During our last visit to my parents, I retrieved a box of slides from when
I was 4-5 years old. Due to finances, I finally go them transferred to a DVD,
and watching the 258 of them is a great experience. Amazing how some 55 years
ago I have vivid memories of the events in the pictures, but have to look at my
shirt to see what I had for lunch-or was that breakfast? Some great pictures,
showing the good times I did have when growing up, and reminding me how much my
parents loved me. How things really looked, not the retro facade presented
today, and how exciting it was for them. They had just begun their family, my
father had taken his first job-his only job, and the one he would retire from,
and there were some old pictures from our house on Westfield Road, before we
moved into our NEW home. From snow, to summer, I was always seen smiling,
playing, shoveling snow, and enjoying myself. Just as I remembered it. Much
different pictures than the videos parents take today-in the stillness you could
see so much more. And as I watched them over and over, I realized how
blessed I was. Oh for just one more Christmas as a 5 year old.
But then the pictures stopped. And from 5 years old until now, they have
no pictures of me. They quit taking them. So when I questioned my Mother about
this, she wasn't sure. Maybe they just didn't enjoy it anymore, or maybe they
just couldn't afford it. She also said my sister was the same way-no more
pictures. And I wondered, was it because they quit doing things? Had they
reached a point where life interfered, and they just endured it. Had they
realized all their dreams early, and now were in it for the duration? Who had
stolen the joy from them that showed in all the other photos? What made them
change?
I was thinking of the real riders I know. More than other riders, they
love to travel. And have no plans of quitting. 60-70-80? Just a decade where
they went more places, saw more things, met more people, and ate more great
foods. They saw sunsets from a beach, and sunrises coming over mountains. When
it came on the Travel Channel, they had been there. Or were planning to go.
They enjoyed the fellowship of others with the same heart, until one day they
just couldn't ride anymore, the body had worn out. And when this happened, then
they got old, and died. This is as opposed to the others who had grand plans
when they retire, and quit living. They got old fast, and life waned until they
finally died. Old before their time, and their age. Time and money-just never
spent it. They had quit taking pictures. The best way I have heard it
expressed is, "I didn't quit riding because I got old, I got old because I quit
riding."
And while some gave it up for families, and other reasons, they are now
experiencing the thrill again. Kids are gone, some money in the bank, time is
available, and it's just the two of them. And as I meet more and more of them,
they all agree they wish they had never quit riding. For it brings so much life
to their life. But fortunately are still young enough to enjoy it-there is
still time to ride again. The Kodak moments are still happening.
Noah impresses me as the kind of person who would ride. Anyone who can
start a project, the ark, at age 600, and put up with insults for 120 years, he
must have ridden. He was a true 1%er in Bible times. Noah vs. the citizens.
Wonder what his patch was like? His perseverance while living in a tough
neighborhood was amazing. Not bad people, just not like hi, in bondage to other
gods, and didn't know it. And when he would speak of rain, which had not
occurred yet, they thought him nuts. I'm sure there were times he got on his
bike and just hit the roads. Probably a dual sport back then. But when it came
time for the rain, God kept his neighbors out. WTO Noah! He lived. But they
too had a chance for life, but had chosen death. They had quit taking pictures,
and were so busy with life, they wouldn't listen to God's message. And when the
rain came, and the door was sealed, it was too late-life would be over soon.
And it didn't have to be that way. It was a choice each one made.
We don't quit living, or taking pictures all at once. We start by missing
a Little League game, then a birthday, then pretty soon it has become a habit.
Let the excuses begin. Never realizing the selfishness in the decision to
stop. And soon the kids are gone, and it is too late. They take the memories
with them, and start a family of them on their own. We can fall into the same
trap with God. Missing church for other things. Passing up reading our Bibles
because we don't have the time. Then Bible study, prayer times, and soon we
have no photos. We have stopped taking them, because life has interfered. And
we wonder why time is flying, and taking life with it. And where are the
memories that went with it?
Jesus tells us that soon He will call His church home. Don't wait. When
that door to heaven closes at the rapture, you will be stuck here. It will be
too late for many to restart life, or too accept Him. It will be too late to
ride again, go to church, or to dig out the old photos. Memories will have
faded, as today and survival will become the most important item of the day. So
return to Jesus today. Repent-turn from whatever you are doing, and turn to
Him. Start the memories process again. Get out and start riding, and start
living again.
And for those of us who never quit, remember the good times while building
new ones. Invite someone along, and when people see something different about
you, tell them about Jesus in your life. We are part of the greatest revival on
earth right now-don't miss it! And remember-Jesus never left us-it is us
who left Him. Aren't you glad His camera never stops? And aren't you glad He
never stopped riding? Trust God today! And let the film begin! So many roads,
so many meals, and so many sunsets to ride into. Don't miss a single one. See
you on the road. You can recognize us by the lady on the back with a camera.
For when you are living life, you want to remember it and share it with others.
Share some today.
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com