"the T stands for Larry, my father couldn't spell..."

Saturday morning for us kids was a treasure trove of cartoons.  Funny,yet sophisticated for  our 1960’s minds, we laughed, but it was later on in our teens when we began to understand the cleverness in the names of them.  Various bad guys like Dishonest John, whose “dirty deeds done cheap, special rates for Sundays and holidays,” would threaten heroes like Beany and Cecil.  Snidely Whiplash was always trying to kidnap Nell Fenwick, while Dudley Do Right would always rescue her at the end.  Yet his affection was always for his horse, poor Nell.  Dudley Nightshade was our favorite on Crusader Rabbit, whose partner in crime was Billious Green, great plays on words.  We laughed at all the names, we knew they were funny, we just didn’t know why.  Later as we got older and wiser at age 10, we had Milton the Monster, with Count Kook, and Heebie and Jeebie.  Monsters were a big thing at the time...at least in our neighborhood of kids.  Boris Badenov and his side kick Natasha were signs of the Cold War, where they reported to Fearless Leader, an obvious Nazi flashback.  But by the end of the show, Rocky would save the day, despite Bullwinkle, a favorite was in returning the Kerwood Derby, a play on words for Durwood Kirby, a news anchor on CBS.  Good and safe satire, entertaining to us kids, and that could be appreciated by adults.  And to start every morning we had Courageous Cat and Minute Mouse, with the coolest jazz music ever on a cartoon.  Later in the day we would laugh at Deputy Dawg, and Vincent Van Gopher with his witty insight.  Tom slick taught us there is no such word as quit, and Fearless Fly was really a meek, timid little fly known as Hiram, until he drank the secret sauce.  If only we were as smart then as the cartoons were, sadly some never make it.  Not the cartoons, us.

But my favorite was Ragland T. Tiger, the sidekick of Crusader Rabbit.  They reside in Lukupu Junction, and the show was perhaps the ultimate test for satire.  Arson/Sterno the two headed dragon, and Seymour the singing Dinosaur, who lost his voice at age 2 like all dinosaurs amused us.  King Kong Wong kidnapped Dr. Ed Foo Young, who was trying to perfect a game of Chinese checkers. We learned Civil War history through Simone Legree, a testament to Uncle Tom’s Cabin, who dealt with S. Crow.  Titus Canby ran the National Holiday Society, Dr. Frank N. Stein lived in Loudmouth, Wyoming, and they panned for gold in Alaska in “If Anyone Can, Yukon.”  Even rock and roll was made fun of, when they went searching for the missing 18th hole in Scotland, where a monster got poor Angus, his roar was really made by playing a rock and roll record at slow speed.  Anything and everything was fair game in the name of fun, so naturally my favorite line came from Rags, who when asked “what does the T. in Ragland T. tiger stand for?” responded, “Larry, my father couldn’t spell.”  And we all laughed at that one.  Funny plays on words, thought provoking, mixed with history and humor, and not a one selling toys.  But what I wouldn’t give for a set of Crusader Rabbit episodes today.   To the Wayback Sherman....

So maybe a sail back with Captain Peter “Wrong way” Peachfuzz is order.  A look at names from the Bible.  Nebuchadnezzar, what other name has two z’s?  Ozzie?  Who names their kids Methusaleah any more?  Live long and prosper, Mr. Spock.  Mushi, Puah, and Nepheg, you wonder how many kids at PS 31 in Jerusalem made fun of them.  We had a dog named Ichabod, whose Bible reference predated Ichabod Crane of the Headless Horseman story by thousands of years.  Zebadiah, son of Asahel, brother of Joab.  Nergalsharezar the Rab-Mag....all names that could be found on any Saturday morning cartoon show in Jesus’ time.  Yet they all mean something to those who named them, and you wonder how many were named by a father like Rags had who couldn’t spell.  Reminds of a friend I knew named AB, the first two letters of the alphabet.  They couldn’t spell....But there are names, and there are names, with one above all names.  Jesus.  Just the mention of the name and even atheists know who we are talking about.  Demons flee at the sound of it, and souls are set free in it.  From the Hebrew it is comprised of two meanings, that when put together means God will deliver his people.  Yet the Jews are blinded by it, and even avoid the New Testament, despite the humble origins.  But to those that believe, it means life, and life abundantly.

