mall ministry-it must be someone's Judea

I would like to go on record up front that I am not a mall person. I never have been, and hopefully I never will be, but since open heart surgery this past summer I have found myself frequenting them often. I can go years in between visits, but with 100 degree heat in Albuquerque this summer, we found them a great place to walk. When the weather is too hot, too wet, or too something, I find sanctuary in the environs of a roof covered and climate controlled outdoor sidewalk-which is now indoors. And since it rained just enough yesterday to not walk, my daily therapy, I took advantage of our local mall on the way to Bible study. Just some observations, the following is true, and I got no names, so I have no innocent to protect.

After walking in three different malls this year, the first thing I noted is they are all the same, all the same mall branded stores. All manned by mall type people. Which can be scary to me. While walking yesterday the holiday crowds were out, heavier than I expected on this Thursday morning. The buzz word here was kiosks, as they were everywhere, which made walking difficult at times. And using the old idiom sex sells, most were manned-or is it womened, by young, attractive women, who were very forward trying to get you to stop and buy something. One girl did get me to stop, a small traffic jam was ahead, and wanted to know if she could talk to me. "Sure, if you want to walk with me," I answered, and I was told by her, "Oh, you're not a shopper." What a compliment! Maybe I should set up a kiosk selling shirts that announce that! And I counted at least three stores selling the same shirts, why go elsewhere to be unconvinced?

And some strange kiosks, jewelry. Now why would I buy jewelry from some street vendor who will be gone after the 24th? How does this make the long time retail residents feel who have spent big money on renting a storefront? I noted too many young girls selling perfume, please note we all don't think you smell good, or even attractive. Most of it is repulsive. I had one guy offer to clean my tennis shoes, to which I responded "you telling me I have dirty shoes?" On my return trip he was on the other side to avoid me. But among the strangest kiosk, was one selling spatulas, metal ones with sports teams engraved on them-Sportulas! And as they lonely young guy sat reading his Kindle, no one stopped, although a few of us chuckled. Please note-do not ever give me a spatula, and I will return the favor. I wonder how that looks on his resume, retail experience selling spatulas. But one guy I did talk with was just lonely, so I listened to him, and we ended up talking about check engine lights, his subject of choice.

He was selling Dell computers, right across from Jamba Juice, and we talked while watching some toddler, under her mother's watchful eye pull straws off six juice packs, then put them back, smiling and complimenting her, but not buying anything. I wasn't sure who needed slapping, the kid or the bimbo mom. We talked as I waited for my Pumpkin surprise, and I could tell he spent too much time keeping smoothies from the keyboards, and stupid mothers from letting their kids touch them. When I asked about sales, he said they were slow-would you make a major purchase under the watchful eye of some smoothie policeman? He did say he had sold four, to each one of his parents, and to his step mother and step father. Sad to increase your customer base through divorce. But just another day at the kiosk center, aka the mall. If you see an ad for slightly sticky computers, new, not in the box, check for smoothie damage.

And so it is with the mall culture, like duh, like...fill in your next exchange yourself. But I marvel as these $8/hour people go to work, hawking goods that they themselves might not purchase unless given a discount, knowing that you never tell their families, "hey come by and see where I work." Works even for extended families through divorce, etc. So I wonder why we are so reticent to share the gospel sometimes. Not enough pay? No convenient kiosk? Like, well man, you don't get it. And many never will if you don't look for the opportunities to share Jesus. In just about any conversation you will get a chance to show love, and listen. Even while wiping smoothie from your mustache. And just letting this Dell guy talk, he was relieved. I listened, and he didn't have to worry about me-he doesn't know me yet. But perhaps if we took the initiative and trusted God to lead us, we could be more of a blessing. And blessed. One on one, I'll call it mall witnessing. Which due to a rainy day again I will be forced inside. And I'll stop to see the Dell guy, share some love with him. But not my smoothie.

I am going to stop and engage the spatula man, if he doesn't mind having his Kindle time interrupted. Let him talk, then listen and respond. No threatening aggressiveness, just some time to let him think about Jesus. How many times have we looked back and wished we had listened to the urging of the spirit when talking with someone? Don't let that happen today-let no kiosk get between you and Jesus.

I still don't like malls, but find them a sanctuary in a storm of heat or rain. If you do frequent malls, stop and visit. Leave your church mentality at home, and listen-God will give you a chance to minister. We are not here to fill churches, that is God's job, we are here to be light in the dark. And after reading some shirts, and watching people, this is as dark a place as anywhere. Here's one for you, how about a mall ministry? So let your light shine, wish them Merry Christmas. They all have something to say-but so do you. Earn the right to share Jesus, maybe the best reason ever to go to a mall! We need more of the gospel-take it to a kiosk by you today. And keep your smoothie to yourself!

Maybe that is why you never see motorcycles parked at the mall!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

name, rank, and social security number

Right there in English in red letters for all to see it says "Not for identification purposes." Yet this card, and your number is used to identify you by the government of the US of A and other lesser enterprises. So today with so many numbers and passwords that are readily available to all who seek them, whether illegally or legally, it is hard to find your true identity, but easy for anyone else. They call it identity theft, and I have been victimized twice, the perpetrators being very low end thieves or just plain stupid picking on my accounts. But yet it happened, and you feel violated, as has anyone who has ever been robbed. But when it happens by mistake, user error, it doesn't make you fell any better.

