the four seasons of love, part 1-fall

Unto everything there is a season. The Byrds taught us that in the sixties in their song "Turn, Turn, Turn." So many sang it and even quoted it, never realizing they were quoting the book of Ecclesiastes. A season which brought Roger McGuinn, lead guitarist to the Lord. A season where he first fell in love with Jesus. A time he learned that love isn't seasonal, but eternal.

The first year being a sophomore in our town meant going to the high school, we still had junior and senior highs in those days. And as scary as it was, the stories were told of how sophomores would be singled out and sometimes beat up, we went warily, but excitedly, being the underclassmen, as we were no longer the big shots like last year. That day had passed. And on the first days of school that fall, we noticed many things. Girls in particular. They had all grown up over the summer.
The once time tomboy with braces, somehow had turned into a woman, with curves and everything. Her hair even had style, and as you looked at yourself, you still looked the same, and as you stopped to talk to her you realized with her new found beauty, she now had confidence-which scared you! Was she going to give me all the grief I once gave her? Even her braces were gone, no more "tin grin" jokes here. Truly you had to look at her from a new perspective. You had to act mature, even if you weren't? I can still feel my face breaking out. How bad did it really show? Do you think she noticed?

But taking time to meet her, you found her to be nice, and forgiving of you, and wondered if she was always that nice. Her mother later would tell you her little baby was always this sweet. You found opportunities to sit by her in class, maybe even walk by her locker. And you knew her friends, and sadly she knew yours. Hopefully you had grown up enough to not act like them. Then the word got out she thought you were pretty cute, which only brought out more zits in the excitement, and after stressing and with the help of lots of Clearasil, you asked her to the dance on Saturday night. The first big dance, with a live band, and it was advertised "Stag or Drag." And once someone more sophisticated than you, one of her friends, explained drag meant a date, you understood the discount. Which if she said no at first, would be your fall back position, "see it would make sense to go together, save a buck." So when she said yes the first time, and you didn't have to go to plan B, it was almost disheartening, for you had practiced all weekend, never thinking she-beautiful and grown up, would go with you, zits and all. But she said yes, and the five days to Saturday seemed like they only took two weeks. Good thing Mom bought you the BIG tube of Clearasil!

After going in with her, and trying to talk over the loud music, you realized you were going to have to dance eventually. Sadly your whole history of dancing was with your friends, who would make fun of the others. Panic time! But you asked, something cool like "wannadance," all one word, she accepted, and found out later she was just as scared as you. Maybe all that cold sweat was for nothing! Note-extra Right Guard next time. And then they played a slow dance. The time you had dreamed of. As you put your arms around her, while concentrating on your feet, so as to not step on hers, you felt her next to you, closer than ever before. She even felt like a woman. And as you put your arms around her shoulders, she put hers around your waist. HEAVEN! This was too good to be true! She was hugging back! And she wasn't my aunt or my mother. And for the next three minutes, nothing else in the world mattered. Did the music really have to stop? And as you two went to sit down, you were exhausted, you didn't know slow dancing took so much energy. Then she took your hand-and held it in hers. So you squeezed it back, she smiled, and no words could express the feeling-you liked her-and better yet, she liked you!

The rest of the dance was a blur, as it went so fast. Good times always seem to do that. And when the dance ended at 11, she had until midnight to be home. And you used every minute of it to walk her home, not wanting to want the evening to end, making every second last. Holding hands. Finally a kiss-WOW, and then home. She said she would call to make sure you made it OK. And even though you would face your parents wrath for being late-you were to be home at 1130, it was worth it. Time can be so short and cruel when in love.

Your whole life changed that night, as later she would wear your ID bracelet, and sit with you at lunch-without your friends to poke fun at you, they were so immature. There would be weekends at the mall, bowling nights, Saturday afternoons at the football game, where she thought you were so smart knowing so much about sports, and the pizza parlor after with friends. Homework together only an excuse to see her. Even holding hands on cold evenings with gloves on was special. She was your first love, and although there would be others, she would be the one that all others would be compared to. Hopefully she too, would remember her first dance, first hug, first holding of hands, and then her first kiss. And you hoped it would be the kiss all others, including her husbands, would be compared too. For fall dances meant new love, and a whole school year with her to enjoy it.

When you came to Christ, the time came when you discovered how much He really loved you. More than a sentence to death in Sunday School, or having to go to church, now you wanted to. With others who were saved also. And the change in you was dramatic, just like when you met the girl who was transformed over the summer. You still looked the same, but inside beat a new heart. With new attitudes, that caused new actions. And life was worth the living, because Jesus lived in your heart.

But somewhere along the way, life interfered, and the light dimmed with Him. He didn't change, you did. And as you did different things, you found yourself comparing them to Jesus, as your first love. And nothing ever compared to living for Him. Even though you tried, cars, girls, vacations, and even motorcycles couldn't take His place. He was your first love. So if you find yourself singing this tune today, it's time to return to your first love. Come home to Jesus. He will welcome you with open arms. He misses you too. And you will wonder why you ever wandered from your first love.

First loves are like that. You will always look back fondly to your first girlfriend. Some call it the good old days. But Jesus tells us these are the good old days. And they stretch into tomorrow, next month, next year, and into eternity. Roads that don't end, with the one who first loved you along-Jesus. Return to Him now, so many roads, and so little time. But He knows, and provides eternity-to ride with Him.

Romance may come and go in a season. The love of Jesus lasts forever.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

would you like fries with that?

Every once in a while, I just want a regular hamburger. Nothing fancy, just a burger patty between two buns, with ketchup. Maybe a slice of American cheese. So when I get the look from the waitress like Jack Nicholson did in Five Easy Pieces when he tried to order toast, I know I'm in trouble. Why would you want just a burger when you can have a peanut butter/gourmet cheese/range raised/gluten free bun/with organic ketchup and organic onion and tomato? You have to ask? Veggie burger or some turkey parts thing-that's unconstitutional! Yet, we have become a designer oriented society. Continually coming up with new recipes-I will avoid the improved or so called better tasting here. It seems that we have become bored, and are trying to improve everything from coffee-now it's latte, to burgers. But some of us still like the old stand by-a burger, fries, and a Coke. It don't get much more American than that. Cue to America the Beautiful. "Oh beautiful for hamburgers...."

Now you can order your gourmet burger-you mean the rest of us up to our elbows in Double Double aren't gourmets? Excuse my paper napkin! But in addition you get trendy names, they get to charge more, and more than once I left still just wanting a basic burger. Not the Super Wally, or the even more Yuppie sounding Sonoma burger. Now we have steak burgers-ever hear of Steak and Shake-been doing it for over 70 years? How about a Portuguese Whopper, or a Monterey Burger? Can you even find Monterey on the map? I had a Mercury Monterey once. Isn't Portugal as a country going bust? And please-don't give me anything else named Mc Something. Gag me! While I get Mc Sick. I used my coupon for a free cheeseburger at Wendy's the other day-NO plain hamburgers were listed on the menu? What would Dave Thomas say? Wasn't he the one who told us the most important bites of the HAMBURGER were the first and last? Built a business on that, too.