And when Christ is added, meaning the anointed, we see him as the one sent from God to be our deliverer, the anointed one.  Name above all names.  But it is important to realize that he was anointed by God, and not by man.  Where we may name kids today after Biblical names, only Jesus Christ was anointed by God, the unique son, unlike no other.  He is the only one who is prophesied of, who was with God in the beginning, and was and is God.  Who died for our sins while we were yet sinners, who rose again so we can too.  So much and so much more in just one name...yet many deny him.  Taking it in vain, while he asks “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”  But maybe the gospel foretold in Genesis 5 tells it best, reading the geneology of the fore fathers and how they tell of Jesus.  Of course it is just a coincidence it all points to Jesus.....yeah right.

Hebrew English
Adam Man
Seth Appointed
Enosh Mortal
Kenan Sorrow;
Mahalalel The Blessed God
Jared Shall come down
Enoch Teaching
Methuselah His death shall bring
Lamech The Despairing
Noah Rest, or comfort.

A man appointed to sorrows, blessed God who came down to teach, his death will be despairing , but will bring us peace.  Rest and comfort.  God made mortal.  So we can be made immortal.

Life has come along way from those Saturday morning shows, sad too many have fallen away.  But Jesus is the way back, the original Wayback Machine.  He forgives, and even if your father couldn’t spell,  he knows just who you are.  He knows your name.  Count Kook may have put the wrong brain in Milton, but God put his spirit in Jesus, and offers it to you today.  Good deeds done daily, special rates on holidays and Sundays.  Today is the day of salvation....he’s “comin’ Beany Boy...”  he’s comin’.  And to him there is no word as quit!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

 

days that end in why

Many a comedian has joked about coming to the fork and the road and taking it.  But what if it is a “Y” in the road, like in Ohio, on the Y Bridge?  Still take it....just not sure which way, but be assured each road will lead to somewhere.  Days can be like that too, like waking up and wondering why?  Why did I sleep so well last night, or why didn’t I?  Why does my dog immediately upon being let out sniff the air?  Why is it harder to hear noises on cloudy days?  Why do we have to go to work?  To school?  To church?  Why when it is cloudy here it is May Gray or June Gloom, but back east means rain?  And so we do many things in life before we cross the Y bridge of life wondering why.  Some will just settle for what their mother used to tell them, “because I said so, and I’m the Mommy!”  Insuring a life filled with Wheatina, and with all the nourishment, just none of the flavor.  Fortunately God has instilled a pioneering spirit in many of us,who rather than just begrudgingly obeying Mom, want to know why.  And so maybe why has an attitude about it, we want to know, maybe to learn enough to remember to pass a test, as seen on the freeways with so many bad drivers.  Or maybe just curious of how things work, like knowing when your bike runs best at what RPM, to get the best performance.  Which can lead us to making things better, or just duplicating them, “almost as good as a Xerox” with no pun intended.  Which is why factory parts work best, and may cost more, but in the end will keep you out of trouble.  Life will deliver us too many imitators, while we tend to question innovators, and end up either way asking why. 

But the one answer that asks more questions is because.  “Why?”  “Because I said so...”   Which can build resentment, but really never answers the question why.  One philosophy has us taking a fatalistic view, whatever happens happens.  To which I ask “then why pray?”  “Because...”  And once again we return to the fork in the road.  It seems we can stay out of a lot of trouble if we just don’t ask why.  Yet many will sing the song of The Mickey Mouse Club, where we ask “why?”  And even then the answer is “because he loves you.”  But when it comes to the things of God, we ask why only when we don’t agree with him or his decisions.  Why did God let my husband die?  Why did he allow earthquakes?  Why did he let me lose my job, my home, my family?  And worse yet, rather than asking why, blaming him.  Why did you make me lose my job?  Why did you make storms?  Why did you make make my wife leave me? Why do you make us go to church?  And finally, why do we fall asleep wondering why, when we are looking for justification?  Why do so many days, tough days end in why?

