Many years ago, when the USGP returned to the US of A, where it belongs,
four of us decided to ride up and see it. Two groups of friends, where I was
the common denominator, and four different bikes with four different riding
styles. From my FJ1100, a Ninja 750, an Interceptor, and an old, first year
1975 Gold Wing, we had a fun ride. I was able to take them over back roads, we
each rode our own ride, at least all that male egos will allow, and no one got
lost, hurt, had their feelings hurt, or ran out of gas or road. We had a fun
ride, with the talk all the way from Joe on his Gold Wing about the best Chinese
food he ever ate in Monterrey, and that was all he would talk about. And soon
we were thinking Chinese food, to be specific Chinese seafood, and we let him do
the ordering. Joe knew the place and the menu, and as we sipped our soup, and
ate our egg rolls, we were anxiously anticipating the main course, which he
ordered by its menu name, not translated into English. We all got what he
ordered, but not what we thought we were getting....
He had ordered an octopus, all of it, and just the sight of it made two of
us detour for more egg rolls. But his excitement had us at least try it, and I
can tell you, the tentacles are tough, and I never want to get close to eating
an octopus again. Ever. And all of us but Joe agreed, and his feelings were
hurt that we didn’t like it as much as he did. He thought that because he loved
it we all should, I should have seen it coming when his love for Hondas, cars
and bikes, referred to all others as others. We look back now and laugh, but
his feelings were hurt, he meant well, wanted us to enjoy it as much as he did,
but left out our freedom of choice in our taste for Chinese food, and anything
with more arms than our bikes had cylinders. If I remember correctly, two of us
headed for a Big Mac remedy, but just thinking of the tentacles makes me lose my
appetite. Tough, chewy, no flavor, and one down, seven to go, by the way, the
race was great....
So dinner in Monterrey was memorable, what a nice word. And at the race at
Laguna Seca, we watched them race at the Corkscrew, where you enter a turn, then
turn again, at high speeds, off camber, going downhill, where you cannot see the
next turn until you are in it. A famous turn, with the legend that it was
created by a bulldozer operator when building the track in 1958. It was lunch
time, the others were heading down to the lunch wagon, and he was told “get
there the shortest way,” so he created the Corkscrew, I only hope his lunch was
as memorable. Two meals with memorable outcomes, somehow when I think of one I
remember the other, or is it the other way around?
Many times we get caught up in the excitement of an anticipated event. I
have friends who spend so much time in church they think anyone who doesn’t
isn’t save. And ones who if you don’t worship this way may have a questionable
salvation. Or if you aren’t a missionary, you don’t love, or if you don’t give
to missions you are selfish. They base their theology on themselves, what they
like, how they were saved, and how and what their church believes. No room for
outsiders, their way or the highway. But what if your way is the highway? And
so often I have to feign interest when they tell of a new book they read and how
it changed their lives. How they know more, are better equipped, but still
unchanged. Their knowledge only puffs them up more, and we can see them
coming. They think dressed in a Christian t-shirt and inviting someone to
church is evangelism, and their theology has a me based core. Encountering such
a man yesterday, with a John 3:16 shirt, I joked, “that will get you a seat
alone on the bus won’t it?” And he didn’t get it. Until I mentioned when most
see that shirt or message coming, they move elsewhere. Then his defense
response was “I don’t wear it for them, I wear it for other Christians.” “I
know...” and so do others. For just like our eight legged, or is it armed
dinner date, looking back there was one arm for each of ours, we trusted our
dinner leader, only to be let down. Just a thought, but would Jesus wear a
shirt that ran off others? Wouldn’t he get up and offer his seat to you? Do we
try to win people to our way of thinking, or just to win an argument? Do we
care about them, or just a point we are making? Stop and consider the
following,
Years ago at a Bible study a wife asked us to pray for her husband to stop
smoking. I asked him if he wanted to, he said no, and I told her my prayer
wasn’t going to change him, or his heart. When he cared more about his family
and his witness, he would stop. Unless the holy spirit guides you, our words
are fruitless. Unless we communicate better what is for dinner, we get octopus,
or the daily special. And unless we are told the way, we make our own, and end
up with a corkscrew. But Jesus is the way, and to each heart his message is the
same, but personalized. Just like our choice to eat or what we ride, we each
become an individual in Christ, and he changes us. Yet many lose sight of Jesus
in their day to day living, so concerned with being in the word, that the word
doesn’t reside in them. They mean well, but are really just an expensive meal,
a fancy race course, or a t-shirt advertising how great Jesus is, or really how
great they have become. Think about it....
Don’t be afraid to ask questions of those who are saved. And if asked,
answer in love, and if you don’t know, find out. In each case, no one asked us
what we liked, how to get to lunch, or if we needed to be ministered to. It was
all about the message, with the audience left out. If only love had been
present. But in all the examples of life we see how much we need Jesus, and how
we cannot do it on our own. Yet we try....
A girlfriend once sent me a postcard, it read “don’t brag about what a
great lover you are, show me.” A message for the church, and all of us who
ride. Consider others as Jesus did, putting them first. I may know John 3:16,
but what about 1 John 3:16? Look it up and see what I mean. Service for
eight. Pass the eggrolls please....
love with compassion, but not for octopus,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com