when the end is really the middle, and the end is really the beginning

I think most would admit that NFL football players are really tough.  And that on any Sunday they dominate TV all across the US of A.  But there was one night in 1968, where a little Swiss girl by the name of Heidi beat the NFL.  And I was there, in my parents den, watching it on TV, Channel 4 out of NYC.  Any football fan knows of what I talk, the Jets had just kicked a field goal, putting them ahead of the Raiders with just over a minute left.  As a Jet fan, and a big Joe Willie Namath fan, all was well with the world, and then the NBC peacock came on, what the #$%^ was going on?  And then this movie about some little girl in the mountains of Switzerland began-were they nuts?  What happened to our game?  And what had happened we wouldn’t find out until the next morning when reading the sports page of the Star Ledger, which I used to deliver.  Raiders win 43-32!  What?  And what had seemed like the end for us, was really just the middle for the Raiders and the Jets.  The Raiders scored a touchdown after the kickoff in only three plays, and then the Jets fumbled the next kickoff, and Preston Ridlehuber-his real name, picked it up for the Raiders and they scored again.  Not only had we missed the end of a great game-if you were a Raider fan, but the Jets lost, and NBC made the goof of the year, if not in the history of the NFL.  And soon directives were given, and no game was ever to be interrupted until it was over.  But on that night in 1968, November 17th was to go down in infamy, and forever known as the Heidi Bowl,  and NBC lost it for us.  And every time Heidi comes on, we remember, and quickly change channels, we won’t get fooled again.  Long before there was a Raider Nation, there was Heidi.  And does anyone know what ever became of Preston Ridlehuber?

It is amazing how one flip of a switch turned the middle into the end.  The game wasn’t over, just the coverage.  How many times have you walked out of a game after the 7th inning stretch, your team losing, only to listen on the way home they won in the 9th on a home run.  Mention Game 6 to any Met fan, we know.  I almost turned it off that night, so disappointed in their season ending that night-to the Red Sox of all teams.  But being a Met fan since they were the Mets, I had to watch.  And just as the ball went through Buckner’s legs, and Ray Knight crossed home plate, I jumped out of my chair, at the same time Christopher and Theresa came in the front door, surprising both of them.  The Mets win!  I had come within seconds of missing one of the greatest endings in sports history.  I had seen the end, if I had turned it off, while the game still being played, I would have left in the middle.  Another great example of patience, timing, and a lesson that what you choose to be the ending, may really be the middle. And like Yogi says, “it ain’t over until it’s over.”  Maybe he knew something we don’t, if only NBC did that night.

As a kid I remember watching a movie called the Incredible Journey, about a Siamese cat named Tao, and two dogs, who got separated from their owners on vacation.  The end as far as the family thought, but the middle for the pets, as they found their way home, hence the name.  Again, giving up had created a premature end, when really the story wasn’t over.  Just in the middle.  Which is really where we spend most of our time, in the midst of life.  As we get older we have midlife crisis, we become middle aged, and look back when we can be looking ahead.  Even Jesus tells us He is the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end, but we spend all of our lives in the middle.  We don’t remember the beginning, although my friend Chet claims he can remember being in his mother’s womb, no photo evidence to prove it either way, and we won’t remember the end.  So we spend most of our life, and all we will remember in the middle, being impatient and ending many events and memories while they are still in progress, in the middle.  But for those who trust Jesus, the end is really a new beginning, and we enter into heaven, where all traces of the past are gone-an eternal right now in heaven with Jesus.  No looking back, no looking ahead, an eternal middle.   And not a bad way to look at right now either.  You see Yogi’s brag about it not being over until it’s over, may work in sports, but it doesn’t play in eternity.  We will all spend eternity somewhere, the only end will be when we die here on earth, but we can choose where we spend all time to come, the eternal middle.  Those who are Born Again, and give their lives to Jesus will never die-heaven awaits.  But for those who don’t , they will wish they had, as hell is a bad place, weeping, loneliness, eternal darkness, unbearable pain, and a separation from God-forever.  Just like they wanted, just not knowing that is what they would get.  If only they had another chance at the middle again, how different would the outcome be for them.

And so in life, as I sports, we play the game until time runs out, or the innings are gone.  Today is the middle for you, for us.  Any plans for tomorrow and where we will spend it should be made now, for no man is promised tomorrow.  Only God controls the end, and the beginning, we only have input on the middle.  For the Jets, we all missed the ending.  For Preston Ridlehuber, no one saw his 15 seconds of fame.  If game 6 had ended only an out earlier, the Mets would not have gone on to win the 1986 World Series.  And if you don’t give your life to Jesus today, you will miss out on heaven.  Forever.  For in life, the end may only be the middle, but the end for Christians is only the beginning. No play challenging, no instant replay, no reversals.  One end will be the end, the other a beginning.  You make the call.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

for your protection-suddenly it is personal

I have this dream, really a nightmare, where lightning will hit a major computer center, and the decimal point will move two places, and all who are rich will become poor, and those poor become rich.  And it will take years to fix, if at all it can be.  And during that time all accounts will be frozen, so we will all be equally poor, except for what we spent or withdrew before they found out.  Sound far fetched, not really, as I have had my identity stolen two times-who am I really?  One time having my meager savings account cleaned out, the other being foreclosed on when a man who I shared names and banks with didn’t meet his mortgage demands, and they started to foreclose on me-true story.  Fortunately they caught it, but in doing so gave me all the private info about the other guy!  But not the first time our paths had crossed, as he was a sheepherder and made cash deposits at night, wrapping cash in paper with is name on it-good old small town banks.  And sometimes it got into my account, make me a thousandaire, but always catching it before I spent it.  But what if...I had spent it? 