Maybe it all goes back to Mickey’s song, “because he loves you.”  First love is more than an emotion, it is the person of God manifest in Jesus Christ.  And because, that word again, he loved us first, he calls us back to him, so we can love him.  Not the other way around.  God will never demand his own way, but will allow events to occur so we can change direction and turn back to him.  “Why did God send me to jail?”  He didn’t, your crime did, and many come to salvation while in jail.  Who might not have any other way.  Why do we get sick?  Why did I have to have open heart surgery?  To show the greatness of God in every situation.  So why pray if God is going to have his way anyway?  To communicate, listen then speak to what he has to say.  After my open heart surgery and the miracle God performed in me, and for my family, I never asked why, I just knew in words I cannot express.  Jesus never leaves you, even while in a coma, or when your heart is out of your body.  He stays, the spirit never vacating you.  And I am thankful for the many prayers, maybe millions on prayer chains around the world.  Thank you all, I believe you asked seeking an answer, just like I did when I asked God, if you are going to do your will, why pray?  Did all those requests make a difference?  His answer may surprise you...and have you look at prayer differently.

Revelation 1 tells us John bore witness of the things he writes.  So we can be blessed, so God gets the glory.  it isn’t about us, but for us.  And herein lies the answer.  As he told me “so when you share your testimony I get the glory.”  So I could testify to his greatness.  To encourage, to rescue, to save those who doubt.  Who speak but don’t listen, and then wonder why.  To bear witness of the everlasting love of Jesus Christ.  Why, because he loves you.  And finally C, he “will see you soon.”  God wants to spend time with us, to bless us, to have us tell of his love.  To tell others.  Yet we cannot see him, no one ever has, so he needs us to show his love to others, so they can see him.  And when we love others as he has loved us, he means our enemies too....why? Because we were all enemies once, and his love changed us.  Our love for others is the evidence that he loves us. 

So if your day has been one of “why Lord?” know why.  Sometimes your sin will find you out, but each case Jesus has provided the way back.  That’s love, and for some it takes a storm, a disease, a jail term, or catastrophe to see God at work.  Yet when we do, we wonder why doesn’t every one else?  You may have started your day wandering, or wondering why.  And even in the in between times where we spend most of times, wondering why.  But we can end the day knowing why, knowing that the answer is a person.  Jesus is why, and who.  And when we know him and trust him, we bear witness of him, and to him.  So the next time someone asks why, now you know.  Revealed years ago by his spirit, and sung by millions over the years on TV.  “Because he loves you.”  Isn’t God being God enough to just love him?  “Em-Oh-Yu-Es-EE.”  Have trouble showing his love, sing Mickey’s song.  And if you have trouble singing, you can always show it. Maybe the best way to show the gospel anyway, using words only when needed.  Don’t start or end, or spend your day wondering why, when you can know who.  And why the gospel is so simple, so we can get it.  Getting into heaven is easier than getting into Disneyland if you know the right person.  Why?  “Because Jesus loves you...”  Isn’t that enough?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

a battle of wits with an unarmed man

ip Code:	56902
City:	Parcel Return Service
State:	DC [District of Columbia]
Counties:	DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, DC
Multi County:	No
City Alias(es):	Parcel Return Service Prs Parcel Return Svc

IP Code 56902 2010 Census Demographics

Current Population:	0
2010 Population:	0
Households per ZIP Code:	0
Average House Value:	$0
Avg. Income Per Household:	$0
Persons Per Household:	0.00
White Population:	0
Black Population:	0
Hispanic Population:	0
Asian Population:	0
American Indian Population:	0
Hawaiian Population:	0
Other Population:	0
Male Population:	0
Female Population:	0
Median Age:	0.00 years
Male Median Age:	0.00 years
Female Median Age:	0.00 years