Even White Castle-"Buy 'em by the bag!" has BBQ now and veggie burgers. Tommies will give you extra chili for no extra charge. "The regular" they advertise. What will the next generation tell their children? "Yes son, we used to have hamburgers, but no one wanted them anymore. They were like the Diet burgers you like, except they had meat. Let me show you a picture of one-hear they even tasted pretty good too." Seems fries have gone the same route, now you can have them with cheese and chili-YUM, Boardwalk fries, crinkle cut, Tater Tots, fresh(the others aren't?) or steak or thin. Want a Coke? Is that New, Diet, Zero, Classic, Cherry, Vanilla, or any diet variation of them? No wonder it takes so long in line. Never has ordering food taken so long, or been so exasperating.

Sadly just as we are losing coffee counters, burger stands, and the real thing-Coke, we are also facing the same dilemma in church. Just read the signs out front. "The friendly church" as he tells me I can't park my bike there. Any various combination of names including Baptist. Maybe they should put the infamous Rodney King saying on their sign, "why can't we all just get along?" And so it goes, from orthodox to fundamental, to liberal, to apostate, to New Age. Every generation tries to improve on what it felt what the previous generations failures were. True, no denomination was ever started thinking that it would do things worse-somehow without God it just ends up that way. Churches got religious. That was one reason they hated Jesus-He wasn't. He spoke the truth. No diet theology here. No give me a #2 without salvation. No supersized promises that no one could keep. You mean the Bible doesn't say that? He spoke the truth. Simply. Called it the gospel-good news. And it still is today where it is not only preached, but practiced. No coupons, free gifts, or two for one promises. Just the simple truth-we sinned and need a savior. His name is Jesus. Do you want to be saved, say yes to Him. No-go to hell. Your choice. Much easier than ordering dinner at a burger joint?

When you accept Jesus you get it all. Love, joy, peace, and patience. No picking from a list, takes too long. And you would screw it up anyway. "Let's see today, I don't have time for patience. Wish I could tell you how humble I am. Do I really have to screw up to get God's mercy?" I feel so glad that none of us go to the first Church of Pinocchio. We would never talk like that.

So just give me Jesus. Straight up. The way He has been for over 2000 years. Don't change the formula, don't add rules. Don't even tell me where to park. Or where to sit. Just give me Jesus. You can keep your rules, I'll keep my morals.

Funny, I don't recall when Jesus fed the 5000 fish and bread where he said "will that be fried or broiled? White or wheat? How many in your party? Or that will be $$ at the drive up."

Original is still the best. From burgers to Jesus, the gospel still means good news. And no matter what you add doesn't improve on it.

Now, does anyone know a scripture about chocolate milk shakes?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

it's about time

When I look back to tickling carbs to start my bike, then kicking it instead of pushing a button, I am reminded how simple life can be. When I think about how I used to pull out the choke to start my car, I am reminded of a procedure done by hand, not by computer. When I think of how we used to start our cars on cold mornings, then go back in for one more cup of coffee, I am impressed with how far they have come. For even then, if we did sit in it while it warmed up, so we wouldn't stumble off, we had no cup holders. Remember the first cups with lids on them, and how Circle K had a dash mounted cup? My friend Fred even put one on his motorcycle. Tapes won't play in extreme cold, so you had just an AM radio playing top hits, or listening to yesterday's news today. Listening for something new, but it being too early in the day for anything to have yet happened. With every five minutes being told how cold it was, just in case you missed a sudden surge in temperature. In your mind, but not your body, hurrying against the cold, only to repeat the procedure when going home. The only difference being attitude-I wanted to get home. Still do.

When living in Colorado, at 8300', our car would freeze to the road every night. Minus 30 degrees will do that. Sometimes 20 minutes of high idle wasn't enough, and you would still struggle to get down a hill, barely making it up the next one. Heaters only work when there is hot water, and you are reminded why they are called cooling systems. Why when is it below zero, the same cold blast of air isn't as welcome as on a 100 degree day.

We were part of the starting procedure, and it started with us. Push in the key, turn on the choke, after hitting the gas pedal twice, turn key and hope. Repeat key turning 3-4 times. Then sit and wait. The good old days. Now-get in turn key, and if it doesn't start immediately go to complain mode. Drive off after a few seconds, for the computer will compensate for rough running, cold, and even our own ignorance. Before we had to learn to drive, now people just point and steer-free to talk on a cell phone while they cut you off. Participation meaning it is all about me, I am in a hurry, usually because I am late, and everyone will know about it. Get out of my way-here I come!

Sadly people like this are this way in all of their life activities. They are the ones whose kids show up late to soccer. Who are late to school, and who climb over you while singing in church because they are late. Heaven help the one who points this out to them. But a consistency is present is all these cases-they are always late for practice, school, and church-because they can be. Stressed out, using every last second to have an excuse, then feeling no remorse when they are called on it. Late still means late. Stupid hurts. And the saga of "it's all about me" continues.

One night at a men's gathering, one of leaders got up to leave. He had to catch a plane to China. I asked, "shouldn't we pray for him?" The room got quiet, until another co-leader spoke up, "he's in a hurry. We prayed earlier." It got quieter when I reminded them that Jesus never hurried. And that He was never late! And He was always on time. Then it got really quiet.

I can also reflect on when I first got saved. My roommate and I would do a short devotion, then pray every morning. I had to be at work at 830am, about ten minutes from home. And even though I would leave at 825, or even 835, I was never late. Somehow God honored me, because I honored Him first. I learned not to rush, but to put Him first. Never once punching in after 830am! My first experience of obedience, honoring God, and putting Him first.

Where are you rushing off to today? In the world's eyes time is the only commodity that you cannot get back. But in God's eyes, time is timeless. He calls it eternity. So stop-there's that time thing again, and ask God to help you enjoy time more. Take the time when prompted by the Holy Spirit to stop and minister. Is it a surprise to God when the light turns red? Or the one in front of you goes so slow? Use your time wisely, guided by God, and watch as you control time-rather than time controlling you. David Bowie wrote "time can change me, but I can't change time." Another rock and roll truth. But get to know and trust the one who can.

Jesus Christ changes life. Walk with Him and you will never be late. You can have the extra cup of coffee-sorry latte you trendy types. For if He leads, you are just where He wants you to be. On a path He created, and in His time. Never late, never early-always on time. Even on warm mornings!

Get in, sit down, and listen! When it is all about Jesus rather than you, His voice comes through clearer. Even in a helmet! So relax. Take the time to ride with Jesus today. It's about time!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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summer of love, fall of man

It was my favorite receptionist's birthday yesterday. Lois, at Maranatha Chapel turned the same age as Bob Dylan. And as she showed me a signed poster of him, we got talking of music back then. Seems she grew up in San Francisco, and we talked of all the concerts and bands she saw at Fillmore West. Quicksilver, Country Joe and the Fish, Santana, and so many others, and we both remembered what a special time for music it was, the only difference she was there! But when I asked her about being up on the Haight, she said she was never a hippie. We all tend to group many different subcultures together, and just being young and loving the music then didn't make you a hippie. Haight Ashbury, an intersection of two streets, would come not only to define a neighborhood, but for a short summer in 1967, define a whole city, which it still does today. The Summer of Love it is referred to, and many look back at it fondly, but the truth is after this summer of drugs, sex, and rock and roll, it left a fall of man that still exists today.