For those of you who think that one Michael A. Mohn is one too many, I know of another. We both banked at the same bank, and both would use the night deposit drop, the precursor to the ATM. My other namesake was a sheep rancher, and after going to auction, would put an envelope of thousands of dollars of cash in the drop box, with only his name printed on the envelope. And with a 50/50 chance of getting it right, sometimes they didn't, and I would get a phone call, "please disregard your bank balance, we put the $9000 in the wrong account. We will cover any checks until you correct it, please note it is not yours." I never knew the other Michael, but can only imagine how he felt getting a similar, yet disheartening message telling him the money you deposited is not in your account. Scared and wary at first, when it happened more than once, I began to take it in stride.

But it seems we both had our houses financed at the same place, and when he didn't make his mortgage payments, I got a foreclosure letter. Which really cheesed me off, but I got a phone call first from the mortgage holder explaining the mistake, and that all had been corrected, and nothing derogatory would show up on my file. Do the words "hi I'm from the government, and here to help" mean anything to you? They do to me. Fortunately when I moved out of state, changed banks, and sold the house this came to an end. This two same names in a town of 13,000 caused a big problem, I guess I should be glad I'm not John Smith in Metropolis, on Main Street.

Revelation 22, perhaps the happiest book in the Bible tells us we will all have special name that Jesus gives us on our forehead for all to see, no two alike. It seems we have to get to heaven before the record is straight, and God knows it all, and is just. A more than fair argument for separation of church and state, at least in terms of identifation. But in Chapter 13, we find that those left behind are given a number, 666, representing man on their hand or foreheads, and those that take it have no chance for salvation. And it seems that God has used Satan's example for His own, when just the opposite is true.

To all you who think Satan is stupid, he isn't, just evil. And knows the word better than you ever will, he has been face to face with God. Since in the beginning was the word, and still is the word, he has read it many times, even twisting it in the Garden, and trying to deceive Jesus. Don't argue with him or his followers, you could lose the argument! And although he knows the end, this origin of lies even lies to himself about it. And having read through to Revelation 22, knew about the forehead ID and name before you did. And so copied it, performing it first, and leading people astray. Having those left behind showing who they follow, while we get ours after we follow God. He is devious, be careful. He is the counterfeiter, not God, so make sure who you follow. There is more to a name, and your identity in Christ is powerful. The only thing that keeps you out of hell is Jesus-and you don't have to go. You can call on His name, the one who is faithful and true, and be assured of eternal life.

Which beats getting your bank accounts confused, and having your house foreclosed on, guilty until proven innocent.

So make a true deposit in the future today, turn to Jesus. You can't take your riches with you, but you can send them ahead by blessing others. It is who Jesus says we are that matters, and woe to those who are turned away, being told "I never knew you." For those He saves have their names written in the Book of Life, not sure which name, I just know mine will be there. He knows my name, and knows me. Do you know Him? The ad asks "what's in your wallet?" The real question is what's written on your forehead?

The devil or God? Heaven or hell? Name or number? Even the best computers can confuse things, isn't it better to trust the one who is perfect? Just in case there is another named like you out there? Jesus-name above all names! No confusion there, and He calls us friend. He knows your name, do you know His?

love with compassion,

Mike

identification.blogspot.com

proclaiming the good news

It is almost winter, so for me that means the new model years motorcycles are just hitting the stores. After reading anything from spy photo shots with rumor stories to artist renditions of a highly anticipated new model, magazines become the new beacon of hope for those who cannot get out and ride. For some companies it is exciting as new models are finally here, and as much as they are desired, our bank accounts haven't kept up with the progress. For others it is new colors of the same old bike, which still somehow makes us desire one. Yet others do a little custom work, jack up the price, and through clever ads-which we always fall for, but never admit to, flood the showrooms. It is winter, we can't ride as much, or at all, but we can go and sit on one in a heated showroom, while looking at snow piled high just the other side of the windows. Outside it is winter, but inside it is warm, and in our minds we are riding-just not on the road yet.

And for me it means new motorcycles to ride as Triumph redoes its press fleet. With four new models, I will be again riding bikes the dealers haven't seen yet, and the magazines haven't tested. In warm weather, where the only window that separates me from reality is the window of opportunity. And how fast I can put 1500 miles on the new model before I take it back for another. More than colors, the smell and feel of a new bike that no else has seen quickens the senses, and makes you realize how much winter sucks, and how far away spring can be. Wasn't it only 90 days ago you were complaining about the heat, and the time went so fast. Why can't winter pass as quickly? And after seeing how the new models are faster, quicker, and lighter-on a per pound basis they just got way more expensive-good thing we don't buy motorcycles by the pound. But we still greet them with the same enthusiasm as new car owners did to longer, lower, and wider 50 years ago. Now being substituted for words like traction control, ABS, ride-by-wire, and even cruise control on the touring models. Yes it looks like winter will last longer again this year because of what we have to look forward to. God, grant us patience-NOW!

Years ago Kawasaki knew of our desire for spring, and introduced plans to buy your new bike in the middle of winter, and then pick it up in the spring. I even did this once with a BMW, which really made it worse when spring hit, I picked it up, and the next day it snowed. Even Triumph ads a few years back proclaimed "Winter Sucks!" and hurt us more than helped us through them by offering special deals on bikes we could ride, but only look at until spring. And the beat goes on...

Yet this proclamation of good news, the gospel of springtime, good weather, and new motorcycles gives us hope when the weather is at its worst. And as we go, proclaiming spring is coming, we are also told by Jesus to "proclaim the gospel, and make disciples. Preaching the word, in season and out of season." Seems He knew something about our desire to ride in winter. But many misinterpret this as they either think preaching means inviting someone to church to let the pastor preach at them, or deluge the poor unsuspecting with their version of it. So when I saw a young girl interrupt while I was listening to a homeless woman, asking "Do you know God?" I knew she meant well, but was rude. Not only to me, but to this woman also. She had an audience, me, and in a world where no one listens to the homeless, I was. Sharing the gospel. In love, but after being interrupted I left. Winter had arrived, but the gospel wasn't in it. Words mean nothing without the love of God to back them up. If only we would listen to God, but our actions tell more of how we don't than how much we do sometimes. A lesson to all of us...