# Residential Mailboxes:	0
# Business Mailboxes:	0
Total Delivery Receptacles:	0
Number of Businesses:	0
1st Quarter Payroll:	$0
Annual Payroll:	$0
# of Employees:	0
Water Area:	0 sq mi
Land Area:	0 sq mi
113th Congressional District:	98
113th Congressional Land Area:	61.40 sq mi
Single Family Delivery Units:	0
Multi Family Delivery Units:	0
# Residential Mailboxes:	0
# Business Mailboxes:	0
Total Delivery Receptacles:

An important lesson learned while at Land Rover was that the support help was no better off than you were.  Nothing was more frustrating than calling the tech line for help, only to have them reading out of the same book as you had.  But it seems lately that this is and wasn’t related only to Land Rover, they were just so screwed up they had made it a fine art.  Yesterday was a case in point.  We had sent some merchandise back ordered on the Internet, that bastion of integrity.  Checking on the progress, the tracking number from UPS directed us to the Postal Service.  The package was available to be picked up.  Leading us to believe it had been sent back, which the woman at the PO thought too.  But not being able to find it, and using the same web site as I did for tracking, called for a supervisor.  Who told me the package was not here, it had been sent zip code 56902.  When I asked where was that, he didn’t know.  Oh, I’m sorry, I thought he would look it up.  Only to find he didn’t have the brains God gave geese, and couldn’t find it.  But assured me that it would be delivered.  It had sat at this 56902 point for 8 days, I wasn’t so sure.  I was tempted to press him further, when I realized it was fruitless.  He was stupid, didn’t have a clue, and barely spoke English.  Too much for me to expect, I am in the US of A, this is the US Postal Service, and they do deliver mail.  All while only losing billions of dollars each year.   They must make it up in volume.  So I quit while I was ahead, and went home to check out zip code 56902.  See the facts below, no one lives there, but they sure do get a lot of mail.  Suddenly it all made sense....

Googling 56902 it popped right up.  Back in the days of 2009, because of s much Internet business, leading to so many returns, they set up 56902, right in Washington, DC to handle all the returns.  Forwarding them to the addressee.  Did I mention this was in Washington, DC?  A leisure activity of the Democratic Party?  When you get a return label from the sender, this is where your package goes, something every postal employee is aware of.  Except for the fool, supervisor fool, who didn’t know.  It seems this man was too stupid to suspend, so they made him a supervisor.  More pay, less hours, less work, less knowledge.  All for the same price, frustration added at no extra charge.  I had engaged in a battle of wits with an unarmed man. 

Which raises the question, since 2009 when UPS, FedEx, and the USPS all combined to handle returns, while wasn’t this man aware of it?  There own web site describes it in detail, with itself referring back to itself if you have any questions.  I guess we have come a long way from putting stamp on a letter, and the mail man delivering it.  We are only as weak as our weakest link, and I have found him.  Curiously this is the same city where a clerk went postal, inventing the term going postal.  The only thing worse was that someone had hired this fool.  Which meant someone had hired him, and so on.  Endless stupidity all for the price of a 49 cent stamp.

Maybe a quick reminder that most of the New Testament was letters sent by Paul,l and that somehow they got there.  Imagine if you will, the church in Ephesus getting a letter from Paul.  The pastor opening it up, or unrolling it, and reading to the congregation.  Just as it was written, no chapters and verses.  Flowing as the spirit had given it to him.  Think of Timothy getting his letters from Paul, words of encouragement he needed to remind himself of the battle he was in.  Titus, the church at Corinth, really getting 4 letters, with only two recorded in scripture.  How the Romans must have cringed at first, but when under God’s love saw Christ as never before.  Letters written to the church to encourage and instruct as needed.  Trusted to be delivered by a postal service.  Without tracking numbers, zip codes, or web sites.  It is never mentioned how much money was lost in those early postal days.

So I am left with a question, for me and you?  If we trust the words of the Bible so much, if we say we trust Jesus, why don’t we trust him as much as we do our postal service?  We know idiots reside there, yet we buy stamps and then mail letters without thinking.  Believing they will arrive.  Yet we stumble over God’s promises?  How many divine letters from the Lord have you received, and didn’t have to look at the return address to know where they came from?  And that we can send them back via prayer, and that we will return with Jesus some day to heaven?  No zip code, but no other place with as much zip.  What would happen if we trusted God as much as we do the post office?

