do something Ward...

June Bronson was raised by the family matriarch Aunt Martha in a world of ethics and codes becoming of only the most ladylike of ladies.  The book of etiquette advising the proper way to behave and handle any situation any young lady would ever encounter.  She went to finishing school, fell in love, married and had two sons.  Although her husband was from a bucolic background, he did all the right things, and treated her as she was expected to be treated.  Settling in Mayfield, he had a great job, made an above average living, and she was the prototypical housewife of the late fifties, early sixties.  Never a hair out of place, with the ability to handle all types of housework without breaking a sweat, or her string of pearls, she lived in a world today we celebrate and look back on fondly.  But growing up in that era, I find she was more the norm than the exception, with one notable exception...she never had any fun, and raised her two sons by the book.  Even if they were boys and not girls.  It took her loving husband, Ward to strike a balance, so they could grow up normally, and many a cold night was spent on a hot August eve after he intervened.  “Do something Ward,” she would whine when not getting her way.  And her gestapo attitude towards raising children showed.  More rules meant more rules to break.  She may be praised today, but one look at June Bronson Cleaver may have you thinking twice as your Mother of the Year choice.

How many embarrassing situations did she create when common sense should have dictated otherwise?  Making Beaver eat Brussel Sprouts publicly, and making Wally the first one home on date nights.  Her sons would not embarrass the Bronson heritage she was forced with passing on, and dirt had no place in any young boys life.  Three course meals for every dinner in the dining room, breakfast the same three course affair but restricted to the kitchen.  Tolerated, not enjoyed.  Using the right fork, napkin on lap.  “Thank you Mom, can I have another?”  Friends only gaining access to the boys’ room or the patio, and being treated like 8 year olds through out junior high and into high school.  Beaver would prove to be a handful, but Wally still had hope...until he got to high school.  Girls and cars were suddenly more interesting, and her whining would escalate.  Fast girls and cars were never meant for Bronson blood.

She couldn’t understand why Wally would want a car?  Was he heading towards juvenile delinquency?  She would cut that off, when could he drive it, 24 hours of his day were spoken for.  And when a jalopy shows up for $25, she stands there in her mink stole ashamed when the neighbors walked by.  He is dirty, greasy, having fun, and the envy of all his friends.  And more whining, “Ward make him sell it.”  Ward this, Ward that, and went off pouting when Ward’s fatherhood skills won out over her Bronson desires.  They had been raised right, now wanted to be normal, and cars and girls were normal then and are now.  Rolling her eyes, pouting, off she would go, pearls and all to her next trained response.  Never enjoying fully all she had, and not knowing what she was missing.  A life of rules, social consciousness, and standing, fun was never included in all the above.  She had wanted girls, or rather Aunt Martha had, and every visit it was evident two normal boys were tolerated, but not her first choice.  Ward running interference the whole time, boys wanting to be boys, June wanting Aunt Martha’s way, and never the twain would meet.  All would live happily ever after, but the joy of life was missing.  Fun wasn’t permitted, and living by the book was mandatory, even if it was only a guide. 

Today we encounter June Bronson and her attitudes within the church.  No freedom in the spirit, it is all about rules, and legalism.  Show me your rules, I’ll show you a good church.  But not a healthy one. Forgiveness is taught, but never exercised, as she demands perfection.  That is the church, and when someone dares to operate outside of its rules, trouble begins.  We see its roots in the Pharisees, who had a rule for everything.  The Bronsons had that same attitude, hell to pay if you used the wrong fork, talked with the wrong crowd, or didn’t get your way.  The Pharisees were really to be pitied, as although they thought themselves better, they were slaves to the law, then Jesus came along.  He not only preached freedom, but lived it, and taught it coming from within, from a changed heart, not a set of rules.  That we all sin, but that all could be forgiven.  Even little boys.  That religion binds, rules control, and freedom and fun are allowed, and not just behind closed doors. That any good Pharisee who was more concerned with their personna, than their souls, even though they believed after all God had made them special, special enough to not have to deal with the lower classes, the poor, or the non-Jews could be saved.  Jesus upset them, they wanted his freedom, or wanted it to go away, it was a threat, so instead tried to do battle with him, forgetting sin will never win out over grace.  They wanted what he had, just not for everyone else.  And without changing, until one Passover weekend changed it all.  The spirit had been set loose, the spiritual captives were set free, and the Messiah had come, and gone.  And would return, allowing them to change, God’s patience being extended even to the last sinner Pharisee.  They thought that by killing him they had killed the spirit, but the spirit of Jesus is still alive and well today, calling all, Bronsons and Pharisees to repentance.  Extending grace, and bringing joy to lives.  Yet many cling to their old religion, and deny Jesus.

