a week spent in Riverside one night

Mention Riverside, and to many visions of the 60 and the 215 are embedded in their memory vaults.  Add the 91, and you wonder why would anyone want to go to Riverside?  But get off the freeways, and Riverside has the Mission Inn, simple Simon’s for lunch, Fairmount Park, and a neat old Old Town, with great neighborhoods and houses.  All things you must get off the highway to see, and will change your attitude about Riverside.  But a few years back, when I spent a week in Riverside one night, my opinion was to be jaundiced for years.

The week had started out planning to go to a Seasons of Refreshing for CMA, and we were looking forward to it.  And it was to be some firsts for Theresa, as he would ride her own bike for the first time in the dark, and do her first lane splitting.  She would ride with Dick, and I would join her at the Friday night events leaving San Diego after work.  Good plan, and she and Dick upheld their end of it.  But my ride was to be more interesting, as 40 miles out I got a flat on my Bonneville.  Calling Andrew, he and his girlfriend loaded my Sprint RS in the truck, and brought it up, and I did a bike swap.  You see, there really is a good reason to own multiple bikes!  And I was off, missing dinner, Theresa, and the first night events.  Thanks to Linda, a local, for getting Theresa to our room, where I caught up with her much later.   What a start, and the week was only beginning...

Earlier in the week, I had been called and then called to a motorcycle ministry based in San Berdoo, who had just lost a member.  Joker died, and his funeral was to be that Saturday, the same Saturday as Seasons, and I was going to attend.  Missing again another session.  But being called to minister, as opposed to being called to sit in auditoriums on nice days, I went, and hooked up with Peter, editor of Wheels of Grace magazine.  After the service in Highland, we were eating and visiting, when news came in that another member had just gone down, hit on his trike at an intersection.  As two of his club members took off, Peter and I followed, or really chased.  Learning that adrenalin is no match for horsepower in some situations of the heart.  And chasing them down back streets in San Berdoo, I managed to keep the in sight, with Peter giving case.  This trip of former escape routes finally led us to a hospital where they might be, but gaining entrance was difficult to this war zone hospital.  Finally getting in, and being forced to leave, we found them not there.  No report of any biker down.  And when we mentioned his passenger was his 14 year old grand daughter, they recommended Children’s Hospital in Loma Linda, who has a great trauma center.  Stopping to pray-almost forcing these two club members, we went to Loma Linda, and in the back door, through ER.  No mention of them, are you family?  So not giving in, I went around the front, and into the waiting room, where many friends and family were gathered-just not theirs.  But two women recognized Christian biker colors, and greeted me.  Alone by now, the others had gone off in search, I was able to spend time with them, pray and minister.  They knew who I was, as news of visiting Joker’s widow and family had reached them, surprised that another ministry would reach out to them.  I hope they were learning this while I was out on the streets.  And I was to meet them again the next week when visiting with Dick.  Another story in itself.  But back to Seasons...

Where I arrived just in time to hear the last 20 minutes.  My adrenalin still racing, I heard nothing, but afterwards we were invited to eat with the CMA Nationals, who wanted to hear of my day.  But first I must digress, to that morning.  In the Courtyard by Marriott. Where Theresa and I had spent the night.  We had missed each other, and as she told of trying to keep up with Dick in traffic, her first lane splitting, we laughed about my trials, and what else could happen.  So after a good night’s sleep, we awoke to no shower-broken.  Calling the front desk, they graciously gave us another room, to shower in.  It seems they knew they had a problem, just not sure what room.  And after careful arbitration, just before it became heated, they gave us the night for free.  As they should have, and it was off to Seasons.  And for me the funeral.  And all seemed right with the world after a hot shower, a flat tire, and missing Friday night.  Of course that afternoon still loomed ahead, what else could happen?  Was it really just an evening, or a few days as it really seemed?