Last month I became part of the 40 million shoppers who shopped at Target and my bank notified me that they were sending me a new card because my information had been compromised.  How many other times it had, or is everyday, we’ll never know.  So new cards in hand, Theresa followed the instructions to activate them, and off to get gas I went.  To me activated meant activated, and they were-just no PIN yet.  As the bank would later tell me, that letter takes a few more days.  Their version of the checks in the mail.  So here I was potentially without access to my own money, based on not having the four digit code to access my own account.  I wasn’t the only one in line at the credit union, and even one of their machines was down, we were not happy campers, or riders, or Target shoppers.  Our accounts had in fact been frozen, we had no access to them-or did we?

That night when I couldn’t get gas, and the message said “see attendant,” I did.  A young man, who simply told me use it as a credit card, you will not have to enter a PIN.  I didn’t know that, but obviously may do, as well as those who would steal, and now you do too.  So what good is a PIN number if you don’t need it?  How safe are you really?  And how long has this version of my nightmare been available to anyone, and what is the banking system doing about it?  How safe and secure is your money in banks?  And what good is having money if you can’t access it?  I know some who look good on paper, but try to spend that at the grocery store, or to get gas.  My antennae were up, but now they are on.  The system knew, and knows, so how safe are you?  How protected are you? 

Right there on my social security card it says “NOT FOR IDENTIFICATION PURPOSES.” yet how many time shave you been asked to use it for identification?  A once great idea, at least from the government, a pension at 65, sounds good today huh?  But at the time, the average life span was only 57!  They were betting you wouldn’t live to collect it!  But we showed them, now we are living too long...or did they show us?  Maybe it was and is better to invest your own money, hoping that you don’t lose access to it, but what if you do?  Will the government help?  Can they?  Do they want to.  The latest scam to get at us is Affordable Healthcare.  Again a misnomer, watch the attached  Youtube and see-sadly proving humor to be the purest form of truth.  But who do we turn to, where do we go for help?  Your answer may surprise even you...

I get hit up on a regular basis for money, donations, for other ministries.  How many have watched TV evangelists beg for cash,”we’ll go off the air if you don’t give,”  right after telling you to have faith in God.  Then turning to those, or turning on those, who can least afford it.  Jesus warns us about these types, and gives us a simple solution.  It is according to HIS riches, and glory, not ours or our friends, or a list of givers.  Our source for everything is God, and you can access that account any time.  A private account set up for you, through His son Jesus-which also happens to be the PIN He provides to everyone.  In Jesus Name.  But what when He says no?  Maybe you are confusing Him with an ATM, my sons often do me.  But God doesn’t and isn’t a genie in the lamp.  He is a loving and responsible God who knows what is best for you.  He knows that the LOVE of money is the root of all evil, not just money by itself.  I think back to the first week of the Jersey Lottery in the early ‘70’s, and a woman I knew won $4000.  A million to us then, and it was a week long party, until the cash was gone, and she was as broke as before-with only the memories of her stupid spending to haunt her.  A lesson I keep in mind when God tells me no-it is for my own protection.  Not to blow on myself, maybe that honor your Father commandment, combined with Jesus’ words of “on earth as it is in heaven” mean something after all.  So we do have riches available when we need them, just not to use foolishly.  Funny how they are always there when I need them, I am learning to be thankful when they are not, too.  For instance, I have no more room in my garage for any more motorcycles.  His love even has a practical application too.

But you must have an account to know your banker, just as you must to know God.  Sign up with Jesus today, get your name recorded in the book of life, and earn dividends that can only be spent in heaven.  Have access 24/7 to the living God who wants to spend time with you, so He sent Jesus to show us how, and to be that way.  Along with salvation, as if there needed to be anything else, you get the wonderful counselor, the Prince of Peace, the great physician, and the best provider you can.  And access to all His riches and glory.  When has your bank ever done anything close to that for you?  I remember a toaster years ago....And you get to keep your real identity in Christ, such a deal!  So what are you waiting for?  Start living today, and into forever.  And none of it is done on credit, but on His account.  Better than having a rich uncle, you have the richest Father in the world!  And you thought He was just an ATM...shame on you.

Jesus Christ, He is there for your protection and a lot more.  Join Him today and enjoy all the benefits that being a child of God has to offer.  And don’t forget about His retirement program, no minimum age requirement.  Now that is real security, social and eternal.  Remember the famous words “attention K Mart shoppers?”  Add Target shoppers to that.  Now they have yours.  What will it take for you to get God’s attention?  Debit or credit-He will always be there when you need Him.  Next in line please...

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.