Tune in, turn on, drop out. Drugs were used openly, sex was free, and no one thought of who would pay the bill afterwards. For after this season ended, in its wake it left an outbreak of VD, unwanted pregnancies, and a neighborhood trashed and disheveled. For all those who participated left the debris of their summer behind when they left, sadly some were human debris. A malady that today the free clinic started there still tries to recover from. We learned that when self is at the center, then the heart takes over, and the mind is governed by feeling. Not taking into consideration all the facts. We are then helpless to reason properly. Sadly, the fall of man was to be more than a season.

Sadly most of us only remember the great music, but like any circumstance where sin is the principal player, it leaves victims behind. But God, showed us then, that the creativeness in music then would translate into a new Jesus music, a season that still exists today. For one of the fruits born out of the Jesus movement was Jesus music. Where for years only hymns were available, God showed us true freedom in Him, not drugs or sex, and some of the greatest music ever came out of the next ten years. Love Song, 2nd Chapter of Acts, Parable, Chuck Girard, and others changed the face of music, and the hearts of men while worshipping God to a beat we all could relate to. Even reaching into the rock and roll Hall of Fame in the example of Richie Furay of Buffalo Springfield, who today is a Calvary Chapel pastor. You just gotta know that worship team rocks. Roger McGuinn of the Byrds, Carlos Santana, and others came to be Born Again, and worshipped our Lord, as did Bob Dylan. Which is why Lois had his poster. Truly what a long, strange trip it has been.

In the fall of 1976 I was a student at the University of New Mexico. A young Christian, when Parable came to play there at the SUB. A free concert, many came to listen, but when Jesus was shared between songs, the crowd thinned. But then grew as the music restarted. And over and over again repeated this, until many filled the room and heard the gospel. The same music that had defined a generation that led to destruction, when under the Holy Spirit changed lives eternally, only a loving God could do that. "I never knew that Christian music was like that!" was heard during lunch the next day, by many who for the first time heard the gospel of Jesus Christ.

And continues to do so today. In heaven we will be continuing worship. And there will be music. Why not participate in the opening act now. So many bands we never heard of will be leading us in worship there, join in now. We have so much to be thankful for, let's start the praise and worship now. Let our season of love begin, and never end. No fall of man, but the renewing of a whole new generation in Jesus. Now that's something to sing about.

Happy Birthday Lois, may you continue to sing the songs of Jesus in your heart into eternity. For He has given you the best birthday gift of all-a hope and a future in Him. Just like Bob Dylan sang, Forever Young. And forever is a long, long, long time!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

I was an urban legend

Life isn't fair sometimes. Make that most of the time. Take when the national speed limit was reduced to 55mph. To save gas we were told. But after the gas crisis, it stayed down, it was safer we were told. But truly it was a way for state and local authorities to line their coffers with our speeding violation money. And living in Jersey at the time, they were experts at it.

I lost my license in 1974, due to too many points. Speeding, and never got one on my motorcycle. Now before you say "what took him so long?" realize most of my speeds were less than 60mph in a 55mph zone. With cops hiding behind every tree, and even out in the open on I-78 west just where it meets I-287-a blue van that was permanently parked, that everyone knew about and still always had at least one car pulled over, I got ticketed for 56, 57, and 58 in 55 zones. I even got a ticket for 56mph coming back from my girlfriend's prom! Truly a sense of revenue enhancement, but strangely never caught when on my bike at much higher rates. Go figure.

One day Lance and I were going to pick up Merlin at the hospital she worked at. I had a BMW 1600, and we wanted to see if it would do 100mph. Which it did-on 287, just before we got off at her exit. Pulled over by a Dodge with the old 440 Magnum, it was a plain gray car with no markings. Doesn't seem fair does it? The guy who stepped out asked for license and registration and I thought my car would be towed right then and there. He even seemed unamused when he asked, "where you going so fast, the hospital?" And when I answered "yes," I figured I was done. But he didn't even break a smile, and wrote my info in a notebook, explaining he was out of tickets, and would bring it by my job that night.

At work that night I was still freaked out. And for a few nights after, as the man or the ticket never arrived. I even was scared that he would mail it, then my mother would know how fast I went, and add that to my list of punishments. No statute of limitations when it comes to mothers. Lance and I were still spooked, Merlin had said "I told you so," and now I was faced with losing my license, and having to pay a huge fine. And...the wrath of my parents. I was bummed. But something happened, or didn't happen. No ticket ever came. I was spared-my first taste of mercy. But, looking back, Lance and I thought we may have it figured out. When the car pulled up next to us, he held up a card saying "State Police Vehicle." And the driver was in overalls, like a mechanic. We had been stopped by a mechanic on a joy ride with a cop car! Probably not the first time he got his jollies, and probably explained why no ticket book, and no uniform. But just the fact he said he was a cop, and acted official was enough. We didn't know whether to laugh or cry, or seek this guy out, but figured revenge would only expose us, being the punch line of a joke and with a bruised ego was punishment enough for me. And somewhere out there in the New Jersey State Police garage the story is told over and over. I was part of an urban legend-and Lance was there to prove that it really happened. "I can just see that kid's look of horror when I stopped him. But I almost lost it when he really was going to a hospital..." And the legend lives on.

Urban legends, old wives' tales, or anecdotal events that may or may not have really happened. Some sounding so true that they are more believable than some real events. No age group, or no peer group is without them. Some based on fact, some based on here say. The seven sons of Skeva were like that. They were told of this man Jesus who had healed the sick, had the blind see, and the lame walk. How He even could rebuke demons and have them flee. So they approached a man known to have demons, and rebuked them. Only they didn't know that it took the power of the Holy Spirit to do that, and they turned on them. Beating them, and sending them away naked. With one question, "we know of Jesus, we have heard of Paul, who the heck are you?" They were smart enough to not stay and give an answer.

"Rejoice, the scriptures tell us, not that we have power over demons, but that your names are written in the book of life." And not written in a ticket book that day with Lance. I was shown mercy even though the butt of a joke, and even though my sin found me out. The Skeva brothers had no power, only words. Real power comes from Jesus, and His dad even tells us "not by might, not by power, but by my spirit, says the Lord of Hosts." And so once again I am reminded how it is better to trust God, and walk in the spirit than live under the law. I can guarantee that somehow today you will break one.

Grace, God calls it. Sometimes dressed as mercy when we are in sin. Either way, I rather walk in it than ride in a police car. Ask the Skevas, words mean something. And names mean something, too. Absolute mercy. Proving that angels can fly 100mph, even when in sin.

And also ask for ID when stopped. Many false teachers out there. For identification, ask to see their hands, only Jesus' will have the marks left from the nails. Accept no substitute. If only the Skevas had been so smart, but then we wouldn't have chapter 19 of Acts! Truly all things work together for those who love the Lord-and are called for His purpose!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

what is, not what if...

