"good old Mr. Wilson"

George and Martha Wilson were good neighbors.  Retired, they kept their home immaculate.  George was active in civic affairs, and was a community leader.  Martha supported her husband in his miserly ways, and with their dog Fremont, had a home that was a showplace among the neighborhood. They lived in the perfect town of the late fifties, early sixties, reflecting the suburbs of the time.  The kind of neighbor you wish you had today.  But right next door lived the Mitchell’s, Henry and Alice.  He an engineer for Trask Engineering, she a housewife.  All symbolic of the times that we can remember.  And they had a son, Dennis, who as long as the TV series ran, adapted from a long running cartoon, would be Mr. Wilson’s chief nemesis.  Dennis often called him “my best friend,” and he called him “good old Mr. Wilson.”  And although the two were mostly at odds, Mr. Wilson was many times object of Dennis’ fun, he showed a certain admiration and affection for the boy.  Dennis the Menace and good old Mr. Wilson would last as a TV series for 146 episodes, with Mr. Wilson passing away after 101.  But the legacy of D the M, and G O M. W continue today.

In one such episode, one of Dennis’ friends brags how his team is the best.  His father Mr. Brady and Mr. Wilson are often at odds, both father and son brag they are the best.  And when Dennis’s baseball team needs a coach, George is forced into volunteering.  Down 6-0 in the last inning, and facing humiliation, George finds his sophisticated signals aren’t working, but realizes how much each kid hates something.  So going to bat, he tells them “imagine the ball that thing you hate,” and they win 7-6 after hitting home runs.  They took out there anger on the ball, to which Brady declares it unfair coaching, and illegal signs.  But it is too late..the game is over, and Dennis and Mr. Wilson have won the game.  And the parents go wild-they won too!  And a bond is formed. 

Over the years I have coached many of my son’s sports teams.  But one year not coaching I was asked to fill in for a coach who went on vacation.  He was like Brady as is son got to pitch, bat first, and the other kids came after.  The parents in the stands talked among ourselves, and his son had trouble reaching home plate, but still he would pitch, his dad was the coach.  Their record was horrible, and the kid’s morale bad.  They wanted to win, isn’t that why we play?  So entering the playoffs, I took over for the vacationing coach, and like good old Mr. Wilson, I showed them how to win and have fun.  Putting players at positions they could play, like moving the shortstop who couldn’t throw to first base to second, and soon the other moves proved to work also.  We stole bases, we bunted, we swung at pitches, learned when to not swing, and won every game in the playoffs.  We were the Bad News Bears of the league, even the parents who had been humiliated all year were winning and cheering, and getting involved.  Then the coach returned from vacation, not even a thank you to me, and the parents were telling me to still coach.  I insisted it wasn’t my team, although the new winning team was, and they got beat bad when his son pitched, the shortstop couldn’t reach first base, and he secretly let others know I had tried to ruin his team.  He meant himself.  All I did was what he didn’t, we had fun and won.  And at one particular time the whole team looked to me sitting in the stands for help, when the vacationing coach made another self serving decision for his son.  It was hard to do, but lesson learned.  Sadly this wanna be yuppie was part of the league, and they supported him.  Among the parents and other players, he got no respect.  But a lesson was learned early among these 10 year old boys...we still need men like good old Mr. Wilson today.  For the Dennis’s and his friends still like to play to win and have fun.  Just leave it to an adult to interfere and ruin it all.