 

*http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZbFrAAV3-o&feature=youtu.be

the exes

Coming of age in 1970, the day you got your license meant the attraction of horsepower.  V-8’s with up to 500 hp, bucket seats, and where a 442 Olds meant four barrel, four on the floor, and dual exhausts.  But soon would come to mean four cylinders, forget it, and too slow.  Six cylinder engines were for economy cars, and no one drove anything Japanese, they were cheap, tinny, and small.  Foreign meant VW, MG, or Volvo.  Gas was cheap, $2 would keep you cruising for the weekend, and GM ruled the world.  And all was well.  Then in 1973 due to our backing our ally Israel, OPEC, owned by the Arabs, declared war on us at the gas pumps.  Gas went from 25 cents a gallon-doubling!  The cold war had become a gas war.And we were losing.  And immediately big cars, big V-8’s and horsepower were nasty words.  Miles per gallon, or MPG substituted for horsepower, and by 1980, coming of age was a way different prospect than in 1970.  A second gas crisis had gas at $1/gallon, and many swore to quit driving once it got so expensive, among them the same ones who would quit smoking when cigarettes hit $1/pack, and coffee hit $1/pound.  So much for promises not kept with gas at $4/gallon, cigarettes over $6, and a latte over $5!  So V-8’s were out, one time selling in over 75% of new cars, and a 6 cylinder meant the big engine.  Four cylinders were the rule, and GM would answer the call for smaller, more efficient cars with the X cars.  No V-8 even available, and 110 horses was all you got, along with sluggish performance, but better gas mileage.  These cars were to be our automotive saviors, the magazines loved them, and so did buyers-for a while.  And then...

GM had hit us with four versions of the X car, with only Cadillac being exempt, as they were still recognized as “the Standard of the World,” and what a luxury car should be.  But that too was soon to change.  But for now we had Chevy Citation, Buick Skylark, Olds Omega, and Pontiac Phoenix to occupy our dreams for new cars.  My friend John, who always bought the newest bought the Buick, with V-6 and all the options.  It was two toned, brown and tan-earth colors were in then, and soon found the paint peeling off the inner door panels.  To save money, GM had painted the panels, before they were molded in whatever color, now they were painted, and repaired by a body shop, in a paint booth.  And that was just the beginning.  Great gas mileage promised in the ads, never arrived, brakes were marginal, and sometimes not there, steering boxes came loose, and torque steer became a new word in auto speak.  We now had front wheel drive, which when combined with a transverse mounted engine-sideways, now made the car pull to the right, or left upon acceleration.  Lifting the front end slightly-memories of a huge V-8 trying to lift the wheels off the ground, only this time it just tried to redirect them.  And they soon were to be the most recalled cars in automotive history.  Name it-it needed fixing, reliability was questionable, and on the V-6, the sixth spark plug was unreachable-you had to remove the engine to access it!  How many left with only a 5 cylinder tune up!  And soon he and others who had purchased them, sold them, and moved on.  And today you can find many cars from the 1960-70’s as collectible, but no one wants an X car.  In fact, try to find any of the Exes for sale, anywhere-they aren’t there.  As if they were all swallowed up, or bought up by GM so they would be forgotten.  And having had an ‘81 X-11 Citation, the muscle version, it was OK until the engine blew up in Texas, leaving us stranded, until we were able to have a Chevy dealer take it in trade, a mercy killing, against a used 1984 Thunderbird, a nice car.  And so the legend of the exes lives on, only in bad memories, and of how they were going to change the automotive world for good.  But maybe just a precursor of GM in the future, as Cadillac finally got a small car, fell from grace as the standard, Olds is gone, Pontiac followed, and GM went bankrupt, being given to the unions in trade for Democratic votes, the new GM standing for Government Motors.  In jest, of course.  But not really...

Perhaps a recall on people today should be in order.  Based on lifestyles, lack of morals, and a decaying society, how many of us would be exempt?  How many old line religions would welcome us back in?  How many have decayed to the point of moral bankruptcy, only to be bailed out by changing morals or allowing sin to come in, just to keep the coffers filled?  And yet we find Jesus, calling out to those of us who needed to be recalled to God.  He is the only way back, and we can come as we are-He calls out to us, long before we ever called out to Him.  And today a worldwide recall is going on for sinners, or those who have fallen away, and the offer is still good today.  God is shutting down apostate churches, removing pastors who don’t represent Him, and opening new churches to feed those who seek Him.  And where this worldwide crusade is going on, persecution follows.  The growth of the Christian church in Egypt, Syria, Sudan, and other Muslim worlds is growing, but under heavy persecution.  Add to that India, North Korea, China, and other places where even a Bible can get you arrested or killed, it is dangerous to be a Christian.  Yet the church is growing, both in quantity and quality, as never before, just like Jesus promised.  Those who are being saved recognize Him as the standard of the world, and despite government intervention the church grows.  We are now acknowledging we are the church, we make it up, and Jesus is the head of it.  Just like the Bible says!  And many exes, who have fallen away, are being welcomed back, and being part of it again.  Many new converts each day, but very few new workers.  Where do they go for a spiritual tune up?  Where is the horsepower to drive them?  Has the cost to serve become to high?

