name above all names

Ever since God created, we have all had something in common-a name to identify us, and keep us separate from each other. Whether it be animals, God had them parade by Adam so he could give them each a name, or people-Adam, Eve, Seth, Cain, or Abel, we all have a name given to us to be identified by. And some are more memorable than others.

John, Paul, George, and Ringo-no last names needed here. Same with Cher, Dr. Phil, or Oprah. And some even carry nicknames, giving us an insight into their background or personality. Dale Earnhardt was "the Intimidator." Arnold is the "Governator." The Duke of Flatbush is none other that Edwin Snider, of the Brooklyn Dodgers, #4. You may know Ralph Barger better as Sonny. Reagan was the Gipper. Vito Andolini? You may know him better as Don Corleone, the Godfather. Harvey Mushman? Steve McQueen's racing alias. And the list goes on.

Even in school, we all had nicknames, John C. was Nippy, Scrocca was Tony Rome, Frank B was Boosh, Bace was Eagle, Accorsi was Pinky, and looked like Elvis, Nicky was Clemenza, and I was Crazy. Only Miller brought a number into his nickname, JS3! Mention any name at Union College and they knew just who we were.

In the biker world, my friend Ray is known as Chief, due to his ancestry. I know 400 lb. men known as Tiny. Dutch is known by his background. Bikerjim, well he is. Panhead Dick, what he rides, or or what would like to be riding, again. In show biz, some where known by the group they hung with-The Rat Pack, or as one of their members, Old Blue Eyes was also known as the Chairman of the Board. In off road racing, just mention the Ironman, and you know they are talking about Ivan Stewart, although I never heard him called that. And when men have many titles, like Bishop, Father, Pastor, Brother Al, Brother works just fine.

So many names, and even the unidentified dead are given them, Jane or John Doe, or the saddest, Baby Doe. Names on lists somewhere, but never listed in phone books, or Face book lists.

How about Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John? Do you know them by their inclusion in the best selling book, the Bible? How about a man, known as Wonderful, Counselor, Prince of Peace, Son of Man, and the lamb that was slain? You may even use His name in vain, not knowing of His royalty, and His holy lineage. Or you may know Him as Jesus Christ, Jesus the Messiah. Master and savior. And He knows you, but the important thing is to know Him personally, and the only way to do that is to be born again, to repent and give Him your life. And then He will call you a special name-friend. We know all these others by reputation, but how many do we know? And how many would call us friend? Knowing about Him, is not the same as knowing Him!

Years ago we vacationed in Durango, and went to Francisco's. I knew the family, and waiting in line, we were about 15th in line, Skip saw me. "Hey Mike is that you?" he called. "How many?" And he showed all eight of us to a table immediately, impressing my boss who was with us. He knew me by name, a friend, and there is nothing like being recognized by someone in authority, and going to the head of line!

Today the Holy Spirit is calling you. By name, and is calling deep within your soul. Telling you that you need a savior, and you need to be reunited with God. And that Jesus is the only way! You may hear that voice, or even sense it-but it never yells or forces its way in. He is a gentlemen, but loves you so much He died for you. And when He says Joe, He knows which one. Mary-knows you from Maria and the other Mary's. Knows your face, your name, where you live, and all about you. And He still loves you! Call on Him today, while you still can. He is waiting, pen in hand, to write your name in the Book of Life. Where it will stay forever, and on Judgment Day, will represent you-INNOCENT as charged! He took your sin! What other person can do that? Now that's a friend!

You see there are names, and there are NAMES! In a who you know world, why not know the one who can offer eternal life? Jesus the Christ. Son of God. Master. Savior. Friend.

And best of all, He knows my name! I hope He knows yours, too!

Do you know His?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

life is what interferes with your plans

The world is one big dichotomy-a huge contradiction of sorts. You start off wanting to be rich so you can have nice things, but spend all day at work and never have a chance to enjoy them. But everyone else does. You were the prettiest girl in the class, but were unapproachable-boys were afraid to ask you out-you were too beautiful. It seems you either have the time or the money, but never both at the same time, and that trip you have been postponing for years, is set to finally become reality, and you are faced with a layoff. Do I go or not? What will my boss think, and will I get laid off? So you don't go, and aren't but missed the chance of a life time. While the boss returns from his trip with some great stories and pictures.