I believe that we should all enjoy having fun.  After all, what good is fun if we don’t enjoy it?  And Christians should have more fun than anyone.  We have Jesus!  Yet so many I know are bogged down with life, with rules, regulations, and religion keeping them from all God has to offer.  Not the way God planned it, but the way Jesus can change it in your life.  The Pharisees were very proud, and had no problem showing off how they were superior to the rest of us.  They lived under the law, and were rigorously bound by, the root word for religion means bound, like tied up and held.  No freedom in their lives, for  if the public wasn’t watching, their fellow Pharisees were.  Ready to pounce and remind them of their faults.  Sounds like church to some, it is not the way God wanted it, so he sent Jesus.  God knew that love demands a decision, a choice to accept him or not, and when the law couldn’t do it, he sent Jesus to be the way.  Very simple, and he shows us ways just like good old Mr. Wilson showed the team, except he does it with love.  He wants us to win, but shows us the victory in him is the only true victory that matters.  His ways may seem foreign to those who are taught and live like the Mr. Brady’s of the world, but in each defeat we see Jesus, and our character is strengthened.  We see winning in a different way, where it is not the only thing, but how you play the game.  We still play to win, but honorably, and it makes the taste of victory that much more pleasant.  Today God is raising up Mr. Wilson’s within his church.  They volunteer time and resources, teach kids about life and point them to Jesus.  Guiding them by the spirit, showing how grace wins out over legalism, and how life can be lived to the fullest in Christ and still have fun.  They are taught to forgive, and be giving, to respect, to be compassionate, using Jesus as the example.  But only when led by the spirit, because if not we get more rules, which means more rules to break, which means more trouble to get into.  Good old Mr. Wilson knew that, and for very expensive coin in his collection that Dennis put in the Coke machine, for every prized flower trampled by sneakers, for each window broken by a foul ball, Mr. Wilson forgave Dennis, sometimes begrudgingly, but with a fondness for him.  Jesus has a fondness for us, and wants us to live life to the fullest.  He knows that windows will interfere with our ball playing, coins will get lost, and new clothes will get dirty.  That’s life.  But he forgives, and like Peter, who failed so many times, we can carry on like he did, never looking back, but looking ahead, forgiven and blessed by Jesus.  In life we won’t win every game, but yet we play to win.  But when the season of life is over, we have the victory in Jesus in heaven. It is the relationship between God and man that Jesus bridged to bring us back, it was the relationship between Dennis and Mr. Wilson, one of love and respect that we admire and remember today.

Dennis never saw any wrongs in Mr. Wilson, and Mr. Wilson had to forgive Dennis many times.  Sound familiar?  If not, you need to get to know Jesus, to be forgiven, to learn to have fun and enjoy life.  To become all you can be, and maybe even become a Mr. Wilson to others.  Jesus had twelve disciples who made many others, the same goes on today.  Someone, a Dennis is always watching.  And they may not hear all your words, but will remember your actions.  And your reactions.  For a baseball team we won a few games and had fun, too bad it had to end like it did.  Life doesn’t...seek Jesus today and be at the victory celebration.  You will be amazed at all the Dennis the Menaces there, but we will all be looking for Jesus, the Mr. Wilson who changed our lives.  “Oh, great Scott...!”  But what a great God.

love with compassion,

Mike

‘'matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

 

do you want fries with that?

While sitting at a light with my visor up, the aroma of fast food overwhelmed me, so I made a detour for an early lunch.  Since my surgery I have not eaten but a few burgers, and my cardiologist said it was OK once in awhile, so today was to be that while.  The sign in the window said “BURGER MEAL SPECIAL  $4.99” and I was hooked.  I was greeted with “can I take your order?” and I replied “I’ll have the burger special, please.”  Simple enough, the picture showed a burger with onions and tomatoes, can’t get more American than that, the way I like them.  The dining room was empty, lunch hour wasn’t here yet, and I envisioned a juicy burger without much noise and confusion.  “What do you want on your burger?  Chili, guacamole, lettuce, ketchup, mayo, or Chipotle mayo?”  No, just like in the picture.  Wait, put some Ortega chilis on that, I’ll pay the extra.  And mayo.  “Do you want cheese on it?  We have American, jack, cheddar, Swiss, or bleu cheese.”  No cheese, loaded with sodium, just a burger today.  “What kind of fries you want?  It comes with thin ones, but you can have steak fries, crinkle cut, curly, or tater tots.”  Hmmmm...tater tots, I’ll pay the extra.  “Do you want them Cajun, with chili, cheese, or plain?”  Plain was good, and was included, for another 50 cents.  “What do you want to drink?  We have 6 types of Coke, plus diet, and for $1.50 you can buy our free refill cup, the proceeds go to children’s cancer.”   Obviously brought on by the burger special.  So I bought the cup, although I had no place to put it on the bike, and had no intentions of returning.  I was only 100 miles from home at the time.  “Let’s see, burger special with Ortegas and mayo, tater tots, donation glass.  Will there be anything else?  Will that be for here or to go?”  Here.  “That will be $9.75, cash or card.”  As she counted out my change, and gave me my number, my $4.99 special had doubled in price, the dining room was filling up, I had a cup I will never use again, and was still hungry.  And my wallet lighter.  And I had lost some of my appetite.