“Do something Jesus,”  they whine when not getting their way.  But a hardness of heart reveals their motives, and all who can see, see what they can’t.  And still Jesus is patient, so that none should perish.  It all goes back to the cross.  Where the word became flesh, and the book he is written about brings life.  But only through the spirit, for it takes the spirit to reveal the mysteries of Christ.  Even pretty pictures don’t help, it takes the spirit.  Available through Jesus Christ.  Not a set of rules, but the person of God, personally guiding us.  Jesus hanging out with the hookers, bikers, hot rodders, and welcoming the Bronsons.  Yet many choose to follow a matriarch, or a family patriarch rather than Jesus.  They gain the world, but lose their souls.  They lose it all....yet never know it until it is too late.

Where the spirit of the Lord is there is liberty.  To be who God has called you to be.  To enjoy life, and have fun, bringing joy to others as you live for Christ.  Bronsons need Jesus too, Ward knew this and his tireless love for his family showed great rewards.  Finishing school may have been a good thing, but when Jesus said “it is finished,” things changed.  Hearts changed.  The world changed.  And every Easter we celebrate his return.  And look forward to his final return for us.

As children we remember more the actions of our parents than we do their words.  Same with God.  Yet he writes his words on our hearts so they are always with us.  Part of us, part of who we are.  In Christ.  He forgives, we forgive.  He loves, we love.  It always begins with Jesus, and not of ourselves.  Looking back, maybe our parents didn’t do such a bad job, particularly with what they had to work with.  A sign over a man’s desk reminds me.  “The true measure of success is how your children describe you to their friends.”  Jesus Christ is that success, and when he describes us to his father, our father in heaven, he smiles.  But is patient for that last Bronson to arrive.  The Cleavers had it made, June had it all, or thought she had.  She had gained the world, Aunt Martha should have been pleased.  If only she had let go and gone with the spirit guiding her, she would have had joy too.  The spirit brings life.  Life has too many rules, which means there are too many rules to break.  June should have known that, but Aunt Martha left out that chapter.  Don’t let Jesus out of your life.  His hands were tough and dirty, his spirit meek and mild.  His heart tender for you, some leave it to Beaver, I prefer to leave it to Jesus.  Now about that Eddie Haskell guy...

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

blessed are the piece makers

At one time Made In America was no big deal, it was the deal.  From cars made in Detroit, to luggage made in the South, to linens and towels made in the Carolinas, we had shoes made in New England and clothes made in the East.  Factories dotted the countryside of many small towns, some truly company towns as one business dominated the economy there.  Where my family was from in Pennsylvania, the area was known for making ladies clothes.  My Nana worked in one her whole career, making blouses, being paid per piece, a piece maker, and helped support her two girls.  My Pappy away at war, heading up the Red Cross in Alaska.  During the Big War, WWII.  The war we won.  In their small town was a toy factory that made plush animals, and at Christmas guess what we got many times.  Women would shop in local stores, no Wal-Marts yet, and buy clothes made locally, maybe by a neighbor.  Men shopped at Pritchard’s, women at Suzanne’s, family clothes from Yeisley’s, and shoes from Oyer’s.  They were businessmen and neighbors, I remember one Sunday morning Mr. Oyer opening up his store on the way to church because I needed a pair of Keds.  During layoffs, if there were no savings, the stores would help issuing credit, knowing once the mills started up again the bills would get paid.  No one skipped out on a bill, it would hurt your neighbor, and he could also be family.  No one wanted the reputation as a dead beat.  Churches made lunches, hot and fresh and delivered to the mills, selling them at cost, a ministry.  No salads or yogurt here, it was pasties, and good sandwiches, protein was needed to fuel the body, and few got fat.  Hard work took care of that.  Money came into the community from exporting goods, and the economy though seasonal was dependable. 