Ever notice how the best deals come along when you never have any cash, but the times you do the deals aren't there, or you just aren't interested? Why does it rain, the only time in six months when you go to Disneyland for vacation? Why does gas go down when I buy a car that gets 40mpg, but up when I buy on that gets 10? Did you ever buy a stereo with a low price guarantee, and see it lower the next week? And thrown away the receipt for a refund, when usually you have a drawer full of them? Did you ever make a reservation, then get up early to go somewhere, because the message said next weekend, but it meant NEXT weekend, not this one? No wonder you could get a room. And the list goes on and on.

Some people believe in bad luck. And if it wasn't for bad would have no luck at all. Some have an uncanny ability to make the wrong decision-felony stupidity. And some-well some of us just roll with the punches, and hope that next time is better. Next time meaning this time, not NEXT time.

Hidden in there somewhere is a blessing, disguised as life, which happens to all our plans, just not all the time. And you can only see them when looking back. Labor Day 1974. I had met Ginger at my cousin's wedding, but was with my girlfriend. Do we see a potential problem? Visiting with her later, she lived in Ohio and invited me out. So at the last minute, the Friday night of the Labor Day weekend, I decided to go, on my motorcycle. But had to change my oil first. Finally finding a parts store open, I bought the oil, drained the bike, and proceeded to lubricate the floor under it when I forgot to replace the drain plug first. So repeat procedure to parts store, but after installing drain plug, and finally leave-in the rain, at about 10pm. Riding straight through in mostly cold and rain, I got stopped three times for speeding-no tickets, the one cop felt sorry for me when I pulled off my glove and my hand was black from the cold and the glove's dye running. I got there just in time for them to leave for the lake, so slept in a small back seat. Had fun on the lake, but Ginger was suspiciously cool to me. Finally her mother confronted her with "did you tell him?" and she hadn't. Then the bombshell-she was pregnant, by her boyfriend and they were getting married. My heart broken-more like disappointed, I only had another 800 mile ride in cold, but dry to contemplate this. But looking back, God did me a favor, that I didn't realize-with only my emotions getting in the way, do yours ever get in the way? But I did get to take a 1700 mile trip-in three days!

The next summer I would get saved, and could begin to see God's plan work out for me. You see He allows tough times, or tough situations so you can run to Him. He allows things to not seemingly work out, because He has better. I have found when he says He knows the plans He has for you, they are good. Not always easy, but always with my best interest in mind. You see, I took another trip three years later, and met Theresa, my wife of 32 years. Coulda, shoulda, and woulda turned into is and was and is going to be. Following every no is a better yes, each job loss a better job,and every setback, a bigger victory. Just hang tight with God. He knows the end-you just have to make it through the middle. But you are not alone. He is always with you.

Living well can be the best revenge-and God wants to get revenge for you. Let Him. For the plans He has for you far outweigh the goals you set. He gives the bike, and the time to ride it. He gives the job, and also time to be with your family. He provides the home, and the means to pay for it. And the best thing, He provided Jesus to atone for all your sin, so you can fellowship with Him, and have eternal life. It is safe to say His grace is sufficient.

Life is an endurance race, not a sprint. And you are signed up for the long haul. Stay the course, and if the road you are on is rough, you are on the right one. So long as you ride it with Jesus. The time to start riding with Him and trusting Him is now!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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scratch and sniff

I used to love waking up at my Grandma's house. No matter what time zone my body was on, and no matter what time it really was, the smell of Kermie's sausage or bacon would help me to get out of bed. And just thinking of that smell again makes me hungry. Excuse me, I'll be right back.

OK, I'm back. And full. The thought of bacon got to me. I love riding around on Saturday mornings, after the neighbors have just cut their lawns. The smell of fresh cut grass, just makes me feel alive, particularly if I drive by a golf course, that's not by the freeway. And one of the things you miss while traveling in a car is the various smells as you travel through the country. You miss the breakfast smells of diners, the fresh, cut grass of yards, and the smell from bakeries and In and Out. How horse stables can smell so good. Each smell much different, and distinct, and each one has its own promise of satisfaction attached.