E mail is replacing snail mail.  I will miss the magazines, even the ads and junk mail.  But with so much e mail, can we find the time for some knee mail?  To get on our knees and pray?  I once heard that man is tallest when he is on his knees.  Rather than surrendering to the enemy, surrender to Jesus Christ.  All correspondence gets through to him.  He knows your address, will never address you as occupant.  He will return, the best return on investment you’ll ever have, and you can bypass the Beltway.  But for now, 56902, will be where all returns go first.  Where you return to is up to you. 

Did you ever consider the miracle of the letters in the Bible being delivered by mail?  Almost makes you want to mail something.  Consider Jesus today....no one lives at 56902, yet they still get a lot of mail.  He’ll answer every time.  Much more than a zip code.  Which sorta makes you wonder, where do all the bags lost from the airlines go? 

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

 

night of the sleeping dead

As I get older I find I pick up older people’s habits.  Among them is going to bed early, and getting up early.  Although technically retired, with no time constraints on retiring, or getting up, I still hit the pillow by 10, and the floor by 630.  Still sleeping in on weekends...go figure.  No more night owl days, or parties til dawn, which maybe explains why I get sotired now.  Gone are also 1000 day rides, and consecutive 500 day rides, although my open heart surgery has much to do with that.  But I still like riding all day, just the days seem to be getting shorter.  Wise men used to tell me time flies as you get older, the truth is you just get slower.  A lot less hurry up and wait, I still wonder where I ever had the time to get things done before.

Over the years we have developed a strategy for leaving on trips.  Rather than get up early and leave at 3 in the morning like some do, we leave the afternoon before, riding a few hundred miles, starting our trip a day earlier, and while you are up and groggy, I am asleep and far away already.  No early breakfasts either, we ride an hour then eat.  A fresh ride, sun and an appetite to start the day.  And somehow we still get there before many, and enjoy the ride more, no too tired from getting up so early and forcing down a motel breakfast.  Free ones, usually worth every penny. Just a small tip for those that ride, from one who does, not old, but older, not as fast, but definitely not slow either.

But in my younger days we rode til we dropped, sometimes literally.  Bars would close at 2, so we went riding after, always careful to fall asleep just before the sunrise so it could burn our retinas after no sleep.  We finally heeded the advise of Dean Wormer to Flounder, “Son, fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life.”  Haven’t had a drink in 36 years, yes I have put on a few pounds, please don’t tell me I’m stupid.  You are my audience, what would that make you?  But one night faced with where to sleep, after a night of no drinking, long before weight attacked, and I was still young enough to improvise, I found myself out too late, or really too early for a place to sleep.

My grandparents lived in Pennsylvania, a great place to ride, and many a night was my unofficial destination.  Great food, soft bed, good company, and the smell of breakfast still excites me.  But they were in bed by 8, and up at 5, and my riding hours were open still 24/7.  One night after riding too long, it was past midnight, I was tired, wasn’t sure of the time, so headed to their house.  Only to find it was after one, and way before 5.  I cuddled up on their front porch for awhile, but cold took over, and I still didn’t want to wake them.  So I took refuge the only place available, the mausoleum across the street in the cemetery.  Many walks had been taken through the cemetery, and few trips inside the moldy old mausoleum, but the thought of dead people sleeping there secretly was creepy.  But that morning faced with cold, hunger, and not wanting to wake my grandparents, I sought shelter in the old building.  And found a corner where the wind didn’t blow through, no windows and door shut, yet it was windy.  Hmmmm?  And for a few hours actually slept, or napped...my night of the sleeping dead.  And when the sun woke me up, walked over to my grandparent’s, who were wondering where I was, they saw my bike out front.  Never thinking to look in the mausoleum.  After a full breakfast, and repeated “why didn’t you wake us” we later laughed about where I spent the night.  And to this day never admitted how movies about grave robbers, Vincent Price films about the living dead, and “Night of the Living Dead,” which was made just a few miles from where I slept.  Actually they were the perfect hosts, I didn’t bother them and they didn’t bother me.  A goodnight’s sleep and all the rest..sort of.  And all I had to do was walk across the street for breakfast. 