Mills would sponsor baseball teams, maybe donate cheerleader’s uniforms, and make prom dresses at a reduced rate for the local girls.  Construction companies supplied flat bed trucks for the parade, the VFW or American Legion rented out the halls, and many a family reunion was held at the Park.  Also many a romance, and many a summer spent at the pool.  Though small, the towns were self sufficient, they knew each other, and depended on each other.  Some men would work for a brother in law, most businesses were family owned, and when needing a car, trade-ins would be resold as Mrs. Petchel’s sedan, or Bill Fedon’s touring car.  You probably knew the previous owner, and knew the car too.  This was America, we were Americans, and we led the world. 

But something happened in the 70’s, the mills shut down, jobs left for overseas, and communities once prosperous died.  With no economy, where once generations worked for the same company, young adults had to leave town to find work.  Soon the small businesses left, and the people with them.  Business wasn’t done on a handshake, as now strangers from the next town over, or next county were shopping there.  With no economy, the tax base eroded, streets didn’t get repaired, and blight took over.  For the ones who remained.  Once proud towns that could have been Anywhere, USA were now filled with people on relief, with their checks cashed at the liquor stores, no bank accounts so no reason to go to the bank.  Company towns vanished, and pieceworkers like my Nana either retired or stayed home.  No money and no place to go.  Churches became empty, and along with that the morals went too.  We had lost a self respect, and so it was hard to respect others.  I cannot imagine how my Nana felt the first day she bought a blouse that wasn’t Made in America.  That was shoddlily made, that wore out too soon, who seams didn’t match.  But did cost less.  Where cost was more important than quality, you cannot have both.  We had lost more than an economy or a small town, we had lost ourselves.  We had lost our identity.

Blessed are the peace makers for they shall inherit the earth.  Looking around I see very little earth worth inheriting anymore.  The piece makers of my Nan’s generation were certainly blessed, but when robbed had to survive.  Most of the world today is in a survival mode.  We just don’t know it.  But fortunately the earth Jesus promises to us is a new world.  With new bodies, but the same God as our forefathers.  A good thing he never changes with the economy, or social trends.  Jesus is the same today, as yesterday, and can be depended on to be the same tomorrow.  The way we do business, from raw materials to finished product may have changed, but he hasn’t.  It is us who have changed, and we need a change to Jesus  if we are to make it. Times are tough, families strained, but by the grace of God we go on.  It is the tough times we remember fondly when looking back, where testimonies began, and if not for God intervening, disaster would strike.  Persecution of believers, many falling away from the church because it loses its power.  But when God is head of that church, history tells us something unusual happens.  Consistently.  The church grows.  It spreads out, taking the gospel to places if content it would not have.  Just like many piece makers were forced to move elsewhere to survive, the church has taken the gospel out the same way.  Blessed are those peace makers who thrive in the adversity, who lean on Christ, and not the economy.  Who in tough times are rescued, and in good times are thankful. 

No one likes to be fired, to lose their job.  Their way of life.  But God is true to his word when he tells us “all things work together for those who love the Lord and are called according to his purpose.”  Maybe that is why James exhorts us to rejoice in hard times, because he knew God’s promise to be true.  And a blessing to us. If only we follow Jesus.  The ultimate peace maker.  Hard times can tear us to pieces, only Jesus is the glue, the peace that holds us together.  The joy in the adversity, the hope of tomorrow, today.

We are not promised tomorrow, so enjoy today.  Be all you can be in Christ, and have fun.  For what good is fun if you don’t enjoy it, and being a Christian we should have the most fun.  We have Jesus, we know the end, we just have to get there.  So many don’t have hope, it is our job to show Jesus in our lives and give them hope.  Loving them one person at a time, like piece work.  And being blessed.  So truly blessed are the piece makers, and as we inherit the earth to come, encourage someone to come with you.  Share Jesus, it’s simple.  Feed the hungry, give water to the thirsty, visit those in jail , and those who cannot get out.  Welcome strangers.  All the things we used to find in small towns.  Export love, import blessings, and let Jesus take care of the rest.  A lesson learned at church, but proven by my Nana and all the other piece makers.  Wake up America, it’s not too late....

