the last Noel

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

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

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

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

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

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

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

Ivan the lovable

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

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

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

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

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

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

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

time travel

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

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

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

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

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

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

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

Hudsons, Nashes, Ramblers, and the way back

Oliver E. Labar

October 27, 1990|The Morning Call

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

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

Pasquale J. Ronco, 86

Owned Auto Repair Shop In Bangor For 53 Years

March 08, 1995|The Morning Call

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

love with compassion,

Mike

matthw25biker.blogspot.com

where are they now?

Beaver is 65.  Kitten is 68.  Joanie is broke and living in a trailer park.  Wally is a sculptor.  Dennis is no longer a menace, counseling child stars.  Little Wednesday still lives on doing horror conventions.  Buffy od’ed at 18, and Arnold no longer asks “whatcha talkin about Willis?”   And so it goes with keeping up with friends we grew up with.  They may not have lived next door, but actually lived closer, as close as the TV in your living room, or in the den.  You grew up with them, struggled with them, cried and laughed with and for them, and stood by them like no other friends you would ever have.  A one way relationship, where you could see and hear them, but they never could see you.  But yet somehow you communicated with them and they understood your needs, for they were kids too.  And all came from good homes, Dad worked, no record of unemployment in the idyllic fifties and sixties, we watched as Herman went off to the funeral parlor everyday, Ward, old man, went off to the salt mines with Fred Rutherford, Dennis’s dad was an engineer at Trask Engineering, and good old Mr. Wilson was retired.  Kitten’s dad knew he best policies at home and work, he sold insurance.  And Gomez Addams was the consummate family man, doting on both children, spoiling them with taratulas, and even buying a zoo for Pugsley.  Even Opie finally put on some shoes and made millions in the movies-directing and producing them.  But some like Buffy couldn’t stand reality, no Mr. French to be there for her, and drugs killed her.  Eddie Munster was a druggie, as was Kitten, even the best parents can have screwed up kids, and Danny and Willis both turned to drugs, and did jail time.  Probably closer to real life than they ever intended to be, just like friends we knew and know-or are.  But as I look back, and wonder, where are they now, it is more fun to wonder, how did they get there?

Beaver will always be the Beaver, even in real life it has followed him.  Wally was Wally up until a few years ago.  But along the way we all grow up, get jobs, real jobs, not like on TV, and have to deal with real life that isn’t seen from inside a cathode ray tube.  We must make decisions on work, home, family, and saying no to drugs and alcohol.  And the girl next door, and the newest sport bike.  It seems life for many has interrupted our plans, or in some cases negated them all together, but in many ways made them better than our dreams, even than our friends on TV.  Talking with a friend at church I used to work with, I realized I have known him over 20 years, he used to be skinny and dark haired, I used to be skinny.  But we now both have families, and mine are working on having families of their own, his are young.  And looking back if you had asked either one of us where we would be today, I know the answers would conflict with real life.  No one plans to lose their job, get sick, have cancer, or have kids who do drugs.  We certainly don’t plan for having to raise our grandchildren because our kids are too screwed up...that only happens on TV shows today, not to us.  But I look at moments in my life that could have gone either way, and see the grace of God there despite my bad decisions.  Never leaving me, but hanging on to me despite all odds.  Better than any TV show, or TV friend, our relationship is two way, not just looking or talking to Him, He answers.  We converse, and the talks we have no Hollywood script writer could dream up.  For no one has an imagination like God, nor can use all the resources God has to love us.  For a relationship with Him is not cancelled after 13 weeks, or scheduled for reruns, but an ongoing saga.  And we can age gracefully in Him, unlike the Cartwright boys-Adam went on to be Trapper John, MD, and lost his hair, Hoss lost his life in surgery, and Little Joe raised kids while living in a Little House on the Prairie.  All far from the upbringing their patriarch Ben gave them.  Amazing how far you can go with a loving Father, with values, and encouragement.  Even with no mother to help, just like the Douglas boy of My Three Sons, or no father like the Partridge Family.  Not all were blessed like Wally and the Beav, but despite our parents, or because of them, we are where we are today.