The gospel is simply the truth that God has already done. And how He wants to do it for everyone, not just the so-called special ones. We are all special to God or He would not have sent Jesus to die for us while we were yet sinners. But many endure winters in their lives without concern for others, only looking forward to what they want, or what they think they should do. Perhaps that is why Jesus fed the hungry, not the poor. He gave drink to thirsty, not the poor. He clothed the naked, not the poor. And He was seen visiting those in jail or sick, not just the poor. He listened, then met the need. He saw the needs in the people's heart, and ministered to it. His words mean something, do yours? Or are they just another repetition of a trained sermon, for without love we all are just a clanging symbol to the world. And lately those symbols seem to be right next to my ears-can we show compassion instead of just telling someone about it? Can we take a minute to show Jesus instead of just bragging about Him?

A good ad makes us want to go into the dealer and ask questions. Does your life want people to know more about Jesus, or when they see you coming cover their ears to deaden the clanging symbol? Jesus taught in the church, but ministered on the streets. He is love, is that what we show others? Are you inviting someone to church, or a club meeting, or inviting them to know Jesus? Are you in the Word? Is the Word in you?

For over 42 years I have endured winter waiting for the springtime of new bikes, new roads, and new friends that appear each year, sometimes despite me. How many years has the gospel endured, not because of you, but because of Jesus' love? Correct-tell the truth, rebuke-it may be harsh, but sometimes CPR of a soul is needed, and encourage-show the way, and lead if needed. Call them, don't wait for them to call you. Don't just sit on the motorcycle wishing you were riding, get out and ride. Cold days you can dress for. Snow piled high along dry roads makes a great escape. Take the gospel to others with the enthusiasm we have for spring, and whether it is for a new bike, or just a chance to ride the old one again, look to Jesus. His gospel is the only agenda we should have, and when shared with great patience and careful instruction in love we shall see souls saved, lives changed, and winter won't seem as long.

And you can always sit on a bike not facing the windows if it still snowing outside, away from the harsh winter. Don't turn from Jesus. It is only 100 days to spring...but today just may be the day of salvation for someone you know...or for you? Don't miss any chance to ride, or to share the gospel. Or it may just be a good time to catch up on your reading, I know this book, a best seller, if you're interested....It may be winter to you, but to someone somewhere a snowmobile is just waiting to be ridden.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

cool, but warm

It's starting to get cold here in So Cal, so cold that day riding is in the 70's, and gets to the 40's at night. Jacket weather with a sweatshirt underneath-remember all of us seasoned riders know to dress in layers, and time for the winter gloves to come out, and on. But only at night. Years ago I started wearing deerskin gloves while riding, no matter the time of year, and now feel naked without gloves on while riding. We were told by the old timers then that gloves could protect you when you had to touch a warm engine, and keep the 100 octane off your hands when tickling the carbs. Plus they are comfortable, so I still wear them today. Shorties, cut off at the wrist, with full fingers for all you too stylish to have your fingers covered so your skull rings don't show. And I wear out a pair of gloves a year from all the riding, seems just when they get really comfortable they are too stretched and don't fit right anymore.

But over the years I have accumulated gloves, and one pair of snow mobile mittens in my riding wardrobe. I have deerskin gauntlets for cooler weather, no lining needed, and even three pairs of cold weather gloves when it gets below freezing. Gloves for every occasion, or at least for every climate I may encounter. Function way before form as I have no nylon, plastic, or non-animal skin gloves, except if you don't count naugha as a proper hide. I'm comfortable, and even warm on cool nights, and prefer to be riding rather than in a car with the heat blasting on me. I'm addicted, and I know it-get over it!

Now for all you safety driven riders, I don't wear a jacket when it is hot, I love riding in t-shirts and jeans. Just like McQueen did, but for cold nights I can dress like Brando in my leather. Or James Dean, still cool, but warm. Years ago a friend had a Belstaff riding jacket, the old English type that weighed 100 pounds, smelled like the swamp, and you used to melt candles to keep the rain out. But it worked, and today they are over $500 new, this is probably the only used item never to buy-one whiff and you'll know why. But a few weeks ago I made a concession to style, and bought a Tour master Rincon that has the looks and feel, and the protection it states, for less than $100. It fits, it's light compared to any of my five leathers, it's warm, and I look cool. OK, I hope I do. But it works, and now I have even another choice to make when the weather gets cool. After any years of riding in New Jersey, Colorado, and New Mexico winters, I still don't wear long johns, and refuse to be seen in chaps. I know, "they keep the cold out," my wife says, but the Rowdy Yates style never sat well with me, no pun intended. If you are going to wear leather, wear leather. With the exception of the posers who wear them all year round, or the girls who almost wear them at biker rallies. I'm talking guys who ride here, not the so-called lifestyle types. You all know who you are, if not, ask one of us. And with my Arai, I am ready for any weather, any road, at any time of year. Just a matter of which bike I ride today, let's see , Bonneville or Tiger? When did riding become so difficult?