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

riding with Fred

I met Bruce when he was Parts Manager at a Hyundai dealer.  He introduced me to Milton, who introduced me to Fred.  Who all rode, and who all had different backgrounds,  with one common trait, all worked for Datsun in the 1970’s, before they went Nissan.  Each rode differently when I met them, Bruce had a FXR-SP, that he rode to Canada with me, only problem a clamp holding on the muffler vibrated and cracked.  He later bought a BMW...trying to be a Yuppie.  Milton rode a V-Max, an animal of a bike, and with his new wife rode one weekend through California with us, until the seat threatened their marriage, and they broke off in Coulterville.  But it was Fred who would turn out to be the character among characters.  He was riding an old Gold Wing, that had seen better days, with a coffee cup glued to the tank, like the ones so popular back in the 1980’s.  The one that should have been glued to the dash of his Yugo.  His project bike was building a Mazda rotary engined bike from the frame up, he had the engine in the frame last time I saw it.  He was a technical man, and at the time was National Service Manager for Yugo.  If you have to ask, then all the therapy must be working.  Which put him on the road most of the time, as they were junk, based on a cross between a Fiat and something Russian, and made somewhere behind what was once the Iron Curtain.  He was instantly likable, if you kept your distance, and was known for tapping you on the shoulder when he rode past wanting to talk, at 70 mph.  Which can be a bit scary, suddenly a hand reaching out to you....but that was Fred.  He did things his way...but somehow got the job done.

My favorite Fred story comes courtesy of Milt, who worked with him back in the Datsun days.  It seems a certain model was having driveshaft problems, they would cause the car to vibrate at a certain speed due to not being balanced.  Some had a slight bend, some warped, some you couldn’t see, others so much for Japanese quality.  And easy fix for the tech, easy money for the dealership, and without the owner knowing it, fixing a problem he may not have known he had, or even had.  Fred was the Service Rep. in So Cal for Datsun, and had see too many fraudulent drive shafts, and finally had it with one dealer who was known for abusing the program.  When he was taken to the storage area where all the driveshafts were stored for inspection, awaiting warranty OK, it was evident something wasn’t right.  So He proceeded to grab shaft after shaft and swing it like a baseball bat, slamming them against a steel pole.  The sound could be heard through out the dealership.  BANG! BANG! No doubt about their defects now...they were definitely bent...and the dealer got the message.  But so did Fred’s boss, who promptly fired Fred for what he did, after the dealer called.  He exempted the dealer, blamed Fred, it seemed all the dealers did it, and it wasn’t Fred’s place to do anything about it.  Responsibility with no authority had led to his demise.  And then along came Yugo.....

In my mind’s eye I can see Fred swinging those drive shafts, cussing out the dealer, and sending a message loud and clear.  He hated dishonesty, but eventually became a victim of it himself.  No one ever listened to his side of the story.  Proverbs tells us that “a story seems true until we hear the other side of it.”  It takes not only a fair judge, but open communication to solve problems.  Solomon used it when confronted by two women each claiming a child to be their own.  Simple, cut the baby in half and share it.  Only the true mother would give it up to save its life.  Case closed.  Yet we are all quick to judge, to go into a defensive posture when we feel threatened.  Who do those who make decisions that effect our life answer to?  Scripture makes it clear, Christ is the head of the church, then we are head of our families.  A right priority, as we are the church with God having the headship over us.  Including the church.  We have been given the ability to go right to Jesus, without a priest of church to interfere.  We can be governed by the spirit if we listen to and for it, and obey.  Sometimes in line with church doctrine, sometimes at odds.  Sadly too many confuse the church for God, and avoid God altogether.  Following teachings, pastors, denominational rhetoric, or trendy social moods.  We are not immune from it.  So we need to be in constant contact with God.  Listening to his spirit, and if it doesn’t sound right, asking questions.  We want to make the right choice, but the right thing doesn’t always make sense.  So how was Jesus so smart and never sin?