But when she called my number, and the food arrived, it looked and smelled good, and the first aroma was telling me I was doing the right thing.  Look at all those tater tots, just need some ketchup now, some extra napkins.  So back to the counter I go, and wait, they are busy now.  But soon I am back in front of the food, and waiting to take my first bite of a real hamburger in months.  But it is so tall, I have trouble getting my big mouth around it, and force some in.  The flavor was delicious.  Another quick bite, I am in hamburger heaven, for only $9.75 and a refillable cup, but something is missing.  All I wanted was a burger with onions and tomato, some fries, and a Coke.  They had forgotten the onions.  No self respecting burger has no onions?  But I would suffer through it without, my dream burger less than a dream. The tater tots OK, but I really wanted fries, and I ended up paying twice as much and not getting what I really wanted, or came in for.  I was taken in by a pretty smell, an attractive price, and soon overwhelmed by decisions to make.  All I wanted was a burger and fries, with a Coke to wash it down.  Hours later the Ortegas would still haunt me, the tater tots recycle again and again, and my wallet was lighter for the aggravation.  Whatever happened to the days of the simple “do you want fries with that?”  And the days of fast food being fast?  Would I ever again get the break I deserve today, would I ever have it my way, and would I ever look back lusting for something hot and juicy?  Too many choices, too many decisions, and I still didn’t end up with what I ordered, or what I went in for, or what I really wanted.  The sign on the door when leaving only made me smile, “COME BACK SOON, IT WAS A PLEASURE TO SERVE YOU.”  I’ll bet it was, and at prices I cannot afford.

No church or religion was ever started with the idea it would not correct all the problems of the current church.  Lutherans would do it better than Catholics, Methodists better still, Baptists still raising the bar, and cults like Mormons and Jehovah Witnesses removing Jesus Christ altogether, and doing it there way.  And so we find so many today seeking and not finding, yet taken in by clever lines, fancy ads, and promises of meeting your needs.  We can be taught how to go out witnessing, how to read the Bible in a year, how to go on missions trips, and even support an orphan.  We can support food banks, clothing drives, and be entertained by guest speakers.  Guest musicians.  We can give to special offerings, and even be told we are special, hoping it makes us feel special.  Isn’t that special?  But in between the procedures, programs, and processes, where is Jesus?  What could be more special than him?  What could be more special than being assured of heaven, and being forgiven and loved?  Yet many churches fall short, a watered down gospel, and between 40 day plans, and studies of books other than the Bible, we fall short.  God has designed man with a vacancy in his soul that only Jesus can fill.  The other things are good, but on their own can be gotten off the Internet, or at a discussion group.  Like fast food, it has become complicated, confusing, and even after 40 years I sometimes wonder what’s going on?  All I want is a simple gospel, so I can understand it.  I want it free, so I can afford it.  Let God provide the extras like he said he would, after seeking him first, he will add all things to us.  Yet amongst the family here I am amazed at how many have gone looking for Jesus, and end up with a plate full of goodies, but not him.  A Supersized service, a cup with nothing in it to refill.  Religion is what got the Pharisees in trouble, and why they hated Jesus, he wasn’t religious.  He was love and freedom, not rules and regulations.  He had no specials, he was special.  Yet many eat at the table of legalism, when they can be dining at the table of grace.  How many churches can place a sign on the exit saying “COME BACK SOON, IT WAS A PLEASURE TO SERVE YOU!”  And how many times do you feel like you were served?  Or just filled up your hour of responsibility to the church?   Do you want more from life and your God than just a fast food gospel? 

Then turn to Jesus.  His gospel is simple, only two laws.  Love God first, then your fellow man.  And he helps us along, because someone is always waiting to upset the peace he gives.  And then he forgives, and we go on with the day.  No pledge cards, membership drives, or special seating.  He is up front, and so we can be too.  Honest, with simple choices, we get to make.  Heaven or hell?  Blessed or cursed?  With open arms with nail pierced hands to help us when we fall.  So what do you want from God?  From your church?  Better yet, what do you need?  These things will only be found in Jesus.  All else is like the special, you end up with something else, and wonder why.  If salvation is not mentioned on the menu, you are being cheated.  No love, move on.  No forgiveness, forgive and move along.  But don’t blame Jesus, those people need his love just like we do.  Don’t become bitter just because a church is failing.  Turn to God, let Jesus guide you.  Have it his way, and you will find he is the way.  You don’t deserve a break today, but he offers grace anyway.  Even brings it to your table, but we are invited to eat at his.  Here or to go?  Both, just as long as Jesus is along.