Jesus tells us the harvest is plentiful-get involved!  But He also warns the workers are few, which means more work for those workers, but also more blessings.  So ask God where you can be involved?  Nothing fancy, just meet a need in Jesus’ name, like in Matthew 25.  Feed and clothe the poor in His love, visit the sick, and those in jail.  Take in strangers, we were all strangers to Him once.  And watch as the church grows, and you do too.  As Jesus becomes the standard of your world, you don’t worry about gas prices, food prices, or work.  God provides as you follow Him, and you find He provided despite your not following Him.  Where else would you find that kind of love?  The government?

We used to say God doesn’t make people into freaks, He makes freaks into people.  Still true today.  Check with Him about your recall, your coming back to Him.  Ask Jesus into your life, or back into it today.  One bad decision might have separated you from Him, let one good decision change all that today.  Trust Jesus!

Oh, and the warranty has no ending.  And despite the lack of care and maintenance, we still make it.  We are forgiven.  Never got a card of condolence from GM.  Coming of age now means coming to Jesus.  It was once said that “what is good for GM is good for the country.”  Now we know it isn’t.  But always what is good in Christ will be good for us. 

love with compassion,
Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

the last Noel

The first Noel, the angels did say, was to certain poor shepherds in fields where they lay.  And how blessed those shepherds were, on a night that they least expected and never thought they would be part of.  And entering my 60th Noel next week, I can tell you that I have been blessed on each Noel, and plan on being blessed until the last Noel.  Christmas has always been special, the presents abundant, and taking old traditions and adding to or establishing new ones with my family has always been fun.   From watching our grandparents spoil us, to my parents spoiling their grandchildren, a tradition of giving has always been foremost at our house.  We give gifts of love because we love each other, not necessarily agree with each other, but somehow all is forgiven at Christmas as it should be, which is why Jesus came to earth, to offer forgiveness, and bet the way back to a relationship with God.  Try wrapping that one under the tree.  Without Christ we just have mas-or a mess.  We all can relate to that.  And the season can be one of great joy, or great sadness.  Going deeper than the emotion, but bringing depression to many.  Many whose only tradition is a food line, begging on a corner, or hiding under a bridge.  For them Black Friday means everyday being black with no hope.  And Christmas day at best means a free meal, a few hours off the street, and maybe some clean socks, a haircut and a bath.  Not quite the Noel we sing about, or is shown on TV, or written about, but a real Noel to many none the less.  To those in jail, just another day closer to release, nothing special, except sadness creeping in.  Many have families, and they are sad without their mom or dad who is incarcerated.  The families look back to the last Noel when they were all together, and hope again to be.  Soon.  The homeless I deal with will tell stories of past Christmases when as a kid, they had fun and many presents.  But as they got older, drifted away, and any religious teaching they may have had, didn’t go with them.  It got left at home as they set out on their own, and ended up on the street, in jail, or in too many cases dead.  Not as the family planned it, definitely not as they planned it, but one bad decision led to many others, and to a life spiraling out of control.  A story of Christmas that we don’t hear of, or worse yet, don’t want to hear.  Today let’s be different....

All towns have a poorer side of town, ours was referred to as “the colored section,” where poor blacks lived.  Now as kids we never really thought of any other kids in terms of color or financial status, that prejudice would be  reserved for adulthood.  But each year clothing drives would gather used clothes, new toys, and gifts for these underprivileged families.  And I can remember my dad and I dropping off clothes and gifts on porches, silently, so as to not alert them, showing a respect and a courtesy to them, not wishing to embarrass them, knowing without us they wouldn’t have.  Allowing whoever saw the gifts first to be filled with joy, and then sharing with others at home.  We never got to see behind the closed door the poverty, or the joy, it would wait until school resumed when we would recognize some of our old clothes, worn proudly to their new owners.  And we had a satisfaction that we had given, and later I would learn of how Jesus set the standard for giving, and why we give at Christmas, and find that getting is good, but in no way compares with the giving.  Being blessed in both cases..by a loving God.

So over the years I have been part of many Christmas gift givings, from Toy Runs to delivering food to the needy.  And without a doubt, the more I give, the more I get.  And this year is nothing different, as yesterday in our boutique, where we give away free clothes to those in need, we got be Santa and also share Jesus.  To many who will be without, but out of the abundance of many, these now have. But as the year goes on, so do the needs.  And many are forgotten until the next Noel, what can we do about it?  What will you do about it?

Although as Christians we celebrate the birth of Jesus on December 25th, we also celebrate His life everyday.  Why can’t we be more giving everyday?  The needs are there, we are there-even Jesus is there?  So what’s the deal, what are we waiting for?  For some, it is a tax deduction, for the Pharisee type a chance to show off by giving in public to be recognized.  But Jesus sees those who give everyday, who have His heart, and give to the poor as needed, who visit those sick and in jail, and who except for the grace of God, go I.  Or you.  Last I remember I am hungry everyday, only to be repeated again the next.  My clothes wear out, and I have daily needs.  Which is why God calls it daily bread, for the body, the mind and the soul.  Bread to eat and be filled-hard to think straight on an empty stomach.  Bread to help us emotionally, to give us clear heads to make right decisions, and bread for the soul-to worship God and have a relationship with Him.  We need all three for a balanced diet, and not just on Christmas.  And every day it is better to give than receive.