Dinner was to be at BJ’s Brewhouse, sans the brew.  And a steak was in order, I was hungry, tired, wired, and wanting to visit.  Next to me, there were 7 at the table, was a man who introduced himself s Merle, from Mississippi.  He had ridden out with Kerry from Arkansas, and they were enjoying the warm spring weather, it was cold back home.  Now Merle, as he called himself was funny, and a joker.  We made Arkansas jokes, Lakeside jokes, and Ramona jokes.  But after a half hour, they wore thin, I was starved, and waiting to eat.  And then it came, a great big steak, covered by CMA, and as I prayed I was truly thankful.  And then Merle ended up in my lap.  Funny at first, the next few times were annoying, and finally I had had enough, and pushed him away hard, which caused him to fall forward into his mashed potatoes.  He wasn’t joking, he was passed out!  But woke up, and was OK, but when told of how he had been doing this for a week while riding, they took him to an ER, and he was in the hospital for a week, and forbidden to ride.  He was narcoleptic, and could fall asleep any time, any where, just not knowing if or when or where.  No more riding, he was sick.  And suddenly the whole weekend wasn’t so funny.  Flat tires, accidents, no showers, and now this.  Maybe I had spent a night I Riverside but didn’t know it?

Maybe you are having a Riverside experience right now, or have in the past.  You will.  Be assured, God is with you.  Jesus doesn’t and won’t abandon you.  And in them, I find I get closer to Him, as I spend more time in prayer, I need Him more.  No surprises for Him that weekend, but there was for us.  And we learned to minister on the run much more effectively than in any session.  You can’t teach experience, and no one wants problems to come, but we need to know where to turn when they do.  And lean on Jesus, rather than our own understanding.  It is good to know about God, but it better to now God.  And situations will be provided for you to get closer to Him, to let Him be God, and show you mercy and grace.  Even after flat tires, no showers, chasing bikers through town, and having a man fall on lap...just when the meal was to begin.  A series of interruptions, but to God planned for us to see Him in all His grace.  And we did...and I just hope the next time is less eventful.

For after that, even the 91 looked good, the 215 moved, and the 60 was only a short ride.  Merle would recover, and ride again, but no Seasons would ever give me more refreshing in Christ than this one.  Seeing God in the situation, and trusting Him. Sometimes being drug ahead kicking and screaming, but for our own good.  That’s the God of love I know, and who works all things out for my good.  Just one night, or just one week, better is one day in His courts than thousands elsewhere.  And as for Merle, his name really wasn’t Merle, and I still don’t know his name.  Only in Riverside....

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

cheap horsepower

When I decided to take another route when walking with the hound yesterday, while she was sniffing out for a place to go, my ears were filled with the sound of a V-twin approaching from behind.  And as it got closer, it was of the non-Milwaukee brand, but an Indian Scout, of the vintage of 4 or 5 Indian Motorcycle Company owners ago, painted Indian Motorcycle Blue, one of the three colors available in the catalogue, the others being Indian Motorcycle Red, and Indian Motorcycle Black.  A dark blue, but with no shine, it didn’t reflect the sunlight hitting the tank.  Boring would best describe it.  But the sound, a symphony from its exhaust, was definitely not stock.  It was just loud enough to be heard by the Yuppie mom pushing her kid in one of those weird three wheeled strollers, while on her i-pod, sending her into a discourse of how “you’ll never ride one of those,” not heard over the exhaust sound while he was thinking “some day I’m gonna have one like that.”  Loud, but yet not loud enough to set off the alarm in any soccer mom’s SUV.  Just the right sound.  And this guy riding it played it perfectly, upshifting at the right point so as to keep the music going, but then reminding me as he entered a 25mph posted curve that I usually take at 45-50 mph, that his second gear entry was all the lean angle his bike could handle, and why people don’t buy bikes that are slow, heavy, and with a maximum lean angle not to exceed the side stand, while painted a dull color.  A bike so slow it made a Sportster seem fast.  Right before your extremities fell asleep from the vibration.  But oh that sound...cheap horsepower.