First he was all God, and all man.  The God part knew all, the man part needed his Father.  So he was in constant contact with him, a relationship, and only did what his Father told him to do.  He led by following, and many times when the Pharisees tried to trip him up, exercised extreme wisdom.  Wisdom we can have if we stay in contact with him.  Constantly.  Simple enough, just hang out with Jesus like Psalm 1 says.  Knowing him you know what to do, he will handle the details.  He knows when warranty claims are false, and also doctrine when we don’t.  Go to him, and seek his answer, testing the spirit to see if it is of God.  Then obey trusting him.  Jesus is not only the answer, but the right answer every time.  So, who do you turn to?  Do you know Jesus?  Do you trust him?  Or just say you do?

Fred was right, but was wrong at the same time.  It cost him his job, but his life went on.  His legacy still told among Datsun/Nissan dealers.  So think of Fred when you catch someone cheating or lying.  Handle it how Jesus would, with authority and taking responsibility for your own actions. Listen to both sides of the story, and in all cases trust God.  For all things work out for good for those who love the Lord and are called according to his purpose.  His purpose, not mine or yours.  Where your eyes go you will follow, so keep your eyes on him.  One last Fred update...

We were in a group of 5 riding through Malibu, and Fred was riding in the rear.  The rest of us stopped and pulled in to eat, he was busy elsewhere, and at the last minute saw we had stopped.  Slamming on his brakes at 80 mph, he skidded the whole length of the business sideways, every head turning to see what the noise was, then sliding sideways into the parking lot.  As if it was planned...but panicked.  He wasn’t paying attention....are you?  Missed by that much....is still missing.  Don’t miss Jesus.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

the golden rule in racing

Bill was a very successful crew chief in off road racing.  He had won races, championships, and the respect of his peers in the racing world.  Much had come while being associated with one family synonymous with off road racing, and although offers often came his way, he would shrug them off.  But one offer came his way he couldn’t say no to, and after negotiating, he made the move.  He was to have complete control over this new race team, and they had the desire and also the money to be successful.  They were newcomers not only to racing, but to the software world, making their mark and making money had over fist.  They were achievers, had built the company from scratch, and were used to doing things their way.  This was the world bill was entering, and soon found out what a big mistake he had made.

Many sponsors, myself included went on board with Bill, he was easy to work with, and stayed with those he trusted.  He taught his team mates to interchange their talents, in case the electrical guy was sick, someone could step in.  Same with motors, suspensions, and logistics.  He kept a firm hand on all, but encouraged them to do their best, giving all the support they needed, and then some.  His team mates were all long term, with very little turn over, and many at the races offered their assistance if an opening came open.  But this season was to be different, as the two men who raced had egos bigger than their bodies could contain.  It was all about them, Bill worked for them, and they were in control.  Yet they were totally out of control.  They were the newcomers, and instead of a learning curve, wanted it all right now, or else.  Which Bill was able to deliver-almost, they won some races despite not listening to him, tore up the equipment unnecessarily, and cut corners when they thought the cost was too much.  And Bill almost brought them a championship their first year-finishing second, a great effort for a new team.  But they were not happy, and berated Bill, sometimes publicly.  He wanted out, but his contract for 3 years was binding, so he honored it.  When asked about his first year with them, he told me it could be summed up simply, the Golden Rule.  He who has the gold, rules.  Bill was just an employee to them.  And after 3 years was gone...and his entire team left with him.  With the racers wondering what was their problem?  He had brought home the trophy in their last year, they were on top.  Why did he quit?  They quit?  Losers, they thought...and they were, just not Bill.

