prayer/praise requests-with love from me to you

Dave and I were talking at church last night about how blessed we are. And also how God does so many things in our lives just because He loves us. And how when we turn our hearts to Him, He uses us to bless others. You see we are nothing special-both without incomes, but working for a God who loves us and meets all our needs. So I want to thank Him again publicly, and share some of the great things He has included me in this year. This is not one of those sickening letters people insist on sending out every year telling how great their lives are, but a true testimony to God. Give Him the glory-believe me, He can do all things without me if He chooses.

We started out the year with only Theresa working, me on unemployment making less per week than I used to make a day, and with Brandon living with us. His own family would not take him in, and he was living in a tent in back of Home Depot. He stayed with us a while, and was getting himself back on his feet, but needs prayer, as the world's grip on him has pulled him back into it. Pray for him and his daughter Hailey, and also Hailey's mom, who is not Brandon's girlfriend. She needs Jesus.

David Hammond went to be with the Lord this year, while riding- a heart attack not an accident, we always joked about me doing his eulogy-which I got to do before 300+ bikers at his church. Thanks to Pastor Jim for letting all these bikers into his church-if you are looking for a church home, these guys are right on. Keep Sally and the girls in prayers, as they miss David, and so do I. You won David, but I'm coming soon.

I was hit in my first motorcycle accident on March 24, then hit again on October 17, my poor Bonneville! And due to sloppy police reporting had to vindicate myself-she hit me, not like the wretched cop reported. Using Blaine's contacts, I met Dana Ray, who investigated the accident himself, and found the only way it could have happened was how I said it did. Vindicated-but still limping, my poor Bonneville repaired though. And pray for Dana, as he has taken early retirement due to falling from a ladder-and damaging both ankles.

I met Richard, one of the inmates I write too each week with the same devotions you read, and we have become friends-he calls me his mentor, I hate that term, I am just his friend, but have seen him grow in the Lord, and we were blessed to have him with us on Christmas. Keep him in prayer as he adjusts after 11 years in prison, has started his own cleaning business, and grows in the Lord. By the way, I started out with 19 inmates receiving my devotions, and using them to start Bible studies or prayer circles-down to 14 now as they are getting out. One man, John Dooley, has been moved to 5 or 6 different prisons this year, and at each location starts a Bible study-leaving the study he started in God's hands and with someone who God has raised up. From death row at Chowchilla, to seven other institutions, these men and woman are finding the answer to their lives is Jesus Christ. Even a few of them are using the song sheets and Bible studies I send from my men's study-although behind bars they study each week with us-free in the spirit. And my senior study group sends cards and letters to each of them. The blessings when we hear back bring many tears to our eyes-all family, just with different mothers, but the same savior-Jesus! And yes, only Ken Pilbin can tell how many gray hairs I have given him-not all are hereditary!

I was able to visit with an old girl friend in NJ, and spent a day with her family. Keep Larry and Cheryl in prayer for salivation, and also for healing as he has cancer. God is not done with them yet, such is His love. I also got to visit with my parents, between flash floods, water got as high as my tank back on the Tiger-about 34",and had the best time. And then Theresa and I were able to visit Frank and Kendyl in Oregon. Although our roots are in motorcycle ministry, God allows us to minister to so many others. And travel via bike to 25 states and over 30,000 miles this year. Blessing and being blessed-it truly is all about Jesus.

I could go on about my second accident-just pray for Beverly, or about the two other men we had stay with us, pray for Rob and Brent. I could tell how God has sustained us without any income except for Theresa's, but instead I rather point to Jesus-who takes care of all these things. He has given us a peace that surpasses understanding, and a group of friends to keep us encouraged. To our church and staff-thanks for encouraging us outside of the dove. And in it.

And for those who still wish to do battle with us, we pray for you even more-as if you wish to become our enemy, we turn you over to God. We wish you peace, comfort, salvation, and all the blessings you can handle. And keep me in your prayers, also. We all serve the same great God, let's show the world our unity in the spirit-the Holy Spirit! May the next time we meet, we are able to reconcile in Christ! I hold no grudges or ill will to anyone-I pray you get over it too!

Keep my sons in prayer as each one has had a motorcycle accident this year-we may limp a little, but we still ride-the testimonies continue. I could go on about the kindnesses of the Black Sheep, and our CMA friends, Fred and our friends at BFC and Biker Church, and our church family-but then it might sound like one of those letters I find so distasteful, so I will leave it with this-I love each one of you for who you are-and pray that God blesses you even more in 2010. Be open to Him, and watch the blessings explode in your lives as Jesus uses you to change hearts, feed, clothe, visit, and love on others. Workers needed, but for those of us called, there is plenty of work, and no job shortages. Apply now-just ask Jesus, how can I help, and then get ready for the time of your life.