You may not know that our concession via technology for dry and warm clothes has made cold and damp clothes a thing of the past.  When the dryer became popular, many clotheslines died a silent death, but few know that they did away with cheap horsepower for kids.  Not the clothesline per se, but the one thing that made the clothesline work, the clothespin.  And if you remember, clothespin plus baseball cards were cheap horsepower for our bikes.  Using the clothespin to attach the card to the front fork or fender brace, added a sound missing from today’s culture.  For 5 cents you could buy a pack of cards, chew the gum that came with it, and have backup power available when the card went limp.  You learned that the front wheel provided the best sound, although some would try the rear also, and at certain speeds the sound was intoxicating, just like the sound I heard yesterday.  And many Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, and Sandy Koufax cards are available today due to careful choosing of the cards.  Guys like Lou Klimchock and Al Moran gave up their collectability for cheap horsepower.  And some entire teams like the Indians or White Sox are noticeably absent today due to cheap horsepower.   

Proving that some get older but never grow up, when riding with a group, really a crowd years ago, Theresa and I would ride our Bonnevilles, so we could keep up with the slower Harleys.  They were louder, and at a top speed of 45 mph in 5th gear, the sound was deafening, proving the postulate that if you can’t be fast, you can be loud.  So Dick, seeking revenge and also not wanting to her feel left out, after breakfast one morning showed us how he had attached a card via a clothespin to Theresa’s front wheel.  We had cheap horsepower, but the illusion was short lived, as once the Harley’s started up, she still couldn’t be heard above the rumble.  But she was able to shift as high as third gear at times...cheap horsepower via a thoughtful friend, so we looked for a 25 mph zone with no traffic to appreciate it.  Where have all the fun bikes and fun people gone?

Now just about anyone can assure you that power is a good thing, but is only effective when it reaches the ground.  Burnouts are fun, but are from lack of traction.  And it is also hard to steer when your front wheel is off the ground, so it takes power under control to make all the new found power work.  Meekness it is called in the Bible, and although it is written that the meek shall inherit the earth, it doesn’t mean the nerds you pantsed in high school who are making all the toys Yuppies can’t live without.  The meek are those who have their actions under control, because they have their attitudes under control, and it is shown via the choices they make.  Now meekness is one of the fruits of the spirit, which are God’s characteristics.  Imagine God not under control-you’re toast.  Imagine sin not being forgiven by Jesus?  HELL-o!  Imagine no truth, and you have chaos.  You may have power, but with no control.  So we find in God, meekness, which allows us to forgive someone who is unforgivable.  To love someone who is unlovable, and to endure those who turn against us.  We show love, because He loved us first, and we show it via meekness.  And we will inherit the earth, along with the new heaven that is promised to all who have placed faith in Jesus Christ.  As if salvation wasn’t enough, we get meekness thrown in for free.  Along with love, joy, peace, and patience, goodness and kindness. Good things that at least as of today there are no laws against.  Unlike laws against loud pipes.  So try a little meekness today in your decisions.  When in a position to seek revenge, show kindness.  Endure those who ride slow.  Forgive those who don’t ride your brand or shop at Nordy’s.  Take the earplug out of your ear and converse with your kids.  You both might learn something.  Tip the waitress extra, she works hard enough having to deal with people like you.  Exercise your power of love under control, and watch as the smile crosses your face, so big it can be seen inside your helmet.  Take some time with your kids, and find some clothes pins and some of your collectible cards and make noise.  Show them how to wheelie-how to enjoy being a kid.  Find a parking lot or field and do burnouts-have some fun, all under control.  And watch as your attitude is infectious, smile when frowned upon, that’ll really mess with their minds.

I think I am going to rewalk yesterday’s route, hoping that Indian comes by again.  Maybe flag him down, ask him to make some passes just for me.  Better yet, maybe I’ll just take a ride of my own.  The header on my Tiger makes that triple wail like none other.  And if you tell me loud pipes save lives, I’ll argue they may not or no one would ever die, but they sure do add life to riding a motorcycle.  Cheap horsepower, but only effective when it reaches the ground.  Don’t let technology steal the fun of being a kid from you....a choice you can make, and yes, the meek will inherit the earth.  Motorcycles are not boring, your life doesn’t have to be either.  No one ever called Jesus boring.  Life doesn’t have to be either, all for the lack of a clothespin.  Wanna join the revolution?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