But secretly I had been praying, not saved yet, but just wanted to be sure the dead wouldn’t rise and get me.  Too much Chiller Theater growing up had an influence on me.  But now that I am saved, I get excited about death.  For as Christians we will never face death.  We just go to sleep, and as Pastor Chuck used to say, “he’s not gone, just changed addresses.”  I like that.  Some day we will all change addresses,one final move in eternity.  And we get to choose, heaven or hell.  Jesus offers salvation from hell, where the gates keep you in from escaping, a one way trip with no refund.  Or trust him for heaven, with gates open and you won’t want to leave.  With all apologies to Captain Kirk, space is not the final frontier, heaven is.  And we don’t know when or how we will enter it.  So to be sure, we need to be ready.  To plan on heaven, by planning on Jesus.  Death is a 100% given in every life, and if the rapture doesn’t come first, where the dead will rise first into judgment, then we will live here until we die.  Either way being called somewhere, I prefer being called home in Christ. 

My night of the sleeping dead had me concerned about death.  Now I am excited abut life, having defeated it in Jesus.  He rose from the dead, resurrected, and so shall we if we believe.  Another man once said resurrection power only works in graveyards.  He was close, we need Jesus to rescue us from death.  But resurrection power only works when we are dead in sin, its final wages, but still can turn to Christ.  We can all lay me down to sleep tonight knowing Jesus has our soul to keep.  An old child’s prayer, so simple it still works.  So trust God today, knowing that if you die before you wake, where you will spend eternity.  Talk about a good night’s sleep and all the rest!  Don’t be like I was that night, so close to that rest, yet afraid to wake up my grandparents.  In love they would have woken up gladly, Jesus waits for you the same way.  He never sleeps, he never slumbers.

Early to bed, early to rise, I should have known to wake them up.  Let God wake you from your slumber and be born again today.  We never know when we will enter the final frontier.  For the starship Enterprise it was a 5 year mission, seeking out new worlds and new life.  For us it is eternity.  Go boldly where only Jesus can take you.  And if I die before I wake, I know I will be found among the living, and not sleeping with the dead.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

Eupora rain taps at my windshield

Once upon a time at the turn of the century, the 19th century, when cars were new and there were no gas stations, gas was sold at general stores.  Long before Walmart decorated the countrysides, these one stop serve all emporiums were a welcome sight.  And with cars a new product line, some started selling cars, if they could beat the local blacksmith to it.  And so it was normal for them to also sell gas, and soon the smell of gas, oil, and exhaust became too much, so the general store was either moved or closed, and Sam Walton was born.  But these buildings that housed car dealerships were far from what we see today.  In small towns they might service farmers from a 100 mile radius, so they were small, often with the service department occupying most of the building.  Still small by many repair shop standards of today, they soon gave way to bigger buildings, leaving the old building empty, with an history along with the fumes of the past for rent.  From general store, to gas station to car dealer, to empty, today they may get torn down, turned into various emporiums such as a tattoo shop, or like the one we lunched at in Eupora, Mississippi a restaurant. 

We had left Pine Bluff, Arkansas under threat of rain, so of course that meant not putting on rain suits.  Some 15 minutes later dodging big rain drops, we were putting them on, hoping the downpour, which turned into a thunderstorm to Birmingham would stop.  Following US 82 across Mississippi, it was dangerously wet, lots of lightning and thunder, and not the place to be riding, so of course we were.  Remember rain falls on the just and the unjust, both in car and on motorcycle. Using hunger as any excuse to get off this rural road, the signs for Eupora loomed ahead, so getting off we looked for food.  A few fast food places, not on this ride, so we rode into downtown, a few miles off the 4 laner.  Many small towns in the south has been bypassed by new 4 laners, Eupora one of them.  When an old brick building caught our attention, Central Service, and we knew where lunch would be.  Now being on a motorcycle helps generate conversation, which was aided by the fact the four men leaving as we parked all rode adventure bikes like our Tiger.  They rode long rides, had just gotten back from Pennsylvania, and during a sun break we shared rides.  And then the rains came....not quite of Noah epic, but to us So Cal folk it sure seemed like it.  But like God did for Noah, he had found a place of refuge, among friends, those who ride, and with great food.  A place any foodie will feel welcome, and not leave hungry.