But I also love the smell of racing castor, and how it fills my nostrils until it burns. The smell of sitting in a new car, and how it just feels so clean, and how leather just stirs the senses. Remember when gas smelled good? It still does outside of California, but still not as good as when lead was in it. But somehow, if the ratio isn't just right, the smell becomes an odor-to be abandoned as quickly as possible, instead of enjoyed for as long as it lasts.

Burn bacon, and the fans come on. Same with coffee. Grass an hour after it is cut doesn't have the same fresh smell it had when first cut. The smell of In and Out from the drive through by the time you get home has turned into more oil than meat and fried potatoes. Cow pies stink while horse puckey smells so good.
And as good as castor smells at the track, one of the worst smells is a car burning oil.

But a smell that somehow still is attractive after many years is from the interiors of old American cars. Somehow the Morrokide from GM cars from the sixties still retains a pleasing aroma. I love the smell from cars from the forties, one that combines a musty smell with real fabric, devoid of synthetics-cottons and wools that nowadays would be to expensive too produce in volume. And real leather seats, not the ground up and sprayed on leather surfaces we are faced with today. Smells today that are encouraged to not offend, instead of stirring the senses.

But maybe it is the memories that the smells rekindle, and the good times I had when I first enjoyed them. Somehow new and improved, or as good as, or in place of, or smells like just isn't the same. I want the real thing, and my choice of whom I worship is the same. Why settle for a synthetic smell, when the real one is available? And why settle for a false God, or bad doctrine, or false teachings, when the truth is available, and sets you free? The fact is you don't have to, so don't. Demand the truth, God has set it up that way. But somehow our adversary, the devil, sneaks in and uses a counterfeit. It sorta feels the same, it makes you happy, and hey, I'm in a hurry and don't have the time. But just like waiting for the brownies to be done, to get the perfect smell, waiting on God produces the best results. Too soon, the blessings just aren't done yet. Too long, and you've missed them. Using your own judgment just confuses the issue, it takes spending time with God to get the smells just right, and as good as Oreo's are, they just can't compare with the smell of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies, or Snickerdoodles, or the smell of an apple pie just from the oven. Some things are best when fresh, and while some things just feed the senses, God's freshness feeds the soul. It encourages the spirit, and when walking with Jesus everything seems fresh and new. And every morning His mercies are!

Start your day with Jesus. Somehow the coffee seems better, the bacon crisper, and the toast just right. Ride past the fresh grass, and watch as the sun melts the dew from it. Ride past the In and Out and know lunch is only a few hours away. And if on your bike, as you should be, experience all the fresh smells that make being alive so exciting. You see, that new car odor will fail in a few months, but Jesus will be the same every morning. Fresh to wake up too.

For me, bacon crisp, toast sourdough, then a ride past the golf course, and a stop at a race shop to smell the castor. Sensory overload for me, each one a delicious reminder of good times. But-the sweet smell of Jesus in my life- a reminder of good things past, and great things to come.

We all have an idea of what haven will be like? Does your include smells? If not, maybe include them in your next preview, and watch as it heightens all your senses, and brings you closer to God. A hunger that is always filled-and in between snacks are always OK.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogpsot.com

say, aren't you the girl in the GTO?

Linda was only 15, and had just gotten her driving permit when her dad bought the GTO. It was 1966, and this special order car was refused by the son of the owner of the dealership-he wanted a Cadillac, so the gift went up for sale, and Linda's dad bought it. She would learn to drive in it, and for the next 44 years it would be hers. Throughout high school, and even her career, even when she moved from Evansville to New York City, the GTO was part of her life. In her words, "it went everywhere from the drive-in to the prom, dates and even tee peeing." It was part of her life, and when asked for a date, would qualify the prospective datee, by asking if he was more interested in the car than her. Unashamed, many would answer the car, never a way to impress her, or get a date, but the smarter ones would answer Linda, and hope she would drive it-and that she might even let them! The car was so much a part of her, that at her tenth high school reunion, many asked if she still had the GTO. And she still does today! You didn't Linda with the car-you got the car with Linda. And you still do today.