The change in my life came at age 21 when I gave my heart to Jesus, something not learned at home, school, or on TV.  And despite my past, He gave me a future, much to the surprise of me and those who knew me.  And where I am now is because of where He is in my lie-everyday.  Better than a rich uncle, I have access to the richest Jew in the world, and His Father.  Better than a scholarship to State, I have all the education I need, or will need from Him.  Better than the Dating Game, He had a family for me, and still does today.  And better than a brother in law with connections, He is the connection.  Jesus is the connection back to God, and to life, now what other person can promise that, let alone deliver it?

So looking back, I wonder where many I knew are today.  But I ask myself, where am I now?  And I ask you the same, so ask yourself, where are you in Christ?  Walking with Him, looking forward to His calling you home, or still looking from behind a beer bottle, or windshield of a car you can’t afford, seeking happiness, and emotion, when you can have joy, the presence of God?  Are you seeking or have you found?  If you encounter a friend after 20 years, what can you say about where you are now?  What will they say?  I f you have Jesus, you have much to talk about, and not just the past, for we have a great future. 

Looking back at so many child stars who have lost everything, including fame, and never grew up, just got old, if only Arnold had listened when Willis told him about Jesus.  If only Kitten had listened to the advice and stayed out of jail.  If only Joanie had really loved Chachi, how would her life have been different.  For so many who had the advice of great TV fathers, never took it.  Real life interfered again with their plans....what is interfering with yours?  Do they include God?  If not, what’s your excuse?  Life is for the living, are you getting the most from it, or are you living in the past, your life a series of reruns on some low budget network? 

When God asked Adam “where are you?” after he had sinned, He knew just where Adam was.  The question was did Adam.  Do you?  God knows just where you are, and is waiting for that call.  With a script with residuals that goes on forever.  Every season being renewed, just as we are in Christ.  Where are you now?  Where is Jesus in your life?  Make an old friend today, Father still knows best.  Don’t you agree?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

the kids in Boy and Girl Land

The following is an enlightenment of an old Christmas tradition.  If you are over 12 and still believe in Santa Claus, I am about to burst your bubble.  So look away-he is make believe, just like the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy.  But some how these three make believe characters show up at my house, and millions like them at their appointed time each year, with the only the Tooth Fairy operating on stand-by.  But yet they have become symbols, very believable symbols for the two greatest Christian holidays ever.  But for me my evening of reckoning came when I was 12 years old, and came home after being out with some friends.  There on the door was a note saying that Santa had left the presents in the closet, could I put them under the tree.  And the writing was my Mother’s, and the song “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” went through my brain, but my Mother would never do that, and combined with why didn’t he just leave them under the tree he passed by to get to the closet, and the fact we had no chimney-it all fell into place.  Not sure about the missing cookies.  Another myth exposed-or at least I thought.  But not wishing to risk being wrong and losing the gifts, I kept quiet, but not among my friends, who had figured out long before me that there was no Santa Claus.  But I kept the tradition alive with my two sons, causing some discord with church folk, who didn’t want me to lie to my sons, but lived like Christmas had no impact on their daily lives-they preached more about Jesus than they lived it-we were just the opposite.  The First Church of the Frigidaire-cold wind and cold hearts.

And soon they figured out that Grandma and Grandpa some 3000 miles away were Santa and Mrs. Claus.  They too rather go with the gifts than be politically correct, in either version.  But they too had figured it out before I told them he wasn’t real, and their network of friends along with them had their own ideas, but kept quiet, who doesn’t like to get gifts?  One of the more creative minds even told them there was no such thing as Santa or the devil-his dad was both.  Giving a whole new meaning to the kids in Boy and Girl Land about being naughty or nice.  See how rumors start, and traditions become truth?  Yet we continue to celebrate Christmas by giving gifts, even in the face of those who call us blasphemers for doing it, “BAH humbug” is all I can say to them.  Don’t expect anything from me this year.