The more things change, the more they stay the same. As I look back on my history of riding motorcycles I find this to be true. Faster-oh yeah. Better brakes-indeed. More reliable-how about 2 year unlimited mile warrantees? So after being down sick for the past two weekends, I dug into my collection of magazines and caught up on reading from 1969 to 1989. 1000cc Sportsters that one writer questioned how anyone could hang onto so much power? Today's 400cc go faster. From 82hp Z-1's that would do run a 12.3 second quarter mile. Try 180hp. Try the Hyabusa who runs the same distance in 9.5 seconds! To top ends of over 155mph! Speed limited now by Euro laws to 186mph, or 300 kph hour if you want to seem really fast! But the more they changed, the same words described them-faster, quicker, newer! Without these three words those who design headlines would have had to search for newer words. Slower and older just don't move the merchandise. With just enough emphasis in their ads to remind you that faster, quicker, and newer is really what you wanted. The what ifs of your dreams. So you just had to have the new models. So you too could be faster and quicker. And at least newer until you had shown off to all your friends. Sad, because the one consistency that I was loyal to was the fact I could never afford them. $1995 for a Z-1? I was over my head on my 350 at $825. So I started/continued my career of what if I had the money, which is the basis of all dreams. What if. What if I had the two grand to step up to 140mph? What if I had the money to buy headers and engine kits to even increase the power? Looking back prices were low as compared to today, but it seems my income always met the same requirement-not enough. I remember passing on a GS750 because I could not afford the extra $300! Looking back my life was really a what is-and remains that way to this day.

Not that I have given up hope, but reality steps in when you wake up from your dreams. This is not necessarily a bad thing, for I have been blessed in my reality. But the words "someday" seem to end so many dreams that I still have. What if.... becoming consoling me, instead of the reality. For each of us it works at a different level. A twelve inch reach with a six inch grasp. How many times has the person who bought your old bike been as thrilled to get it as you were to get a new one? Seems we are all on the same trip, the road leading to what if, which is ridden on the road of what is. Someday being the consolation we find security in. With the only curse being that once our what if becomes a what is, a new what if will immediately appear to start the process all over again. Truly the more things change, the more they stay the same. So-let's go riding!

Perhaps the one thing, in fact the only thing that interrupts this process in life is Jesus. Once I came to Him, everything else paled by comparison. And He became the standard I judge all things by. Drugs-they wear off, and leave a trail of destruction. Like alcohol does. Women-God gave me the one He knew was best. 34 years later He is still right. Kids-if you don't have them you will never know the side of God as father. Don't try-can't be done. And save your bad advice for yourself, you don't get it. Jobs-I once made enough to buy all the toys, and found I didn't want to. For truly once you meet Jesus nothing else compares. What if? He is a who is. Where? Everywhere. When? An eternal right now. How? You must be born again. His promises-guaranteed.

Someone have a new revelation abut God? Blasphemy. A quicker way to riches? Try that one in Sudan. Name it and claim it? He already did that when He chose us. Why not pray simply like He suggests, "thy will be done." Ask Jesus, and He will give to you exceedingly abundantly-more than you could ever ask for or imagine.

Sorry-I don't mean things, so throw away the list. He ain't Santa, who doesn't come if you are naughty. Thankfully. He loves you the way you are. He brings love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, long-suffering, and self control. And when applied to the headline from the cycle magazines, you find He is faster-how about right now. Quicker-you want to see that again? Newer-His mercies are new every morning?

He tells us we will dream dreams. I like that. I still have roads to travel yet, on bikes I never heard of, but now they are now guided by the Spirit. His Spirit. Not a what if, just a when. For who is makes it all possible. What if leaves me wanting, Jesus never does.

With one final question for all who doubt, WHAT IF what they say about Jesus is true? Can you afford to be wrong for eternity? That what if is really a who is-Jesus.

Once again for the very first time the answer is still the same-Jesus. Quit fighting and start living. Your what ifs could be your what is right now! Is that quick enough for you?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

this time it's personal

Sometimes it is best not to say anything when trying to comfort someone in distress. I have seen in too many instances where someone who was very well meaning, shift the attention to themselves by opening their mouth. Perhaps the most common words I hear at funerals, in hospitals, or after a tragedy are "I understand how you feel." When I got hit two years ago, twice in one year, some very well meaning people, who I know care about me, tried to console me. One man in particular, told me "I know just how you are feeling. I understand just what you are going through." To which I replied, "really. Well I sure don't. Maybe you can explain it to me." His silence revealed he really didn't, but cared so much he wanted to.

I avoid saying things like that in any situation. Emotions are a very personal thing, and based on relationships. When people try to impress me with their knowledge, I'll ask "what does that mean?" Often times they don't know, or go into damage control. I guess you're not supposed to ask, just go along with the show. "Been there, done that." I hear this when I talk of the Hollister Rally. Oh, you were with me when Sonny and I talked about trademarks. And later when we passed crossing the street, he made it a point to stop and shake my hand, acknowledging me as a friend. With a smile. "We just got back from a trip, too. 1500 miles in two weeks." Mine was 11,000 miles in 37 days. Only 9500 miles and 22 days apart. We mean well, but we really don't understand.

Since I get to ride so many new Triumphs, sometimes I spend more time with them than the ride test editors. I know how they feel, and what they can do over 1000-1500 miles, not just a wild weekend ride. I can relate to what they say, and I know how they will behave in day to day riding. But I don't understand how they feel under full on, let's ride it like it's stolen conditions. Same bike, different riders. Different attitude. It's that personal.

I mourn for Angela and Olivia over the death of Josh. But I never could, or would want to go through what they are going through. It's that personal. I have sat and cried with Lynsay over Gavin, but never could know the pain in her heart for her husband. Or his pain for her, and how much he loves his family. There are certain things we are not allowed to understand, God has made it that personal. For without Him, they are just emotions. With Him, it's personal.

Religion tries, but tries to control also. It tries to take something intimate and bring it to a commonality. To make it impersonal so that we all can get along, so we can understand. Jesus never promised understanding, but a peace that surpasses it. And perhaps the best example of this is His mother Mary. When she became pregnant by the Holy Spirit, you could say that she was truly the only person in the history of the world to truly have the word in her-Jesus. No one else could make that claim. Something so intimate that no one could ever relate to it. So she trusted God, very simply the scripture tells us that "Mary pondered these things in her heart." It's that personal. Joseph would never know how personal, although the Holy Spirit comforted him also. But to give her a special place in Christianity takes away from Jesus. God wants nothing to come between us and Him. It's that personal. Ponder that in your heart.

That is why living in the spirit is the only way. All else is just a foolish exercise based on your own understanding, which Proverbs warns us not to do. Based on my experiences, the outcome to many problems would have only been worse. So in all your ways-includes everything and excludes nothing, acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths. No need to strike out on your own across unknown territory, He has provided the path. He has things under control, do you? Only in the spirit.

Take the time to ponder God in your heart today. Trust Him. Avoid opinions. Pray, listen to the spirit, then confirm it in His word. You will never have the word in you like Mary did, but God will make it so personal you will never care to compare. You will never understand how she felt, but God did. And He does about you too.

I have been in 48 states. You too? On a motorcycle? Coast to coast in under 70 hours? On a motorcycle? Eaten at Primonti Bros? No but had one like it. Been to Times Square on New Years Eve? No but watched it on TV. Maybe you get it now.