Fast food needs to be fast to make a profit, religion shouldn’t.  That is why Jesus never hurried, and was never late.  He could feed the 5000 for cheap with doggie bags to go.  He could heal blindness, lameness, and sin without Obamacare.  Don’t confuse Jesus and the church.  We are the church, you and I who believe.  He is the way, Jesus the Christ.  Our salvation.  Our daily bread.  We need him.  Supersized, just the way we like it.  Don’t be taken in by a sign promising a special.  Jesus is special all the time, he never ends.  Had enough religion?  Welcome to Jesus.  One choice, one decision should be enough.  Now, how can I serve you today?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

when the road throws you a curve

We were on our way to Canada on our Sprint RS, leaving St. Helena on SR128.  Leaving the light an Eddie Lawson Replica, ELR Kawasaki passed us, and the ride was on.  We tried keeping up ,but this was his ride that day.  But following his lines we were never far behind, and when we were, he would slow in the straights and wait.  A guided tour of a road I have ridden many times since, but never with such vigor.  A friend and riding partner I never met, but would recognize the back of his bike from anywhere.  We were riding on Skyline Drive, this time in the Shenandoah Valley, when we stopped at a rest stop, taking a fog break.  We were on our Sprint ST this time, and moment later another one pulled up next to us.  After a brief exchange, seeing our California tags he offered “follow me, I live here, this road is my back yard.”  And for the next 45 miles rode faster than I had ever imagined on this 45 mph speed limited masterpiece.  Taking his lines, I rode over my head at times, but if he could do it, so could I, and we did.  When he finally slowed to turn off, a wave and he was off.  Skyline Drive would never be the same, and I never got a chance to thank him.  Penny was a patient of Gerald, and she rode a BMW.  Gerald wanted a BMW, I had one, so he hooked us up for a Sunday morning ride.  She decided on South 10 through Tijeras Canyon, a new road to me.  She was fast, and I could keep up through the curves, until in a straight a Z-1 blew by us.  Too much for Penny to take, in the next set of curves she and her R90/6 blew by him, and then proceeded to leave him behind.  I followed close behind, but far enough away should either one crash-they were haulin’.  We all stopped at a gas station, and when she took off her helmet, and the Z-1 rider saw her long blond hair and that she was a girl, he took off.  The embarrassment too much for him.  I just smiled, and to this day every time I see a blond pony tail hanging out of the back of a helmet I think of Penny.  Fast girls and motorcycles...she was quite a lady.

Don had just bought a new Interceptor, and need to break it in.  So we decided to ride a loop over Wolf Creek Pass, at the time a dangerous two lane road, even a hit song was written about by C. W. McCall of Convoy fame.  I was following him when we came upon a car, and both passed him at high speeds, then I passed Don.  Later that week when we stopped in Handlebar Cycle, Gary the manager was telling of two bikes that had blown by him on Wolf Creek.  He was the guy in that car.  When Don said “that was me, “ Gary was impressed.  But when he was told I was the crazy sucker passing both, my KZ750 got new respect in that Honda/Yamaha store.  The Interceptor was as close to a race bike as you could by...blown away by a Kawasaki.  And for years Gary would tell the story, introducing me as that guy on the other bike...never mentioning it was a Kawasaki. But we knew.... I had been asked to attend a ride for the new Ducati Diablo, sponsored by Cycle World.  Some 20 of us with varying riding backgrounds would take a great course from the coast to Escondido on back roads.  The group leader was Mark Cernicky, an editor from the magazine, and he was to follow.  I always ride from the rear, letting the group get ahead so I can ride harder, and soon Cernicky and I were alone, he saw what I was up to and joined in, and we were having fun.  The ride was a great course, all curves,  and coming into Escondido, the last turn was marked at 15mph.  An easy 30 mph turn for me, but looking to my right, here comes Cernicky, all crossed up flat track style passing me.  Our conversation at the stop sign was one word from me, “bored?”  He nodded and we rode back.  The others had ridden a new bike, we had taken a ride.  Telling Mickey later, he kept telling “don’t ever let him ride your bike, he crashes.”  Looking back I could see that, but for me that day the Diablo went from cruiser to race bike riding with him.   Who said riding a cruiser has to be boring?  Mick had lent me a Rocket 3 Roadster for a few days and I rode it to a local bike night.  While talking with others we noticed the feelers on both foot pegs worn off, and part of the foot pegs too.  Whoever had this last rode the wheels off it.  It was then noticing the license plate, bent from doing wheelies that I really had a new hero.  An 800 pound cruiser with more torque at idle than a Harley has max, and it handles too.  Another lesson from the road of when it throws a curve at you, ride it.