Years ago there was a popular poster with Jesus on it, quoting someone other than Him stating, "let them wear their hair as long as they want." Good advice, as I will never join the shaved head/future man looking agenda until a comb over is obscene, so I wear my hair to my shoulders. Keeps my neck warm in winter too. It's that he never said it. But too many people are turned off, or on by religious things and quotes attributed to God, when He never said them. You would think with all that He does have to say it would be easier to quote than misquote. So when I see some squeaky clean, no hair out of place guy carrying a shiny, leather Bible cover, I get scared. I don't find these types out there, or in scripture. Guys in suits, skinny ties, and white shirts, too cultish. I find no dress code for godliness that Jesus spoke of. Dress comfortably, even in a suit and tie if that works for you. Even though it creeps some of us out. All Bibles look new once, break in the new one quick, a worn out Bible tells of a life that isn't. Be more aware of what is on the inside rather than the packaging of it. Be yourself, a full time job for me, and let Jesus shine through you, not despite you. When it is hot, He keeps is cool. When cold, He is warm.

I tell visitors to church when asking for our pastor, just look for someone helping someone and that is probably him. If you believe, your life should reflect what you believe. Your lifestyle will have life, not just trendy clothes. For God looks on the heart and not the outer man. A good lesson in figuring out just who you are in church with, or riding next to. It is getting tougher to tell us older riders as the full face helmets keep the bugs out of teeth, and even younger guys with shaved heads look older. Ask around, you can tell those who ride. Don't be misled by a pretty bike and a shiny leather. Or don't be misled by some guys carrying a book that isn't the Bible, but has the name of Jesus on it. Those of us who ride know who we are, and those who belong to Jesus Christ know who we are. Better yet, He knows, and that makes all the difference.

Jesus knows and is the real thing. No posers in heaven, although they may occupy some churches, and pulpits. Get to know God, and don't stray from Him. Stick with what you know, and you will stick with who you know. The signs remind us that Jesus is the reason for the season, but no matter the weather, Jesus is truly a man for all seasons. He just knows how to dress for it. Do you? To be ready in any situation. Dressing in layers, the most important part being what is inside. Or really who. Who is inside those shiny leathers is more important than what covers them. For out of the heart...Jesus Christ, cool, and always comfortable. Are you?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

Thanksgiving and the day after-revisited

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving, we did, thanks for asking. But this year I took the time to reflect on Thanksgivings past, and how this one was different. Thanksgiving for us meant a big meal at Grandma's house, a huge 25 pound turkey, and sometimes a ham and a duck. The house would reek all day, and of all the good things that go with it-mashed potatoes, corn, sweet potatoes, rolls, and the smell of apple and pumpkin pies. Just waiting for whipped cream to be piled high on them in this pre-Cool Whip generation. And for my Dad it was his once a year oyster stuffing my Grandma made for him, all for him as no one else would eat it, or even taste it. Then after a few rounds of eating, and a small respite in front of the TV, we would retreat to the kitchen, where my Grandparents would make us meals in old TV dinner trays to take home, and so we could relive the meal one more time. No desserts were ever included, as ice cream and pie were always in short supply by evening. An early bed called as you were exhausted from all the activities, and then up early to go to Hess Brothers, or Hess's as we called it.

Hess Brothers was an old line department store, high end like a Macy's or Nordstrom's is today. We were up early on this Friday morning, no Black in it yet, and off to Allentown. The store was four or five stories tall, and took up an entire city block. We would all pack into Grandpa's Buick or Cadillac-all six of us, and we were off. No rude or greedy people lining the streets waiting for it to open, but we would huddle in the coffee shop across the street. And we had a plan, as it took a plan, as the store would soon be filled with customers. When the store opened at 9am, Grandpa would head for the downstairs where The Patio was, Hess's restaurant, and get in line for its opening at 11am. The rest of us would go through the various clothing and shoe departments, mesmerized by all the Christmas decorations. The large marble columns would be wrapped in tinsel and signs of Santa were everywhere. It was hot inside, and you not only had to carry the winter coat that felt so good outside, but all the purchases made in your Hess's bright colored bags.

Lunch was special, and as I got older and found out girls didn't have cooties, thought how cool the Patio was. As a kid they would serve your meal on play stove, while models would walk around in the latest fashions, telling you how much and which floor they could be purchased on. No stove for this big guy, I was too busy staring. It was high end, and while still full from yesterday, still found room for my hamburger, French fries, and Coke. With a slice of strawberry pie big enough for all to share. One time my Grandpa pointed to three men in a special booth, and told me one was Max Hess. Whether he was or wasn't didn't matter, Grandpa knew who he was, which meant Grandpa knew him. Boy was I impressed, and eating at the same time and place as Mr. Hess. Maybe a special pass for what lied ahead, if only I wasn't to scared to ask. For lunch was usually eaten fast as the high point of the day was drawing closer, no dessert for me, c'mon parents-for the top floor was devoted to toys, and toys only. Not only to buy, but with access to playing with them. Train sets like we saw in the catalogs, and kids waiting in line to try out the newest Lionel models. Slot cars sets, HO trains, electric robots, and other battery operated toys, and all for you to play with. More time spent in line than playing, but even watching had a magical effect. The hour devoted to this always went too fast, and then it was out and back to the car-thank goodness for good old American cars with huge trunks. And then back to Grandma's for, you guessed it, more turkey. A fun day being out without all the rudeness of today. Where the biggest bargain was being with your family, and playing with the toys. And the countdown to Christmas had begun.

