places we worship-bike shops and church

Stu and I took a trip back 30 years today when we stopped in the motorcycle salvage shop looking for a spring for Theresa's side stand. Used parts-we used to call them junk yards, are the only ones sold there, and it was fun checking out bikes we used to know or better yet wanted-but couldn't afford from the late '70's and the early '80's. Back when Honda really owned the market, and proved it when Yamaha came out and said they were going to bury Honda in sales, so many bikes went unsold as they were over imported. Honda dropped their prices so low that not only did they remain number one, but almost put Yamaha out of business. All this without mega stores, not being open seven days a week, and without easy money. Shops were small, what was on the floor was it, and prices were generally not negotiable. Maybe get a cheap helmet thrown in, or an oil change, that was it. Dealers were small businessmen and did everything they could to stay that way.

They were also owned by guys that rode, so they were closed on Sunday and Monday-so they could go riding! What a thought-guys who ride owning a cycle shop! Often times a family owned affair, it was not unusual for the wife to be a parts manager, and I knew some real good ones over the years-parts managers that is. And easy money was the name of a Rodney Dangerfield movie-getting a loan was hard enough-high risk group that we were, and interest rates at 24% kept all but the serious rider junkie away. If you happened to have a friend at the bank who rode 18% was a deal, and gave you bragging rights for getting a good deal, on a street bike only. Dirt bikers-you paid cash!

The service department was a place you hung out on Saturday mornings, and often were handed a tool and told "don't waste my time, fix it yourself." In the shop you frequented, aka hung out in, you might even have a charge account, at least your own coffee mug. You knew the mechanics-they weren't techs yet, and they knew you. They didn't get rich off you, but made a decent income fixing things you broke while doing it yourself. It was a simple system, and it worked. The parts guys would give you the part number sometimes, knowing you would go to the salvage shop, or buy from one of the mail order houses. Online-wait another 15 years. We dealt with people-face to face. And the sales guys, aka the owner, was always telling you the price, the one you couldn't afford, that when you got that raise, or your wife said ok you would buy-from him. And after many years of asking, when you finally were ready, would cut you the deal. Always mentioning how he wasn't making any money on this deal, but then you weren't either. Never telling your friends what you really paid, as no matter how much they could have always gotten it for you for less. But there was a theme here, you had a relationship with a dealer. You may have started as that guy on the beater Honda, but as you worked your way up the through the pack, you built relationships, and made friends. And when you needed that oil change done late on Friday so you could leave Saturday, they would stay open and do it. Missing a part-the special order department would borrow one off a new bike-just to get you on the road. You had a relationship with that dealer, and even if you paid more than through the mail-it was worth it as they were there when you needed them.

How many of you can say that today? Do you wait three weeks for service? Do you pay extra for that special order part? Non refundable SOP? Maybe you need to work on that relationship. Rather than brag about the great deal you got on your Arai from Helmet House, after trying them on at his shop, try asking for a discount, or a deal. Build that relationship-or better yet invest in it. For over 15 years I have dealt with Mickey-in or out of Orange County Triumph, and when I need them, they are there. I expect fair treatment, sometimes I pay more, but mostly they are below anyone else. They want my business, and I need them there for me. Very simply put we have a relationship, based on trust, and the definition that a good deal is where both parties benefit. A fair deal, do you get one at your shop?

Do you support your church? Your pastor? Do you have a home church where they know you, and love you? And when you aren't there, call to say they miss you! If not, you are missing something. Don't buy into the excuse that you don't need to go to church. WRONG! When you are down, they will be there! Hurting, they will support. And teach the word, and encourage your marriage, and your ministry. And the really cool ones will encourage you to ride, and take the gospel to bikers.

But they aren't my denomination. Guess what, they won't be in heaven either. They sing songs other than the hymns. Good, it is called praise and worship because it is. They don't teach on themes, but from the Bible, verse by verse. Do you know a better way to learn about God?

Get over it! And get out! Support your church, go to a men's fellowship. They may be more like you than you think. Just like the gang at the bike shop, they love to fellowship-except this time it is Jesus. Testimonies? Can you think of a better bench race? Support your pastor-whether he rides or not. He loves Jesus-what a great guy to be friends with. Single-God just may have the one there for you. A brand you never knew existed. Group rides-we Christians ride too, and rather well. You may be surprised as you get left behind the pack after the first turn, but we'll wait for you to work your way back into the group. Just like at the shop.

Give God another chance. Try Him out, and His church. Build that relationship-we are here when needed. And unlike the old shops-church is open on Sundays.

As for me-I like Saturday night services. Old school, I still like riding on Sundays. And I still like getting the good guy deal. Take my advice-accept the deal Jesus offers-no one will beat it. And you don't have to wait for it to show up in the mail. See you in church, we're the ones in denim and leather-our official church clothes!