Jesus tells us the parable about the lost sheep.  99 were found, he is concerned with the lost one not yet found.  Bill was like that, studying when they lost, and going after that elusive win next time.  As much as he enjoyed the thrill of winning, it was in the losses he learned more, and although the 99 wins brought him bragging rights, he raced to win.  Jesus was never concerned about the numbers, but about the souls he came to save.  Rather than brag about the 99, his heart was set on the lost one, the one who wandered away, or the one struggling.  He wasn’t pleased until all had been found, all had been saved.  And if even just one sinner was left, he would have gone to the cross.  Even if it was just you or me.  That’s love, that’s dedication.  Something missing from many churches today, that base success on numbers, and when achieving their goal, sit back and celebrate.  I asked a pastor one day at lunch, how was his year.  “Great, they had met all their goals,” and were basking in their skilled accomplishments.  They had won something, but were losers, as they had no heart after that.  Success became attendance numbers, giving goals set, and met, and meeting their budget.  But the church never grew, many left hungry, taking others with them.  They forgot that unless God builds the house, they labor in vain.  They didn’t realize they were the one in 100 Jesus died for, they took their place among the 99.  But never fit in, because they were not part of the flock.  Yet Jesus still calls after them today, they just don’t hear.  Programs, procedures, processes fill their meetings.  Education above application.  Too bold to seek advice, they are dying and don’t know.  They are on life support because they have failed in the primary cause of making Jesus their Lord.  They had the gold, they had the rules, they never had the spirit.  A form of godliness, just no Jesus.

Bill went onto other teams and would win again.  He learned a very expensive lesson in those three years.  So did the men who followed him.  He raced to win, and today we do the same thing.  But to finish first, first you must finish.  Many die spiritually at the hands of a church where the spirit is not welcomed.  Some stay because that is where they got saved, they worship the pastor, or love the special speakers or music.  They study, read, pray, and teach, but never give it all to Jesus.  He is calling their name now, if that is one of you, answer.  Turn to Jesus, it is not about the church, it is about Jesus, and we are his church.  We are not above him, or equal-without him we are just a gathering of like thinkers, without the spirit guiding just like another social club.  Or another business trying to make a profit.  What good is it if they make a profit, but never know Jesus? 

We are in the race to finish.  Some races are won from the start, some won in the last few miles.  That 1 lost has more attention in Jesus now because they may be the last one saved, and then the rapture.  The odds are against us, but 100% in Christ.  Team Jesus, we may not win every race, but we never lose.  And our place is assured in heaven.  A championship to be shared with all who join the team.  Money will buy a fine dog, only love will make it wag its tail.  Works in racing too, where it takes more than desire.  And with God, it takes Jesus.  Remember the golden rule, and how you were bought with a price.  More costly than gold.  Are you willing to follow Jesus after the 1, or the church after the 99?  We were all at one time that one....today we are one with Jesus.  Maybe that is why they call it the human race.  And we race for other souls, never satisfied until all have come to Jesus.  I believe that makes me a winner.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

learning to lose

I used to be a pretty fair athlete back before the turn of the century.  Now I don’t even enjoy watching anymore as all the names have changed, or changed teams.  We grew up wanting to win, being told the importance of being part of the team, and being taught things that would show us how to win.  Practice your free throws, wind sprints, never my favorite, and boxing out the opponent under the backboards.  Simple things that many chose to overlook, or not take seriously.  But how many games have been lost by missing a free throw?  A free chance to shoot a basket?  Unguarded.  Wind sprints, running 90’ at full speed, turning around and doing it again-10 times-yuk.  But how many times do you run up and down the court, and after wind sprints we had the endurance to be as strong at the end as at the beginning of the game.  We were taught how to box out, keep the opponent from getting a rebound, even if he was bigger, by getting between him and the backboard.  Getting the best position.  Even letting the ball fall to the ground to keep him away...gaining position on your opponent.  Simple drills, simple lessons that separated us from those we beat.  And we were pretty good...until one night we got beat.  Everyone is entitled to a bad game, but that night the whole team was bad.  Missed free throws, guys fouling out, stupid passes, intercepted and returned for a lay up.  And the more we started to lose, the less we ran up and down the court, and were exhausted.  We missed rebounds, no boxing out, we lost our cool, and forgot all the basics it takes to win.  Losing wears you out.  We were a better team, but our opponent played a better game.