I think I'll try to be more like my dog today. She doesn't get it, but wags her tail when she sees me anyway. Love will do that. For money can buy a fine dog, but only love will make it wag its tail. Still don't get it, ask the only one who does. Just please don't tell me you understand. It's that personal.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

when there's nothing left to lose, and nothing left but the wind

60 years ago if you rode motorcycles and raced, you probably would have ridden your own bike to the track. Stripping off lights, fenders, and anything else you could to lighten it, you would have raced it, and then if it was still ridable afterwards, reassemble it and ride it home. You rode and raced for fun, and if an occasional trophy came your way, you displayed it with pride. But as the fifties brought us smaller competition bikes from Europe, many started taking them to the track in pickups, leaving the street bike for rides. Sometimes teaming up with a friend and sharing expenses. Then the Japanese invasion hit in the 60's, and their small 2-strokes were light enough to mount on a bumper rack attached to your Dad's Impala or Chrysler. Allowing many younger riders to race, and increasing competition. And allowing you to sleep on the way home while dad did the driving. Starting at a younger age, long before your dad would have. You were still having fun, and enjoying the freedom of the ride. If only life-school didn't interfere with your plans.

Then in the 70's someone discovered that the handlebars of your dirt bike would just fit inside a van's rear doors, and they became our new pit-on wheels. Sadly ruining many a racer's dream of romance, not fully understanding why some women didn't embrace the smell of racing castor, Eu de Castrol isn't for everyone. Or wish to go on a date with a headlight or handlebars looking over their shoulder. Expecting more than a dinner for two at a drive-up window, eating in the van. I even knew a guy who thought women were trying to control him when they offered to pick him up, until someone explained it to him, and also introduced him to bathing before the date. Changed his social life, but not his riding. Later in the decade trailers started appearing behind pickups, and then today we have Toy Haulers-self contained units with bathrooms, showers, kitchen, and beds-with storage space for our bikes. And instead of racing to win, now compete for points to win a championship. Counting the points so they know where they need to finish, not going out to win the race. And in between heats, watching TV with the a/c on, while eating micro waved corn dogs. Cold Gatorade and energy drinks. A long way from riding your own bike to the track, then racing it. A long way from bologna sandwiches, warm soda, and stale chips. And also a long way from the fun and freedom that enticed you about riding in the first place. Something had robbed you of your freedom, and where once it was open to everyone, now was a rich man's sport. And many leave because of it-the freedom of the ride and the fun of competition pricing them right out of the market. Too many rules, reminding us of why we started riding in the first place-the freedom. Losing their first love through no fault of their own.

Sadly I see this occur in churches. After meeting Jesus and enjoying the freedom He promises in the spirit, religion enters in. Man made rules via the church are made, and if they are not met, you are made to feel inadequate. The Pharisee taking over, telling us how by obeying their rules we are better Christians. "Read the Bible in a year, get closer to God." And true it will get you closer to God. But soon it becomes a burden, you miss a day, and then try to make it up. When asked how you are doing, the braggart asking tells how he is faithful, forcing you to lie. Robbing your freedom, and actually keeping you out of the Bible. Reminding you of how the law kills-but the spirit gives freedom. Life has interfered with your plans, and what should be freedom in the spirit, now becomes a legalistic burden. And soon they quit, and you quit seeing them in church, writing them off as having no faith, or worse yet, no Jesus. Killing the wounded, that they helped maim. The ones that Jesus died to rescue us from-the religious ones. Our decision, but maybe not our fault. When really it is the legalistic types that Jesus came to rescue us from. And just like the riders above, lose their first love. But thankfully Jesus never left us.

SOME TIME IN THE FUTURE

Three men regularly meet to ride on a Saturday morning. When one of them quits showing up, one of the others calls him the night before and leaves a message. Which he returns leaving a message the next morning. The two are discussing it while waiting for him, wondering if he will join them.

"Heard anything from Mikey?"

"Left him a message last night. And he left me one this morning. I had to listen to it twice, it almost sounded like he was drunk or high he was so happy. But you know Mikey, he never touches the stuff. He said he had hooked up with an old friend, and he was riding and hanging with him again. The name he mentioned almost sounded like Jesus, but I don't know anyone named Jesus, do you? Man he sure sounded good, I wonder who he was talking about? No one should be that happy."

Do you know Jesus? If not it is not too late to return to your first love. The freedom and joy you first had when you got saved is still available. The way out of religion, and into freedom in the spirit. A break from rules and those who impose them. Offering a joy to those who respond, a joy which is unspeakable. Taking us back to a simpler time when life was fun, and freedom had been paid for via the cross. If you wish to know this Jesus, please know He also rides. And can be found right now-even while riding. No rules. No regulations. No laws. Freedom via the spirit-which drew you to Him in the first place. Your first love-all others will be compared to it. Why not return to Him today. For riding only offers you freedom-only Jesus offers you the peace and joy that goes with it-anything else is just a lie. Ride with Jesus today. The antidote for when life interferes with your plans.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

normalcy bias

Gene Patton, one of the first Honda dealers in the US once told me of how a Honda rep pulled up to his British dealership in Cortez, Colorado. In their clean, white Chevy pickup, the man told him that for only $500 in parts and bikes he could be a Honda dealer. So he took a chance and did, and for years after the Brit bike industry died, he was still selling Hondas. At the time this was a big risk, as Japanese products were considered as cheesy, poor quality imitations of real products. But Soichiro Honda evidently didn't hear that, and built high quality, small machines for the world. At a time when a 250cc was considered small, and a Harley 74 large, he sold 50cc bikes-millions of them. Hondas he called them, and never mentioned the word motorcycles in his ads. Distancing himself and his bikes from the industry standards, he rewrote them. And the trade papers thought he would fail, for the first couple of years he spent more in advertising than the company took in-but he had a vision, and within ten years in the US of A, had completely changed the motorcycle market, and how we look at motorcycles. "You meet the nicest people on a Honda" went from sales pitch to reality. Culminating in the 1969 release of a 750cc, four cylinder, disc braked motorcycle that the world had never seen the likes of. All from a humble beginning out the back of a pickup. Honda had a vision, and changed our world like no one could imagine.

There is a psychological term called normalcy bias. Simply put it states that since you have never seen it happen before, it either isn't true, or can't happen. Honda proved it wrong. Steve Jobs with Apple proved in wrong. But it is not just relegated to business.

When Hitler took over Germany in the thirties, many Jews left. But the ones who were secure in business, and had money stayed. They ignored the warnings because they had never seen anything like was warned before. And sadly became part of the 6 million who were slaughtered by Hitler. Ignoring the warnings, and losing their lives.

In 2005 Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans. The citizens were warned the levees were weak and could fail, but many stayed because they had never seen a levee fail in their lifetime. Sadly many of those aren't around to tell of when they did, they were swept away by water when the levee failed. And like the Jews who stayed behind, didn't have to die if only they had heeded the warnings.

As we watch the news today, we are able to see and hear the warnings. Social, economical, and moral collapse. And sadly men do not take the warnings of the Bible. Even though the Bible can point to over 200 prophecies fulfilled about the Bible, they trust banks, stock markets, Ouija boards, fortune tellers, and Hollywood movies. "This Jesus will never return. I've never seen Him. It's all a story. The Bible is for children and women." And men, too. They ask for a sign, but over 200 of them don't satisfy. Sadly when Jesus appeared to over 500 people after His crucifixion, they didn't believe then either. But it is not about them-it is all about Jesus.

