social engineering-the early years

As a son of parents of The Greatest Generation, to be referred to as Son of the Greatest Generation, or SGG for short, many of the good old time conveniences have been abandoned in the cause of better living through technology.  While listening to two women, generations apart discuss the heat, one wondered how the other got by without AC.  The older woman just smiled and said we did, with much less complaining, point and victory to the older woman.  When I was growing up, in the old days, referred to as the 50’s and 60’s, when it got hot, people sat on their front porches at night.  Sipping lemonade, from squeezing lemons into a pitcher, then adding water and sugar.  And drank it over ice, or rather sipping it, as real lemonade prohibits drinking it fast.  Things were discussed face to face, until it got too dark, and it was time for bed, as things will have cooled off.  Air conditioning consisted of all the windows open and a cool breeze going throughout the house, no in window AC yet, that was for rich people and department stores.  Sometimes we would listen to the radio, listening to a ballgame, while older cars would go by and cause static and interference.  Neighbors would go out for walks, and adults addressed each other as Mr. and Mrs., first names were reserved for closer friends and neighbors.  Some evenings free movies would be shown in the park at dark, sitting on blankets while the loud chirping of crickets and the smell of fresh cut grass filled the air.  Hot at sundown, but by the end of the show, your girlfriend had her sweater on.  We got out and talked to each other, one on one-this was called being sociable.  If we even had a term for it at all.  Long before notebooks, i-phones, and lap tops, we got together face to face, rather than screen to screen.  Today they call it social engineering.  Proving real engineers should only drive trains.

Back then, if you wanted to meet, you talked at school or work, sometimes on the phone.  Which was either a permanent fixture on the wall, provided free of charge by the phone company, and they lasted forever, or one sitting on a desk.  Dial phones, with exchange prefixes, such as ADams, or CHellwood, or PLainfield, ours started with AD2-----.  And you knew what part of town or city the person was from by their prefix.  Some even had party lines, or shared lines, waiting for your turn to talk, so conversation was more important, unless you were a lovesick teen hogging the lines.  Summer also meant dances, over by 10am, per local curfews, but allowing you an hour to walk your girlfriend home, just getting home in time for your curfew.  We were social, meeting, greeting, and talking with each other. 

Sometimes a friend would stay for dinner, your mother making pot roast, in a pressure cooker.  Vegetables bought from the road side stand, cooked in pots on the stove.  Which all took time, and added heat to the room, a tough one in summer, a blessing in winter.  No microwaves or processed foods, recipes were written on cards from their mother, who got them from her mother, passed down who knows how many times.  Again people communicated with each other, face to face, and many relationships lasted the years.  Fathers had areas in the basement for small workshops, usually with an old work bench and radio, to pass the time.  It was called a hobby, and many things were fixed rather than thrown away and replaced back then.  How to advice on all things passed down.  Garages were for cars, not an additional bedroom, or worse storage area for extra junk.  What we didn’t use we donated to the Salvation Army, Veterans, or church.  Only when it was unfixable anymore was it thrown away.  Makes recycling look like a cop out.  In winter your dad would start the car, letting it warm up while he went in and finished his coffee, percolated, not microwaved or fresh brewed.  Thermostat down during the day, manually.  And some like my grandparents who used coal, would arrive to chilly home, until they built a fire, and the house warmed.  They never had a thermostat, they knew what happened if they forgot-so they didn’t.  Extra comforters for winter, open windows for summer.  And again some how we got by without Facebook, Twittering was something birds did, and if you called a girl, be sure her father wasn’t on an extension line listening.  So we used manners, were courteous, and this magical thing happened back-they were courteous and respectful back to us.  Thank you was followed by, you’re welcome, and men held doors for women, not because they were ladies, but because we were gentlemen, like we were taught.  Sadly so much of this has been lost with the SGG getting older, as we Baby Boomers will do, and not taking the time to pass it on to our grandchildren, or the children we are raising for our children.  Social engineering has taken the place of courtesy, privacy, and common sense.  No truth in some profiles, does the picture match the person you never met?  Does yours?

Proverbs tells parents “start them off in the way they should go.”  But somewhere between start and go the rules change.  No one wishes to listen, but we have a generation that is the most informed, but the least educated.  Pushing buttons have replaced dialing phones, and now each member of the family has their own cell.  Which somehow I managed to avoid, and still get by.  Case in point, a woman was late the other night, and called the man I was covering for, knowing he wasn’t there.  Who called my wife knowing I had no cell phone...duh?  I still picked her up, she is always late and we had expected it...but all the social engineering still came down to a person caring and making a decision.  Conflict resolutions were resolved face to face, and many avoided from families talking to each other, like on a front porch.  The F word stood for family, or friends, and we used it often.  Today...