Now if every road was straight and smooth, we wouldn’t need suspensions.  But life is like roads, and we need Jesus to carry us through.  Not always as much fun, but definitely challenging.  Now the roads may not be straight and narrow, but the way to Christ is.  No surprise left hand turns, no off camber turns, and no lane ending suddenly.  The road is straight and narrow so anyone can make it, just follow Jesus.  But then life throws us a curve or two, and we cannot ride it out, and crash.  Or get so scared we never ride again, or worse yet figure “where was Jesus when I needed him?” and leave him behind.  So they either go their own way, or live a cautious life within the church walls, never seeing all of Jesus, or what he has for them.  Straight and narrow, and boring and unchallenged.  No surprises, and no blessings either.  And they get upset hearing of what Jesus has done in your life, sometimes becoming jealous because you are blessed and they are not.  Many times their choice, stay at home or ride safe roads.  Slow in the turns, cruise on in the straights.  Never passing anyone, but many passing them.  Things going well, then life throws a curve at them, and they find they are only about 6 inches deep in Christ.  Despite all the teachings, Bible studies, and seat time in church, they know all about Jesus, they just don’t know him.  And wonder why he has abandoned them, at the time they need him most.  Truth is he hasn’t they have turned their backs on him.  And he is still knocking on the door, offering hope and help.  You see the gospel is straight and narrow, easy so I can get it, and free so I can afford it.  Yet life isn’t so kind, and we need the kind of heavenly suspension that only Jesus Christ can provide to get us through.  And when riding with him, the ride becomes more exciting, more fun, and more places we never knew about.  He is life and  life abundantly. And the testimonies and times spent with him help encourage others to get out and ride.  Get out and live, get out and into Jesus.  Life abundantly, enjoying the curves and not avoiding them, picking new lines in Christ because now you see the whole road.  The blinders are off... and so can you be. 

Coming down off Wolf Creek into Pagosa Springs, I stopped at the top, and noticed how the road disappeared, then reappeared being lost in some curves.  Not being able to see what was in the next blind curve.  And God spoke to me, assuring me he does know what is around the next curve, and when following him and taking his lines, we are safe and secure.  And enjoying life more.  Maybe you won’t ever wear off your foot pegs, you may never scrape your floor boards, but life will still throw us curves.  So I take the advice of Kenny Roberts, racer extraordinaire, if too fast into a curve, keep leaning.  Don’t panic.  Works in life too, too much curve and not enough of you, lean on Jesus.  Don’t panic, he doesn’t, and the thrill of having him with you only brings on the desire for more of him.  An excitement not found on the sofa,  so if you must sit somewhere, sit where you are comfortable.  For me it is behind bars, handlebars, with a full tank of gas, lots of curves, and plenty of time to ride.  Get the most out of life in Christ, and the most out of your ride.  And if you come upon a blond pony tail sticking out of a helmet, pass and wave.  Theresa will wave back...fast girls and motorcycles, and she’s always a lady for me.  But you have to catch her first....if you can’t beat ‘em, marry one.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