This year there was no oyster dressing as my Dad is gone, this the first Thanksgiving without him. I hadn't had Thanksgiving with the family back east in years, but somehow I still missed him. It was the one meal a year he would say grace at, and we all were truly thankful for all we had. And even though we weren't together, we are still family, which is now being redefined. As my neighbor told of flying back to Indiana, then driving to Missouri-his parents are divorced, it just doesn't seem to be the same. As some celebrate Christmas and Thanksgiving over and over due to families breaking up, I am so blessed that mine is intact. And as kids go from one parent to another, from step or half this to another I get confused, no wonder they do. And as the family continues to evolve through births and deaths, I would like to add a prayer for it. That no matter what comes your way, you stay devoted to your families. Father be dads, love your wife. Mothers be moms, and love you husband. Don't let the kitchen be a strange place, or the dinner table an unknown area. Surround it with love, and watch as others are drawn to it. And kids-all of us, respect your parents, and love them, which is maybe the hardest thing sometimes. For a time is coming when you may not have Grandma's turkey, no more TV trays for future meals, and no more Hess's for the day after. We never fully miss what we have until we don't have it any more.

But the key to a happy and prosperous home is Jesus. Keeping Him first, inviting Him to your table often. Scripture tells us that man is head of the house as Christ is the head of the church, and how He would even die to protect us, which He did. By using His example of love instead of a divorce attorney's, or Oprah's, or anyone else you can assure yourself of things to be thankful for. And to this day I am. But if your situation isn't one like this, it can be. It starts with you, and your decision to follow Jesus. Let Him be the head of the house, which leaves more time for the family, and shopping at Hess's. Your love will make you a better husband and father, your wife a better wife and mother, and may even set an example for your kids to pass on.

So no matter your situation, be thankful. Give thanks with a grateful heart because God has given us Jesus. Don't wait until the next holiday to start, start now. Ask Jesus into your life. Take a different attitude towards your wife, and your kids. Listen instead of yelling, and find the time spent at the table is blessed instead of rushed. No one ever left eating with Jesus not completely filled-an example for all of us. I hope He was with you this year, if not invite Him to lunch today.

Corinthians tells us it the things not seen which are eternal, the things seen will pass away. My Grandparents, my Dad, and even Hess's is gone. But Jesus remains. Don't let a day pass without acknowledging Him in your life. He is there, invisible, but ever present. Only those with faith can see the invisible, it takes faith. He knows you, will you recognize Him if you saw Him?

Thanksgiving-all to Jesus. Thanks for all you have done, are doing, and will do. For my wife and family. Until that day we see you face to face, even though we can't see you let us reflect the things of Christ in our lives. Now that's true Thanksgiving.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

whattya mean I gotta come in?

Dinnertime in my neighborhood as a kid was anywhere from 5-7, depending upon when your father got home from work. And dinnertime always seemed to come at the least opportune time. Like when you are finally beating the kids on the next street over at kickball, and you get called to leave. And they invoke some unknown rule, that unless you have the same amount of players, the game doesn't count. Or better yet, they feel generous, and give you the fat kid that stunk at kickball just to even things out. Or it doesn't count, or worse yet you forfeit. You didn't listen when called, it would take the sister telling you dinner was or ready which was always a big surprise to you. "Tell them I'm coming," as you awaited her return visit. "Mommy's putting the food on the table," not yet quite the encouragement needed. "Daddy says now," was more serious, but when your friends would say, "Here comes your dad," it was serious. Dads had that kind of power. In our neighborhood, there was the ever present threat of the belt for disobedience. Some fathers would threaten, some would reach for the buckle, and one dad in particular came out swinging it. And with the unwritten law amongst dads that we all could get a whipping, a reciprocal agreement where someday your dad could beat them, we quickly obeyed and went home. Many times speeding past my Dad on my Schwinn, well outside of the scope of the belt.

One such instance was when Ricky's dad came out and swung his belt chasing Ricky into the house. "Get in the house," he yelled-with the belt coming down hard on Ricky's bottom. We all froze in fear, for we all could be next. "Better go home boys," and we did. We all felt for Ricky as we had all been there, and just as dads had this reciprocal spanking agreement, we also had an agreement to back our friend, and not remind him of the public licking he took. Certain rules never need be spoken.

And so as I watch the NFL on four days a week now, remember when Sunday afternoons meant football, they run an ad for Play 60. Encouraging kids to go out and play at least 60 minutes a day. Growing up that would have been a penalty, "whattya mean I gotta go out for 60 minutes?" It is like a man explained once about the minimum wage-to him it meant that's all I have to pay. And to many parents, 60 minutes is enough. "OK, you've done your time, go veg in front of your TV or video game." And recently certain libraries have banned snack foods in them, not for weight control, but it seems Cheetos leave a stain on the computer keyboard. Try that one in my neighborhood, playing meant outside with friends, with only the threat of dinner interrupting, and then continued after your five minute food intake and time well spent with your parents.

Outside meant out of the house, whether in your friend's basement or in the street-it meant not being home, and we all wanted to go out and play. I find a similar call in church, where we all want to go out and minister. But few want to go out, you mean out there? When I first got saved I had been told that you had to go to Africa and be a missionary, and I don't speak African! How comforted I was to hear that was an Urban Legend, that plenty of help was needed here locally. But still it takes getting out. For some a night out helping at a nursing home, for others feeding the homeless. For some helping street kids rebuild old motorcycles, and for some staying home and cooking, then delivering to someone who is shut in. It takes all types, but it takes getting out-when called. And we all know when God calls and we say no how miserable we can feel. Or how excited we get when He calls and we say yes-and the blessings come back to us as we go out to bless. But sometimes it takes motivation, like an extra trip from my sister, or finally my Dad showing up. Let's call it encouragement, or persuasion-friendly, I like that better. And it seems God calls when I am least prepared. The important thing is that if He calls, He already has the plan, the supplies, and will do what needs to be done, despite you. It is almost like He is offering you a blessing, and you say no. "Sorry God, I've had enough grace today. Can we get together on some rainy day when I can't ride?" Sound far fetched, we all have our own set of excuses. Losers have excuses, Christians have testimonies. Not enough blessings, try saying yes to God.