We have society rotting from within.  Just like history has shown us over 4000 years.  Just as God warned us it would, if we strayed from Him.  it is tough being a parent today, but imagine your kid was Jesus?  And He was perfect?  What instructions would you have for Him?  About girls?  Stealing?  Dating?  Motorcycles?  Yes, Joe and Mary had it rough, but Jesus helped by being the perfect son, too.  But they still raised Him.  Today your kids may be grown, with kids of their own.  Values may have changed, but Jesus hasn’t.  Take time to sit and visit with them today.  Share things of the past, after turning off the cell phones.  Sit on the front porch, or go to a park.  Hard today when filled with druggies, but find that place to visit with your family.  Yesterday it was the garage for Landon and me, checking oil and lubing chains.  But it was the time spent together that is remembered.  Start with God as an example.  When is the last time you hung out with Jesus?  Looking for more of God, hang out with Him, like Psalm 1 says.  Meditating, thinking and praying, but spend it with Him.  Prayer, the original social engineering, from the creator.  Reading the Bible, still nothing like turning the pages of a book.  Go out and greet some neighbors, sit on the porch and watch kids play.  But get out, and be blessed.  Or maybe be a blessing.  Don’t hide behind Facebook, don’t Twitter to a sitter.  Cruise to the Drive-in and talk over Cokes, and soft serve.  Face to face, just like God wants us to be with Him.  And seal it with a hug and maybe a kiss for that special one.  Try that one on your i-phone, and then ask, how far have we really come?

Technology for the most part has been a good thing, but sometimes it just goes on too long.  When all is said and done it comes down to you and Jesus.  Aren’t you glad He has stayed the same?  Aren’t you glad you can still change?  Jesus Christ, God’s technology that was the best from the start.  Call it Jesus.1.  Google Jesus today, no computer needed.  You are all it takes.  And of course there is always the cement pond...

love with compassion,

Mike

mattjew25biker.blogspot.com

 

the wisdom of Julius Marx

Groucho Marx, actor, comedian, philosopher, and game show host once was quoted as saying “I would never join a club that would have me as a member.”  Somewhere in that statement is an abundance of logic, and common sense, except it escapes me at this time.  But having belonged to many clubs, groups, classes, and churches over the years I can tell you the truth is in the belonging.  How I wanted to be a cub Scout, just to wear the uniform, but then got suckered into selling peanut brittle door to door to keep the Cubbies going.  Early use of child labor, under the guise of scouting.  Later in Boy Scouts, it wasn’t the uniform, but the appeal of camping trips, and wild times with friends.  Only to suffer through troop meetings, more boring than pack meetings, and more rules to camp by.  We were supposed to be setting an example, and as we were called the Pyromaniacs, we earned our title.  I can still hear BH or Lello yelling “brush fire, brush fire!” as the trail of jiffy juice took flame.  Why would they get mad at us, we were setting an example?  Oh, they wanted good examples....sorry.  We were known for leaving the camp sight after the bonfire-forbidden, and for at one Jamboree attacking another troop’s tent.  In all fairness to us, they were rather obnoxious, rich kids who when while we were sleeping in canvas pup tents-remember the smell of wet canvas, were sleeping in Army surplus tents, could hold 15-20 standing up!  So we just had to cut the ropes, and watch it fall.  And their latrine, we learned to hold it all weekend, or water a lemon tree, not them.  They had a smaller tent, with toilet paper, and even a flashlight.  Which helped us see to bomb it with dirt clods when their troop leader had a midnight run.  As it collapsed around him and he called for his troops, we were back in the canvas womb of safety.  And while all the other adults were seeking to find out and persecute the perpetrators, we all sat quietly in the tent.  While all the other troops silently thanked us-for they too had been put off by this elite group of snobs, just didn’t have the guts to do anything about it.  I still am wary about midnight runs on camping trips, I know that guy and his followers are out there somewhere.  Would I join again?  Better question, would they let me?

I once was involved in a national ministry about motorcycles.  I just figured your were a Christian, said so on your back, and you knew how to ride.  Boy was I wrong.  Soon I stuck out like a sore riding wrist, riding too fast, too far, and expecting others to behave like Christians in public, or at least among ourselves.  But soon I was singled out, and when it was easier to ask me to leave-fired after 34 years, and keeping known troublemakers, under the guise of growth, I ask where are they today?  I know where I am?  I still ride, I still minister, and I do it more than when under their rules.  How bad can it get, you ask?  During one So Cal rally, we had more national evangelists and people to our home for breakfast.  A friendly break from formal events.  Mike and Dwight arrived early and cooked up a storm.  We all had a great time, except for one.  Who had no part in the planning, and accused us of doing it for our own recognition.  The only people that had supported them, and even had them stay at our home many times.  Even had others whom they invited stay with us.  For our benefit?  Who ministered to who that time?  Would I join again?  Better question, would I ever be asked?

And so over the years, we find it easier to go our own way.  And hopefully it is God’s way.  Which He kindly forgives us when we don’t, and blesses us when we do.  Paul had a problem like that to.  When he wrote “I can do all things through Christ Jesus, he meant if God gave him something to do, consider it done-just do it.  Long before Air Jordans.  And that He gives us all the same opportunities, just not the same things.  But all He wants if for us to obey.  And if asked and we obey, in Christ, we can do it.  Without Jesus, no way Jose.  You will struggle and fail.  And your harshest critics will be there to help you fail, never to succeed.  Relying on yourself, you are nothing.  I know, oh how I know.

So when Paul wrote he was lesser but equal, he was.  And so are we.  Don’t try to fill your day to keep God happy.  He loves you no matter what.  Remember Jesus died while we were yet sinners.  And your good works don’t get you more love-remember the filthy rags mentioned in Isaiah?  Could be the tent material I remember so well.  So listen to God, and ask.  Then listen again, some more if needed.  You will find more enemies when you do, and they will be there.  Recently a man decided to get out and minister.  He was going to change the world, feed the poor, even shuttle them up to swim in his pool.  Until one threatened him, and didn’t play by his rules.  He wasn’t getting the adulation he desired, and now is gone.  No commitment?  Wrong, his commitment was only to himself.  As was the obnoxious troop, and those of us who bombed them.  Sin will always be sin-fortunately God will always be God, and Jesus will always be forgiving.  And it only shows me that obedience is better than sacrifice...on all levels.