John ends his gospel saying that if all things that Jesus did were written down, no library could hold them, and now I understand better-as my library of testimonies increases, I find I am out of room.

We love each and every one of you-how can we be of assistance to you? Always praying, and read to serve, we wait. Maranatha-He is coming soon! Be ready!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

well done my good and faithful servant

This is a story of two men, one you may know the name, and one I am sure you don't know. Two men, performance driven, from different worlds, but sharing a common goal, being driven by perfection. Both winners in the world's eyes, but losers in life. My friend Bouke was the fastest rider we knew. At all the bike shops, and races, he was well known. In fact, when he didn't win, it was news-he was that good. On the street he had a reputation for having the fastest bike, and if for some reason he lost-rare, or when a faster model came out, he would sell it and build another. In the early 70's this meant H1's, H2's, and when I last saw him had an early Yoshimura Z-1. I remember riding the Z-1, and it was scary fast-no one except Triumph understood handling, and we would joke about the bike being hinged in the middle. No chassis could handle all that power! But to Bouke, this only meant riding faster, pushing the bike well past its limits, and a great, yet narrow focused ride for the next owner when he sold it and started on his next project. We would be out, and he would point to a bike, saying "that one used to be mine-it was real fast." And then looking at the nerdy kid who had the price of admission-money, to own it, with not enough talent to ride it like Bouke, and never being able to enjoy its potential., would feel bad for the bike. A thoroughbred now hauling a cart. But he had bragging rights to what he owned, even if he never could ride it like Bouke. And that, the bike, would gain him admiration among his friends. We used to go to the local McDonald's, and even pulling in, the lot would empty-hot rods, muscle cars, and bikes. He was that fast! But with all that talent came a curse-for he never found a bike fast enough for him, or one that he hadn't used up all its potential. You never heard the words too fast come from his mouth, only I want to go faster-and so he did.

When Theresa and I are asked, "do you camp?" we always reply "Camp Marriot." At the end of a day's riding, we enjoy the hot tub, showers, and comfy beds awaiting. And for years, when we could afford it, always stayed at Marriott's-confession, my son worked for them and we got a great discount! J. Willard Marriot was a man driven by perfection. Starting his Hot Shoppes during the depression, they grew into a huge business, that among other things made him the first company to sell hot meals to the airlines. He was a control freak, and expected perfection from himself, and his employees. He treated them well, but was always looking for a better way. From a consumer stand point this is great, but it exacts a price to those you call family. Watching his sons being interviewed, they told of how their father never once told them they did a good job. No matter how hard they tried, they always fell short. And as their dad explained, his father never told him good job, and look how he turned out. The one thing they both admitted they needed, and wanted, they had been denied. Like McCartney wrote, "something inside that was always denied for so many years..." Which shows up the lack of love that a performance based relationship has. He was a Mormon, and believed his good works would get him to heaven, neglecting the true Jesus of the Bible and substituting a lie for the truth. Who needs love-I've got a record to fall back on. Yet it was never enough for him, sadly passing this heresy on to his kids. In the world's eyes they had it all, but to his kids, they lacked the love that only a father can give to his children. And in the endless pursuit to please God, which you can't do by your actions, they were miserable inside. But then not knowing God will do that to you. And the world won't get you to heaven.

God loves us all equally-sinner and saved. If He didn't, He would not have sent Jesus to die so we could be reunited with Him-for we are sinners and fell away-not Him. His salvation is found in grace through a personal relationship with Jesus Christ-no other way. You cannot make God love you more-so give it up! And start enjoying the relationship that He has for you.

And for you stuck in the false religion of a works based salvation-trust God. Pick up your Bible and read Ephesians 2. There is 10 short verses the gospel is presented simply. But that is your choice. So if you rather live your life wondering if you will be good enough to get to heaven, you won't-you cannot be. Because without grace you aren't. If you live your life, hoping God marks on a curve, based on your performance, you may do ok until a J. Willard comes along, and then you are relegated to second place. Or you may be pretty talented until Bouke blows your doors off. Try explaining that gospel to someone. "Yeah, God loves you, and if you're pretty good you may see heaven, but there are those who are better, and they will get to heaven before me-I just don't know if I will." And just how good would be good enough? Yeah-that's how I want to live my life, aren't you glad God's way is better?