The car is a 1966 Pontiac GTO convertible-blue, with black vinyl interior, 4 on the floor, three deuces, and still wears Uniroyal Red Line tires. Carefully restified, not restored, but repaired as needed, it shows 143,000 miles, and has been repainted. It still needs some detailing, after all something's just wear normally, just like your daily driver does, but the car is as original as it can be. All the way down to the interior and the convertible boot. And reflects many good times, in her life. A 44 year old friend, that has known her its entire life.

We also talked with a friend whose husband has stopped going to church. He had retired early, and told God he would go to church, if God provided money so he wouldn't have to work. Now that's faith. And for three years was faithful until the economy and his savings were gone, and he had to go back to work. And quit going to church, and is bitter at God. He claims God let him down. He had made a deal with Him, and God didn't uphold His end of it. Sadly this man is misled, as God makes no deals like this, and never does. His offer is a gift, you cannot negotiate a gift for it is free. But like others, when they don't get their way, blame God and walk away.

I wonder where Linda's GTO would be if she traded it when it needed brakes? Or a battery? How about replacing those expensive Redline tires after doing burnouts? Or the clutch? Factory warranties don't even cover wear items, so do we think God should cover our lifestyle, just because we attend church-based on what He can do for us? Stop and think about how ridiculous that sounds! Too bad he just wouldn't accept the free gift of salvation, and enjoy his life. The choice was his, and he chose to blame God. Don't you make the same mistake.

We had driven up in the Mustang, top down, because Theresa had hurt her back. And as always, God blessed us. Even in a car. Cruising the tree lined streets of Fullerton, then heading to the Hat for a hot pastrami sandwich, we had the top down, the Beach Boys playing through the speakers, and were happily enjoying the new suntan we were getting. And I was enjoying it with my 32 year partner! Who I won't trade!

And Brian Wilson's words were so right on. We were having fun, fun, fun! We were cruisin' with the radio blastin'-but it wasn't my daddy's car-it was my wife's! The warmth of the sun, at our backs, and the warmth of the Son in our hearts. You see you don't get the Father without the Son, Jesus. Or the Mustang without Theresa.

And sometimes, like that Saturday, it's OK to take the car. Just not a habit I intend to start. The motorcycles might get lonely and start to talk. But whatever you take, even when you do take the car, do it with the one you love, and who loves you back-as you are. And having your wife next to you just makes it that much more special.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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if you want home cooking stay home

When traveling how do you know how to pick a good restaurant? The old adage about truck drivers eating there I found to be an urban legend-the most important criteria to them is can they park their truck. And in a land that is saturated with chains of all sorts-what do you do? Over the years I have put together a criteria for eating on the road, and this is how it qualifies a great Mexican restaurant. Note rules are not hard and fast-but they work for me.

I have learned, stay away from modern, brightly colored buildings. Old houses are best. When these places try to capture the flavor of Mexico in their over decorated establishment, they end up hiring cooks for minimum wage. The allure of free chips and salsa can be inviting, but rubbery tacos and latex chicken aren't the way to go. The name can make a difference, avoid names like El Cid, or named after an animal-Iguana's for instance. Look for a names like La Cocina-kitchen, or La Buena Vida. Best bets may be named after the cook, extra points if it is a female. Mamacitas tend to make the best Mexican food, look for names like Dolores Kitchen, Maria's, and Francisco's-yes I know it is a male name, but his wife does the cooking.

Avoid the ones by the freeway exits. Go downtown, and avoid the trendy looking ones. The best ones seem to be found also on the edge of town, where parking is where you can, usually gravel and dirt, and the building may be an old house. Inside decor to avoid-white linen table cloths! Floors shouldn't be carpeted, as you never get the salsa out of them. Vinyl on floors and tablecloths is easier to clean. Velvet paintings can be a lure, avoid pictures of Pancho Villa or El Vis, but doesn't mean the food isn't authentic. Look for family pictures, graduation notices and communion memories, an area for local business cards, and a cashier who is part of the family. Mom cooks, dad runs the register, and the kids serve. We all enjoy.