So when someone tells you the church is full of hypocrites, tell them it’s not, we have room for more, and invite them.  When someone criticizes you for doing good, take it as a compliment.  We are the church, and when they attack us, they attack Jesus-head of the church.  So be careful going out on your own.  We are all equals in God’s eyes, it is the rest of us who need glasses.  And as for being a Christian, and accepting Jesus Christ, it is the only club I choose to join that would have me as a member.  If I’m OK with God, can I be OK with you?

And yes you can come in, you just can’t use the bathroom.  Try the outhouse out back.  Membership, like knowing Jesus, has its privileges.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com  

the secret of Skull Mountain

“Gas turned on this time?” Bill yelled at the other Bill, while he was restarting his bike.  “Good, let’s go, thank God, we are finally hitting the road.”  And the three of us were off, leaving town early on this three day weekend.  It had been an unusually stressful week, and I was taking off with my two other riding buddies, destination unknown, but with roads to ride and memories to make.  The last few nights after work spent in the garage, 8 track blaring, it of unknown origin, as were the tapes, which was wired to a car battery, again source unknown, with no receipt.  Getting ready to ride, we were listening to the Allman Brothers Ramblin’ Man, up until the battery faded to nothing, as our eyesight had too.  After last minute oil changes in the garage, and putting the other Bill’s front tire, he of the last minute repairs, any romance I was expecting from my live in girlfriend was not to be.  She didn’t ride, what was I thinking, and she didn’t like either Bill, and they never called her by her name, always referring to her as “Your old lady.”  And as I had climbed into bed last night, she was still mad about my last minute plans, made only a week ago, and leaving her with no money, again spent on motorcycles, and so we had fought all week.

She had been particularly hard to get along with lately, and was getting religious.  Which was starting to turn me off, I have needs too, and this last week was interested only in this wise man, who some called a prophet who had come to town.  All she wanted to talk about, but as she had been down this road looking for peace before, I just went with it, and riding without her.  But this last guy was different to her, and as she followed him on the news, he had been arrested, and a hasty trial by jury had found him guilty, and sentenced to death.  Good, maybe we can get back together when I get back home.  But first let’s ride, with our exit road out of town going past Skull Mountain.

Skull Mountain had been named hundreds of years ago, legend has it, because on certain days, in profile, when the afternoon sun hits it right,  it looks like a skull.  So 100 years ago they started doing executions there, the skull meaning death, and this weekend was no exception, as this prophet was among two other criminals to be executed.  To be honest with you the place creeped me out, so while lane splitting past the lookie lous, I kept me eyes ahead, I didn’t need any more stress, with my old lady, and her prophet being executed, no romance last night, and limited funds to travel.  I was out of town, but passing by, somehow something was different, with heavy military presence-this must have been one bad dude to deserve all the attention and guards.  With one last look in my mirror, the traffic broke up,and we accelerated, not looking back, but riding into a great three day weekend.  The old lady would have to wait.

Three days of great weather, great roads, and no news had changed all our attitudes.  Even when the other Bill had really run out of gas, he had left it on reserve, thinking it was on, and when he went to switch the petcock, fond another empty, but was able to cost into a general store.  We had eaten well, argued over which bike was best, and I even cut the conversation short when Bill wondered how I could put up with the Old Lady, not telling them they were her biggest problem, not wanting to hurt their feelings.  One look at both reminding me why they rode alone.  But riding back into town after a great weekend is always tough, but this time the traffic was heavier than any three day weekend in memory.  And as we got closer to Skull Mountain, it slowed to a stop, no problem, we lane split.  But as we came over the rise, we saw military road blocks, and were waved back into line.  Asking a man in the car next to us what was going on, he said they were looking for a missing body, that was stolen from the grave.  It was the body of this prophet, which had been under heavy guard, and the military was furious, as they had been made out to be fools.  The rumor was this prophet had promised to leave an empty tomb, and be resurrected in three days, and someone, probably his followers had stolen his body.  Past all the guards we had seen leaving town?  And I wondered about my old lady, if she knew anything about it, but that would have to wait until I got home, later.  And if Skull Mountain creeped me out before, it really creeped me out now, as talk of ghosts, and empty graves, grave robbers, and loaded guns pointed at us brought the weekend back to reality.  Maybe we should just turn around and call in sick tomorrow.

As the officers surrounded us, guns drawn, they looked us over, and poked and prodded at our bungeed packs.  Like where am I going to hide a body?  “These guys are OK,” and waved us on, after a thorough questioning about this body.  After believing we were out all weekend, the dirt on the bike, and the bugs in our teeth and leathers must have been convincing enough, and we passed by.  But what had happened?  But what was this secret of Skull Mountain?  And who was this Jesus they were looking for?