You see Bouke had to get old, and some new faster kid would come along-and start a new legend. For in his day, he was the fastest-but where is he now? And as some pundit put it years ago-you are only as good as your last game. I don't know about you, but for every winner there has to be a loser. With a bad last game. I don't want to wonder if I am getting to heaven based on my record, I rather do it based on Jesus' record. And if you like, His last game-on the cross! Total victory-and since I am part of the team I go with Him-I won! And just like hanging with Bouke, I got to meet the fastest guys, see the coolest rides, and meet the prettiest girls. Being part of the team still counts! Even if you aren't the best! You still win with Jesus!

Today I still like to stay at Marriots-they are among the best hotel chains available. But I find that the price he and his family paid for their success, and eventual defeat, far too high for me. So now I stay in places like the Melody Ranch Motel, and meet the owner-humble and simply caring about his guests. I get a good night sleep for half the price, and hope that the owners install the same high principals that J. Willard did, with one exception-love.

If you haven't told your kids you love them lately, call them and make their day. Tell your wife, and watch her attitude change-maybe from one of what does he want, to one of what can I do for him. Love is like that, it must be shared, and actions speak louder than words, but the words are still nice to hear.

To my wife and kids, I love you. And it's a good thing about grace, because I know all about you. And I'm reminded that God knows all about me. Now that is a strong argument for grace if I ever heard one. Grace, mixed with mercy-a performance that no performance can ever beat. At any speed, on any ride, no matter where you lay your head.

In a world of winners and losers, don't go by the specs, go by the person. And make that person Jesus Christ. Only in Him will you realize your potential-the potential to be blessed far beyond what any man or motorcycle can offer.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

who said it's only a game?

While channel surfing yesterday, came upon a gem on the MLB channel, Major League Baseball. It took me back 40 years to 1969, a year of great dichotomies. A year where man walked on the moon, but also gathered at Woodstock. A year when the Manson Family brought fear to the LA area by their brutal murders, and also the year the Jets won the Super Bowl. All events changing lives forever. But it was in the fall, October 16th, to be exact, that baseball changed forever, and with it the lives of many die hard National League fans. For on that date, the NY Mets won the World Series. A team that had lost 89 games the year before, who had never had a winning season, and were 100-to-1 odds to even be in it, won it!

On a team in the past with the lovable likes of Pumpsie Green, Felix "Wrong Way" Mantilla, Choo Choo Coleman, Marvelous Marv Throneberry, and two Bob Millers-both pitchers, one L and one R, had put together a team that did it. They had come a long way from Al Jackson, the game, little left hander from Waco, Texas!Managed by Gil Hodges, Brooklyn Dodger great first baseman, and local hero, he told them in spring training they were a championship team, and that sometime during the year they would surface and become one. A team who won 40 games its first year, a team that only once had risen to ninth place-a championship team?

Maybe not in the standings, but definitely in the fans hearts. For their across the river rivals, the Yankees, seemed to never lose, yet the Mets outdrew them in attendance every year. A lovable team, who's fans knew and loved them. We knew that Jerry Grote was from Texas. Tom Seaver was from Southern Cal-you could always pick out his wife Nancy in the stands. Joan Hodges was Gil's wife, and they were all like friends to us Met fans. But this year was different-at least it didn't start out that way.

Playing the expansion team, the Expos, they had a chance to win their first season opener ever, and lost. And wallowed in the second division until June-when they won 10 games straight. Gil's prophecy was about to begin. Who could forget Tom "Terrific" Seaver's one hitter against the Cubs putting them in first place in August? A team that once it got the fever, kept it-and the fans went nuts. They were 28-5 down the stretch at home, and were 28-11 the last two months. "Break up the Mets" was heard, as no one had seen them play ball like this before. And so it was fitting, that after sweeping the Braves in the playoffs, they would come up against the Baltimore Orioles- a team that had won over 100 games that season. And beat them 4 games to 1 in the World Series.

And watching that game I remembered Joan Payson, the owner and first lady of the Mets, who always sat in her box by the dugout-with the fans. Pearl Bailey, Louis Armstrong, Averill Harriman, Skitch Henderson, and Connie Francis were all Met fans. As were the countless millions who were vindicated that day. Warren Giles, National League president, claimed it was the best World Series ever, and to top it off, they won it on Mr. Payson's birthday. What a gift! The day we had waited for, and thought impossible had happened. The Amazins' had become the Miracle Mets! The World Champs!