And He is returning for His church soon. Not Baptists, Catholics, Presbyterians, or any specific denomination. He is returning for those who have faith and believe. those who have given their lives to Him-not based on what they see, but what is in their hearts. Things that are not seen that are not seen are eternal. Everything else will pass away. You may not ride a Honda. Or be related to any Jew from Germany pre-Hitler. You may not have ever been in a hurricane or to New Orleans. You may not go to church, and even make fun of Christians. You may even take God's name in vein. But the warnings are there. And Jesus is patient, waiting for you. He takes no joy in the passing of anyone, and extends His offer of salvation today.

Normalcy bias. Sadly those who fall prey to it are never around to say they were wrong. Don't be counted among the dead or missing. Read the Bible and then compare it to what is going on in the world today. Trust God. He is the only way out. And also the only way through it-if your answer is no. Today is the day of salvation. Take Jesus into your heart.

You still meet nice people on Hondas, only in Jesus will you have salvation. And it doesn't matter what you ride-or even if you ride!

The spirit of anti-Christ is alive and well. Found in those who deny Christ. Normalcy bias. He is coming back just like He said. Once again for the first time. To borrow from Honda, "from mini to might..." He is returning for all who call on His name. Is that your voice He is hearing? Do you hear His?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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no gas, no battery, no clutch-all is well

"Mama said there'd be days like this, there'd be days like this Mama said, Mama said..." And with my mother being a Murphy, I might even go the Murphy's Law way, but that wouldn't be fair either. Let me explain. I had been down for a week with a head cold that took up residence in my chest, so I couldn't do my hospital visits. Finally feeling well enough, I decided to go see Roscoe too, at home, and thought it would be a great idea to ride my old Suzuki. It doesn't get ridden much, it had been over two months, and I had to jump start it to get it going,the battery was weak, and I figured the ride to Fallbrook would be enough to charge it. So off I went taking the back roads, and enjoying myself. No traffic since it was a weekday, and when I had gone 10 miles I went on reserve. With no stations until Fallbrook, plus the fact I didn't want to stop-it might not restart yet, I kept going. And all was well until I got into town. When the light turned green, I pulled in the clutch and SNAP! The ball snapped off at the lever. I had no clutch! So I pushed the bike to the side, getting out of traffic. It had been 30 years since I had broken a clutch cable, so it seemed only fitting that it happened on a 33 year old motorcycle. I guess they just don't make them like they used too, anymore.

So here I was-low battery, needing gas, and no clutch. But at least I feeling better, for now. I said a quick prayer from the side of the road, and figured I would get to Roscoe's if I could. By rolling the bike then banging it into gear, I could shift up, but downshifting was hard. Also I had to judge lights, hills, traffic, and other things so I wouldn't have to stop. Things which were no big deal when you have a clutch. So I rode on-God honoring my simple one word prayer-"HELP!" And in keeping with the day's activities, Roscoe wasn't at home-Rick had taken him to the doctor. So after dropping off the cookies Theresa made-did I say I had them tied to my right wrist in a plastic bag, I took off for home. Roscoe lives on a hill, so I had parked accordingly, and the battery was charged, so I didn't have to bump start it, but still had to bump it into gear once it was rolling. With no clutch!

Again using patience, and trusting God's guidance, I started off. Please note He is a much better pilot than a co-pilot. If He is going to be your co-pilot, why even ask Him along? And taking back streets I made it to the edge of town, and down Mission into Bonsall, where I got gas. Chugging along when riding in, then pushing it on a downhill and banging it into gear when I left. The two sport bike riders were so young, they might have thought this is how the old bikes were ridden, but hid their smiles from me, at least. Then it was off again, using u-turns and timing to get home. Only having to use the freeway the last few miles. Even got the garage door open so I could coast in-ok, it did take three times around the cul-de-sac, but God got me home safe. And safely.

But when I got on the freeway , and I knew I would make it, I began feeling confident in myself, I began to lean on my own skills and understanding again, just the opposite of Proverbs 3:5, you know trust in the Lord with all your might.... And then He reminded me of Peter seeing Jesus walking on the water. When Peter saw Him from afar, he called to Jesus, and Jesus told him to come. And Peter then performed his famous water walk, not by faith-isn't faith the evidence of things believed and NOT seen? And Peter saw Jesus, no he acted in obedience. Just like I had trusted God to get me home without a clutch. But Peter, like me, when he got close to Jesus-his destination, thought he could make it the rest of the way on his own, and fell in. So close that Jesus only had to reach down to rescue him from the water. While afar and he could see Him, he obeyed. But gaining confidence, in himself, he fell in-taking his eyes off the Lord, and disobeying. Thinking he could make it without Jesus. And I didn't want to fall. When I realized this, I immediately repented-stuck on the side of the road is no joy no matter how close to home you are. And maybe this is why so many accidents happen close to home-we get familiar and don't trust God. We lean on our own understanding, when we really need to seek Him at all times!

A Christian's walk, or ride with Jesus is a 24 hour walk. Why would you not want to? But pride can enter, and that is where we fall. I could have blamed many things for my day, but chose instead to trust God. Even amazed myself. And He got me home. Like Amazing Grace tells us, "tis grace that brought me here this far, and grace will take me home..." God is with us, even when we are riding. Reminding us of how much we need Jesus in our lives. It's tough enough with Him sometimes, I wouldn't want to go through life without Him.

And to put this all in perspective, it was two years to the day I had gotten hit on the Bonneville. Too much for one day for this mortal man, but not too much for the son of God. Alive to ride another day, with Jesus, on the road to heaven. Whether on the water, or on the road, keep your eyes upon Jesus. Truly-obedience is better than sacrifice.

Enjoy the ride.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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a street by any other name...

Looking back, growing up on Algonquin Drive was a pretty good thing. Although it came close to never happening. Not because of where we lived, but because of some identification issues Scotch Plains had with the name of the street. The street was initially called Trenton Avenue, in a neighborhood where the streets were Princeton, Jersey, Elizabeth, and Newark-all Garden State cities the locals would be familiar with. But Trenton was the only one with access from Martine Avenue, which didn't go through to our side of Trenton. The colored section-probably dates me pretty well, and a huge woods we referred to as Land of the Jinx because of the sticker bushes keeping us from it were there, and McGinn School wasn't built yet in its place. So they decided to name it Mohawk Lane, only to find that name was already taken by Westfield, which adjoined Scotch Plains. And due to the fact we got our mail from the Westfield post office, our mailing address was Westfield, although we lived in Scotch Plains. Two Mohawk Lanes would be too much for any one post office to handle, even when they made money. So they named it Algonquin Drive, which even worked out well for the real estate agents when they completed the street up to McGinn, naming the development Algonquin Village. Which led to jokes about finding a village and being its idiot, which led to many discussions under the street lamps at night as to who was the latest idiot, mostly based on whose parents had busted them and made them obey. Even at a young age, the word NO had a tremendous impact on social standing. And to this day Algonquin Drive still doesn't go through from Martine. Maybe it was a wise decision after all.