Still looking for peace and a way to God like my old lady?  How many are looking for love, when they should and could be looking at an empty tomb.  An empty cross showing where Jesus had died, bringing salvation to all who believe.  Just like He said, and yes the tomb was empty, just like He said.  The evidence is there, and still is, 2000 years later.  Where is the savior you are looking for?  His name is Jesus, He is here right now, calling you by name.  You cannot avoid Him, and His call goes out until the day you die.  You cannot escape it by leaving town, or drown it out by loud music-or loud exhausts.  His spirit is calling you, He loves you.  For the three day weekend that started with Good Friday, and ended with Easter is still here today.  So, I ask, what are you doing with this weekend?  What are your plans?  Do you ever wonder about the secret of Skull Mountain, or is this all some religious garbage meant to interrupt your ride? To those of us who believe, there is no secret, just the empty tomb.  But our hearts filled by Him because of it.  For Jesus told us that we will be resurrected just like Him!  What secrets do you believe?  Have you ever wondered where is His body?  And why all the turmoil over it, if He was only just another religious nut?

Today I know the secret of Skull Mountain.  A three day ride changed my life.  And sadly many friends have turned against me, choosing not to believe.  But many do that we ride with.  And my old lady, now is my wife, and we ride together.  Maybe she was right about my friends all along.  That’s between them and God.  For now, there are no secrets between God and me, or my wife and I.  We know the truth, and it has set us free.  Gas turned on, tank filled.  Leaving for another ride.  Just another three day weekend?  Not to Jesus.  The real secret of Skull Mountain.  Find out who this Jesus was they were looking for today.  Wise men still seek Him.  He is no mystery to me.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

5 seconds of action, followed by 40 seconds of rest-they call it football

Don’t you just hate those whose lives are so perfect.  Those who always have such a good attitude, who can see the glass half full, while you see it half empty, those who accuse you of being half slow, when really they are half fast.  And we are bombarded daily by ads telling us that if we look better, everyone will love us, we will feel better about ourselves, and our self esteem will carry us to our goals in life.  Not our dreams, those things formed in the mind that God gives us, but goals, things we can write on paper, and then cross off as we attain them.  Proving to ourselves that we are in fact successful, and if we could, give ourselves a pat on the back.  “Good job, self, you did it.”  Now everyone will love you and adore you, your new book on how I did it will be a runaway best seller, and there are no problems we cannot conquer by ourselves.  We will set higher goals, and adjust to fit our egos, while advising all you losers out there who cannot and will not be successful that we are better than them.  And even if our words do not always convey that message, our attitudes can and will.  Nothing succeeds like success, and it is true, success has many fathers, while failure is an orphan.  And while bragging, tell you that you are only as successful as your last game.

I watched an NFL show yesterday, where a coach whose team had just won the Super Bowl, biggest entertainment event on football, interrupted periodically by the game, that they were to enjoy the win, savor every bit of it, because next year it won’t matter, only what they did today, so enjoy it now, a new season starts.  They have met their goals, and now have to set new ones, while the rest of us prepare to watch what essentially is 5 seconds of action, followed by 40 seconds of rest in between.  They call it football.  Without the rest, the 5 seconds would not be possible, unless you are Payton Manning.  Whose goal every year is to win the Super Bowl, but only has once, does that make him a loser?  But what about his dreams, how about yours?

Matthew, once a scum bag tax collector, writes “seek ye first the kingdom of God, and its righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.”  And even though this wasn’t written in the Old Testament, so the Apostle Paul could read it, he had a heart after God.  The most successful Christian worker since Jesus, and at one time their biggest prosecutor, he looked to Him for all his guidance, and all his dreams.  He learned that falling back on the law only showed our sin, which led to death, but that Jesus led to grace, and salvation.  And he could have boasted of many great accomplishments, among them starting churches, eloquent speaker and teacher, and best selling author-he wrote most of the New Testament.  But yet we find him confessing in his weakness, showing that the weaker he is, the strength of God is made perfect in him.  And he boasts of having to be lowered from prison, escaping in a bucket.  He would later die in prison, beheaded for his devotion to Christ, and claim no acclimation to himself.  He sought the kingdom of God first, and then God added onto him, in ways that couldn’t be measured.  Imagine his to do list, how does it compare with yours?  The difference may be as close as Jesus, giving you dreams and a vision for your life.  When you are ready, so you will not argue with God or change His plans.  Wonder why you don’t know the will of God for your life, He isn’t asking you for advice, or an opinion, He wants to include you in His plan.  He has a place for you.  But it is His plan, for you, not yours for Him, no matter the lies you are told.

I learned all this first hand last summer when I had to be life flighted and then had my open heart surgery.  None of it was my idea, but it was God’s, and the whole time we knew it was all about Him, not us.  How we would begin to boast about what God had done, and is doing every chance He gives us to share it.  How I had to seek Him, I had to depend on His righteousness, and He added all the things I needed to my life.  And continues to today.  So instead of bragging on my successes, which bring me glory, I rather brag on my weakness, my sickness, the time when the only hope I had was of God, and there was no way I could lose.  Alive, I could still praise Him and tell others, be a witness of His love and healing power.   Dead, I would be praising Him from heaven, my first choice, but not yet, in God’s time table.  Like Paul, and like you, God has plans for us, and they include us.  So that in our failures we can be a witness, to show the love of Christ.  And if we are only as good as our last game, I am ready for the final buzzer, with Jesus Christ guiding me into glory in His strength, not mine.  When He gets the glory, you get the blessings.  Now that is what the Apostle Paul would call success. 

So next time someone brags about how great they are, ask them  if they can resurrect the dead?  Tell them about the worst part of your life, and how Jesus took you through it, and you were victorious.  How without Him, you could only fail, with Him you can only win.  And how you can carry that victory into the next season, or test, and enjoy it forever.  The Super Bowl is once a year, you have Jesus every day, every season.  Best seats available, where the action is.  Where the 5 seconds of testing, will bring you 40 seconds of rest.  You will be refreshed, just like Paul was, when you see the prize that lies ahead.  Real victory will be yours when not measured in points or runs, when you are not paid for your stats, but when you have run the race, like Paul did, despite all the adversities, and you will win-forever. 