More than followers, and more than fans, we stayed with them through the highs and lows-peaks and valleys as the Bible calls them. You see true Christians, stay with Jesus in good and bad times. he gets us through, and we are not just followers, but friends, as He calls us. We know Him intimately, like we did our Mets, and are familiar with Him. We know Him, not just about Him. It is a relationship. And in the family, rich or poor, tall or short, left or right throwing, we are all equal. We all rejoice when someone is saved, and all weep when an injustice is done. But we are always with Jesus, and after trials and tribulations, enjoy the thrill of victory even more. You see when the Mets were losing, we were made fun of, but when they were winning, everyone wanted to be a Met fan. But we could tell the wannabes from those whose heart was Met blue and gold-just like Jesus can tell the sheep from the goats. Our hearts and lives are sold out to Him-and we are His. A precious relationship-win or lose, that when we die we win! And even though we don't win every game, we stay with Him, as He guides us through the day.

The 1969 Mets were described as being able to do ordinary things in an extra-ordinary way, and extra-ordinary things in an ordinary way. Sounds like Jesus-miracles abound when He is in your life, and sometimes they become so commonplace you forget the love in them. But He doesn't, and gently reminds us-it is called grace-unmerited favor. Sounds like the Mets season that year. Like Met fans He never leaves us or forsakes us.

You can walk like winners everyday, no matter the score, with Jesus. Losing streaks will end-they are really times of testimony building, and winning streaks extend way past the end of the season. Today join a team where its members are loved, and where we worship and rejoice together. Christians-let's all unite under the banner of Jesus-and even though we worship at different denominations, let's keep the main thing the main thing-Jesus. For just like in baseball, fundamentals still count the most.

Did you know Ed Charles, the Glider had been in the leagues for 18 years, and never a champion? And Jerry Koosman was from Appleton, WI? That Tommie Agee and Willie Mays are both from the same town in Alabama? Or that Davey Johnson made the last out, the same Davey Johnson who would manage the Mets to their next World Series Championship in 1986? Met fans do. Can you tell me where Jesus was born, and where He resides now? That the Bible contains 66 books by 40 authors, written over 4000 years, inspired by the same God? Christians can-join the team, no tryouts needed! Let's Go Mets!

And as always-let's go with Jesus! A champion every year, in every league.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

it's all about the birth, not the birthday

Every once in a while our government screws up and does something that really is a benefit to its citizens, well at least to its bikers. Years ago they moved certain holidays to Mondays, creating three day weekends, giving us another day to ride farther, eat more, and spend time on the road. And I for one am thankful for it. It has turned many 'what are you gonna do weekends' into 1000 mile memories, which never can be bad. And they were smart enough to let Christmas stay on the 25th, no matter what, and Thanksgiving be on a Thursday, creating a five day holiday for those so blessed. Hey, they even left Independence Day on July 4th, we need to rehire these guys!

But in making the change, they had to reorganize, and some I don't agree with. Martin Luther King, George Washington, and Abraham Lincoln's birthdays don't get celebrated on their real date, but changed to Mondays. And in the case of Abe and George, lose their personalness by being renamed President's Day. Here, two of the arguably best presidents we ever had, and we erase their names. And also Memorial Day isn't on the 30th of May. Somehow it isn't the same with the Indy 500 moving around, and breaking tradition. I mean how would you feel if your birthday was changed for convenience, for a people who didn't know or even care about you outside of getting a paid day off? Mike Mohn's birthday, what are your plans this year? You got three days, where can we go? Hint-it's in May and the weather is usually great to ride in. And feel free to rename it Let's Go Riding Day. But I think you get the idea. We lose something to our selfish indulgences. Great men, great memories, but somehow the luster of the reason to celebrate is lost.

Only one man in history, Jesus Christ, was born a king. He wasn't elected, named, had no coronation, or victory lap when He became king. Didn't walk up from the White House and there wasn't media coverage. Didn't need it. For true love-which He is, doesn't call attention to itself. He is king, and was born king-while laying in a manger He was king, and we should not forget that. And that is why we celebrate His birth, not His birthday, on December 25th. Sorry atheists and ACLU, we know that wasn't the day he was born, but thanks for recognizing who He is, despite your hatred for Him. Curious, what part of love and freedom don't you agree with, and why does He scare you? You see as Christians we celebrate Him daily by our living for Him. We need no special day, for everyday in Him is special. But the world has chosen one day, to recognize Him internationally, and so we do. Even the ACLU takes the day off. Talk about hypocrisy. And we eternally will celebrate with Him, for His kingdom exceeded death, and this world-for eternity and in heaven. No other king can lay claim to that. Or promise it and guarantee it.