Jesus Christ-big enough to be God-small enough to know you personally. Just like my dealer. And like yours too, I hope. Support your church today-so that they are there tomorrow!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

all gave some, some gave all

It seems like only yesterday that the state of mind called summer began with my trip to New Jersey on Memorial Day. The unofficial start of summer when kids count the school days left and moms start to count the days until Labor Day, when they go back. For the past few years I too have counted the days until Labor Day, as it meant that we would be leaving on Torches Across America, a ride to honor those killed on 9-11 and honor those first responders. Like I once told Gary Covert, its founder "I wish there were only two days in the year, Christmas and Torches." And as I sit here this Tuesday after Labor Day, I reflect on where I want to be. Where I wish I was.
We would just be leaving Amarillo, stopping at Groom, Texas to visit the world's largest cross, and checking out the 13 steps Jesus took to the cross. Few words, but the life likeness of the statues tells a story that words can't. Hands on, just like Jesus. We would then be off to an escort in Oklahoma City by the police to the site of the bombing. Touring the memorial, then the museum, then the spot where the preschoolers were playing that day angers me that a domestic enemy-one of us-could do this to his own fellow citizens. Then to Tulsa, with another escort, eating at the American Legion Post there.
Finally after a number of days, on to Ground Zero, where Angelo and his ride group from Ohio would meet us, along with Tattoo Bob and his group from Detroit-3200 of us riding through the Holland Tunnel past Ground Zero. And I think of Rex Howke and his Rattle the Runway ride to the Pentagon. We must visit again over chili dogs someday. But for me it is about the Heroes of Flight 93 in Shanksville, a more somber place I have never been than the impact site. And a more restful, peaceful place after, the Flight 93 Memorial Chapel, and my friend Father Al. Where the heroes of that flight are etched forever in my heart-putting faces to names as I know Mary White, Beth Wainio's mom, who always seems to be there when Father Al needs her. To Co-pilot Leroy Homer's mom, Ilsa and his sisters. Who somehow brought a smile to our faces that day in 2006. And to all the stewardesses who graced us with hugs and love, sharing their tears with us, mixing them with our own as they would leave us with a wet face, and precious memories. 40 heroes, who before taking on the enemy, knowing they faced death, recited the 23rd Psalm. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want....such confidence in the face of an enemy!
September 5, 2009, I added number 41 to my list of heroes. Marine Captain Joshua Meadows, was killed in Afghanistan. A sniper's bullet went through his neck and into his brain, killing him instantly, mercifully. When my Theresa took the call from our daughter Theresa-we adopted her family when her husband Kelly was overseas, also a Marine helicopter pilot-our hearts broke for them. As they took their longest and saddest trip from Yuma to Carlsbad, they dropped off the kids and went to do what friends do at times like this, they loved. Because of Kelly's upper echelon, he was apprised of Josh's death. The same Josh and Angela who were there for Theresa, they would now be there for her. I had met Josh, and had seen him there a couple times-I remembered him when Theresa reminded me he rode a BMW-I remember people by what they ride or where they go to church.
Now Kelly was to be that strong friend that Angela needed. Earlier that day she had seen the four military men coming up the walk, through her glass door, and her heart knew why they were there. Military wives are taught that this is an ugly part of the military life, but still are never prepared if and when it happens. That afternoon Kelly used his Marine training to do the right thing militarily-there are papers, etc. to deal with. He was there as a friend, supporting Angela as Josh had supported his wife, but mostly he was there as a Christian brother, doing the only thing that he could do, as instructed by Jesus. Loving and consoling. Weeping with those that weep. No training can teach this, it takes a relationship with God to go willfully into such hopeless events, and that is what he and Theresa did. And in love, supported her as only God can do. And along with others, will continue to do for some time to come.
A part of Angela also died that day, for Josh was not only the 28 year old love of her life, but the father that would not ever see their unborn child. She is 7 and 1/2 months pregnant, and being old fashioned they didn't want to know the baby's sex, I like that. He was going to be home from this duty in time for the baby to be born, and as she sat in her condo, all torn up under construction, she was going to surprise him with a new kitchen and bath, it must seem like everything in her life is in shambles. And to those without hope it is. But she has hope in Christ.
Today I pray that the words of King David echo in her heart. When he found out his son had been killed in war, he went to God-who reassured him that his son couldn't come to him, but that David someday will go to him. In heaven. It is called resurrection, and those who believe in Jesus Christ will again live with him. Someday Angela and their child will be reunited in heaven with Josh. But for that time she must wait, but not alone. Jesus will always be with her, and their child. May all of us cling to that promise. For the man who said "greater love has no man than to lay down his life for another," did just that. So that we can.
I pray Angela clings to that, and realizes that someday, like Josh, she will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. May God have mercy on us all until that day, when He wipes away every tear. Until then we cry "even now, come Lord Jesus." Every hero does not have a homecoming, but Josh did. He is home at last in heaven, the war is over, the battles are won. Hero 41, to be remembered by me as long as there is a September 5. Another American who gave his life so that we may live free. Truly freedom isn't free, it was paid for at the cross, and the cost continues to be paid today by the American soldier. Greater love has no one than to lay down their life for another. And when they do, weep with them, just as Jesus weeps, with and for us.
weeping with compassion in love,
Mike