The houses are still there on Algonquin Drive, but the names and faces are different. The last memories of the street for me are 1975, but really are based 10 years earlier, when the neighborhood was as far as I dared go, and at that age there was no reason to go any further. I knew all the kids on the street, and even those who didn't have kids. You knew to stay out of Marie's yard, and could almost forgive her because of her 1963 white Grand Prix. Kickball was always safe to play in the circle by Chris Farley's, who lived next to Kenny Stephens, who was older and had a go cart. Scottie Aldinger's house was a great place to play hide-and-seek, with Kenny Corsi-my mother called him Nutty Kenny living next door. Who always called his parents Henry and Elsa. Sadly he would prove to be the sane one. Knowing where Ricky, Donny, Raymond, the Kelly's, Joey, Eddie, and others lived, you felt safe at all times, even walking home after dark in the summer. It was home, and there was no place like it. And to those of us on Algonquin Drive, it was the only place to be. No matter if the street had an identity problem, we lived on Algonquin Drive and that gave us a common bond. Long before some psych teacher told us about them. Makes you wonder is there nothing that adults and their so-called knowledge can't ruin.

It was on Algonquin Drive that I learned to make decisions. How I learned to tell time, and was able to make it home by 830pm, leaving no time to spare, no matter where I was-not wishing to waste one second of my kid time. I knew all the short cuts, and how to cut through back yards, or not to cut through back yards to make time. How the time was shorter on my bike, and how to slow down enough so I didn't have to stop to cross Hetfield Avenue-a busy street, maintaining speed for the last 100 feet. If nowhere else but my mind, I had a well worn path of where to go, and how to get there. A path that always led to home, after putting my bike away and trying to shut the garage door quietly if my calculations were off due to an extension of fun on that evening. Where if late, I was reminded of it, and promised to never do it again-at least until next time. It was a friendly street, a neighborly street, and looking back it may have been a more important place than I ever gave it credit for.

Now when I visit the street seems so small. It hasn't changed in size, but I have. Where the Farley's at the end of the street were so far away-I had to ride my bike there, now it is a short walk. But a longer walk in my memory. I know Theresa gets tired when we walk and I tell her of who lived where, and what we did. I can see it in my mind's eye like it was yesterday, she only sees it now as today. Without the point of reference I had as a kid. And for a moment in time, I am still that 10 year old kid, remembering being a kid, with dreams of growing up. But now as a grown up, longing for the days of being a kid again. Free from responsibility, free from adult decisions, and with a lifetime of memories still ahead. Maybe it is true you can never go home-but you can go back.

But someday you will also go home. For as Christians, we may now live on earth, but this is a temporary address. We are sojourners-I love that word, travelers here for a short time, and then to our home in heaven. Where all the dreams you have will fall way short of what is awaiting us. Better than imagined, better than told about, it is a perfect neighborhood. But sadly some of your friends from the old neighborhood may not be there. Without Jesus they will never see heaven. So it is important to pray for them. To share with them at reunions. To encourage them in the Lord. You can never go back to the special times, but you can look ahead to the even more special time called heaven. A place where summer nights never end. Where time spent under the streetlights with friends go on forever. Where you are never late getting home, and never have to promise to not be late again. A time where there is no time, and where the joy never ends. An extension of your childhood street, a place you never thought could be improved, a place called heaven. Where Jesus and others who believe are. A place where everyone knows your name, and where even more memories await. Not the end, as death tells us, but the beginning of eternity. A place you don't have to go back to, for you will never leave.

Growing up on Algonquin Drive it seemed all roads led to it. There were many ways to get home in a hurry when late. Only one road leads to heaven-Jesus Christ. That is the only road to follow. Before it is too late. There may be stops along the way, and detours and things that take our minds off the trip-but He will get us there, on time. In His time. For all time. The street you grew up on may have a different name, but the road to heaven is only identified by Jesus. Many roads-only one way.

With only one way it should be as easy as naming a street. It's easier. Trust God. He knows the name of your street, and your name also. Where you live now, and where He has built a home for you in heaven. And some day you will go home-heaven calls. And just like the promise in Psalm 23, He still leads us on paths of righteousness. Make the right decision and follow Him today. Truly there is no place like home.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

last 8 digits of the VIN please

A few years ago the Federal Government made it mandatory to put a content label on all vehicles sold in the US of A. It would not only tell where the vehicle was manufactured, but where the parts came from. For example, final manufacturing point-Detroit , Michigan. Engine-Detroit, transmission-Canada, and then a percentage of where parts came from- 65% of parts in this vehicle are from the USA. Sounds simple enough. American cars built in the USA, German cars in Germany, and Japanese cars in Japan. And you would be wrong.

What could be more American than a Chevrolet Camaro-built in Canada? Nissans, Toyotas, and Mazdas, fine Japanese products, imported from Tennessee? Indiana? Michigan? For those of you who just can't wait to move up the ladder to your German luxury SUV, how about buying an M Class made in Tuscaloosa? Or a BMW from Spartanburg? South Carolina! Even looking at a lowly Ford the other day, it was made in Detroit, but the engine and transmission were from Germany! Now which one is really an American car? Or German?

Confused? Try this-Honda used to make motorcycles in Ohio, and at one time was the largest manufacturer in the US! More than Harley! Kawasakis are built in Nebraska! Since the 70's! Did you know that Harley uses parts from Japan? Things like batteries, suspensions, and electrical components? But the biggest travesty, unknown to many is that the Triumph Bonneville, perhaps the most iconic motorcycle model in history, since 2006 has been manufactured in Thailand! Yup, Thailand. They have two factories there just to keep up with the demand. "Blasphemy!" you scream, yet without knowing it, you may be riding an English bike, with Japanese parts, built in Thailand, and sold in its primary market, the US of A. Is nothing sacred? Does that make this no longer a Brit bike? Does it lose its heritage? Yes, well no. Maybe! Screw it-I'm going riding!

"I'm a Christian," she says. "I belong to a church, was baptized as a baby, and it is a large denomination. My parents and my grandparents went there, and I was raised in a Godly home." And she would be wrong. No one is born a Christian, filling out a membership card won't get you into heaven, and your genealogy is no guarantee of salvation. Your birth certificate may say California, but that even won't get you into heaven. You must be born again. Not a suggestion based on the above, but a change of heart. Your heart needs to be born again into life! So-what do you do? Join a club? A church? Hang out with other Christians? Read good books and do nice things? All of these are not bad in themselves, but offer no salvation. Only Jesus....

But He makes it easy. 1-Admit you are a sinner. 2-Realize you are separated from God at birth by sin. Ever wonder why you don't have to teach a baby to say "I want?" 3-Repent-turn from sin. Believe Jesus died for you. It takes faith, not understanding. 4-Ask Jesus into your heart. Pray and ask for forgiveness, and for Him to come into your heart. Like Romans says, "believe in your heart, and confess with your mouth."

And your name is written in the Book of Life. Right there next to all the biggies in the Bible. Right there with all who confess Christ!

It takes faith-just a little. About the same as realizing Bonnevilles are made in Thailand. Unbelievable, but it's true. BMW's in South Carolina. Seen the plant, it's true. And broken lives made new through Jesus. I know, because I once was lost, but now I am found. Despite my past, my friends, my riding, and my sin. I'm born again!

Any questions of where you are going? Ask God using the guidelines above. Make it personal, He wants to. And don't worry anymore of where you are from, or where you are going! Heaven awaits! If Triumph can build Bonnevilles in Thailand-anything is possible-Only Believe! Trust God and hang on for the most exciting ride of your life!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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everybody must get stoned

Misery must like company, for wherever it is there always seems to be a crowd. Seems there are many things we won't share, but misery is not one of them. Find one person moaning and complaining, and pretty soon you have a crowd. Throw in an attorney or two and you have a class action suit. Negotiate with the accused before you go to trial, and accept an out of court settlement, and we all live happily ever after. The attorneys that is, the rest of us are still surrounded by the misery we started with, with only our pockets lined with some green to make the pain more bearable. No one has accepted guilt, usually part of the agreement, very little has been done to correct the wrongs, and sadly once you have been compensated, you cannot deal with the problem again. Double indemnity the courts call it, for our protection. Sadly, none of us feel safer.