Changing the day we celebrate George and Abe, and Marty doesn't change who they are, or why we celebrate them. Include Jesus in that list-it isn't the day, but the person. And no other person has ever been or will ever be King of Kings, Lord of Lords-wonderful, counselor, Prince of Peace, Son of man, and the Son of God. Our Lord and Savior-Jesus Christ, the only begotten son of God. God incarnate, savior, master. You see, with all the names given Him, we should celebrate everyday-for He is all of them. The Alpha and the Omega-the great shepherd! Who else deserves the title-and then went on to earn it? Just a baby in a manger-no way. A king holding court with those who loved and adored Him, not knowing what He would grow up to be, but realizing His royalty. Wise men from afar bringing gifts-gold for His royalty, frankincense for His priesthood, and myrrh-recognizing His death that would bring life. Wrapped in swaddling clothes-strips of cloth that were used to wrap the corpses in-God showing at His birth what He would do ultimately for us as King.

Do you worship Him in your life? Wise men still seek Him. And He is the reason for the Season. There are no Holy Days or holidays without Him, certainly no happiness.

Happy Birthday Jesus! Whether December 25th or June 15th-all hail the King of Kings. A gift from God-to remind us that it is better to give than receive. So when you give gifts this year, remember this is a tradition God started 2000 years ago, when He gave His only son, and give with love-wishing the receiver Merry Christmas! Because it is! Just may start a whole new tradition, or reinforce an old one. Imagine that, an atheist following a Godly tradition. Ignorantly. Fits them perfectly!

Be good to yourself and others-and Merry Christmas! Jesus Christ, the gift that never stops giving!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

driving in a winter wonderland

I am very blessed that extreme temperatures don't bother me. I've ridden in 124 degree heat, and also driven when the thermometer is buried at -42. Now I'm not saying the extremes are my first choice to be in, but you find a constant in the types of people who live in them-they don't complain. Riding in 124 heat, I rode with a guy who wore his winter coat and gloves, it wasn't hot to him as he had just returned from Iraq and had seen 145 on the ground. In Colorado, it was not uncommon to hear "it's -20 today," only to have someone else mention it hit -35 at his house at a higher altitude. You dealt with, and learned to function and live in it.

But with the mountains, it brought a lot of snow. The first winter at Vallecito Lake we had over 500 inches-about 44 feet of snow. In one four day period we had 8' of snow, or put another way 96 inches in 96 hours! To me that was a lot by any circumstances. But a funny thing happened-there was only one day we couldn't get to town. You see Colorado has an incredible system of snow removal.

This crew of snow plows and their operators are incredible. They are out when it starts, having a plan devised to keep the roads passable, and to me it is nothing short of a miracle. Particularly when you figure in the danger. They don't have guardrails or curbs on many roads, so they follow land marks when they can, and when they can see. I've talked to those who think they have been in a total white out, and I thought I had been until I was in one-it's freaky. Like the dark, only white-with no definition, and no landmarks. And these brave snowplow men operate in these conditions. Very rarely do you hear of an accident, but when you do it is almost always fatal, as 2000 foot drops are encountered. But yet, they still do their job-and admirably so.

During the 8 day blizzard, there was only one day we didn't get into Durango, 27 miles away. Leaving the cabin before 6am, the plows had already done their first sweep, and sometimes you could follow one in-a bonus. But turning off of CR501, onto the road into town, you pick up some serious altitude in the next five miles, and the plow had not been through yet. We had driven the road so many times before we knew it, so took off-unplowed. Snow when we started off was up over the bumper of our Rabbit, and for the next hour we drove almost four miles, plowing ahead on our own. But finally came to a stop when we couldn't push it anymore, and high centered. And with no place to turn around, the only way back was to back down the road-for four miles. So we did, and with the cold at below -30, hung my head out the window to see. Not only hard on the face, but makes it hard to breathe-you are at 8000' altitude, and the cold affects your lungs. And as the cold air hits your warm body it forms ice, on your beard. Which then instantly froze, and broke off in pieces. My argument for cold is, was it so cold your beard broke off? Maybe you weren't that cold after all. But we made it back-only took 2 hours in reverse and fortunately encountered no one else-they were all smart enough to wait for the plow. And we lived to drive another day-although without the proper coverage of facial hair. But a lesson learned, and remembered.