My ministry takes me to many people who have little to give, but the things they do give me are priceless.  One man gives me buttons and change to put into the church offering.  Less than the two mites...a gift of Thanksgiving.  On days when it seems hopeless, I receive a letter from the inmates I send these devotions too-you guys and girl will never know the joy they bring, and always appear at the right time to cheer me up.  Priceless to me, better than many gifts I receive, they are a gift from the heart, each one saved, hopefully to be shared with you someday.  Seeing men on the street who we have prayed for greeting us as friends, special too.  People many would avoid, I embrace as friends.  Maybe a better class of people than you think. For too often the price of the gift is considered, when price means little in value if not given in love.  One of my favorite quotes, “money will buy a fine dog, but only love will make it wag its tail,” is how my tail wags when I receive these blessings.  I get to see Jesus in action, not just from the pulpit on Sundays, but giving all year round, not just on Christmas.  Which despite my poverty makes me a richer man than those who profess to have wealth.  A richness in friends and family-all because of Jesus.

For some this will be their last Noel, but for some their first in Christ.  Come to Jesus today, and celebrate Him everyday-even on Christmas.  Open the gifts of joy from the heart of Him who has set you free, and pass it on.  You cannot afford not to, for when you truly know Jesus, you just have to tell someone about Him.  For we are all certain poor shepherds, not realizing how special that first Noel was, but never considering that this one may be our last.  Do yourself a favor, make this Christmas, this Noel the best ever.  Share Jesus in food, clothing, happiness, and joy with others, no matter your situation.  If you have Jesus, you have much more than the richest man who doesn’t.  You have heaven...and forever Noels with Him.  Wise men still seek Him, blessed are those who believe.  Merry Christmas to all and those you call dear, and may we all celebrate together in heaven someday.  Jesus Christ, the only gift that never stops giving.  The first Noel, I hope it is not your last.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

Ivan the lovable

There is a category of friendship that often goes unnoticed, and undervalued.  Some relationships are on a must see, must call basis, or something is wrong.  But at the far end of the friendship spectrum are the friends who you might only see once a week, month, or a year.  Or go years between visits, and yet you pick up where you left off, confident in your relationship with that person, knowing it is the quality and not quantity of time spent that is important.  And last month, one of those special friends of mine, Ivan, changed addresses for good, no for excellent, and only in heaven will I see him again.  Just as it should be.  A special friend, a special relationship, that on the surface may not seem like anything special, but the best things are left private.  So here is a attempt to give some insight into Ivan you may not know about, a side of him that made him your friend, and how you wanted to be his.

I met Ivan after starting to attend Calvary Chapel Escondido.  At the time we didn’t know it, but they were about to purchase an empty strip mall, that had been empty for many years.  In and Out was going to put in a store right by our house, and when the city of Escondido denied them a 70’ sign, they decided to go elsewhere.  Today as a reference the sanctuary is where you would have eaten your Double Double.  But Ivan stepped forward, leading a group of men in renovating the site into classrooms, and a sanctuary, decorating the grounds, and seeing they were maintained.  A grounds so meticulous that SDG&E was glad we had adopted their parking lot, and the neighborhood now had some class to it.  Ivan worked tirelessly there, not delegating, but encouraging others by his actions, and you could feel God’s love and the property reflected it.  But my first lesson from Ivan was about to be taught, as one day we sat and visited, and he told me how he no longer could volunteer, they had put him on staff, and now had bosses, and a board to report to.  And his labor of love had become a job, with a paycheck, one that money could never meet in terms of satisfaction of a job well done for the Lord.  Not many knew this, and it would serve as example to me later in ministry, that the best paying jobs are ones done for God, the ones He gives you, never mind the salary.  Is anyone listening?

Ivan had a heart condition, and had stints installed when I was doing hospital ministry, before I got sick.  He was in Palomar, and it was only family members allowed to visit.  Many who had come to see him were turned away, but when asked it I was family, I simply said “he’s my brother.”  Brothers in Christ, and was let in, at first with a questionable look, we are separated by a generation and different last names, but brothers indeed.  And I got to visit him when no one else could, and we used to joke of our special brotherhood, even introducing each other as brothers.  And bringing a smile to his face when I would visit him later in a nursing home.  “Just tell him it’s his brother,”  and I was always greeted with that big smile.  Brothers today, brothers forever, Ivan just got home first.  Making heaven that much more valuable to me.  A visual of how it takes a personal relationship with God to get in where no man may.  Jesus was that connection.

Many also knew him as Moses at the Harvest Festivals, and he was perfect in character.  He looked like Moses, sorry Mr. Heston, this guy knew the author!  And many kids would flock to him, hanging on him even when not Moses.  He was Ivan, no last name needed-and the kids loved him, and miss him now.  But like me, Ivan had a son who was always in trouble, and never came to the Lord, thankfully both mine have and are saved.  But Darrin was a special prayer for me, and kept Ivan on his knees till Darrin passed away a few years ago.  Bearing a burden of knowing his son didn’t make heaven, and reinforcing how important it is to share Jesus in words and deeds.  For like Darrin and Ivan, we can be here today, yet a memory tomorrow.  If only Darrin had seen what his Dad did.