Finally the menu. Real Mexican food is not served with wine. Sorry trendy folks-it is cold Coke or maybe a cerveza. Used to cool the palate instead of get drunk. And look for family favorites-usually under some spilled, hard salsa on the laminated menu. Handwritten menu boards offer the daily specials. I have found the more basic the food, the better. Gourmet and Mexico just shouldn't role off the same tongue-at least not together in the same restaurant. And no big screen TVs. Look for a small one, even one with an antenna, where the waitresses sit at watching in between customers. In Espanol. A Mexican soap opera or futbol. Black and white-extra points. Silverware-you got a knife and fork-who says they have to match? And napkins are paper. Never ask is the chili hot. So how do you know where to find this mythical place? You ask.

One night in Salinas, we asked the girl working the motel desk where to get some good Mexican food. After naming some local chains, I pushed for real food, where the hardcore locals go. With a warning, we were directed to a place that most would not go to. On a main street, but dark, the streetlight was out, an old looking building that screamed "paint me please", potholes so big trucks were leaning and Toyotas were wary, and most of the sign lights out for the night. Looks fine to me. Walking in, Theresa had already told the boys "stay close and don't touch anything," we were greeted by a mamacita, making tortillas, and a room filled with empty deli style coolers. Seems they sold them on the side, or in this case the entry way. Spanish was the main language, and as a waitress took us to a table, a few looked up, probably wondering how some gringos had invaded their cocina/cooler store, must touristas that are lost. Ordering from the menu basic stuff-Theresa judges by rice and beans, and me by carne asada, only if adobada isn't available, we had this great meal. FRESH tortillas, cold Cokes, and great chips and salsa. Not quite the touristy trap, definitely not Taco Bell, the tables leaned a bit, the bugs had names like Pepe or El Grande, and this place won't meet Sunset magazines criteria, but it was what we wanted. And the food and the experience were incredible. And somehow we fit right in! The only downer-I forget the name of it! I remember how to get there, and only saw the place once in the dark-no street lights-but look every time I get off the highway in Salinas. I am sure it is still there, and not replaced by some chain. No sense starting a Mexican revolution over a restaurant when the people approve.

Fitting right in is also a good thing when looking for a church. If the people are friendly, the pastor right on, and the music fun and a spirit of worship is found-you have found a home. Using similar criteria to finding a good restaurant, I have found that asking another Christian where they go is the best thing. And go with them-so you are not a stranger-you at least know someone! Motorcycle parked out front are a plus. But the most important criteria-I saved for last.
For when we look for somewhere to eat, repair our car, fix our bikes, or worship, we pray first. And God has always been faithful to send us to great places. Some think it is a sixth sense, but it should be your first sense. And will even exceed an overwhelming sense of common-which usually isn't.

Where you eat, and feed is important. And who you do it with is also. Worship local, eat local-but when on the road-take the same gospel that works at home with you, and find out that your away from home is someone else's home-and be welcomed by them. The best meal of your life may be your next one, and the best message ever one service away.

Pray, obey, and follow. Works great for food, and even better with God. And who knows better about good places to eat than Jesus Himself!

And if the waitress knows what sopapillas are, save some room for a couple. Good food, like the gospel, are always good news.

Do you want red or green with that?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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trees company

Stu and I met a fellow rider, Bruce, yesterday. A Gold Wing rider, we got into rides we had taken, and who we had taken them with. Although we all have the love of motorcycles in common, you never know about the other guy until you've ridden with him, but I think I would like to ride with Bruce. We got talking about group rides, which I will only do under pressure-too many rules, questionable rider skills, and you only go as fast as the slowest rider. Who probably shouldn't be riding-and I probably shouldn't be riding with him. So I have a courtesy rule when I ride with others. So that we all enjoy our ride, I emphasize "ride your own ride!" And it works, and Theresa, the group I usually ride with, will agree. We stay together when we can, but when the road gets curvy, I take off, so I can enjoy the road at my pace, and she rides at her pace. We both enjoy the ride more this way. And we have a destination to meet, never very far off, so we can hook up again. Just in case you think she rides slow, let me tell you that Harley riders who bought into the image, Gold Wing riders who never exceed 55, and others who take up space on the road are passed by her. We have nothing against you riding your ride, but give us the same courtesy! We love the freedom of riding-we wonder if you ever have, or will!