Back in the time of Jesus, Roman law prescribed stoning for capital offenses. Offenses that today seem like misdemeanors back then were taken seriously. Adultery for instance. Our society is so taken by adultery that TV shows brag about it. Books are written on. Billboards offer attorney's help, for a fee, but no one wants to confront it for the sin it is. But the Romans did. The same Romans who used the cruelest form of punishment regularly-crucifixion, also used stoning as an effective punishment.

The accused were taken into a field after the court had found them guilty. No rights here, and the entire village was required to attend. And were required to participate. First the witnesses would throw large, heavy stones at the condemned. Then all in attendance were required to hurl stones until the perpetrator was dead. This way all were guilty, but none could be accused individually of causing the death. By spreading the guilt around, all had a hand in it. So as a witness, your words better not be gossip. Not a judge, but an executioner. And as a citizen, you would be sure to have blood on your hands.

When Jesus was confronted with the woman caught in adultery, He uttered the famous words "he who is without sin cast the first stone." We can only speculate on what He wrote in the dust, but as our savior He is privy to all our sin. His words were potential death sentences for the crowd. And as a witness to our sin, would have been required to throw the first stone. He was/is witness to our sin, and our guilt, and according to Roman law should have cast the first stone, but instead chose forgiveness. Reminding others of their sin, the crowd left. His words-"go and sin no more." Great advice for all of us who are guilty. His forgiveness available to all who were there.

But being there in the crowd, if she was stoned, He would have been forced to stone her also. The law. Never any salvation in it-it only points to your sin and ends in death. Only heavenly intervention saved her, and also Jesus from betraying His real purpose-to seek and save those that were lost. Mercy and grace we call. Once again thwarting the devil's plan to trap Him.

So often we are in similar circumstances, and must remember Jesus' words. Go and sin no more. Trust God when in the situation to get us out of it, not betraying what we believe or who He is. For this story, like all other stories and parables, are referred to by the characters in them, but are really about Jesus. Not us. Jesus. And they are told to remind us of His deity, His love, and His power, and how when in the spirit we have authority over sin, and even death.

We all deserve stoning. Guilty as charged, get out the stones, for everybody must get stoned. Question-since we are all guilty, who would be left to stone us? Once again, the foolishness of the law. Thankfully Jesus took all the stones for us. The cross took care of that. Remember the words of Jesus, and how He changed this woman's life. And how He has changed yours. If you were in the crowd, you would have had to pick up a stone also. And been required to throw it. You see, we are all guilty-except Jesus. Even when the Pharisees thought they had Him trapped, to make Him a killer and a judge, jury, and executioner, He rose above them all in love. Not condemning them or the woman-for His advice is for all. Jesus never threw a stone at anyone. Can we say the same?

Witnesses were always required to cast the first stone. As a witness of Jesus, can we put down the stones we carry, and offer love to those who accuse us? What does our witness say about Jesus? Can we love the sinner, but hate the sin? To all those who have attacked me, or who ever will, I say "go and sin no more. I forgive you." Interestingly we are formed out the dust, and that is where Jesus wrote that day. Words written in dust, for a person made out of it. A command, not a suggestion. Good advice, Godly advice. That only works when taken. Are you stoned, or just stupid?

Lastly He asked, "where are your accusers?" Resist the devil, the accuser, and he will flee. Go and sin no more. Love then, and still today covers a multitude of sins.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

blondes, nat Geo, and the truth

You may not realize it, but whether you are sleeping, riding, eating, or just hanging out, you are travelling 1000 mph. That's right. 1000 mph. Didn't know that did you? I learned that recently myself when I watched a Nat Geo documentary of what would happen if the earth stopped spinning. You see the planet earth is in fact spinning at 1000 mph, or 1666 feet per second. No wonder time seems to fly by sometimes. But as it rotates on its own access, it is also orbiting the sun every 365 days or so. At a perfect angle so that we have seasons, tides, distinct land forms, and weather patterns. Just a coincidence? And you say you need proof that God exists?

Watching this secular based show about doomsday, which is a popular theme in the science, entertainment, and fringe religion communities these days, they took the theory of what would happen if the earth stopped spinning. Interesting. Just a 5mph difference would change ocean patterns, and the landscape of the world. And using their example, the slower it got, the longer days would be, and then the longer the nights would be. Snow in Miami, and no rain in Kansas. Canada would become an ocean, while the ocean would become dry land. 180 days of daylight at 130 degrees, then 180 days of night at below zero. All forms of life would be affected, as the earth slowed in its orbit. For sure, something must be in control. Truth be told, it is really a someone.

Which to me showed the true hand of God. So much for the Big Bang theory-something had to exist to bang! Why when God created the heavens and the earth did He make us different? Where is the missing link? If science can prove how perfectly balanced the planet is in the solar system, why can it not believe God created it and holds it in His hands? For if it spins even slower, or faster-catastrophe. If the axis is tilted by 1/2 of a degree, all weather changes. And in some cases makes it uninhabitable! Who else but God could keep all this under control?

Take the Second Law of Thermodynamics for instance. It states that all things are in a constant state of atrophy. The aches in my body proves that everyday. They are not getting better-they are eroding. Just the opposite of what the theory of evolution tells us. And God reinforces it even more-we went from perfect to imperfect when Adam and Eve sinned-not the opposite! Watch as whenever science tries to disclaim God, He is always proven. But with all this evidence, why do some still not believe? What does it take?

It takes someone to pay the admission price. To admit us back into the presence of a loving God. To open the eyes of our heart and not be misled any longer. Simple faith. It takes the Holy Spirit reminding you that you need Jesus. And Jesus showing you He is the only way to the Father-and heaven! It takes just a little faith and no understanding. Yet when proof presents itself, the community at large doubts-because they don't get it. They cannot rationalize a loving God sacrificing His own son so we can be reunited with Him. They don't get it that love is not an emotion, but a person.

That is why when Jesus met Nicodemus in the garden, he told him he must be born again. Physically he was ok. But spiritually he was dead. It took the second birth, of his spirit, to meet the God of Jacob and Abraham. It took a spiritual awakening-it took Jesus! For it is the spirit that will carry into eternity, where new bodies await those of us who believe. I can handle that! The only thing that could take him from doubting in a secret meeting to risking it all to be at Jesus' grave. It took faith. And he did it all without the Internet! No twelve step programs, conferences, book tours, DVD's or weekly meetings. Just like today!

What will it take for you to trust God? All the evidence is there. How low will you go? For Nicodemus, a rich and powerful Pharisee it took being confronted with Jesus. Just like it takes today. Believe in your heart, confess with your mouth and be saved. And He even provides the faith. If He can hold the whole world in His hands, imagine what He can do with your life?

Science has theories, the Bible has facts. In the beginning, God-Elohim, out of nothing created the heavens and the earth... Which do you trust to take you into eternity? At 1000mph it may get here sooner than you think!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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