A man I have known for years loves motorcycles. He is a wealth of
knowledge about them via all the articles he reads about them. He can tell you
why an R1 handles better than a GSXR 1000. Why Ninjas seem to run hot, and the
best kind of oil for your adventure bike. He can recite why an Arai fits
different than a Shoei, why Dunlops turn in faster than Michelins, and why
Harley Davidson sells more bikes than anyone else over 750cc. He knows by color
what year bike is going by, what magazine got the best 1/4 mile times, and best
60-80. He knows the way to The Dragon, and can even sit in on a bench racing
session and listen. What he cannot do, is comment, because has never
participated. He rides, but to work. His longest ride is 200 miles of
freeway. He has been over 100, but petrified afterwards, has ridden with guys
who go fast, but has never gone fast. He knows of curvy roads and scraping pegs
from those of us who do it. His bulk of his motorcycling experience has come
from the pages of Cycle World or Rider, or viewed on the 3x5 screen of an
i-pod. And yet, he considers himself a biker....
When I talk of the mist rising over the valley when on Skyline Drive, he
may have read an article about it. When told about a ride in 30 degree weather
following the snow plow, he has seen pictures. He has never ridden a 1000 mile
day except in his imagination, never fell asleep and woke up the next day in
another time zone, miles away. When road food is mentioned, his is all local,
BBQ being from So Cal, which in no way can compete with Memphis, KC, or
Birmingham. He knows the shortest distance between two points, but not the best
way to get there. His bike may his name on the title, but his seat time is a
far distant second place to what he has read about riding. He may know more
than me about riding, but I ride. His testimony is from others, mine is from
me. He has yet to discover the freedom, the individuality in riding. He thinks
he has, but it is only an educational exercise. Safe and secure lest any driver
cut him off, the temp drop, or the rain ruin his day. He reads rather than
rides, and although he has leathers and a motorcycle, he still hasn’t got what
it takes. That something is available, but somehow out of bounds for him. When
I reflect on roads, he reflects on articles. While I accumulate miles, he
accumulates knowledge. You cannot teach experience, at least he has a working
knowledge of riding. Or so he thinks...
When we read about Peter denying the Lord three times in the garden, and
find him leaving, writhing in pain and sorrow, he literally fell to the ground
in agony, his heart pounding and drenched in tears, we fix our gaze on him.
Think about it, a little teen age girl confronted big, old Peter and sent him
running, denying Jesus. Sadly just like we do. You see Peter took a defensive
position about the little girl, he felt she was endangering him. But maybe we
miss the point here, sure the guards were about to arrest Jesus, it was a scary
night. But assume for the minute, this little girl was scared. She didn’t know
what was going on, but kept hearing the name Jesus. And how he helped those in
need. And when she approached Peter, she was seeking help, “you were with him,
can you help me?” “You sound like him, do you really know this man from
Galilee?” Maybe the holy spirit had drawn her to Peter, and she wanted to meet
Jesus, to be saved. The conditions and the situation didn’t matter, she wanted
to meet Jesus. So Peter fled, denying him, and turning his back on her. Just
like we do when we fell threatened, when people ask us about Jesus. We get
scared, but miss the opportunity to share the gospel.
There is an undependability in the flesh, just like there is in only
reading about riding but never doing it. You can be safe and secure behind a
magazine, but do you feel the same way behind the handlebars? How many pastors
hide behind a pulpit, safe and secure, telling us how to witness, yet have never
been called to do it one on one to a hard core biker? A hooker? They may know
the scripture, they can quote it, but can they live it? How many times do the
priests in your life confront you, pinning you down by their superior knowledge
of the scriptures, only to fail miserably and visibly in practice? At least
Peter ran away and wept, the priests so hard of heart stayed behind. I wonder
if they had any concern for the little girl? Was their hatred of Jesus so
strong they missed the message of the book they quoted? Peter repented, and his
one endearing quality was after all his mistakes, he kept going on. After
repenting. He didn’t look back, he moved forward. Without the priests, or the
little girl knowing he was experiencing what would be recorded in the New
Testament that night.
Nothing is ever known about the little girl, she is nameless like so many
Jesus encountered. Like the woman who gave two mites, she might have been able
to provide shelter for Peter if he wasn’t afraid. When someone asks you about
Jesus how do you react? Are you a Peter? Is your testimony just words on a
page? Do you quote scripture or live it? Do you read about it or ride about
it? At least Peter had left the security of his own environment, he had
followed Jesus. He only didn’t realize, that he was the same Jesus who was with
him in the boat. So next time you hear a teaching on picking on Peter, at least
he was there. He hadn’t stayed at home where it was safe. He was out with
Jesus, not just in a study or teaching. Pray for those who only live for Jesus
inside the four walls of a church. Who never encounter little girls who have
questions about salvation. Who know it all but don’t know Jesus. On our own we
are destined to fail, Peter proves that. But when the spirit guides us, we can
feel secure that Jesus is with us. By the way, where were the other disciples
that night? Hiding? At least Peter was out there with Jesus. Hide behind the
Bible, and never know the thrill of victory. Get out and live the Bible, and
come close to defeat, knowing the victory we have in Jesus. Peter walked in
faith, he ran in fear. Read about life or ride about it. A picture may be
worth a thousand words, but 1000 words will never replace 1000 miles. Where
would you have been that night? How would you have answered? Some read, some
ride. Some run from, so run to. Some ask, some answer. Some fear, some stand
firm. Iron butt or iron heart? Some time you will be confronted.....and how
will you respond?
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com