Individuals, each riding a motorcycle, but each different. I love it when I hear someone drop a name I know, hearing "I ride with them," only to find the person is a "hanger onner," a poser, who might ride with this person, but not "with" this person. There is a difference, and just riding with him doesn't mean his skills will rub off on you. Squids-lousy riders who ride over their heads, will always find a place to be one, posers the same, and those of us who like to ride will suffer because of them. You may not hear us laughing inside our Arais, but soon that laugh turns to bitterness, and we just gotta leave you behind, so we can ride our ride. Maybe we should introduce them to golf, didn't Harley used to make golf carts?

Riding your own ride is not a new concept, and also applies to life choices. Two men, with the only thing in common, a tree they died on, were both with Jesus, but only one was with Jesus, and took different routes. Different choices, and it made a difference. Judas, the treasurer of the 12 apostles, after handing Jesus over to the Romans, went out and took his own life. The guy you thought had it made because he was with Jesus daily, ended up hanging from a tree, he died, the rope broke, and his guts splashed out all over the ground. After spending 3 1/2 years with Jesus, seeing the miracles, feeling the love, and seeing other lives changed, never saw Him as God. Never rode with Him. Only from a worldly perspective, and then sold Him out for 30 pieces of silver, the price paid for a slave. Both eating their last meal together, only Jesus realizing it was their last, He still loved Judas, but Judas chose to deny Him. And paid the ultimate price. Posers take note!

Another man, also died on a tree, the thief on the cross. And up until his meeting Jesus while both are being crucified, never had much interest in Jesus. Didn't know the man, but had heard of Him. Not having spent the time with Him Judas did, and an unlikely candidate for heaven, when confronted with death, and hell for his sinful life, cried out "Jesus, Son of God, SAVE ME!" And Jesus comforted him with the assurance that tonight he would be with Him in paradise. Two men, both hung on trees, who made a choice that had eternal consequences. Each riding their own ride, until faced with who Jesus is-one chose death, the other life. Both were with Him, but only one is with Him in eternity!

Who you ride with is important. And the wrong choice can make a great road terrible, and a good rider miserable. But on a bad road, your skills will change all that. Ride your own race! Not theirs! Check the road you are on-are other riders getting between you and the joy of riding? Do their lack of skills and consideration turn into accusations such as you ride too fast, or won't wait? Is it never their fault they aren't having fun? Losers always have time for excuses. And are other people getting between you and God, because you rather live a life of righteousness rather than sin? Are their rules corrupting your morals?

Ride your own ride-meet those who ride like you and enjoy the roads more-and watch as your roadside conversations even are more enjoyable. And when it comes to Jesus, don't let the scoffers get between you and Him. Your fellowship with suffer, and ultimately you will have to make a decision on who you believe in. Are you like Judas, a poser, who missed it? Or are you like the thief, who when he finally met Jesus, decided to spend life in eternity with Him? Both ended up hanging from a tree-but only one awoke in heaven!

Riding partners are an important choice, but heavenly partners are even more important! Who you choose, will impact the road you are on, and where it leads. Two men and two bikes. Two men and two trees. The difference is always Jesus.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

though shalt have no other gods before you

I had an interesting trip to see the doctor yesterday. Due to being hit twice last year while riding, my legs hurt, and are weak-especially going up stairs, walking, and bending. So when I went to see the doctor, guess what exercises are the only ones he didn't make me do? Practice medicine? I guess another trip for evaluation is forthcoming. But even more amazing were the magazines. Not the usual propaganda about mother's milk, and the horrors of green veggies. No telling stories of obesity, or the threat of fluoride. No pretty tri-athletes telling me how good I can have it if I only live like them. Nope, they had real magazines-with pictures and everything. Real magazines-and shock of all shocks-they were current. So I grabbed a Sports Illustrated, which I hadn't read in years, very thin, I thought it was a brochure at first, and quickly looked at the pictures. Until the last page, where an article caught my attention, so I read it-twice. It talked about NFL players, and how they have found that for every year played, their lives were shortened proportionately. At 40, their bodies taking on the characteristics of a 65 year old. It was that dramatic. We have seen how concussions have been in the headlines for the past few years, but this went beyond.