There are many like Ivan out there, evident only in their not being there, and when things aren’t getting done, we miss them.  And I miss my brother, for that and many other reasons.  As Christians we know heaven awaits, and I know where Ivan is, but I miss him and have for some time.   After my open heart surgery, I have been told to stay out of hospitals, changing my hospital ministry, but God opening other doors.  He is like that, when one closes, another opens, that we may have missed because we weren’t looking.  and although I visited Ivan a few times in the nursing home, he loved visitors, he understood why I couldn’t and didn’t visit.  And on my last visit, he was laying down, tired, and told me he just wanted to go home.  He was ready for heaven, but God said “just not yet.”  And then I got the simple e-mail a few months later that he had died.  But that really life had just begun for him in a new city, under a new name, just as God promised.  But somehow we will still know each other when get there, and we will pick up where we left off, for time between visits is time we are building testimonies.  And we will both have much to share.  That was and is my friend Ivan.

History tells us of an Ivan the Terrible.  Like the news, history records the bad guys and their sin more than those of the good guys.  So I wish to recall Ivan as, “Ivan the Lovable.”  Maybe just a face in the crowd, or a man who kids loved, or a man who built a church with his hands encouraging others, a worker, who was my friend and a friend of many.  Ivan the Lovable, a great example for those who many aren’t, and of a man whose life was changed by Jesus Christ.  No funeral date that I know of, but as Doug assured me the other night, “look around, these are the friends who will be at your funeral.”  Thanks for reminding me of my brother Ivan when I see you.  And for being my friend too.  Ivan would have liked that.  A memorial service that lasts more than an afternoon.  A simple man, yet a great example of Jesus in my life.  That’s my brother!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

time travel

I have two pictures from the 20’s, the 1920’s, one of my Grandpa with his senior high school class at Mt. Vernon in June, 1924, and another hand colored photo taken in 1926 at Yosemite, taken by him when he hitchhiked across country from Pennsylvania, two years before he became a father to my father.  And his stories of that trip with a friend were always spell bounding to me, probably where I got my wander lust and desire to be on the road as much as I do.  He told of spending nights in jails in small towns in the west, at their request, no motels then, and how when they got to Tijuana and crossed over, there was only a gate, and no motels. I still can see him hanging onto the running boards hitching rides on touring cars, and the excitement he must have had.  And it all seemed so glorious, whereas today we take it for granted there will be gas and food and lodging at the next freeway exit, the first interstate was still 30 years away. 

But one of my most precious possessions is a diary he wrote in July of 1951, when he and my Grandma and her family drove from Pennsylvania to see my parents in Colorado, where my Dad was stationed in the Air Force.  Still no freeways yet, but a pioneering spirit setting out on 2 lane roads, battling traffic, stop signs, and not having to encounter fast food yet.  McDonalds was still a dream of two brothers in San Berdoo.  But eating at cafes, or fixing meals along the road, picnicking taking on a different meaning then.  But reading the journal, I can see America through his eyes, and know many of the places mentioned.  Staying at Busli’s Modern Motel, just 7 miles west of Roseville,  and 3 miles east of Media, Illinois.  Having a delicious dinner, in his words, of pan fried potatoes and onions, grilled frankfurters and tea-milk, and cup cakes.  A far better choice than any franchised meal. And the notes go on of horseback riding with my parents, I was still 3 years away, and packing lunches and seeing all of Colorado they could in a short trip that included his 24th wedding anniversary, celebrated at The Yucca in Denver, they packed and left the next morning for home.  Seeing Mt. Rushmore, and South Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin which reminded him of home, and then home.  Almost making it to the top of Mt. Evans, highest point in Colorado, getting within 12 miles from the top when the altitude gave them motor problems.  Arriving home after two weeks on the road, and travelling 4700 miles.  What a summer it must have been!

And I have been blessed with two other memories from the trip.  One is the road map they used, courtesy of their local Pontiac dealer, Eight Street Motors in Bangor, Pa., phone 652.  With cities circles and routes traced they took, and of their next trip to see my parents in San Antonio, where my Dad was stationed next.  But the other treasure I have is the picnic basket, covered with decals from the trip, and also the ice chest and cooler for drinks.  How many meals must have been eaten using these items, I wonder if the plates they ate the pan fried potatoes on are these?  But memories of how things truly were, seen through their eyes over 60 years ago, when they were young, and so was America.  A much smaller America, less than half of who is here now, and a time of smaller roads and picnics along the side of them.  Ten years before Todd and Buzz were getting their kicks on Route 66, my family was travelling across America.  I wonder what they would think of it now?  And what they would think of how it is being remembered?