But although we give gifts, we focus on the real reason for Christmas, the birth of Jesus.  We put up a tree, hang lights, sing songs, and think of Christmases past when it snowed on the Eve, now we just get up and go out in shorts-oh So Cal, ya gotta love it.  But since Christmas, like Easter is all about Jesus, we emphasize Him, and give gifts to each other.  Not considering who has been naughty or nice, but remembering we are forgiven, and that it is grace that did it-not some gift list.  I’m still looking for that nice guy, I know many of the naughty ones.  And the greatest gift this time of year or any is still Jesus.  So we celebrate Him every day, giving gifts, showing love, and yes, even eating Easter candy and putting up a tree in December.  Not making them the focal point, but to join in the celebration, and finding a chance to share Jesus in the midst of it.  What is easier, to share Christ’s love with a Bah humbug attitude, or with one of giving and love?  And starting out young by receiving, what better way to learn about the giving than seeing the giver blessed?  Would you rob someone of a blessing just because Santa isn’t real?  Or because Jesus is?  So what is your attitude towards Jesus and Santa?  Which one does your life represent, Jesus the truth or Santa the myth?  Or is it Jesus the myth and Santa the truth?

It’s funny how the kids in Boy and Girl Land will celebrate the holiday with more fun than some believers, set on being so truthful they become hateful.  And start or worse yet, perpetuate a tradition of not giving, but taking away the joy.  I have even been criticized by singing Jingle Bells, it isn’t a hymn.  But how many snowy days do I remember dashing through the snow, telling me it Christmas time.  Even if my one horse open sleigh is a 100 horsepower motorcycle with no fairing.  It is still a time to be joyful-it is all about Jesus, and what a better way to share His love and celebrate Him than to give?  So why wait until December?  Why not start a new tradition today, share the love of Jesus with someone.  Don’t argue over doctrine, but agree in love.  Give Him,the greatest gift ever, and watch as the bah, humbug types leave you alone-they can’t stand the joy.  And remember those burning coals Jesus said when poured over someone melt their heart, well there is this story about another jolly figure, fat too, name of Frosty the Snowman.  You mean a snowman can’t talk?  The next thing is you’ll want me to believe that bunnies can’t lay eggs of candy, or worse yet, His tomb wasn’t empty?  Or He isn’t God?  So this Christmas celebrate Jesus by giving the gift of love, and gifts to others.  Tell the story of His birth, and how He gives, setting an example for us to follow.  A story that all the kids in B & G Land need to hear.  And give them a gift to take home with them, and encourage them to share Him with others.  Now any doubts about Santa?  I hope there are no doubts about Jesus, but I do have one question, does anyone know what a “round, yon virgin is?”  Another jolly, fat person for the season.  Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday Jesus.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

all the news fit to print

We tend to underestimate the power of the press these days.  When just over 75 years ago, the newspaper world could make or break you.  Police chiefs in Los Angeles and other major towns were elected by the press, putting men in places where they could control them, and the future of the city.  And I guess it is not much different today, based on reports that the IRS targets conservatives, then lies about it, and many fall for it.  We get only the news that we they want us to get, and as far as reporting, it all has become one huge bi-polar editorial.  Where at one time, the New York Times was the bastion of news integrity, boasting “all the news that’s fit to print,”  today with its shrunken readership, and smaller size paper, and obviously biased stand, it is more like “all the news that fits we print,” referring to size, declining readership, or position on any subject.  Just a few words change their motto to a new found reputation, which may not be new at all.  But we read on, stumbling through editorials, sound bites, photo ops, looking for the truth, and like Agent Mulder told Scully for years, “the truth is out there.”  Just cleverly covered by a lie.