Pray today that God will spend time with you today taking you back through that toughest time.  And then ask Him to show you someone to share it with.   And all these things will be added unto you-alleluia!  Take it from a tent maker, a tax collector, a hooker, and a biker who knows.  Even over achievers have a chance for success in Jesus.  Your glass may be only half full, or half empty, but mine will never run out.  Now, back to the game.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

"and we never even got his name"

For many years I have been known as Theresa’s husband, which is fine because you’re not and I am.  When growing up my older son was known as the dinosaur kid, because of all the dinosaur shirts my mother made him and he wore every day.  My younger son was known as the dirt bike kid, after the movie of the same name, he memorized all the lines by age 5.  And throughout the years we have met people identified as Bill’s kid sister, the guy who lives on the corner, or the man in the corner cubicle.  We know who they are, but who are they, we don’t know their names.  But fame can be an enduring thing, even if no one knows who you are.  Take a Mr. Schwump on the Andy Griffith Show.  He was in 26 epiosdes, but never spoke a word, but was seen with Andy and others.  But no one until recently knew who this uncredited man was.  What was his real name?  It turns out he was Patch S. Wimmers, I prefer Mr. Schwump.  It must have taken some talent to work in such anonymity for so long.  But how many people do we know about, may have even met, yet don’t know their names?

This is not a new concept, as many are mentioned in the Bible, but we don’t know their names.  What was Jairus’s daughter’s name?  What was Lot’s wife’s name, Mrs. Lot?  Can we say the same of Mrs. Job? Key people in scripture, yet unnamed.  Mention Joseph and Mary, you think Jesus.  But the night He was born, they spent at an inn.  What was the innkeeper’s name?  Certainly he was important that night.  How about another innkeeper, the one left in charge of the wounded man left by the good Samaritan?  Come to think of it, what was his name and the name of the wounded man?  Still with me?  How many times have you heard the story of Peter’s denial of Jesus when accused by a little girl.  What is her name?  Today every Lois Lane would be rushing to interview her, we would know all about her, and some things we don’t want to know.  But her name, what was it?

Take the story of a little boy, brought to Jesus by Andrew.  All he did was give some fish and loaves to Jesus so He could feed the 5000.  What is his name?  But Jesus knows his name, and He knows mine and yours too.  He knows my name, and He can tell me from all the other Mikes who ride and are married to Theresas.  He even calls me friend, how cool is that?  And so it goes, so many who have labored in obscurity, unknown to all but Jesus.  But yet there are some mentioned in Matthew 25, who were seeking recognition, they bragged to Him how the prophesied, or cast out demons in His name, and yet He rebuked them, saying be gone, He never knew them.  It was all about themselves.  But when it is all about Jesus, He answered by telling us to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, give water to the thirsty, and visit those sick or in prison.  How many times have you welcomed strangers, yet Jesus tells us to here?  And He goes on saying if we did it to the least of them, we did it to Him.  Want to spend time with Jesus, go out and be nice to them.  Now, would we want our names mentioned here?  Think about it, a little of lady is surrounded in heaven by many, and you ask “who is she?”  And Jesus introduces her as the woman who gave two mites, all she had.  Have you seen this woman before?  Maybe on the streets?  Was she a Lazarus you stepped over?  Did you offer her friendship?  Would she know your name?

They are out there, laboring without recognition for the gospel.  Maybe the guy in the cubicle down the hall.  The old guy in the corner house.  The young girl in the Mustang.  Or the little kid looking for his mother.  We know them, we just don’t now them, or their names.  But Jesus does, and He loves them just as much as He loves you.  How would Jesus describe you to them?

And so I don’t mind being introduced by Pastor Ray as Motorcycle Mike, or being known as the Motorcycle Couple at church.  I am proud to be known as Theresa’s husband.  And a friend of Jesus.  “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” can be a scary opening line, take the time to get to know people.  And their names.  They might even know Jesus, or the little girl from the garden.  Someone somewhere knew who Mr. Schwump was.  In heaven you may meet many from scripture, who want to know all about you, what did you do for Jesus?  Would you be mentioned in the same line with His name?

Do you realize of all the millions of angels in heaven, only three are named?  Lucifer, Michael, and Gabriel.  You will meet your own guardian angel some day, and know his name.  He knows yours-right now.

Patch S. Wimmers lived a life of fame and obscurity all at the same time.  Just like many of us do today in spreading the gospel.  But Jesus knows, and that is all that matters.  In heaven there will be no name tags, and we will know each other by name.  And we won’t worry about what others know, as we will be without sin or blemish.  And I am looking forward to meeting those who Andrew brought to Jesus, to the 3000 on the Day of Pentecost.  The name of the thief on the cross.  Maybe the name of the person in the next aisle in church, who you have greeted many times, even sung with, what is their name?  But you will be greeted by Jesus, who knows your name.  All others will lament in hell, finally knowing His name too.  Only wishing they had known Him here on earth.  Never let it be said that you “never got His name.”  There is still time.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

like it has always been

It’s officially fall, in case your weather cannot confirm it, which means that car shows will be tapering off to nothing.  Cruise nights will be going into hibernation, and many garage projects return to the garage, after being pushed out under a tree for repair and restoration all summer.  Convertible tops will be stored in the up position for months to come, and many will and are preparing to put their motorcycle up for the winter.  Just 90 days ago we were preparing for the heat, and some already complaining about it, now they are complaining about the cold and how it effects their older bones.  And what to do now that summer is gone, the kids are back in school, and with shorter day light, longer nights, many projects go back into storage until next spring, when the process begins again.  Like it always has...

