“You two are definitely not local yocals. You like rides that are last
longer than a piddly little afternoon. You like waking up on different coasts.
You like exploring this big, bad slab of a continent, instead of putt-putting
around the subdivision revving your pipes, going nowhere.” Perhaps the single
most, definitive advertisement of myself that I have ever read. Thanks, BMW.
For as long as I can remember, I wanted to travel. Whether it was riding to
Westfield on my Schwinn Typhoon, or to Plainfield, I knew that there was more
than where I was had to offer. Getting my license at 17 only pushed the door
open, but when getting my first motorcycle, and heading out on my first cross
state trip at 20, I knew that I was hopelessly locked into the call of the open
road. And then at 21 I did the unthinkable to many, I changed my New, from
Jersey to Mexico, on my R90S. Something that none of my friends encouraged me
to do, stay in school, get married, stay at Sears, it’s the same everywhere
anyway. And so those who stayed still think it is, but to those of us who
ventured away, we know different. We know how far across Texas really is by
riding across it. We know how wide the Mississippi really is because we have
crossed it. We know the sand in Florida’s gulf coast is finer than the gold
coast, and the water softer. We know that some roads weren’t planned, they just
follow the topography, like Skyline Drive in Virginia, and California. We have
run lean at 12,000 feet in Colorado, and been toasted riding across the desert
in Arizona. We know the difference between fresh lobster in New England, and
that fresh, flown in in Denver. We have found that open spaces are wide, but
not without life. That on two wheels we make friends, get better offers, and a
better sense of life from behind the handlebars. That some days are measured in
counties, some in time zones, and some without measure. That premium is cheaper
than regular in Kansas, because of the methanol content. We wake up every
morning on a trip, and smell the air, look at the skies, and confirm the guesses
made on the Weather Channel. We wave to other riders, friends, companions, and
fellow brothers, wondering how it is where they came from, because we are
heading that direction. And they wonder the same.
We know that BBQ is different is Texas than it is in North Carolina, than
it is in Tennessee. That real steaks taste better over a pit with a foil
wrapped potato than microwaved at a Denny’s. That in New Mexico Christmas means
both red and green chili. And that ice tea is only served one way in the south,
sweet. Yet many are afraid of leaving the safety and security of their own
home. “I’m happy, why should I try something different” I hear, barely audible
over their loud pipes. They brag about the high mileage on their rides, yet
when asked where they have been, they say “nowhere,” all the miles are from
commuting. North means Del Mar, after a week of planning. Going somewhere, and
nowhere at the same time. I meet men who talk of going all over the US of A on
business, never seeing anything more than the airport, and the view from the
shuttle to the meeting. Meals in hotels, never venturing out for local. Play
it safe, stick with chains, I can’t afford to be sick. And don’t know they are
sick already, in an endless malaise of mediocrity. A rut, which is really a
grave, but with the ends still open, providing a way of escape. Many diseases
have no symptoms, and many die from natural causes, unnaturally. When their
life can really be changed supernaturally.
Doug made a comment the other day at Bible study, that too many have their
Bibles stuffed with notes, are real students of the word, yet have never
experienced it first hand. They know more about Jesus than some scholars, from
his shoe size to his favorite food, yet wouldn’t know Him if He sat at their
table. And some have even turned on those He sent their way, they know all the
laws, just not the law of love. Safe and secure we know where to find them on
any Sunday morning, in the same seat, the same service, amongst the same crowd.
Who all agree on the same thing, that they are right, and others need to follow
their example. Don’t fix something that isn’t broken, and they cannot see the
mediocrity of their relationship with Christ. It ended with their salvation,
and it hasn’t gotten any better. If knowledge can get them a better seat in
heaven, they don’t have the wisdom to know it won’t. They sit and listen to
testimonies from others, and wonder why they have none of their own, why are
some blessed and we’re not? Yet don’t hear the call when called. And yet Jesus
calls, and that is maybe why many are called, but few are chosen. Their
choice. Some find solace in a third world jungle, and when coming home to
visit, can’t wait to get back. And the few, the proud, don’t get it. They
cannot understand why we can be blessed just helping the homeless, yet they
wouldn’t get their hands dirty. They give until it hurts, and have a low
threshold of pain. They don’t get Jesus, but do His teachings. It enters the
head, but cannot find the heart.
Mediocrity is no way to live or die. The lukewarm, not being aware of the
blessings in challenges, who stick to the same, and not knowing how bitter they
are becoming. Husbands and wives getting older, but not together. Where a big
challenge is Caesar instead of ranch dressing. Whose mantra of fear is “we’ve
never done it this way before,” the sign of a dead or dying relationship. But
it can change, Jesus still is calling, and not just to Africa. Maybe to
downtown, maybe to summer camp, maybe in church. Just to serve, and to be
blessed. The most blessed Christians I know are not local yocal Christians, but
who have heard the challenge, had a vision, a dream, and then followed it. Who
weren’t afraid to fail, and being blessed in the midst of the storm. Not
worrying about which fork to use, but picking up the lobster by hand, and
dipping it in the butter. Washing it down with a moon pie for dessert, and a
custard later. Not caring that real milk shakes have 60 more calories than
frozen yogurt, but going for the best. Knowing that hole in the wall places are
that way because they want to be, the hole conveniently placed where only some
know to look. While others sand in line at Denny’s, ordering of the low cal
menu. Served from a can.
Nowhere is somewhere, but a place no ne wants to be, or intended on going.
But many end up there in their spiritual walk. Not knowing the blessings from
Jesus that are available. Don’t be among the casualties, get out and live. The
best view is over the handlebars, going away from, and anticipating the day’s
ride. We know that the ride is the destination, and when we arrive too early,
go further in faith. Sleepwalking in faith, thinking this is all there is to
live and the Lord. Find out how wrong they are, and maybe you are. GET OUT and
live! Go boldly where no one, YOU, has never gone before. The road may end,
you don’t have to. Hike a new path, ride a new road, take a new trip. And as
you go, you will be spreading the gospel as Jesus commands us. Be the brave
Samaritan who blesses others while unloved. Dare to wear the same jeans two
days in a row, or three. Try something you have never tried, and find out what
life is all about. It is all about Jesus...you read the book, now live the
life. If they made a movie of your life, who would play you? Would it be a
movie you would want to see, or have your friends see? Life for you may be
about coming attractions, mine will be about what Jesus has done, is doing, and
what He is to do. On Any Sunday...more than a movie or morning in church. The
road is calling, what will your answer be? Go somewhere for a change. You’ll
never know where it is going until you get there.
love with compassion,
Mike
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