let it snow-just somewhere else

Theresa wanted to live in a cabin in the woods, and her impression of Colorado winters was about to change our first married winter there.  She was from So Cal, where people freeze when the temp hits below 50, so in no way was she ready for the 500 inches of snow we had that winter.  Or the days that it would get up to minus 10.  But somehow we got up every morning, and drove to town to work.  Only a 27 mile drive, going all the way down to 6500” elevation in Durango.  For we lived at 8300” at Vallecito Lake, in a real log cabin, in a national forest.  And despite heavy snow, one time we had 96 inches in 96 hours, nobody missed work-you dealt with it.  And only one day did we miss, when we got out before the plows, if you think you are tough, try driving a plow in zero visibility blizzards, with no guardrails in the mountains.  No do overs when you fall hundreds of feet down off a cliff, so you learn to drive.  But that one day we did beat the plows, we did make it almost ten miles from home, and were within a half mile of being on the down side when our Rabbit couldn’t push the snow anymore-we only had 18” at the time, higher than the front bumper,  and it was still coming down, so we had to back down the road for almost 5 miles-head out the window, and my beard froze and broke off.  Consider that next time you get cold, or complain about the weather.  But other than that, we never failed to get out, but sometimes it would take longer than others.

When it gets below zero, cars are slow to start, oil turns to molasses, and once started, take forever to warm up.  But don’t worry, spring is coming in 4 months.  But the Rabbit never failed to start, and was the hero in our group of cabins one morning when it hit –42f.  Slowly it turned, and then we jump started others, who helped others.  What neighbors did, and if one went to town, would check with the others for supplies needed.  But the snow could get deep, remember the snow plow guys, and so you put a broom handle standing up against the car, high enough to be seen, so it didn’t get hit, or buried.  And more than once, followed the plow into town, when we could keep up with them.  But like any neighborhood, there were 72 of us on 22 miles of shoreline, there is always one who stands out, proving every village as an idiot.  Ours was Butch, who owned the lodge next door, and the tractor with a plow attachment.  We were only renters, and he reminded us every chance he got, including one subzero morning when he plowed us in after clearing his drive.  When he demanded $50 to dig us out, I said “hold on, I’ll be right back.”  And as I approached him, he smiled thinking he was going to be $50 richer, but the joke was on him.  I wasn’t alone, I had Mr. Ruger with me, all .357 magnum of him.  And after reminding him I had one bullet for each cylinder of his tractor, he decided to dig me out, and in the future even cleared a spot for me.  Without even a shot being fired!  He had faith, I had works.  You decide.

How deep is a lot of snow?  Deep enough that houses are built with doors on the second floor leading outside.  So deep I stood in snow and washed second story windows.  The dogs steeped down onto the roof and slept by the chimney.  So as I watch the blizzard warnings on TV, I am reminded of big snow, where we slowed down, but never stopped.  Even growing up in Jersey, where snow is gray, I didn’t find out its true color until Colorado, we rarely missed school.  My dad was a teacher, and would get called early, a phone chain set up to call others, and rarely did he get the call.  And if he did, I still delivered the Star Ledger every morning, rain, sleet, or snow.  Maybe teachers and paperboys were tougher than we gave them credit.  But life went on....Now in Colorado, you can get snow in the mountains any time of year.  One 4th of July had me going over Red Mountain Pass on my Z-1 in a t-shirt, and 3 days later following the plow over Wolf Creek Pass, in the snow!  So I have had my fill, and if it going to snow, let it snow somewhere else.  A lesson learned all because Theresa wanted to live in a cabin in the woods, now we live in So Cal, a much better choice for those of us who ride.  And, by the way, only one winter did we store the bike, when we couldn’t get it the 100 feet from the cabin to the street.  But one long day of digging out in 3 feet of snow cured that.  So as I prepare for a high of 85 degrees today, I can say to all of you stuck in the snow-been there, done that, got the shovel to prove it.  While you shovel, we go to the beach. 