God tells us He would that we be hot or cold, but because we are not, he vomits us out of His mouth. Now we instantly think temperature, but God is talking a heart condition. If you are eager after Christ, He will be with you, and bless you. Your life will reflect it. Also if you are cold to the Lord, He will continue to show Himself to you, and it will show in your trials, and failures. Like driving without a plowed road. But it is the lukewarm, the Goldilocks out there, that are trendy towards Him, that He despises. When hot or cold, you have made a decision to follow Him whether you realize it or not, it is just the degree you surrender to Him. But when lukewarm, you have also made a choice-and it is all about you. Choosing God when He can help you, and feeding your fleshly desires, sometimes at the expense of others. You see Goldilocks was one selfish sucker, if it didn't fit her plan, she rejected it. But those of us who choose God, will get hot and cold-but will always seek Him. She sought herself, and God rejected her, because she rejected Him. Just the opposite of what He says to us, He loved us first!

And sometimes it takes a blizzard, or extreme heat in our lives to help us make the decision. The heat of low finances, of joblessness, or of being overwhelmed by life. Or the cold of a divorce or a relationship gone cold-or dead, to run to God. That is why hot or cold, He offers ways to Him-our eyes still stay on Him.

Whether guiding a plow, navigating a snow packed road, or just driving to the mall, we need God in our lives. And we find that He puts the desire for a relationship in front of us daily. Only a fool denies it, or a Goldilocks. Believe me, it takes more than driving skill to navigate in a blizzard-your eyes may be on the road, but your mind is always praying-no matter your walk.

God offers you the choice to know Him through Jesus Christ. Hot or cold, He is with you. Snow or dry, He guides. And when you rest with Him, the bed is always what you need to rest in-for He is with you. Poor Goldilocks-for one nights sleep, and a full stomach, she gave it all up. Don't you-stick close to God, and watch as the coldness of your heart melts-no matter the outside temp.

And wait for him to guide you-He makes a way just like the plow does. Isn't is nice to know the road you are on is safe in Him? Stay warm this winter, in Christ. Chains not needed-He broke those binds on you too! So get out and seek Him!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

for the love of the game

If you were the kid who had to be repeatedly told to quit throwing the ball against the house, and didn't, you may understand the following better than most. If when called for dinner, you kept insisting "one more play," and two scoring drives later only came in because the kid who owned the ball had to go, you're not alone, but in good company. And if you had parents who couldn't understand shooting hoops or playing HORSE by a streetlight, you probably have a good understanding of being a kid. A time when football scores were 66-60, and you could have tied the game, but you really had to go to the bathroom, and your mom made you wash your hands, then sit and eat your cold hamburger. When throwing the ball into the square you drew on the side of the house, you were only one strike away from striking out the side and a perfect game, and your father appeared-game called on account of parent, and you had to abandon your dream, until the next day. When frustration was defined as trying to explain HORSE to your mother, who couldn't understand playing it in the dark. Try proving that shot!

These were simpler times of playing sports, before you got older and tried out for a team, and learned about rules. That there were only three strikes, you couldn't dribble with both hands, and the curb wasn't your out of bounds marker, and if you didn't score you gave the ball over-after a punt. There were no "do overs," and sometimes life was really a four point play-the two you lost when the ball was stolen, and the two they got after stealing it. You had rules, and somehow the game lost a lot of its fun. You learned winning and losing where before even the easiest catch was replayed in your hall of fame mind all day. And the fun was defined by innings, or worse yet by a clock. You quit playing while it was still light? Hey, you were just starting to have fun when the gun went off-game over. And times when you were hard at practice, would look over to the other field and see kids playing a game of touch football, and between drills would wonder over and say "hey kid, toss me the ball." Just waiting for the coach to say "drop and give me 20," when all you wanted to do was play the game they had turned into a job. And when you murmured something, were reminded you weren't there to have fun, a precursor to what laid ahead in adulthood. Rules, signs, plays, and lessons to learn-just so you could do what you had been doing for years-with rules, just without the fun.

The law and the spirit are always at odds with each other. And if you want to quench the spirit, add rules. And as Christians, we love rules-well some of you do. To young ones we tell them you have to read your Bible 20 minutes daily, pray for ten, and memorize Bible verses each week-this will make you a better Christian. And although those things are not inherently wrong, they just add rules-which is what we were trying to escape when we came to Christ-am I a bad Christian if I don't memorize the verses? What if I can only read 5 minutes per day? Are you better than me because you do? I believe the Bible says something about where the spirit of the Lord is there is liberty. Where is the freedom in the above example? But the spirit encourages us to want to do these things. And it doesn't stop there. As I even see Christian ministries, who will tell you they believe all the Bible, have rules. A major motorcycle ministry forbids communion at any of its events. But say, doesn't Jesus say "do this in remembrance of me?" If friends in that ministry are at my house and we have communion, are we in danger of having the organization tell us to roll up our patches-because we did as Jesus commanded?