Jesus tells us the harvest is plentiful, but the workers few. I have heard many complain about the extra work because of the laziness of those called, but who say no. Until God reminded me one day, the more work, the more blessings. And so I choose to be blessed. Call it time well spent. And without fail the time passes quickly, and you are less tired than if you stayed home resting in front of the TV. So when God calls, obey. He may not send you to Africa, a sigh of relief to me, but He may have you watch some kids. Share with some teens, listen to an unwed mother. He may have you do something as simple as baking cookies for your kid's friends. Or letting them stay up late talking, less rules mean less penalties because less rules are broken. Keep ministry simple-feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, visit those who can't get out, and be friendly to strangers. Put down your cross, and pick up the one Jesus has to offer. Lighter and less burdensome-but you must respond when called.

How many of my favorite dinners were eaten cold when I failed to arrive on time. The extra Oreos and Devil Dogs never made up for it. Only to be repeated the next day, the next week, and the next month. Cookies, candy, chips, pretzels, and Coke are not the best food groups. So when God calls, answer. Let Him bless you, while you bless others. Whether excitedly, or being dragged kicking and screaming, go with God. Maybe the "Jesus has a plan for you" includes more than enduring a Sunday sermon. When your heavenly Father calls, it is always best to answer quickly.

For you never know when you might be the one called home, and you certainly would not want to miss that! And extra Oreos for those who hear the call of God and obey. For the rest of you, its either the belt or no dinner. Only Jesus offers provide an escape from the pain. Truly obedience is better than sacrifice. "But Dad," God hears from us. Imagine the smile on His face when we say "Coming Dad." Don't miss the chance to make your parents, or God smile today.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

a motorcyclists guide to the gospels

In the beginning God created roads, and saw that it was good. He then created motorcycles, to ride the roads, and for six day enjoyed the roads He had built. On the seventh day He rested, and planned more roads and more trips. But He felt alone on His rides, so He created man in His image, and they rode together each day. But as the universe spread, God had less time to ride with the man, Adam, and created woman, Eve to ride with him. They would all still meet each day, but soon after Adam and Eve would go out on their own. God provided new bikes and new roads every day, with only one provision. Stay away from a certain road, it will cause trouble, and death. And for awhile they did, until one day Eve was tempted by the devil, who twisted God's words to make them sound true. She headed off on this forbidden ride, and saw things that not only scared her, but excited her too. She found once she had started she couldn't turn back. She saw things she shouldn't, and didn't want to see, but yet felt like she had to share them with someone, and couldn't with God, for He had told them no. So as Adam listened, he too became curious, and as his interest grew, the threat of losing the love of his life, his ride and his riding, he followed her.

But something changed them on this forbidden ride. Riding wasn't as much fun anymore, now it felt dangerous. They actually thought they might crash, something never considered before. When they got back they noticed they were naked, and Adam decided to kill and make leather for them, "just for protection in case we fall," which they already had. He made both of them chaps and leather jackets, and weren't sure what God would think of their new outfits when they meet the next morning. They had killed to make the leathers, something never even thought about. They had shed innocent blood to cover their sin. But leather only can cover and protect you from so much. So they tried to hide from God, who questioned them, and they admitted to riding this forbidden road. This hurt God very much, as He enjoyed riding with them, but He was honorable to His word. No longer would they have great paved roads, but only dirt roads. No more new bikes, they would be forced to use the old ones, which would soon wear out due to the rough roads. And they were forced to ride alone, as they had disobeyed God, and couldn't face Him. Although He never left them, the relationship changed. Riding would never be the same again.

As the roads got worse, the bikes wore out. And as newer riders were interested, no new ones were available, so they had to repair them. They developed forks and shocks to deal with the rough roads, and soon many just lost interest-horses won out over horsepower. Roads were no longer fun, but functional, and many riders just didn't or couldn't any more. A minority was left to ride out of once had been a majority.

As the people became despondent, and even more rebellious, God sent them Moses to give them a set of rules to live by-the Ten Commandments. Six for relationships with to deal each other, and four with God. He hoped they would change, and could all ride together again some day, but they rebelled even more. And added more laws, which brought more rebellion, and pushed them farther from God, and the roads He had created for them. Soon the roads were dangerous to all. But some were hard core, and still rode, and still sought after God, they knew He hadn't forgotten about them. They hoped His promise of a savior to reunite them with Him was soon, and that all would be on two wheels again, just like it had been in the beginning. But due to the hard hearts of them, it took thousands of years of patience, and soon those who rode were considered outlaws, and persecuted for their belief. Black leather became the outfit of outlaws, and anyone who rode was an outlaw. But never losing sight of God sending for them, and rescuing them, they continued to look for His return. To ride with God again.

Hope came to them in the form of a carpenter from Nazareth, not really a bike town. He came into town, Jerusalem, just as prophesied, but riding on moped, instead of a dresser. Humble, with no chrome, He would be the way back. How could a moped rider change the world? God had sent His only son, Jesus, to show them the way back. It was about the rider, not His ride. To be the way, and truth, for all who rode, and those who chose not to. To shine on the right path so they could follow. But this upset the non-riders, who turned to the government to have Him dealt with, to put Him away. "We can't have all these leather jackets, they'll upset our way of life." They turned against His club, His 12 disciples, and some of them fled too-but only temporarily. And as the prejudice grew towards Jesus and those who rode, they called on religious men, telling them He was a threat to them too. But during His public trial, He was found innocent. Yet the crowd screamed for His blood, and Pilate finally gave them a choice of who to crucify-a political dissident or Jesus. One guilty, one innocent, before man and God. It looked like no one would ever ride again after this.