This Friday is the last night of Cruising Grand, and looking back to so many I missed, I will go to the last one, just because.  Things go by so fast when there are many choices, but when narrowed down to one choice, and that choice is gone, we notice it more, and wish we had participated more.  That we had made more memories, taken more pictures, and enjoyed ourselves more.  In the good times, we think there will always be a tomorrow, and sometimes anticipate it more than today, missing out on today’s blessings.  And so with fewer choices, the few become more valuable, and we may attend something that we would otherwise miss, if a better one comes along.  When moving to So Cal years ago, I noticed that many would not confirm a reservation, waiting until the last minute for a better one.  Something we may all be guilty of.  And now with fewer shows, cruise nights gone, and cooler weather here, it’s dark after supper and we go in front of the TV.  Where we search 200+ channels, and finding nothing on, go through them again, settling for something less than we want, until the next show comes along.  Fortunately I have a TV in my garage, so I can sit among the motorcycles on cool nights, and look back,  and ahead.  It is only 6 months until summer, don’t delay, start making your plans now, just leaving them open because you know a better offer may come along. 

But October means fall weather, a sweatshirt under my jacket, and riding out to the desert and hills.  It will still be hot there for awhile, it is hard to think of 70 degrees as hot after days of 90-100.  And the car shows go on, and on Friday, October 4th, 10-4 to you good buddy, I will be in Hollywood attending the 10th annual 10-4 Day.  Started 10 years ago, note the anniversary, by a local city councilman to honor police heroes of TV, this year will have Jon and Ponch of CHiPS, Sgt. Malloy of Adam 12 and David Starsky of Starsky and Hutch.  Cruising down Hollywood Blvd. and meeting in front of Broderick Crawford’s star on the Walk of Fame, he of Highway Patrol, and the guy who made “10-4” a popular phrase of the day.  A chance to meet other police car junkies and get photo ops with them.  A time to look back at the old days, before suspended sentences, lenient judges, and crime out of control.  We felt safe knowing Mary 3 and 4 were just a shift or two away on their Kawasaki police bikes, or that Starksy would come screeching around a corner sideways...book ‘em Dano.  You felt safe even though the city was smitten with multiple 9-11’s that Reed and Malloy would show up and catch the suspect, and offer him a free ride down to Parker Center.  You knew the bad guys were out there, but the good guys would ultimately win, and felt safe leaving your doors and window open at night each summer night...sleeping peacefully knowing someone was watching over you.

But my favorite shows, in case you haven’t caught on, were the ones with the cars and bikes, I cared more about them than Hutch’s love life, which I’m sure suffered due to his driving an early 70’s Ford sedan.  You knew Starsky would score with his red Torino, you knew Reed went home to his wife and 2.5 kids in suburbia, and that some disco was staying open late for Ponch.  The vehicles made them,  imagine Adam 12 in unmarked cruisers?  Jon and Ponch on 10 speeds?  The cars were the stars, we watched to see them, and would suffer through stupid plots for a glimpse of them.  And now just like summer, they are gone, with just one morning to remember them.  Bundle up, the ride home will be colder than the ride up.

Life for most of us is like the plots of these shows, where we sit through mundane days and nights, until something exciting happens.  We celebrate holidays, look forward to picnics, and car shows, and even plan vacations way ahead of time.  That two weeks a year, or 1/13th of our year comes so slow, and ends so quickly, but we neglect the times in between, failing to enjoy them.  Being a Christian is a 7/24 proposition for many of us.  We just don’t look forward to Sunday and church, but Jesus is the most important thing of our days and nights.  A season that doesn’t end, but that exciting things are there, along with the blessings, if we just look.  Or get out.  This last weekend we attended a Woodies meet, over 300 woodies in attendance, did you make it there?  We had Ann Graham Lotz speak at church, I hope you didn’t miss her.  What were you doing, in front of the TV?  Life is for the living, and Jesus tells us we can have it abundantly.  The opportunities are there, where are you?

Look around and many signs of Jesus’ return for His church are there?  Where are you?  What you are seeking you will find, what are you looking for?  We find fellowship both in church and at secular events-where many ministry opportunities are.  We find chances to talk old cars and Jesus at Cruising Grand.  We find bikers with needs at rallies, and make new friends at all the above.  We get out...the ministry of just being there.  Want more joy, get out of your house.  Turn off the TV, after CHiPS, and go for a ride.  To church, but go somewhere.  Starbucks is a great place to spend too much for coffee, and not bring your gun, but look around at the hurting people.  And you wonder, where can I minister?  Take some time to get out among the lost, they’re everywhere, maybe listening to their stories, then telling yours.  Opportunity knocks, so you can go out.  Inviting you to blessings, will you go?