Now winter is mentioned 16 times in the Bible.  Cold and snow are no stranger to God, we need them to ski and for snowmobiling, and for the water we fill our pools with in summer.  Each season has its purpose, winter for snow, summer for riding, spring for baseball,and fall for football.  Just like God intended.  So He created the seasons for a reason, even tilted the earth 23 degrees on its axis so we would have them.  But in reference to Jesus, He tells us of a season of His return.  Not the date, or the time, but a season.  So those who are watching will know and be ready.  And the  warnings are there...just watch the news.  As the south gets pounded with snow, and we get pounded with heat and draught, His warnings of unusual weather in that season are there for all to see.  We now have tornado and hurricane seasons-just a media hype or has the increase alarmed you too?  How many tsunamis do you remember growing up?  So He warns us to be alert, to be looking.  Matthew warns us to pray your flight isn’t in winter, long before the Wright Brothers.  Acts tells us of frozen harbors that make Phoenix unreachable in winter-Arizona?  Jeremiah tells of the king sitting before a fire in winter, safe from the cold.  So don’t forget God has created both summer and winter for us, which should come as no surprise.  Except to the media, who over react to the weather, rather than turning to God.  When in cold and warm, it is best to rest in Him. 

So look to Jesus today, that season is upon us.  But He also talks of a day of salvation, He calls it today.  If saved, you have had your day, rejoice in it.  If not, today may be your day.  Step out of your comfort zone, and into the arms of a loving God.  Follow Him in faith, just like we used to follow the plow.  And remember, the only day we never made it was getting out before Him, and trying to make it on our own.  May be a lesson there for all of us.  That day it only cost me a beard, what will not following God cost you?

The rain falls on the just and the unjust.  So does the snow.  A  lesson learned all because Theresa wanted to live in a cabin in the woods.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.

 

walking with a limp

It took a series of serious motorcycle accidents 40 years ago next month to finally figure out why I walked with a limp.  The specialists prodded, tested, drew blood, and x-rayed their hearts out on me, but never could figure it out.  Most blamed it on my having rheumatoid arthritis at age 6, which is the story I always accepted.  Until Gerald introduced me to chiropractic, and had the audacity to measure the length of each of my legs, and found one was 16mm shorter than the other.  And recommended a heel lift for awhile, and suddenly I walked straight-literally.  And when I took off the lift hidden in my left shoe-hint, guess which leg is shorter?, I felt like I was walking with one foot up on the curb and the other off.  But lifestyles prohibited me from wearing it all the time, and today I still limp, and after my heart surgery, I occasionally lean to the left, fortunately having nothing to do with my outlook on life.  But like many others, I limp through life, somehow making it to where I am going.

When riding I have miscalculated how many miles of gas I had left, and have had to alter my speed just to get to the next station.  I rode across Oklahoma once at 40mph, in 6th gear, belly on the tank, making it on fumes, thankful for the grace of God that got me there, while trying to ignore the cars yelling at me, or nearly hitting me as they passed.  I coasted down the hill into Los Gatos on my Thunderbird Sport, barely making it to the Texaco station before a red light forced me to stop and push the last 100 feet.  And somehow put 4.5 gallons into a 4.2 gallon tank.  Did the pump lie or was I emptier than I thought?  And did I ever learn?  Today we have computers in cars telling us miles till empty, so I know how far I can go before I start to push, and they too have let me down, another story, but I have learned that arriving even if I have to push the last few feet is better than not arriving at all.  That limping home is far better than standing on equal footing along side the road.

So through the wonder of computers, cars now have a mode built into them, a limp home mode.  If the computer notes something potentially dangerous about the cars drivetrain or engine, it takes away the throttle, sloes you to about 30 mph, and allows you to limp home, preventing you from doing any damage to your car.  Which the first time it happens to you can be freaky, as I used to get many calls, “my car lost its power, it won’t go fast...” and soon it was towed in and the problem fixed.  But it kept many off the side of the road, fulfilling its purpose.  You got home, just not when and how fast you wanted to.  But despite flashing lights, fuel gauges, miles to empty messages, and petcocks, we still run out of gas.  No one yet has come up with a way to smarten up the mind of man, no matter how many warnings we put in front of us.  And if the truth be told, the E on the gauge stand for empty, NOW!

