Monday, February 27, 2017

found under the tarp in the garage




















It was with mixed emotions I sold my 1978 Suzuki GS1000E.  I had it for six years, now it was someone else’s turn.  And the guy who bought it got a good deal, knew what he bought, and will appreciate it.  He is into older bikes, and will not expect anything out of it that it cannot produce.  He could appreciate the care it received, the new parts and the fresh rubber.  He could tell the condition went deeper than outer beauty.  He had to have it.  But yet other stories don’t end so well, as today many are getting back into motorcycling after being away for years.  Maybe they kept their old bike, hidden underneath the so called valuables in the garage, and one day decided to ride again.  So digging it out and cleaning it up, he finds the battery dead, the tires flat and cracking, and it needed a tune up when he parked it.  He finds himself surprised that it will only cost him about $1000 to fix all the things, and has to shop for a shop that works on old bikes, even the service manager is younger than his bike, the old store now replaced by a mega bike mall, where is the coffee pot and donuts and other guys he used to bench race with?  A stranger in a strange land he used to inhabit.  But he is persistent, and finds a place, makes the deal, and his bike will be ready next week, in time to ride.  But meanwhile, he needs to buy a helmet, the law now, another $200, and why not gloves and a jacket, and soon his $1500 bike has over $1500 invested in it, and he still hasn’t taken his first ride.  Add in the upgrade to an electronic ignition, the chain and sprockets that were worn, and soon $2000 of money in the eyes of his wife that she could have spent on a Michael Kors purse is gone.  Of which she reminds him all week...
But Saturday morning arrives, a friend drops him off, and he is asked “do you  have an M1 endorsement to ride?”  What?  He can be stopped and have his ride impounded because he is not street legal.  So he rides the two weeks until he can pass his test, a true outlaw in the states’s eyes, and gives him time to relearn how to ride.  40 years is along time, and in between the smiles and hassles wonders “why did I stay away so long?”  Finally after six weeks, almost $2000 invested, and too much time with his wife complaining, he takes off.  And it was all worth it, he now knows why he used to ride.  No Michael Kors purse, nor 401k will give him so much enjoyment and freedom.  And suddenly he is 20 again, out riding, making new friends his age who ride, and soon taking trips.  Maybe the best $2000 he ever invested, he used to feel old, now he feels young again.  He had gotten old because he quit riding, not the other way around.  And the Arai cuts out all the wind noise while riding, if only it worked so well at home.  To her just an old bike with bad paint, to him an escape route, a ticket to adventure.  Freedom he had forgotten about, and life renewed.  This time it was his turn...
Many of the Christians my age only went to Sunday School because they had to.  When we got old enough, we darted, never looking back.  And today, we know something is missing, and the lessons we learned then remind us.  That something was Jesus, we left him, he never left us.  So they look for a way back, into religion they call it.  But are looking for more, and often find less.  The small church is now a mega church, with so many groups and ministries they get lost in the shuffle. All they want is a little Jesus, someone to listen and who cares, what they get is repackaged religion, a new language spoken, new ways to worship, and an over abundance of teaching.  Learn this, memorize that, study for next week, and soon they leave again, unfulfilled, yet full of religion.  The spirit was calling, they answered, but got the wrong number.  Where is the Jesus they talk about?  Where is the forgiveness, the love?  Only the offering plate remains the same.  Pressure from a family member telling them “all churches are the same,” begins to make sense, but the spirit is still calling, they need his direction.  And God hears them, and answers.  They find a fellowship where they are welcomed.  Loved, maybe not understood, but accepted as they are.  And as the spirit begins to change their lives, others notice too.  They were that $1500 motorcycle under the tarp covered with trash, now they are clean and free.  A freedom never found before, and not found in education.  Only found in Jesus Christ, one to one.  Personal.  Forgiven, not perfect, and getting closer to God each day. On the inside where it counts, not on the outside where it is measured.  While some think the new wineskin is a new purse, they find they are a new wine in Christ, and they are the new wineskins in which the holy spirit dwells.  Suddenly the scriptures they had tried to memorize or study become real, as they live them rather than just learn them.  That Saturday morning ride becomes a Sunday ride also, but to church, and out afterwards. Enjoying the freedom only found in Jesus Christ, and realized in riding.  Sound familiar...what are you waiting for?  You could be living and riding in Christ today!
Riding didn’t change but it changes us.  Jesus never changes, but he changes us.  As we go.  The best things in Christ cannot be put into words, churches try, but only the spirit can give the peace you need.  The security you need, the forgiveness from Christ.  All the teachings and fellowship are shallow until you know Jesus personally.  All.  That bike under the tarp just may be your Bible calling out to you. Pick it up, let the spirit tune you up, recharge your battery, replace the soles of your shoes worn from life.  Let him renew your soul, and get out and live.  Taking Jesus with you everywhere, not just on a Sunday ride for an hour.  And finding more of Jesus than was ever taught in Sunday school, or from books.  Jesus is real, not just a study exercise, and like your own ride, it is personal.  Is yours?  Are you stuck in the Sunday for an hour trap?  Do you hear what the spirit is saying to you?  Listen to Jesus, not people, not even me.  The spirit will guide you and bless you.  Time to start living again.....
To some just an old motorcycle with bad paint under a blanket, to you much more.  Don’t keep Jesus the same way.  You could be enjoying all the blessings right now, you’ll never know until you do.  I hope the guy who bought my old GS1000 knows what he got...Jesus knows and knows your condition.  And will invest more than you think you are worth.  More than skin deep...one ride and you will be reminded.  Welcome back...it’s been too long....the road goes on, will you?
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com