Jesus was out among the people.  He didn’t hang with church folk, they hated Him.  He hung out at secular events, like we do.  But something was different about Him, if you know Him you know what I mean.  Your Jerusalem may be a 9x12 cell, or the open road.  Either way use the opportunities to share the joy of Christ.  Summer has come and gone, winter will soon be upon us.  Seasons come, seasons go, Jesus is the same always.  How about you, what are you doing this weekend?  The process continues, like it always has.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com 

profiles in cowardice

Admit it, in real life we all hated Goldilocks.  That blonde brat had it all, and none of us were good enough for her.  She breaks into a home, raids the fridge, leaves dirty dishes, tries out all the beds, leaving them unmade, and finally has the guts to critique the way we run our own home.  She was like a precursor to Barbie, who it has been said of “I hate that @#%^$, she has it all.”  And never have I seen or heard of either one working, having a job, or even contributing to society.  “I want,” is all either can say, and Ms. Locks sure had her way with a certain bear family.  Me first, tough luck on all the rest of you, just so I get my way.  So much for democracy where the majority make the rules, when one doesn’t like them, they conveniently hide behind one of them for their own good, never considering anyone else but themselves.  Last night with short notice, Escondido’s Bike Night was cancelled.  It had been successful all summer, bringing bikers of all types together, adding customers to Mike’s BBQ, a co-sponsor, and endorsed and insured by the local dealers.  Even had the blessing of the landlord of the mall, and Thursday night brought in people on an otherwise quiet night.  Until one prejudiced business owner against bikers, called the police, and they showed up-big surprise, just mention bikers, who were on private property invited by the owner, and it was cancelled.  This business, Weight Watchers, claimed bikers were hurting his business, and again the right of the individual won out-at least for now.  And to prove his prejudice, and lack of community and respect for others, he wasn’t and isn’t even open Thursday night.  What gives?  Don’t the accused even get a trial, aren’t they innocent until proven guilty?  Where are our accusers now? 

Now consider this, have you ever seen a toy drive from fat people?  How many overweight people in mini vans have cut you off?  Do you ever see Ms. 300 pound helping someone with a flat tire?  But you do bikers in all the above, except we are often run over or off the road by them.  And we are not anti-overweight, how many  350 pound men do you know named Tiny?  Eat to ride, and ride to eat...our motto for years.  Yet one prejudiced man, a coward, hides behind the law, for now, revealing himself for what he really is-a bigot.  Personally I have lost all respect for Weight Watchers, and figure anyone who will charge you money for something you can get for free is evil.  And bigoted, and prejudice.  They have profiled themselves, the Goldilocks telling us what to eat, and how to live-just not on a motorcycle or in their mall.  Stupid hurts, I hope they feel our pain,too.

Now we all have our own prejudices, mine is stupidity.  I have trouble with stupid people.  You know who you are, and only the grace of God, and friendly bikers help you get by.  Imagine if this was a gay biker meeting, an undocumented biker gathering, or an unwed mother biker meet?  You would see the news cameras there, interviewing the prejudiced, claiming their rights in the constitution.  But as bikers, we only go where we are wanted, and another mall will get our business.  And all you other neighbors of Weight Watchers, make sure to send them a thank you card for running of potential business.  Bikers spend money, and lots of it, too.  And we have non-biker friends, who will back us up with their wallets.  Am I prejudiced against this guy-you bet!  And where is our accuser, hiding out?  Behind the law?  You will be and have been exposed...

False accusations and bigotry is nothing new.  Jesus had to deal with it, when coming upon a women who had been caught in adultery.  A crime that takes two, but where was the other one?  Yet the crowd was crying to stone her, and under Mosaic law, the accuser would have to throw the first stone, and if the accused was found innocent, the accuser got the same penalty.  Bring it back I say, clear out the courts, and let’s get on with life, and riding.  Yet when Jesus approached, they felt they had Him too, a double win for the Pharisees.  But leaning over, He wrote famous words that no one except the accusers ever saw, and the crowd broke up.  Leaving the accused woman all alone except for Jesus.  Who then asked, “where are your accusers?  Go and sin no more.”  He knew what she had done, and also her partner, yet He never accused her of sin.  Love won’t and doesn’t-your sin will find you out.  And so it has for the Weight Watcher shop owner.  Your sin has found you out, and we ask, “where is our accuser?”

But we will also extend an invitation to you and your family to meet us, and even offer you and your family a ride.  No prejudices to you, we invite you to meet the freedom of riding, and as a Christian rider, extend the hand of forgiveness.  Don’t fear what you don’t understand, and learn to not profile others.  How would you feel if we sat in front of your store holding up fat people signs with jokes and abusive language?  We don’t and won’t, because we care for fat and thin, tall and short, biker and non.  And Christians even will love you as you are, just as Jesus loved us enough to die for us while we were yet sinners.  We were all sinners once, you are more like us then you care to admit.  So unclench your fists, and give us a chance.  We are willing to give you one....

Even Ms. Locks was given another chance.  Those bears could have and should have eaten her alive.  But didn’t, setting an example of forgiveness to others.  Also showing compassion to those who don’t show it to others.  Just like most bikers will do.  Can you picture Goldilocks stopping to help change a tire?  Give a ride home to a senior?  Attend a toy run?  Mr. Weight Watcher we invite you and your family to the real world.   A Christian world where bikers and over weight people can get together, and be friends.  Where if you have a problem we can discuss it, and handle it.  But also be aware of the lesson of the Hollister Rally, cancelled under false pretenses by two now out of work public servants, and the rally is back...bigger than ever.  We will listen to you, we have families also, please keep that in mind.  Let’s take this profile in cowardice and turn it around.  For good.  So where are our accusers...and would you be willing to leave when we are found innocent?  He who is without sin....maybe doesn’t ride.  Try it Jesus’s way, in love.  It is hard to shake a hand with a clenched fist.  I extend our open hands to you, overweight people everywhere, Goldilocks, and you too Barbie...Jesus loves you...will you at least give us a chance to prove it?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