On a dark Friday afternoon, Jesus died on the cross. And after three days, His tomb was found empty. He had beaten death, He had risen, and was out and able to ride again. And He still does today, welcoming both riders and non-riders to follow Him. To show them the way back to God, and to heaven. He shows no prejudice to the moped or dresser, the cruiser or sport bike rider. He doesn't care whether you ride a Harley or a Honda, or even drive a car or bicycle. Or choose to walk or ride a horse, the same invitation is offered to all. Turn from evil, repent, confess with your mouth and believe in your heart that Jesus is the son of God,and is God, and you will be saved.

Ride more and enjoying it less-you need Jesus. don't ride but want to-you need Jesus. No desire to ride the roads God created-Jesus is still the way. Turn to Him today, and be riding this afternoon. Looking forward to that morning ride, that time spent with God. Very intiment, very special. Just as God wants it, and did it all for you.

Heaven awaits those that believe. Set your sights on things on high-heaven, and follow the ultimate Road Captain on the eternal ride of your life. No pain, no rain, no bad weather. No high mileage bikes or bad roads. Gas is cheap, high octane, and paid for, and everyday is a new ride. If interested contact Jesus today. The road you are on does matter to God. Just reach out and ask Him-"God forgive me..." And now you know the rest of the story!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

you're on my mind like a song on the radio

Desert racers have a term called "clean air," or "running clean," which means they are out front, with no one else's dust to eat. And they can not only see ahead, but behind them, and any cloud of dust approaching them is another racer making time on them. On our recent road trip in the car, I was reminded of clean air, or rather the lack of it, going through LA and points north. I don't mean the smog, but the clean air, or lack of it on the radio. When in a car I like to listen to local stations, who tend to play different songs not based on any preset format. Clean air let's call it, whatever mood the DJ is in, we can either rejoice in it, suffer through it, or change the station. And with so many so-called Classic Rock stations to choose from, they all sound the same. Until coming home through Santa Barbara, and we hooked into a small station for a while. Playing non-formatted music, Sgt. Pepper to be exact. And not just LSD, or A Day in the Life, but played three songs of side one-for you old album types, Fixing A Hole, Getting Better, and She's Leaving Home. To me some of the best on the album. And it took me back, to a time when FM was young, and so was I....

WABC was the hot station in New York, Cousin Brucie, Scott Morrow, and HOA lit up the dial. But a new style was forming called FM, and in the late sixties WNEW-FM became the first station to have no format. You heard groups like Chicago Transit Authority, before they became CTA, and now just Chicago. You heard the album cut of Light My Fire, not the gelded AM version. Quicksilver Messenger Service now just Quicksilver, Blood, Sweat and Tears, Lighthouse, Gordon Lightfoot before he could read your mind, and Hendrix Band of Gypsies. Music like Ten Wheel Drive that got you moving, all classics before the term went mainstream. I remember the night they played Abbey Road, both sides, non-stop, the day it was released. And we all were amazed, truly the Beatles good-by album was the best. Never gonna see that again. We listened as we heard music, not just songs on the radio. We were mesmerized by In Memory of Elizabeth Reed, and Whipping Post by the Allman Bros., and amazed at the harmonies of Poco. We heard horn sections, brass, and drums making melodies, with the sound of a leslie induced organ filling my soul. Whoever would have heard of LOVE, their Forever Changes album every bit as creative and exciting as Sgt. Pepper? We learned bass lines could be rhythmic, that Ringo perhaps was the most under rated drummer, and songs could flow one into another-it was music, and it was musical. And these three songs on this nameless station, while driving in a car opened up the floodgate of memories. If music be the sound of love-play on!

But not all stations play music, some are just bad, reminding us of how far music has fallen. I still wish I could buy a filter to keep both country and western from my radio. Or how I am reminded of trips across the Midwest, and listening to 5000 watt stations, with advertisements telling us that Louise's Get Gas and Eat Here will be closing at 7pm for her niece's birthday, but will open again at 6am as always. I miss the old ads that were so bad they had a charm of their own, and after a few hours of hearing about the sale at Briscoe's, you almost felt bad you couldn't make it. Two ends of radio, but both moving the soul. Making the foot bounce, the heart sing, or just becoming a new friend to a new town. Somehow although only listening, you were a part of it. No strangers here, just old friends we haven't met yet. With the best music yet to come, although it has been here before.

I find many times the Holy Spirit works like this. I keep looking for answers, and seeking up and down the dial of life. When the whole time God's still and small voice has been coming through. A familiar voice, a song I know, but sometimes seeking a song that I haven't heard before. Or one giving me a different alternative, one that is easier, but not as rewarding. But He is always broadcasting, long before we're up, and long after we go to bed. We are never out of range from His signal, yet it can be cluttered up by dirty air-stronger stations making a louder sound, but not producing the music only Jesus can. Sometimes a good beat, but when the song ends the feeling does too. It is only the spirit of God that can keep us going, who can make our hearts sing, and sing along with Him. It is only in the spirit that all the other noises are cancelled out, and we hear the voice of God purely, His master board using every range within our hearing, and some we have never heard before. It is only through God we can go places, see things, and hear things not available to the untrained or unsaved ear-it is only God who can stir the soul, taking us much deeper than any emotion. It takes Jesus, and a relationship with Him, and looking forward to hearing Him and from Him. Classic God if you will-not some prepackaged CD sold to anyone who will buy into it, but fresh and new every time you hear Him. The songs He plays are just for you, until you get together with other believers, and find out again, they are just for you-all of you.