Just a generation ago we had no cell phone cameras, video was new and expensive, we still took Polaroids and used 110 film, until we could afford 35mm.  Somewhere between now and then our memories get fuzzy, but the photos and the journals like this bring us back to reality.  Words that form pictures, and pictures worth a thousand words when combined fill the time spent back there precious and fulfilling.  That special meal of pan fried potatoes and frankfurters still bringing a smile to the faces.  For it is in these special times, times not set out to be anything but just another night, it is where we find the treasures of the heart.  Times so special that a note is made, so when telling the story you brag about it, or get teary eyed.  A book filled with memories of how it really was, not changed over the years, but that gets better with each reading.  We call it the Bible, and it tells of times past, times of today, and times to come.  Times spent in exile from God, meals provided by God, and clothing and good weather all courtesy of Him.  A story of a 40 year trek across the desert, referred to as the Exodus.  A time spent with families, visiting other families, and having families along the way.  But another way to look at it is this.  The kids who were very young at the start, were in their forties at the end.  The old people, some never finished the trip.  And some born towards the end relied on the older ones relating the stories of how it was.  Times spent sharing a trip, you can just imagine the old men telling the young men, and how their eyes would light up.  Tales of a trip, not fully realizing that they were still on it, daily life excluding them from a different perspective.  But today we have the Bible to read Moses’ words, and his side trips along the way.  And can learn much from them, and how trusting God along the road, no matter where the journey takes you, is always best.  No cameras, but words so perfectly inspired by God that we can see through their eyes, and I for one am glad I travel now.  My manna coming in different ways, and having motorcycles to travel on.  My Exodus still in process, and the promised land, heaven, via Jesus Christ still ahead.

We are all on that journey of life.  Some times we will remember, and some we will try to forget.  But I am thankful God chose His to record them in His Word.  And the stories of Jesus, and when mixed with prophecies, poetry in Psalms, great advice in Proverbs, and the good news of the gospel, it becomes timeless.  And will continue to be timeless, because we will be too.  How we travel that route is our choice, choosing the route God has for you makes it that much more valuable.  Consider that on your next ride, walk, or trip to the store.  To some my Grandparents’ trip was just a ride to see their son, but it reminds me that the trip I am on is to see God’s Son.  For some just another day in the life, but for those of us who believe, a day that much closer to heaven.  Which takes patience, time, and a sense of who God is, and making it personal. 

And maybe the note from a repair in Lexington, VA., tells more about the trip than a postcard.  A verbally recorded testimony, putting our lives in perspective.  After having his horn and gear shift repaired, the mechanic told him “he never saw a ‘47 Pontiac is such good condition,” some 37,652 miles from new.  What does, and what will your testimony tell others?  Where is God in it?  If only I could spend an afternoon with Grandpa again, the questions I would have.  Maybe throw some frankfurters in with the onions, and potatoes, pan fried.  Some ice tea, to go along.  I’ll take the blue plate and cups like I always did....let the memories begin again.  On the road again, time travelling.  Eight Street Motors is long gone, no one answers at 652.  Plan ahead in Christ.  Only in Him will that trip never end.  And the maps are still free!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

Hudsons, Nashes, Ramblers, and the way back

Oliver E. Labar

October 27, 1990|The Morning Call

Oliver E. LaBar, 80, of Bangor R.3, Washington Township, died Friday in Leader Nursing and Rehabilitation Center, Palmer Township. He was the husband of Edna M. (Ladner) LaBar.

He owned and operated the former Hudson Sales and Service, Washington Township, for more than 37 years. Before that, he was employed by the Bethlehem Steel Corp.

Pasquale J. Ronco, 86

Owned Auto Repair Shop In Bangor For 53 Years

March 08, 1995|The Morning Call

Pasquale J. "Pat" Ronco, 86, of Slate Belt Nursing and Rehabilitation Center, Bangor R.2, died there Tuesday. He was the husband of Mildred (Snyder) Ronco. They were married 57 years.

He owned the Ronco American Motors auto repair shop in Bangor from 1935 until 1988.

Born in Flicksville, he ws a son of the late Joseph and Lucia (Falcone) Ronco.

He was a member of St. John's United Church of Christ, Bangor.

This is a story of two car dealerships, on the same road between small towns in EasternPennsylvania.  But really it is the story of two men, who ran the family owned businesses, since before WWII, and how a decision made in the spring of 1954 changed their lives forever. Ironic in that it occurred on my birthday, May 1st, but it would happen on someone’s birthday, why not mine.  The two families were the LaBar’s and the Ronco’s.  The LaBar family owned and operated O.E. LaBar Hudson Sales and Service, while Pat Ronco owned and operated Ronco Nash Motors.  Two names that would go down in history that May, as both companies were to merge into American Motors, and within two short years, Hudsons would be no more, and Nashes would be Ramblers.  A merger that created one company, but eliminated both at the same time.  Two proud names going back to the early 1900’s, represented by two families until the end.

My Grandmother always bought her cars from Pat.  When she wanted another car, she would call him, and when he answered the phone, usually climbing out from underneath a car, he would tell her what she wanted, and give her an offer on her trade in over the phone.  He didn’t need to see it, he had always serviced it and knew the car, and Pat was always fair, having scribbled the deal on whatever paper was in his pocket, and getting together at Grandma’s convenience.  Pat wasNash, and soon was to be Rambler, and as the decades wore on, soon was to be American Motors, the new company formed by the merger,who in 1987 Chrysler would absorb.  But back then he was Pat, and when anyone would trade, he had  a list of people looking for that used car.  “Mrs. Reimer, I have the car your niece needs, yes Mrs. Mohn’s ‘62 coupe.  Yes, I’llhave it ready for tomorrow.  We’ll work out a price then.  See you then.”  And that was how Pat did business...until his death, and the building was shuttered, and only memories remain, like these.