life before 50 and after 80

Many a great ride has started dressed in layers on a cold morning.  By 10am the jacket comes off, and by noon the sweatshirt allowing you to ride in comfort the rest of the day in just your specially picked t-shirt.  And the real good ones go into the evening, retracing the process, but in reverse order.  Arriving home with the same chill you left with hours earlier, but with miles of great riding in between.  Having ridden in everything from below zero to 124 degrees, I can attest to the need to dress in layers, as any rider will tell you.  There have been days where I never thought I would get the jacket off, and days I never thought the one I brought along I would need.  But I am glad I did in both cases.  One 4th of July going over Wolf Creek Pass on a Z-1 sans windshield I was in a t-shirt, three days later following a snow plow with everything I had with me on.  But with great riding all the time.  Yet here in So Cal we have been so spoiled by the weather, many don’t enjoy dressing in layers.  If they had to it was either too hot or too cold.  It was reinforced when talking with a friend who had just bought a new Harley, his first without a windshield.  And one ride below 60 degrees had him setting his limit for riding below that there.  He froze, and later confided he had on his leather jacket.  “I don’t know how you guys ride in cold,” he told me.  Now I don’t do windshields or fairings unless it is in my truck.  Riding to me means in the wind, and even the small fairing on my Tiger deflects some air, yet leaves me in the wind.   Yet riding on a new Trophy SE last winter, on a warm 80 degree day in February, we left Riverside in t-shirts, and taking the long way home over Oak Glen, where the onboard thermometer said, 53, we were still comfortable.  So maybe those barns missing their doors do make great fairings, I still prefer to dress in layers.  There is life before 50 degrees, and also 50 years of age.  Sometimes you just have to use what you learned early to ride comfortably today. Yet for some the price of looking cool, when really being uncomfortably hot wearing leathers and chaps in 80+ weather tends to make them cold when they are really needed.  Form over function, I prefer jacket over sweatshirt.  I just hope they enjoy the ride as much as I do.  They are missing out on some beautiful sunrises and sunsets.  But in between when the weather changes, I am reminded of a couple from Maryland we met putting on our rain suits outside of Gettysburg.  A sudden downpour had a few of us under a gas canopy changing, and I will never forget what he told me.  “The weatherman said 50% chance of rain,which meant 50% chance of sun.  We chose to ride not taking a chance on 50%.”  Amen, and amen.  Dress for the conditions, lots of great riding below 50 degrees...and the new Tiger XCx I had last week even had a warning light for frost, which came on at 39 degrees.  Have to trust them on that one, still too warm for testing that this winter.

Many a great ride has also been interrupted by coming up on traffic, causing a jam.  And being embarrassed when you finally pass them and finding it is a group of motorcycles, riding just below the sped limit.  Maybe just as bad for public perception as the guy wheelying past at 70, but this crowd interruption always makes me wonder why ride at all, if you don’t ride for the conditions.  Like the man I know who has his motor built, dynos at almost 100hp, a lot for a Harley, but never goes above 80.  What a waste of money.  Yet will drone along at 60 across South Dakota, when we travel above 80 in less danger of causing trouble than him.  Interstates were designed in the fifties for cars to go over 85 mph, even your old Harley or Triumph would run it 60 years ago, so why not now.  Life is a blast over 80, and 90, and at 120 yesterday airing out my old 1978 GS1000.  It felt good, and no animals were hurt during the ride.  No tickets either, not bad for a 60 year old man with a plastic aorta on a 37 year old bike.  So what’s your excuse?  Too cold, or just too old?  Or do numbers like speed and temp control how and when you ride?  I think of all the great rides, roads, meals, and good times I would have missed if dictated by rules and regulations.  If riding isn’t any fun, why do it?  Remember the freedom you just told your friend about, well do you?

Dressing for the conditions is nothing new.  The first set of leathers go back to the Garden of Eden, when God sacrificed animals and made clothes for Adam and Eve.  Not for cold, but to cover their nakedness.  A far cry from the scantilly clad girls at Sturgis only wearing chaps...for protection of course.  But lets consider the weather at the beginning, perfect temperature, no rain, as a mist watered the garden every evening, and all they had to do was get up and live every day.  Freedom like no others have ever experienced before, or after, as no sin meant freedom, and no laws to bind them.  But with sin came a covering, and with a covering came a sacrifice made for them, and soon laws came, and PETA followed.  And more laws, more protests, and less freedoms.  Laws made for dress, to eat, of who to hang out with, and how to worship.  A rule for everything, and with more rules to break, brought more rules broken, and more sin.  But fortunately laws were given for forgiveness, just so you obeyed them, or else.  Sometimes not sure if you really were guilty or if the sacrifice was enough.  You lived in doubt, should I ride today, is it too cold?  Or where can I ride where there are no speed traps, just waiting to ruin my fun.  Exacting a fee for breaking the law.  And that’s it, breaking the law exacts something from us.  A fine, jail time, losing your license, or worse yet, giving up riding all together.  Temps and speed limits arbitrarily set to limit all God has for us.