In the locker room after, many of these high school young men were sitting crying, they had lost a game.  They had been beaten.  They had been taught how to win, but never how to lose.  How to be gracious in losing rather than obnoxious in winning.  The coach readily blamed the players, they got bummed, and at practice the next day it was like the first day of practice...back to the basics.  Yet some didn’t get it, one loss had ruined their season, they wanted to be perfect, undefeated, yet were not conditioned for real life.  Losing a game made us feel like we were failures.  We were told we let down our school, our fans, our coach, our team mates, and ourselves.  We were losers...but with hard work we could win again.  And we did, but many never got over the loss, and I still remember it today.  More importantly I remember being taught to win, but not how to lose.  How to handle defeat, how to bounce back.  Through tears many lost heart, but in reality it was only a game.  32 minutes in a life.  It should have made us a better team, it ended up dividing us.  Pointing the finger at others.  One loss, ruined a team.  We won again, and never lost again that season, but were a divided team, a divided family.  A game many would remember, only because we weren’t undefeated.  We weren’t perfect.  We were 15-17 year old boys, we weren’t forgiven.  And some never forgave themselves.

No one plays the game to lose.  But in losing we find our weaknesses, and with proper guidance we overcome them.  We aren’t perfect, and even though we want to be, we aren’t.  Being successful more than half the time has gotten teams to the Super Bowl.  A good NBA team loses 40% of the time.  Being a successful hitter only 30% of the time can get you into the Hall of Fame.  Second place isn’t first loser, it is still a podium finish.  The guy finishing fourth doesn’t get one.  Missed by one position.  One pitch, one missed shot, one pit stop, one missed field goal changes the outcome, and we let it change us.  Jesus tells us different.  Scripture tells us we run the race of life to win.  But we need to endure to the end, and we will have many losses, defeats along the way.  It is how we handle the defeat that our character shows through, not how we handle victory.  And Jesus forgives our sin, all of them.  Yesterdays and todays, and tomorrows yet to come.  He doesn’t expect us to be perfect, but to compete everyday. To be our best, and when we blow it, repent and move on.  Get over it.  Turn to him.  How many Christian athletes are ready to give him the glory in victory, but hide under a towel in tears after defeat? 

Good Friday looked like the ultimate defeat for the devil.  Jesus was dead, he was buried, his disciples scared and scattered.  A defeat had shattered them, they forgot how to endure the loss, or losing.  But true to his word, and prophecy, Jesus rose again after 3 days.  A victory won, defeat overcome, death turned to life.  But for 3 days they all stood back and wondered, head buried under a towel.  They had seen the miracles, now he was gone.  What would they do?

Today we face many obstacles that we wonder “where is Jesus?”  Where are his promises for us?  He is there, the plan is in place and fully operational.  Sometimes a test to see how we will react, sometimes just to remind us of how much we need him.  But lately my losses have brought me closer to those who have lost something, and I can empathize with them.  Console them, as Jesus consoles us.  We won’t win every battle, or every game, it is where we finish that counts.  Heaven is assured, and how we handle defeat along the way can energize others.  Funny how our testimonies all start with us in defeat, but end up in victory.  Just as God planned it....we are victors in Christ.  Winners, we have run the race and finished.  We have endured, and learned more about God,and been drawn closer to him in the tough times.  We got to see him at our lowest lows, and will celebrate with him in the highest highs.  All winners, no losers, except those who deny him.  Their record intact, no matter how many games won.  After a loss the next victory is that much sweeter.  And will show us more of Jesus if we looked.  Or were looking. 

One final point, the four point play in basketball.  The two you didn’t get, and the two your opponent did when he stole the ball from you.  Four points that can change a game.  Don’t let anyone steal your joy of Jesus from you.  You may lose a game or two, where you finish is more important.  Jesus forgives, forgive yourself.  Forget the missed shots, praise him for the ones you made.  The victory party is about to begin....

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

shifting gears

“One down, four up, got it.”  “No, one up, then four down,” came the reply.  “Oh and by the way, it shifts on the right.”  Bloody English, and so it was with my first ride on an old Norton.  They shift differently than the Japanese products taught us, one down, the rest up, and not only switched sides, but patterns also.  Which was different than other Brit bikes, who still shifted on the right, but used the Japanese pattern.  Confused, when BH built his Dunstall Honda 750 café racer, the rear sets in the kit turned the shifter around, making it a Norton shift pattern, but on the left.  More than once I went down when I meant up.  And on more than one old Triumph I hit the shifter looking for the brake, downshifting in shock, but not stopping with one older woman sacrificing her trunk so I would stop sooner.  No damage to the bike, she was shaken, my ego bruised.  But we would all live to ride and drive again.  But thanks to our Federal government at work, all bikes imported since 1975 have a standardized shifting pattern, one down, the rest up, and on the left side.  Making it so anyone can ride any motorcycle, if they know how.  A far cry form Lello’s old Kawasaki 100 with a rotary shift pattern.  Unknown to me, it shifted one down, then the rest up.  I’m cool, until I shifted into 5th, which took me back to first, it went 1-2-3-4-then one again.   What were they thinking?  And these folks would later bring us the Mach III, Z-1, and Ninjas.  All shifting on the left, standard pattern.  More speed with less surprises.  Proving standardization of shifting is still a good thing, just ask if it is older than the Nixon administration.