There is an old adage that religion is for women and children.  I have had people tell me that they will turn to God after they are finished doing the things they want to do.  But as I found out, you have no control over when you die, only God does.  I had no plans to go into a coma, and have open heart surgery, so I am glad I trusted Jesus years ago when I heard His voice.  But many wish to hang on, thinking with them it will be different, they can overcome it at the last minute, and I wonder, why when they have trusted and worshipped themselves all their lives, would they turn to God at the last moment?  Why wait, why limp home, or better yet, not make it at all?  Many are told that the only way to heaven is through Jesus-true, but He is also the way of life, and you can improve your days on earth by trusting Him now.  That is a choice you can make.  I did, and many have, and enjoy a life in Jesus.  But some are saved, yet carry on like they aren’t, no evidence of a changed life, and limp through life spiritually.  Their walk has a limp it doesn’t have to have, their choice.  But we find out that like Jacob, who wrestled with an angel, that God gave him a limp, so that every step he took he would remember that day, and turn to God.  No extra time at the gym, no workouts, and no heel lift prevented him from limping, so he chose to lean on God.  He knew why he limped, but he also knew who to lean on.

You may not notice your limp, but others do, and God certainly does.  Many will make excuses, and barely make it into heaven, limping through life on their own understanding, but still making it.  Others with a same limp will turn to God and lean on Him, acknowledging Him as Lord, and not just Savior.  He will be the crutch they need, and will add life to their lifestyle.  They will never have to park in a handicap zone, for although afflicted, they carry about Jesus in their body, and He gives them the strength to make it through the day.  They may limp home to heaven, but they do not live their lives in a limp home mode.  The needle may hover just above E, but they never run out.  And their lives always show enough fuel to get them where they are going.  For some it may take years of testing, specialists who fail, or maybe an accident to get you to do something about it.  Why not just listen to God, realize you are a sinner, and you cannot limp home without Him?  That you don’t have to suffer foolishly when the answer is there all the time in Jesus.  Or would you rather go through life in a limp home mode, limited in all you do no matter how much throttle you give your life?  Ever figure why some who are handicapped have more energy and live a better life than those who aren’t?  Maybe Jesus does make a difference.  Consider Him now before you push your 900 pound cruiser which is out of gas, although it shows some miles left till empty.  The bike knew more than the gauge, and more than the warning.  You have been warned, will you ride home or limp home?  Suddenly the smallest hill becomes a large mountain when pushing up it, so why push it at all? 

We will all walk with a limp some day, some when walking, some in the life we choose.  No need to limp home if you don’t have to.  Live life now the way God planned it, and lean on Him.  Its OK, He can handle the extra load, can you?  I know what it is like running out of gas with the station in sight, don’t make the same mistake about Jesus.  The capacity of the tank makes no difference if it is empty.  A lesson better learned now, than on the side of the road.  Still walking with that limp?  Time to see what that Check Jesus Light is flashing for.  Pushing with a limp is even harder. 

love with compasson,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

after the thrill is gone

It has been said of many racers, they know that it is time to quit racing when they don’t enjoy it anymore.  Translation meaning when they quit winning or lose their sponsorship.  But many today don’t know when to quit, and sadly their last race turns out to be their last race.  But it is the wise ones who know when to quit and move on with life.  When an overwhelming sense of common engulfs them, and they retire while they can still walk, form sentences, or sign autographs.  Many have also quit early when they see the toll that racing takes on their body and their families.  For the winners, it takes a 24/7 commitment, and even sleeping they dream of corners they could have taken faster, and how to not make the same mistakes again in the next race.  They live to get every last mph out of their rides, pushing the limits until the limits push back, and either a wall or an infield calls to them and they answer.  Winning is an obsession with them, and when the spark goes out, they know it is time to hang it up.  When they just don’t enjoy it anymore.  But what do you do after the thrill is gone?

Many will show up in broadcast booths, or doing product endorsements.  Some return to their hometown, heroes and start a racing business, some building, some advising, or some just living on their name.  The races are over, but the lime light and checkered flag of fame still feeds their ego, and they cannot let go.  But some just fade away into obscurity, “hey wasn’t that so and so, wasn’t he fast, a racer?” And some will remember, while others never forget.  Wondering is the glass half full or half empty, when really it is just a poorly engineered glass. 