And then along comes Jesus to set us free.  Free from the law, but also to free us from sin.  To be forgiven, to go 66 in a 65 zone, to ride below 50 degrees, and enjoy life.  Not quite on the par of no sin like in the garden, but soon in heaven we will enjoy that.  Oh if Adam and Eve had only ridden, maybe they would not have sinned, and look at the great weather we would have today.  But they did, we do, and so Boston is waist deep in snow, floods in San Francisco, and droughts in So Cal.  Even the weather has turned against us.  Forcing us to dress in layers, or stay home.  Our choice, to be bound in leather like Adam and Eve, or stay home and be imprisoned in sin.  Don’t let a 49 degree day ruin your blessings.  We can be free in Christ when we turn to him.  And live like he wants us to.  Loving him first, then others as ourselves.  For no man hates himself and loves his brother.  Add compassion to that, respect, and a brotherhood forms, and we see why Jesus told us if a man needs your shirt, give him your coat too.  So he can get out and ride and enjoy life.  To be encouraged in love, and not be bound by numbers, laws, ego, or perception.  That love is there, sometimes in the form of a coat, like the one Dave and George carried of mine bungeed to their bike, forgetting it was there,and wishing they had it all the time while freezing.   Jesus is there, he never left despite the temp, or speed, and will guide you through.  He may be just as close as a jacket bungeed behind you, or the windshield in front of you.  But you must let him into your life....and them something wonderful begins.  You enjoy the ride more than ever before.

So many times we area asked “how do you find all these places?”  Simple we get out and ride.  Works with blessings too, you need to get out into life where they are.  Don’t live life bound by laws, be bound by love and enjoy life.  Trust God and live, and ride.  Sometimes we ride to eat, and eat to ride.  Some live to ride, and ride to live.  We are bound only in love, love only found in Jesus Christ, and we enjoy life to the fullest.  Because of him.  For some life begins at 50, and they miss out on what goes on at lower temps.  Some fear anything above the speed limits, limiting the fun and potential of their ride and life.  Jesus gives us fullness of life.  Sometimes one layer at a time, sometimes all the layers removed.  You will only know for sure if you get out and live.  Leathers don’t make you a biker, just a sinner needing a savior.  All have sinned, and fall short of the glory of God, so he sent Jesus.  Remember that next time you wear your leathers, God provided them for Adam and Eve first, and they didn’t even ride.  Today you can have forgiveness and ride with grade and mercy with Jesus.  Dressed in layers of love, for every condition.  Some ride behind windshields, I ride behind Jesus.  I enjoy the freedom he gives, for the rest of you cars will have to do.  Never knowing what lies just the other side of the window.  Any questions, just refer them back to the garden. 

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

"nice motorsickle MIster, where ya from?"

It was one of those nights the old folks tell you it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.  I had ridden across three states, and was looking for a place for the night, when I came upon an old motel, whose neon light flashed vacancy.  My kind of place, I got a room, and soon found that the old window air conditioner put out more sound than cold air, so went out on the front porch, where others were seeking relief.  Parked next to me was an old blue Chevy, with one white door, and an older couple with three teens, two boys, one girl, sat next door drinking grape soda.  “Nice motorsickle Mister, where ya from? asked the old man, who everyone called Grandpa, and he waved me over, offering me a grape soda from an old metal cooler.  I had wanted to be alone, but something told me to accept his offer, and soon we began talking, or he did. “Used to ride one of them motorsickles myself, right after the war.  A group of us all bought Indians.  The Harley guy never came back form the Pacific, and his wife had let the shop go.  Best $300 I ever spent”...and he paused taking a gulp of grape soda.  “We were gonna see the US, we had seen the world in the service, but slowly we drifted apart.   I married Ma here, and had a family, Joe moved to California, maybe you know his family,” as if we were all neighbors out there, “Bill went to college,got a real job, heard Carl died of cancer a few years back.  Boy the rides and times we had...” and his voice tailed off, maybe the visions of past rides took over for a moment.  He talked more of past rides, and soon the string of lights flashed off, telling us it was time for bed.  “See you in the morning,” I said.  “Doubtful, we’re gonna be on the road early,” and firm handshake confirmed all he had told me in his recalling old friends and rides that evening.  A night we both will remember.  And I felt like I knew his old friends.