Central Service Ford had once occupied this building, closing in 1980, and 20 years later Central Service Grill was opened, and thrives today.  Some 2000 live in Eupora, yet the place thrives, and we were greeted as only you are in the south, and as we watched the next downpour, we ate big time BBQ, fries, and drank sweet tea.  Among the Coca Cola memorabilia.  Eating in what used to be the parts department.  But as is the case many times for us in small towns, the owner would stop by to see how we were doing, and it turned out the owner had been a missionary in Central America.  You never know where God is going to show up, and here in the rain, drenched in BBQ sauce, we sat and shared the Lord with a new found friend, more family we didn’t know we had.  Shelter from the storm had never been so welcomed, we made new friends, fellowshipped, ate great BBQ, and survived the storm.  A haven God had prepared for us ahead of time, in a town not on the road to where we were going, and might have missed by 3 miles if not for the rain. 

Nothing is said of the weather the day Jesus fed the 5000, but it must have been a nice day.  A 5000 man picnic, not counting the women and children.  Which probably swelled the crowd to 15,000.  No small catering job, and even Philip the local had been no help.  And as always, it was Andrew bringing someone to Christ, this time a little boy with bread and fish, 5 loaves and 2 fishes.  But as always with Jesus, when not enough for man, it is adequate for God, and all were fed.  In fact 12 baskets were filled picking up the leftovers-one for each disciple.  In true form Jesus had performed a miracle, something spiritual, then left them with something material to remind them.  Which makes me wonder did they praise him for the generous doggie bags, or complain due to the size?  What would you have done, what do you do? 

But while serving the food, I have this mind’s eye vision of Jesus walking among the crowd, greeting people.  The perfect host, checking on his guests.  “Good to see you Sam, getting enough?”  “Mary, heard Bill is sick, I’ll stop by later.”  “Pete, haven’t seen you in awhile,” and the list goes on.  As children probably hung around him, and others marvelled at him.   Some just ate, some fellowshipped, but none left empty as he met all their needs, physical, emotional, and spiritual.  All at no charge to them, a reminder to us of how the Jewish people approach eating as something personal.  A time spent to worship, fellowship, and be with God.  Intimately, being filled with the spirit.  That is how I picture Jesus, no reprimanding those going back for seconds, or for kids wasting food.  He feeds to overflowing, love the only table manner needed, I can see him beaming with joy as they all left full.  Some full of fish and bread, some full of the spirit.  Feeding a hunger only he could sense and feed.  No planning meetings, no budgets, no caterers.  Just Jesus...all we ever need in one convenient serving.

And so it was in Eupora that day, a storm had beckoned to the Central Service Grill, we were welcomed by those who ride, food filled us, and when more rain came, fellowship fed us again.  The rest of the ride to the Barber Motorcycle Museum in Birmingham was uneventful, at least for us, no more rain, and we had missed a tornado in Tuscaloosa by a few hours, and being among those who ride a perfect way to end the day.  Among those who you don’t have to explain why you ride, and can bench race openly.  Fellowshipping with others.  Just like Jesus feeding the 5000.  A lesson to remember next time Eupora rain taps at your windshield, Jesus has a place all set to welcome you.  At the end of a weary day, or a weary life, rest is found in Jesus.  Great food, good conversation, incredible fellowship.  That day at an old Ford dealership,  only in Jesus.  Ironic, maybe more appropriate than I imagined at first, doesn’t FORD stand for Found On Road Dead?  Weren’t we all once?  Life in Christ, no wonder I like to travel so much.  What’s your story?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

when did it happen to you?