Mr. LaBar was always referred to as Mr. LaBar.  Not sure what the O.E. stood for, but his building always looked closed, except for some old cars parked out front, and some Hudsons parked in the showroom.  Old Coca Cola signs were painted with his name on them, and many times I would stop by, but the doors were locked, nobody home.  Until one afternoon with my Grandpa we stopped by, we had been talking cars, and he was curious too about what was inside.  And this day some 20 years after the merger, the door was open, and an old man greeted us, Mr. LaBar.  He wondered what we wanted,as he didn’t know us, he knew his customers like Pat knew his, and didn’t have time for strangers.  But something clicked, and we talked for about 45 minutes about Hudson, and his falling out with them after the merger.  He didn’t care for hobby folks coming in, this was an active Hudson dealership, he had never terminated his franchise agreement.  And he still had new, not NOS Hudson parts on the shelf, bought when it was evident Hudson would go on to car heaven.  Signs graced the showroom, telling of the new 1954 Hudsons, and how step down motoring was still the way to go.  And was proven by Hudson’s wins in NASCAR, due to their superior handling, and winning against V-8 when Hudson only raced a 6.  Like Pat they both had a racing heritage, and Pat had still raced old R-12 at Nazareth until it became a NASCAR track.  But while Pat had moved on with the times, Mr. LaBar had stayed in 1954, and Pat was given the franchise rights for the new company.  A bitterness that came through during our time spent together that afternoon.

Mr. LaBar still worked on his customers cars, and would not work on any car newer than a 1954-the year Hudson died, in his eyes.  And he was plenty busy, as shown by his full garage, and had a slightly used 1953 Hornet on floor, that a lady  had traded in on a 1954, staying as current as Hudson would allow her.  Loyal customers, loyal dealers, and a loyalty that went much deeper than ever showed from the street.  He even used two or three Hudson pickups for working and hauling coal for the huge paint booth sized heater in winter.  He was Hudson to the end, and sometime in the 1990’s he passed, and so did Hudson with him, with a strip mall now where Mr. LaBar used to represent Hudson.  40 years after Hudson died, so did O.E. LaBar Hudson Sales and Service, the likes never to be seen again.  Mr. LaBar had been looking for a way back, but that was never to be.  And we are the poorer for it.

A rich man once asked Jesus how to inherit the Kingdom of God.  How to get back to God.  But didn’t get the full ramifications of who Jesus was and is.  He didn’t see that he had to change to with the situations, and how it would not and could not ever be the same.  For just like Job who had lost everything, he had everything too, and wasn’t willing to give it up.  So unlike Job he would not be eternally rewarded, and not see heaven.  He didn’t change like Mr. LaBar didn’t, and stayed just where he was for the rest of his days.  Sadly passing on whatever inheritance he may have had to those who didn’t earn it.  When he could have had something, the free gift of salvation that cannot be earned.  He could have been like Pat, and moved on, the merger giving him new business and a future, but he chose what he could see and hear instead of what was promised.  He never knew the way back to God was Jesus, and stayed in his current state until death, with life passing him by.  Mr. LaBar and Pat both stayed true to their core beliefs, one changing the other stubborn and bitter.  A good example of how change can affect a life, and when Jesus is that change how it is worth the living.

Built into each one of us is a void that only Jesus can fill.  it is the way back to God, to the way things were before sin, and how they will be in heaven.  A franchised deal, where a covenant is formed between you and the creator of the universe, with no term limits.  But like Mr. LaBar we hang onto a past, choosing to remember how it was, rather than how it can be.  For it takes faith, a flexibility of life to change with Jesus, and follow His lead.  To not lean on our own understanding, and know for sure that change is an on going thing, something we will endure here on earth.  But that in trusting Jesus, we don’t need to worry, and that no matter what happens, He will see us through it.  He is the ultimate merger, bringing both God and a fallen man back together, on terms no one else can offer.  His promises are as good as the Hudson parts in stock, not reproductions or aftermarket, they fit perfectly as they were designed by their creator for that special purpose, you.  His word is as good as the notes written on paper in Pat’s pockets, better still as they are written on our hearts, never to be misplaced, and always with us. 

And He is always with us, unlike Hudson and Nash, and Ramblers.  All three only a memory, remembered more by the people who owned them than by those who sold them.  Not one better than the other, just a different perspective.  How you see Jesus will make all the difference in your life today, and forever.  A business who is a sure thing, a place to invest with guaranteed returns.  And He returned for us setting the example.  Where are Nash and Hudson today?
Complete the merger deal with God today in Jesus.  Give up the old franchise of death and sin for a new covenant that truly delivers.  You don’t have to go way back to know that Jesus is the way back.  You can start now....a perfect merger that gives you a new birth, and new birthday.  A day and a God to remember...just like that May day in 1954.  Life began for one man on that day and ended for another.  Your choice, today is the time to begin anew in Christ.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthw25biker.blogspot.com