The Bible and its history are very trendy today.  From movies about Noah and Jesus, to O’Reilly’s “Killing Jesus,” to the History Channel and CNN tickling our curiousity, many patterns are being presented about Jesus.  And many are variations of a theme called truth.  With many lies being told, that when mixed with misquoted scripture sound real.  But aren’t.  And we need to be aware, as many are being led astray, not a new thing.  One religion who denies the deity of Jesus changes the to “a” changing the text.  He is the son of God, not a son, and is the way, not a way.  See how simple it is.  And when a man approached me Tuesday night excited about the book of Judas, just found and claimed to be a lost gospel, he believed Judas rather than Jesus.  Discounting the fact it is not found in the Bible, the official word of God, inspired by him, and his autobiography.  He chose to follow a lie, and ended up confused.  He thought he had found truth, but learned that all lies are based on truth, and only Jesus  is the truth.  In all cases go to God first, not some documentary or rewritten history book.  Go to Jesus, and if he ain’t in it, you shouldn’t be either.  Many are after your soul to seek and destroy.  Some obvious, some subtle, some confusing, so simple.  But God made his gospel simple so I can get it, and free so I can afford it.  Salvation is not a rich man’s reward, it is a gift from God through Jesus.  So beware when someone has a new gospel, God’s was the original, and he warns hell for those who change it.  All the curses of Revelation, which are pretty bad.  So if Jesus ain’t in it, stay away from it!  No matter how good the special effects are, who wrote it, or what channel it is on, and really beware of misquoted scripture.

Psalm 46:10 tells us to “be still, and know that I am God.”  Yet many want to interpret it as “be still and know that I am God.”  Without the comma, the whole meaning changes.  Maybe we should have paid more attention in English class, today’s lesson is free.  But God wants us to be still, to rest in him, to not worry, assured he is God.  He has everything under control.  To know him intimately, to become his friend, and let Jesus into your life.  Yet many rather play God, or play church, and try to control people, when they are really out of control themselves.  Without Jesus, you are under someone else’s control...but there is still time to change.  So beware of false claims, if it doesn’t minister to your heart, and isn’t found in scripture walk away for it.  For it is a lie.  Moses and Aaron were out walking and tested, turning a stick into a snake.  No big deal to the sorcerer, who did the same.  Until Moses’ ate his.  Still seeking power and to let his people go, he turned the river into blood.  Killing all the fish.  So did the sorcerer, and soon they had to dig pits for water.  In his last message, God tells Moses to flood the land with frogs.  So does the sorcerer, and soon all the frogs have taken over and die.  Leaving no water and no land that doesn’t stink.  Cursing Pharaoh for not letting God’s people go.  And trusting magic over God.  Sound familiar today....again if Jesus ain’t in it, get out of it.  Unless dead frogs and no water to drink turn you on.  Maybe the frog who you think is saying “ribbit” is really warning “knee deep, knee deep.”  So be still, and know he is God.  Let God be God and all men liars.  Seek Jesus first and then all things will be added unto you.  Commercial free...if only shifting were so easy.

So if you are stuck following a lie, shift gears and turn to Jesus.  His word is truth, standardized so you can recognize a lie, and know him personally.  One down, the up, just like resurrection.  Jesus went down and died, so we can live.  And we will rise up with him in resurrection.  An easy way to remember how to shift or how to find God.  It really is that easy...so get out and ride.  With Jesus.  Next week we will address heel and toe shifters.  Where all are down...on the left.  Suddenly the gospel is so simple.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com