God was for clean air long before smog became a problem. Or dust clogged your throat, or AM radio clogged your mind. Set your dial on Jesus, and let the good times roll. Hear the drums, dig on the harp, and the harpsichord. Groove with a bass line you never heard, and find yourself in a harmony with the one who created music. No 45rpm version, or AM version-you get the whole song uncut. You get truth it the way it was written, and the way it should be played and lived. You get Jesus!

I still like the classics, just not someone else's idea of what I should like. God knows, and has a whole set written just for you. Tune in, sit back, and enjoy the music. Switch off the TV, sit with Jesus and hear it all. And later gather with friends and groove on His love. Like the DJ once said, "put it in the first groove and let it wail!" Never knew Jesus was so groovy, huh? Classic love-24/7. Playing in hearts everywhere-set a preset for Him today in your heart. You will not be disappointed.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

ride 'em, don't hide 'em

I subscribe to a classic motorcycle magazine that advises "ride 'em, don't hide 'em." I like that, as I have always believed that. To a certain extent. Let me explain. The main purpose of a motorcycle is to provide transportation, it needs to be ridden to be functional. And as a victim of MMD, Multiple Motorcycle Disorder, I try to exercise all my bikes on a regular basis. Some moods take me back to the 1978 Suzuki GS1000e, when other moods call for the Bonneville. Yet other times I just gotta get it on with the Street Triple-something about the front wheel coming up that still excites me. Add into that two up on the Tiger, and the various press bikes I ride, and I rather ride than hide, 'em. Different moods for the same road, and each time the road is ridden on a different bike it can be like the first time. Entrance speeds, exit speed, and leaning way far too over in the curves makes it more exciting. And when I encounter someone who rides for the economy of it, as in "I get 75mpg," I think they miss the point. If it is a matter of economics, car pool, use their car. Ride your bicycle, even better mpg. They want to reduce our way of life to a common sense argument. What they fail to realize is the freedom in riding, and also the fun.

How many of you who commute in a car take a longer way home, just for the ride? Or to spend more time in the car? Those of us who ride do. And even get home sooner than you do, fully relaxed, and with a smile instead of a frown on our face. When asked "how was traffic," we reply we took the alternate way home. Do you know how many mpg you get at idle while stopped in traffic? Anything more than zero is wrong. Yet we get treated like second hand citizens, by a crowd who professes to know and care, but doesn't understand, and could care less. Ride for fun? You mean, I have to hang up my cell phone while riding? No way...

Fun is only good if it is enjoyed. Maybe that is why you never see a motorcycle parked in front of a psychiatrist's office. Therapy-we got it. Peace of mind, ok with me. Economy-you already spent too much on your car. The ride? Aha, remember it is all about the ride. The bikes, the people, and the roads. Great times even when nothing is going on. Fun can be had at 35mph on the right bike, or at 125 on another. And this year we are seeing the reemergence of small bikes. 250-500cc, which when I started riding were big, but now are small compared to 1400cc Ninjas, 103 cubic inch Harleys, and 1200cc BMW off road bikes. But with the size and power, they must be ridden harder to reach their limit, something not needed on a smaller ride. And like riding my Bonne, I am much more rider than it is bike-I can ride it to its limit, knowing I am safely within my own. And still having fun.

Now if fun is only good if you enjoy it, why aren't Christians having the most fun? We have Jesus, all our needs met, eternal life promised, and security in Him on earth. So why worry? Yet so many do, and when listening to a mother fuss over her son needing a car, she asked me, "don't you have kids? As if that makes it ok to worry. Yes, I do, and get very concerned at times, then go right to God. I let Him handle it before I do and I screw it up. I explained that to her, and added, "if their was anything in worrying for me, I would highly recommend it." And I would, but there isn't, so I won't. So go riding. For just like I subscribe to "ride 'em, don't hide 'em," I feel the same way about Jesus. Take Him with you everywhere, not just on Sundays to church. Don't hide your faith, but let it show in your life, giving style to your life. Don't look at all the negative things, the rules, or the laws religion places on you, enjoy the fun of knowing Jesus and riding and living in the spirit.

But how will I know if it's ok to have fun? God gave us a conscience, you'll know. Just look for the flashing lights, you'll know. And just like you will know which motorcycle is right for you, after 100 yards are you smiling? You'll know. I have ridden many bikes that perform, but weren't fun. Also some that my friends make sport of me on, some Harley friends call my Bonneville a moped, until the first throttle is twisted, and the first corner encountered. Too bad they can't see the smile inside my Arai. I'm having fun, at half the price, and twice the bike.

Like riding, Jesus is personal. So spend some time with Him today, get to know Him. Loosen up and enjoy the day with Him. St. Augustine once said "accept Jesus and enjoy life." I like that. Don't get bogged down with religion, but enjoy the freedom of the ride with Jesus. See more, do more, enjoy more. "Let the good times roll." He calls them blessings, happinesses.

Hey that last one just might make a great ad for motorcycling! All roads lead to a destination, only those of us who ride and know Jesus enjoy the everyday ride-and finally to heaven. Ride with Him today before fun becomes illegal. Have you ever heard of any law that added fun to life?

love with compassion, and a smile,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com