But the sad ones are those who don’t quit when they should, the ego is bigger, or there is still money to be made, and they race until they die.  Leaving a legacy they never get to enjoy, and a family left to pick up the pieces afterwards.  The Byrds once sang Turn, Turn, Turn, quoting Ecclesiastes as there is a time for everything, life, death, and the time we spend most of our time in, right now.  There is a season, and a time appointed to everything.  A time to start, and a time to finish, and as all racers know, to finish first, you must first finish.  Words to live by no matter the race, human or other.  Paul talks of finishing the race, of life, which is not a sprint, but one of endurance.  Not a series where points are gathered towards a championship, but a race that a life that is raced to win.  No one sets out to finish second or third, but makes preparation for fuel stops, tire changes, and pit crews prepared for everything.  They just drive, and hope the team is ready when needed.  Too many of us live our lives like that.  We start out strong in Christ, and then a tragedy comes along, and we fall back on our teaching instead of Jesus.  We turn to friends for advice, instead of the wonderful counselor He is.  We look to see where we failed, hoping to blame someone else, but when it falls on us, we turn away.  We leave grace behind, and try to earn back our reputation, our position, or our pride by doing good, doing things to make God happy, as if we could ever make God love us more than He already does.  We build bigger motors, train harder, and do all the things the world tells us to do, but we neglect God, the one who saved us and the one who continues to guide us even when we fail or go astray.  We might even do a post tragedy review, and then lean on our own understanding.  Withdrawing from God, when we should be drawing closer to Him.  And at some point the fire goes out, and we are worse off than before we were saved.  Miserable, seeking and not finding, yet knowing God is still there, He has left us, and not turning to Him.  Everyone else can see it, why can’t we?

Worse yet are the ones who loved God early, but when the thrill is gone, when they are not the center of attention, when they are forced to take a back seat to God, turn away.  They loved the attention, and others loved them, looked to them, but now they are miserable, “God doesn’t work,” for if He did, why am I so miserable?  Why am I not the center of attention?  Why didn’t I get my way, I prayed?  To them God is only a podium finish, a way to get things they want, a genie in a lamp who they call on when they want something.  God is their co-pilot, they never gave Him the control, and when the thrill is gone, turn inward instead of to Jesus.  Some of the saddest people I meet are friends who once walked with God, but when He couldn’t keep up with them, they abandoned Him.  And leaving us with the impression that something is wrong with us, what is our problem, why are we still trusting God, didn’t you lose your job, didn’t you get divorced, didn’t you get caught and arrested?  If you fall into the latter category, you are in good company, for we all fall short of God’s glory, but because of His grace and mercy, we are able to carry on.  The thrill went deeper than emotions, we loved Him because He loved us first, and we learn to follow the spirit, instead of having the spirit follow us.  We have learned to draft Jesus, and that the race is over when He says, not when the flag drops.  We race to the end, an endurance race, and some days we finish first, some days last, and some we DNF.  But we know we ultimately win the final race, and a podium finish awaits us in heaven.  For heaven is filled with losers who realized it, and gave it all to Jesus.  The finish being more important than the position, the prize being won, all we did was run in it. 

Where are you on the track of life today?  Are you still in the race, or have you been black flagged for rule infractions?  Have you lost interest, or become a victim of too many crashes?  Is the thrill of knowing Jesus a thing of the past, or is it fresh everyday?  Do you still hang onto Jesus after all these years, knowing what is ahead, and sharing what was behind?   Have you threatened to quit, yet He held onto you so you wouldn’t give up?  And I your poium finishes, do you share them with Him?  On the cross, Jesus was the original podium finish-He finished first, and declared so from the cross.  One thief placed second, and still made it to heaven.  He drafted Jesus to the end, He knew the place to finish to was more   important than his place to finish in.  Yet the other thief DNFed, when it came time to make a crucial decision, he hit the wall.  No more races, no more excuses.  His final race ended in tragedy, and yet we remember him today. 

Look to the cross to see where you will finish, and also to where you should live today.  Winners never quit, and quitters never win.  It worked at the cross, and still works today.  Hang in there, eternity is coming.  it is a sure thing-to those who believe and endure.  Ask either thief, both will tell you the truth.  But only one believed.  For him the thrill never ended, for the other it never begun.  God knows the time and the season, He knows so you won’t have to.  Just stay the course, see you at the finish line.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com