Seems that the commissioner wants an 18 game season, "for the fans," he insists. Even though he is aware that blood on Sunday means bruises on Tuesday, he is pushing for it. For the fans, although since revenues are significantly lower for pre-season games, by making them part of the season, revenues will increase-paid for by the fans. For the fans. And one player shared that how at 33, his career was over due to knee injuries. Washed up. And how when he was supposed to be in the twilight of his career, but still young, instead of taking his kids to school, and playing with them, and being more of a presence as a dad, he was spending six weeks in a recovery center due to the surgeries. And will learn to walk with a cane. In pain. And was in with the senior citizens, who he had little in common with. He liked the older folks, but one day when a lady said, "hey, aren't you Mrs. Jones boy?" it hit him how much the game had taken from him. From NFL receiver to the Jones boy. It took only a few short years, and he wondered the value of it, as he hobbled, leaning against the railing on the wall. He had given his body-for the fans.

"Oh that boy, that's Joe and Mary's kid. He's down here a lot lately asking questions. But they aren't the kind you ask if you don't know, but the kind you ask if you are questioning our integrity. It's like he knows the answers before He asks. These same men come to hear Him everyday, He has established quite a following-fans of a sort." And as the visiting Pharisee nodded in agreement, he too wanted to listen more, as he had also heard of Jesus, but his duties under the many laws of the Pharisees precluded such a time. But still fascinated by what he heard this teenager say, he wondered-"how could he know so much at such a young age? And why was he here, with a group of older men, in the temple, when he should be out hangin' with his friends-or even at work with his dad-they were carpenters, reputation had it they made some great yokes for the farmer's oxen. How could this tradesman know so much about the things of God? Weren't those things reserved for the special ones like us?" Someday, he would like to meet him. Maybe talk with Him alone. Without the other Pharisees, His fans, gathered around Him.

Someday usually doesn't come, although God is patient. These divine interventions, these chance meetings, are choreographed by God for you to meet His son Jesus. But some are too busy. "Hey, I know his parents, heard a rumor that said Joe wasn't his real dad." Maybe later, when I am done with my career, and have time. "I don't know, this religious thing-for kids and old ladies-LOL!" "I thought they had rules-how can this kid teach among such great religious men as the Pharisees? Maybe they aren't as perfect as they tell everyone they are. Hypocrites!" Losers always have time for excuses.

And I could go on, but we have all made these same lame excuses about Jesus. So I'm going to ask-are you saved? Have you met Jesus, and given your life to Him? If not, you are lost! Those are God's words, not mine. And you need Him! Right now is that divine intervention-that time that God wants to hear from you! He is asking, "Who do you say Jesus is?"

He is patient-and even though Peter, a tough, old fisherman, denied Jesus three times to a little girl, when confronted by a resurrected Christ, He was found fit to minister-a short time later sharing at Pentecost and seeing 3000 come to Christ. You may not be a Peter, but wouldn't it be nice to go to sleep tonight knowing that if you died in your sleep, heaven awaits? Or are you afraid of what your friends, team mates, wife, or church may say? Do it soon, for Jesus only made it to 33 himself before He was crucified, His career cut short. Tomorrow is promised for no man.

I imagine the doctor will get another chance with me, hopefully some stair tests this time, and there will be more magazines to read there. And the NFL will carry on-for the good of the fans, although sacrificing the player's health. Just two more games per season-just a few more steps along the wall, just a few years more with a cane. And maybe another opportunity in the season of your life to meet Jesus.

Jesus Christ-who gave it all-for His fans. And long before they even knew they were. While we were yet sinners, He died for us. He may be Joe and Mary's kid, but God's only son. The only way to heaven.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogpsot.com

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