymity for so long.  But how many people do we know about, may have even met, yet don’t know their names?

This is not a new concept, as many are mentioned in the Bible, but we don’t know their names.  What was Jairus’s daughter’s name?  What was Lot’s wife’s name, Mrs. Lot?  Can we say the same of Mrs. Job? Key people in scripture, yet unnamed.  Mention Joseph and Mary, you think Jesus.  But the night He was born, they spent at an inn.  What was the innkeeper’s name?  Certainly he was important that night.  How about another innkeeper, the one left in charge of the wounded man left by the good Samaritan?  Come to think of it, what was his name and the name of the wounded man?  Still with me?  How many times have you heard the story of Peter’s denial of Jesus when accused by a little girl.  What is her name?  Today every Lois Lane would be rushing to interview her, we would know all about her, and some things we don’t want to know.  But her name, what was it?

Take the story of a little boy, brought to Jesus by Andrew.  All he did was give some fish and loaves to Jesus so He could feed the 5000.  What is his name?  But Jesus knows his name, and He knows mine and yours too.  He knows my name, and He can tell me from all the other Mikes who ride and are married to Theresas.  He even calls me friend, how cool is that?  And so it goes, so many who have labored in obscurity, unknown to all but Jesus.  But yet there are some mentioned in Matthew 25, who were seeking recognition, they bragged to Him how the prophesied, or cast out demons in His name, and yet He rebuked them, saying be gone, He never knew them.  It was all about themselves.  But when it is all about Jesus, He answered by telling us to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, give water to the thirsty, and visit those sick or in prison.  How many times have you welcomed strangers, yet Jesus tells us to here?  And He goes on saying if we did it to the least of them, we did it to Him.  Want to spend time with Jesus, go out and be nice to them.  Now, would we want our names mentioned here?  Think about it, a little of lady is surrounded in heaven by many, and you ask “who is she?”  And Jesus introduces her as the woman who gave two mites, all she had.  Have you seen this woman before?  Maybe on the streets?  Was she a Lazarus you stepped over?  Did you offer her friendship?  Would she know your name?

They are out there, laboring without recognition for the gospel.  Maybe the guy in the cubicle down the hall.  The old guy in the corner house.  The young girl in the Mustang.  Or the little kid looking for his mother.  We know them, we just don’t now them, or their names.  But Jesus does, and He loves them just as much as He loves you.  How would Jesus describe you to them?

And so I don’t mind being introduced by Pastor Ray as Motorcycle Mike, or being known as the Motorcycle Couple at church.  I am proud to be known as Theresa’s husband.  And a friend of Jesus.  “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” can be a scary opening line, take the time to get to know people.  And their names.  They might even know Jesus, or the little girl from the garden.  Someone somewhere knew who Mr. Schwump was.  In heaven you may meet many from scripture, who want to know all about you, what did you do for Jesus?  Would you be mentioned in the same line with His name?

Do you realize of all the millions of angels in heaven, only three are named?  Lucifer, Michael, and Gabriel.  You will meet your own guardian angel some day, and know his name.  He knows yours-right now.

Patch S. Wimmers lived a life of fame and obscurity all at the same time.  Just like many of us do today in spreading the gospel.  But Jesus knows, and that is all that matters.  In heaven there will be no name tags, and we will know each other by name.  And we won’t worry about what others know, as we will be without sin or blemish.  And I am looking forward to meeting those who Andrew brought to Jesus, to the 3000 on the Day of Pentecost.  The name of the thief on the cross.  Maybe the name of the person in the next aisle in church, who you have greeted many times, even sung with, what is their name?  But you will be greeted by Jesus, who knows your name.  All others will lament in hell, finally knowing His name too.  Only wishing they had known Him here on earth.  Never let it be said that you “never got His name.”  There is still time.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com