I also know of ministries that are a narrow focus, and when seeing how the folly of rules interfered with their ministry-changed the rules, and followed God-allowing His spirit to be the ultimate referee. Because when you add rules, you not only quench the spirit, but you make it a performance based relationship-see I told you if you read the Bible 20 more minutes you would be holier! And some act like it! You see the law kills the spirit, and it becomes all about you, instead of all about Jesus. Now note, I am not saying this effects your salvation, but can certainly curtail any real growth and ministry desires you may have. Perhaps by quoting a mobster who got caught going to church. When accused of getting morals, he said " I ain't got no morals, I live by a set of rules." You see rules tell us when we are out of bounds, not in. They tell us when we are out, not safe. And when we have been fouled. Any questions? The rule police are out to get you-don't let them.

Living in the spirit, keeping your heart open to Jesus is where it is at. Getting closer to the God who created you, who wants to spend time with you and bless your ministry. Remember that next time you can't remember the Roman Road, or the four spiritual laws, or don't have your Bible. And the person you are with can, and then gives you grief because you shared Jesus without them. God gives the words, let Him.

My mind goes back to the Wrangler commercial with Brett Favre. Just some guys without uniforms playing some touch in the mud, and by the smiles on their face you could never score enough points to justify them. They are having fun, and even if you lost, you still won. And I can even remember forgetting the score, or who was even keeping it. Being in the spirit is like that. Score doesn't matter. Just looking forward to seeing your friends again next week. Just like a good church does-wanting you to return for more.

And at the end of the Natural, just watching two southpaws playing catch, and as Roy Hobbs' face breaks into a smile, finally is at peace. A peace not found, a smile not allowed when going for the championship-only found when doing what the spirit moves you to do. Maybe that is why Christians should have more fun than anyone else-but don't. Too many rules. So seek God, drop the rules, follow the spirit, and enjoy a full relationship with God. May even bring a smile to your face. And what good is fun if you don't enjoy it?

As for now, I just can't stand the ball bouncing off the house anymore. "Hey kid, quit throwing the ball against the house! Wait, hold it a minute, let me get my glove." Where two or three are gathered Jesus is among them. It just may take a ball to remind you. Remember just as some of the best games are not played on a field, the best times in God don't have to be spent in church. That's ministry, and a relationship.

Aren't you glad God doesn't keep score? Now, play ball! In the spirit, and leave the rules for those who need them. The one thing the Ten Commandments could not do was offer salvation-find it in Jesus today, in the spirit.

"Coach, can I get a drink of water now?" What was that about rules?

love with compassion, and having fun,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

mom never should let him have his friends over

If what P.T. Barnum said is correct, I can account for 15 minutes of his statement-that is that a sucker is born every minute. And the following may just prove his point. My boss Jack, the same one who thought he gave me ulcers, was going to have a party at his house for him and his buddies. His wife was going out of town, so they were going to stay up late, drink beer, eat pizza, smoke cigars, and do all the things mature men do when their wives are gone. I can only imagine the others making up stories or begging their wives to stay out late-not realizing their wives were thinking take the whole weekend off and give us a break! Jack was telling how this was to be the event of the year to his other hen pecked friends, when somebody asked, "you're not having any stag movies?" He hadn't thought of it, but what a brilliant idea, a way to make all his friends envious, and him party meister of Durango-at least in his own mind. Now none of his other friends would be so decadent, so he inquired of where to get one. Nobody was sure, this was Durango, after all, or what one to get. And this was a group of rather worldly men he was talking too, I was just another salesman at the meeting. Looking at me, I suggested jokingly, "The Black Stallion. Just call the video rental store and have them put it aside. Then you won't be embarrassed going in and asking for it." And he did it. All I can figure is it was the Jersey Factor, as this stupid suggestion was taken to heart, from a guy who wouldn't listen when I shared the gospel,but ridiculed me. But when it came to stag movies, he would listen. Maybe he figured since I was from NJ I was a reprobate anyway, so to really egg him on, I said it was made in the same city as Deep Throat-and the next weekend couldn't come fast enough. And I had to laugh-at least inside while in front of them-stupidity had hit a new high, or was it low?

So Jack called and reserved my made up movie, which turned out to be real as I had suspected, and all week we got sick of hearing about how they were going to watch this stag classic-xxx at its most decadent. And the legend of the Black Stallion grew with each story-some even claiming to have seen it, and making those who were really henpecked jealous. They had been invited but their wives said no. As the night arrived, they had bought the cigars, put the beer on ice, and ordered pizza, now they just were waiting for Jack to return with the movie so the debauchery could begin.