I miss the 80's

Riding home from church last night was the first time in memory that I had to wear a jacket.  Just the day before I had to wear a sweatshirt, and the calendar tells me that Saturday is the first day of fall.  Which means shorter daylight, longer nights, although the day still has only 24 hours, and soon I will be dressing in layers of clothing again.  Which many are already doing who don’t live in So Cal, but our warmest month of the year is coming to an end.  Soon the highs will only be in the 70’s, today it says only 79, where it has been in the 80’s at least all month.  I sweated at 92 just last weekend.  But I am happiest in the 80’s, about 85, low humidity, tail wind, and time to ride.  But today I might need a sweatshirt and I am reminded how I miss the 80’s.

Now not the 1980’s, I was too busy raising kids, a family, and trying to make ends meet while having a career.  I entered the 80’s on my 1975 Z-1, and left it on my 1985 FJ1100, but with a Honda 650 and Kawi 750 in between.  And not enough time to ride either.  Living in New Mexico I was used to seasons and short rides in my riding suit.  So I don’t necessarily miss the 80’s time wise, but missed the 80’s temperature wise.  But when we moved to So Cal, the 80’s came back, and even though New Mexico summers are hotter, and we felt like we missed summer that year, I never missed winter again.  Still don’t, as I enjoy riding in just a t-shirt, and now that I have aroused all the newbie riders, identified by being overdressed, I will always wear an Arai, what is the label on your helmet say?  Cool in summer, warm in winter, and quiet all the time.  But today riding home from San Diego I know it will be cooler, a high of 79, and my body will translate to my mind that I miss the 80’s.

Now temperature is a relative thing.  I have been cold at 85, yet warmed at 55.  No accounting for what my body will tell me next.  But I recall a trip made to Albuquerque from Farmington via Gallup with Brett and Julie, Dave, George, and Theresa and I.  They were relatively newer riders, and it was fall, highs in the 40-50’s, so we all dressed appropriately, or so we thought, until the trip home up Hiway 550 across the reservation brought wind and temps in the 30’s.  How we wished for anything warmer.  Now my warmer consisted of a Wheels of Man riding suit, which in winter temps kept me toasty, toasty warm is cool in winter.  But it was warm leaving Albuquerque, and we put our pack on George’s bike, and left early, knowing it is better to be home in daylight than the dark and cold.  I should have known better.  George and Dave were well known fun lovers, they once mooned the entire Durango to Silverton train, and who knows what they were up to after us old married types left, but when it got cold, I wished I had my riding suit.  Which so did George and Dave as they froze riding home that afternoon.  They stopped more than once, wishing they had my riding suit and its warmth, not realizing it was tied to George’s seat the whole time.  How many times had he leaned against it wishing, and not knowing.  And then remembering when they stopped by to drop off our luggage, and we all wished we had the suit...while all the time they had it!

Many times in life we pray for God’s help, only to look back and see how He answered, only it wasn’t the answer we wanted or were looking for.  Leaning on our own understanding, much as they had leaned on my riding suit, the answer to the problem was there, just not seeing it.  So when asked “why doesn’t God show me His will for my life?” a big theme when I got saved, I have learned He does, only you weren’t listening.  And if He did, the first thing you would do would be to change it, or argue with God.  Of course, knowing better than God, never considering if you do, why ask Him anyway?  So when God sent His son Jesus, the Jews weren’t looking for a humble man on a jackass, but a mighty king to set them free.  What they needed, in answer to their prayers.  But they were looking for personal gain, political power, and revenge...not forgiveness, mercy and grace.  God had given them what they asked for, and still does today, in the form of Jesus.  And they missed it.  So we argue, whine, disobey, then wonder why God isn’t talking to us.  Could it be we aren’t listening?  Could it be that He likes to hear from us, so His answer isn’t immediate?  So we can call Him again?  Is He texting someone else?  Don’t ever doubt God’s instant message service, for if I had been listening, He would have told me to take the riding suit, and wear it-He knew my need before I asked and froze.  Even provided for it.  So it is that God answers, do we listen?  Do we obey?  Good advice only works if taken.

So is it any wonder that I miss the 80’s.  But not as much as the 40’s-50’s-60’s, and 70’s.  I miss the warm weather.  I’m no fool.  But I also have learned to dress in layers, and take off the jacket, then the sweatshirt, and ride comfortably.  Experience has taught me to plan ahead, and when I ask, to listen.  And I have learned that safe and warm can be as far away as the back pack behind you.  Or the God ahead of you.  On a day that I asked God, He had already provided.  Ironically I was seeking a Wheels of MAN answer, instead of listening to God.  At least I didn’t go Jonah on Him, and end up on the beach, all white and sticky.  I’m sure it was warm inside the whale, never heard Jonah complain about the cold.  Obedience is better than sacrifice, warm is better than cold, and a motorcycle ride is always better than a day at the beach in a whale.  Trust God on that one, and trust Him to be there when you need Him.  With the right answer, before, after, and during.  The most important part of prayer is listening for the answer.  Are you listening?  Now you know why I miss the 80’s.  But I’m ready this time, sweatshirts and leathers.  Fool me once your fault, fool me twice my fault.  But you are no fool for trusting God.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com