But although a bad report, or movie review can make or break a career, whether it be show biz, sports-which is really entertainment, think about it, or politics-not very entertaining, the power of the press is still evident today.  With editors or publishers manning the city desk barking out orders on the type of content they want.  Today it may be e-mails, or a quick text, but someone is still calling the shots.  And in this world of word searches, and glancing at headlines rather than reading the article for content, we have succumbed to dumbing down, a rewriting of history, or a coerced writing of it, loosely based on truth, or perspective, which many times replaces reality.  Polls, and feelings replace facts and figures, and how and where the interviewer’s questions are asked can mean the difference, and be a heavy persuader.  And if you just remember anything you say will be twisted around and used against you, then you can weigh your words better, at lest making it harder for the lie to be perpetuated.  And the war battles on...

If you have never gone to Hearst Castle, it is a must see, and a good excuse to ride Highway 1.  As if Highway 1 isn’t a good enough reason.  Now a state park, its value was inestimable and since no tax could be levied, it was donated to the state of California. How do you tax priceless? If you go, do a night tour-where docents appear in period costume as if  living there for the night, almost too real, but very cool.  and see the opulence and self effacing ego of one man and his memorial to himself.  A man who raided historical treasures from other countries, building his own museum rather than leaving them for their own.  A man who once was known to demand that a certain antique of art be found and purchased at any cost, only to find after months of searching it was in one of his warehouses.  Such a big man, yet so small.  So rich, yet so poor, and about to play an important part in Christian religion in the 20th century. WHAT!

Two words were given by Hearst to his newspaper chains, about an up and coming evangelist who had been drawing sparse crowds.  A previous editor of an LA paper once accused Billy Graham of being the anti-Christ, that he himself was Jesus, to which Billy replied, “then show me your glory, for Jesus Christ comes in glory.”  And the battle was on, until in 1949, one W. R. Hearst sent out a two word message to the editor-“PUFF GRAHAM.”  In other words, hype Billy and what he does.  Oh the power of one man and his empire, being used by God, for God.  When a small tent had been erected in LA for Billy to preach, the crowds soon went to 3000, then 9000, then over 15,000.  His three week agenda was changed to eight.  And when the reporters came to interview Billy, and he asked why they came, they told  him “you have been kissed by William Randolph Hearst,” and soon it spread nationwide, and all around the world, with Billy and Ruth being treated like royalty, welcomed and respected, and taking the gospel around the world, evangelism as never seen before.  Meeting with Presidents, dignataries, and celebrities, God used Billy to share Jesus with an audience of a size never done before.  Answering a prayer Billy had, and a vision given from another man about him in a way no one could ever foresee.  But that is our God, and we need to remember that.  He does things His way, in ways we cannot see, and uses all things for His glory.  And when He says all, he means ALL!  Not just the good things we see that we think indicate God’s presence, but all the tough times we endure building a testimony.  Something to consider when things don’t go our way today, or when we reflect on our current conditions-God has it under control, and can use all resources to His benefit-even unlikely ones like Hearst.  Who would have placed Hearst in the history books with the likes of Billy Graham-only God.  And although Hearst “puffed Graham,” Billy used the opportunity to “puff Jesus.”  Who are you puffing today? 

Today leave the things of the spirit to God, not looking in the physical for a physical answer.  Don’t limit God by your short sidedness, but trust Him in all things.. For ALL things work together for those who love the Lord, and are called according to His purpose.  Be part of His purpose today, share Jesus with someone, showing love.  And if you need to, use words.  Remembering the power of the press, but also the awesome power of a loving God.  From one man’s prayer that God would raise up a man and bring revival, a loving God made good on His promise.  The power of the press, when used in the hands of a loving God is amazing.  Proving all the news about Jesus is fit to print, even in the lowly NY Times.  If God can use a heathen like Hearst to fulfill a vision, imagine what He can do for you.  PUFF Jesus today.  And find all the treasures hidden in the warehouse of your heart.  That have been there all the time. 

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com