More pubescent than mature, they watched with anticipation as the movie began, at a farm, their reprobate minds only dreaming of what was next. For awhile it shows a ranch with horses, no women, and one genius states "they all start slow." And as the anticipation builds, they find the rancher and his wife begin to raise this black stallion, while fully clothed, and it begins to dawn on them, this isn't a porno flick. But no one wants to believe it, or to ruin their dream evening, so they continue to watch. Until after about 10 minutes someone yells-"I've seen this movie, my kids have it! This ain't no stag movie-it's about a horse!" And after a minute of wandering what kind of father would show his kids such a film, realize they were put together. Conned. Their lust overcame all their sense of common, and they were duped. Busted. The Black Stallion was about-a black stallion! And their weekend was ruined. And it was Jack's fault!

So he did the thing that was expected of him. Tearing the movie from the machine, he drove to the video store, and cursed, ranted, and raved all over the poor high school kid who had rented it to him. The same kid who had only done what he was told, unaware of the stupidity of the customer he would later have to deal with. And not having a clue as to what was going on. Because, as life teaches you, when pride interrupts your perfect night at the movies-you have to blame someone else. Sorry, kid-you should have seen it coming. And Jack, couldn't even ask if he was given the wrong film, too many people knew him, and the kid was under 18, so he couldn't have gotten it from him anyway-if it had even existed. A perfect con, that fit its audience so well. So he went back empty handed, to his friends with the by now cold pizza, warm beer, and cursed me-silently until he saw me, and they all sat with their dream weekend ruined. Lust had overtaken them, and they had no one to blame but themselves, so they blamed Jack. Who would blame me. Which brings up the question-why would you believe a Christian about a stag movie, but not about God? Which one would he be better suited to tell about? Yes, P.T., your 15 minutes of suckers was accounted for that night-and all in one room, together.

And as Christians, we can be no better at believing what we are told. Mr. Peabody, set the wayback machine for the first century church, about 45AD, and grab Sherman-let's see how somehow we haven't changed in 2000 years.

Peter, the tough fisherman who was brought to tears in the garden by a servant girl, and who later under the power of the Holy Spirit, led 3000 to the Lord on the day of Pentecost, was in jail for preaching the gospel. When word of his incarceration reached the others, they began to pray for his release. After praying for awhile, there is a knock at the door, and they keep knocking. And those in prayer begin to get upset-it's interrupting their prayer! Until someone says, "will somebody please answer the door and send whoever it is away, we're busy praying!" So finally someone answers the door-interrupting their prayer. And he comes back after answering the door, saying its Peter, and they get upset. Because he is interrupting their prayer for him to escape from prison, and he's where? And they couldn't and wouldn't believe it, until one of the stronger in faith said "let him in." And they did. And it was Peter. And I marvel sometimes, at those of us who can believe in Jesus, but can't or won't accept His answer to our prayers sometimes. Here they got what they asked for, but it interrupted their asking! What were they expecting? Can I get an amen, or is pride overcoming you? Or should I note you on Mr. Barnum's sucker list? Why is it easier to believe a lie rather than the truth? God tells us it is a mustard seed sized faith, but sometimes the lie takes even less.

And I think I know why. We don't trust, we try to understand. Jack and his friends could understand a porno flick, something they could see-but the gospel, how do I touch it, or hold it, or talk about it? Aren't you glad that the same Holy Spirit that released Peter goes before you, giving you the right words. It ain't about you, so don't make it about you. Jesus saves, so let Him!

I can't tell you what this did for my credibility, but I know what it did for Jack's. The Black Stallion was a children's movie-and maybe had the right audience that night-immature adults. But the gospel is for everyone, any night-even when your wife is home. So share it by living it. Remember, Adam didn't need to be talked into sinning with Eve, it just took the right moment. Use your moments wisely, loving instead of hating. And if you are invited to a friends house to watch a movie-and it's the Black Stallion-grin and smile, then ask can I bring my kids? First time your fault, second time mine.

See you at the movies-front row, center. There may be a sucker born every minute, but wouldn't you rather be part of a fellowship where suckers are born again-every minute? You bring the pizza, and I'll see you there. I wonder if Jack and his friends ever realized that the Bible if put on film would be rated X? Nah, that could never be true. Hollywood-are you listening? I have a great idea-it has harlots-Rahab, homosexuality-Sodom and Gomorrah, and war and adultery-King David. And a happy ending-where those saved live happily ever after-I even have a name for it-The Bible. It may be no Black Stallion, but then again...

love with compassion, on the aisle,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com