I slept well that night.  Almost peaceful despite the loud air conditioner, and awoke with the sun streaming through the old worn curtains.  The old alarm clock on the night stand had its big hand just at 6, and as I got up to watch a pretty sunrise, noticed the old blue Chevy with the one white door was gone.  He said early, I guess he meant it.  As I squinted in the morning sun, I hoped he was heading west, that early sun can be brutal.  But he had never mentioned where he was going, he only talked of where he had been.  Even his opening line “where ya from?” didn’t ask where I was heading.  Reflecting on the old blue Chevy with the one white door, maybe his best days were behind him, his memories that he shared last night the highlights of his life.  40 years had passed since he rode, he had lost touch with all his old riding buddies, all recounted over a bottle of grape soda.  Somewhere in an old motel on the old highway that very few travelled any more.  Suddenly my new Yamaha didn’t look right, and for the next hour I rode before breakfast, I couldn’t get him out of my mind.  Somewhere in the countryside of Illinois our paths had crossed that night...I wondered if I would look back with fondness of my past like he did?  But today I was looking ahead....

It was one of the those February mornings where they tell of the wind chill factor back east, but for me it was bright sun in Laguna Beach.  I had stopped to spend some time alone and read my Bible, and found all but one bench empty.  A beautiful ocean view, I wanted to be alone, yet felt attracted to a bench next to an old man.  “Nice motorsickle Mister, where ya from?” he asked.  Before I could answer, he asked, “what ya readin’?  The Bible?”  And then he began to tell me about when he was younger, and his life was all about church.  “Remember Reverend Smith at the First Church over there?”  No I nodded.  “Man could he preach up a sermon.  We had pot lucks after the service each Sunday, his wife made the best fried chicken.  My wife used to make chocolate ice box pie....” his voice streaming off for a moment.  “Before she died.”  “We were tight, we loved the Lord, and many baptisms were held right here at this beach.  Our lives revolved around that church, we saw many saved and Jesus changed lives.  But one day the Rev got a telegram his son was killed in Viet Nam, and he was never the same.  It had to hurt him losing a son, and he never recovered.  Soon the church split apart, he was our strength, and he left town.  Never did hear where he ended up, I still went to church, but it wasn’t the same.  Haven’t been in years...”  Standing up, he shook my hand.  “Learn from an old man, stay close to Jesus.  At one time the church was my strength, and when it folded I was aimless.  Then Jesus came into my life, gave it meaning.  I had religion as we used to say, now I’m saved.  Stay close to Jesus young man, stay in the word, and let him stay in you.” And with that he was gone, and I was all alone.  Just like I had wanted to be, yet something was different.  His short testimony had been what I needed to hear, and just like the night in Illinois, with another old man, their memories shared with me were precious.  Both made me think, both made me reflect.  And I stopped and thanked God for coming into my life some 40 years ago.  How Jesus had changed my life, and was still changing it.  This morning again proving him. 

In both cases the conversations started off with where you from, both ended giving me hope for a new day.  Two moments in time, separated by 30 years, but connected by riding a motorsickle.  Now some may call these a chance meeting, a coincidence, but I know better.  Maybe not an angel, but when needed, God always sends someone along at the right time.  Sometimes I travel back, but after I am faced with looking ahead.  And realize what a bright future I have because of Jesus Christ in my life.  No religion, and no regrets.  A hope and a future.  No matter where I happen to rest my head, or sit.  In both cases I had wanted to be alone, but God provided company I didn’t know I needed.  After spending some time with the Lord, I looked for a place for lunch.  An old taco shop got my attention, a grape Nehi sign, faded and worn seemed to beckon me.  “Do this in remembrance of me,” Jesus said of communion.  And I had spent precious time with him, one in remembering, the others their memories.  I don’t remember the taco, but I do the grape soda. And the night with Grandpa with the old blue Chevy with the white door.  Grape soda and pretzels we had.  Communion we had.  Nothing fancy, certainly not religious.  A time that Jesus set aside for both of us to be ministered to.  A time when both could remember, when we both would remember.  Maybe it really is in the small details, when we aren’t looking for him that he appears.  He tells us he never leaves us, nor forsakes us, I can tell of more to verify that.  But these two will do for now.  Maybe you have some precious times when God intervened, just to show how much he cared.  Live life in remembrance of him, commune with him daily.  “Nice motorsickle MIster, where ya from?”  Let the testimonies begin.  And I know where ‘m going. 

love with compassion,

MIke

matthew25biker.blogspot.com