The experts may argue about how far back your earliest memories go, but I can remember being interested in cars as early as age 3.  I didn’t know the names yet, engine sizes, or transmissions, but I could tell the sound of each one as it passed by our house on Westfield Road.  Later I would learn I was identifying a Ford Y-block, or a Chevy small block, or even a Studebaker flat head, but each car or truck interested me.  Just thinking of it I can hear the gear whine of my parent’s 1952 Chevy Deluxe 2 door.  As a gear head was born.  Growing up we knew about the cars our parents drove, mostly by color, and could already tell some were cool, and some were boring.  It must be an intrinsic thing, as no one ever taught us, nor did they have to.  Car pools had us riding in cars from Chryslers to Fords to Chevies to Oldsmobiles.  Car with seating for 6 adults, or 8 kids, before seat belts were required.  With the shotgun seat reserved for when your parents drove, for me a Rambler, no one ever fought for that seat, with most memories coming from riding in the back seat, or huddled between a friend and his mother in the front.  But one day it all was as to change, a special car was to enter the neighborhood, and my life.  The car that I would base all other cars on, and the one that always manages to elude me at car shows.  To most just another car, to me something special.  I wanted it, still do, and have never found just the right one. 

That car is a 1965 Chevy Impala SS, red with a black vinyl roof, black vinyl interior, 327 with a four speed, four on the floor, and white walls.  With those cool spinner hub caps.  I can see it now, sitting in Scotty’s driveway, brand new, his older brother Gary bringing it home, and all us kids wanting a look.  Sitting long and low, shining like no other I had seen, and with bucket seats-like a race car.  And a rear seat speaker, you could hear the Beach Boys or Gary Lewis and the Playboys in the back-not stereo but front and rear speakers.  Cars would never be the same after this...I can still see that chrome shift knob, full console, and smell the new car smell that has long ago left us.  Roll the windows down, light up the rear tires going up the street, tunes from both speakers....when did it happen to you?

Scotty’s other brother later in the year bought a green Impala, with a black vinyl roof, non-SS, with a 283 and auto, with those cool fake mag wheel hubcaps, but it was not as cool as the red SS.  In high school Dave’s mom drove a 1966 SS, white on white , 283 with a Powerglide, similar but not the same.  Even Mrs. Brown our neighbor had a 1967 SS427, blue convertible, talk about cool....but it wasn’t the red SS of my heart, and never could or would be as cool.  Occasionally I look at the ads for one, trying to regain my first auto love, but it has eluded me.  Close, but with ugly wheels.  Wrong color, wrong engine, maybe a little custom, small things that are correctable, but not what  I am looking for.  I feel like Goldilocks must have felt, nice, comfortable, and filling-just not what I want.  And so my dream goes on, the prices go up, and the availability goes down, but the memory burns strong.  Even my nose can detect the smell of fresh vinyl, my ears how good a rear speaker can sound, and how easy it was to burn rubber on old bias-ply tires.  For like the author wrote, “for one brief shining moment there was paradise.”  Mine just happened to be a car....

For me it is a car, for Captain Ahab it was Moby Dick.  We each have a dream, or an obsession we chase through life.  The term bucket list has become trendy, and I never had a bucket list, but a list of desires kept to myself, for no one else will ever dream as well as you do.  For every red SS that is not out there, there are many that others would tell me to settle for, that I must be dreaming, and it will take a miracle to find that car.  We become obsessed with things looking for that certain something that eludes us, but when we find that the something, that it is really a someone, our lives change.  Players have had careers without going to the playoffs, feeling they are not complete.  I know collectors who are looking for that special coin to make the collection complete.  Friends buy and sell motorcycles, looking for the perfect one, usually wishing they hadn’t sold one in the past, for now they miss it.  How many of us can lament of cars of bikes sold that we wish we had kept.  And then that certain someone, Jesus Christ comes into our lives, and all our values change.  Our desires change, along with our priorities, and like John the beloved, author of 5 books in the new testament, we have new life in Christ.  John, who once was described by Jesus as one of the “sons of thunder,” a man who wanted to blow up the current government and install his own way, changed dramatically when the spirit came into his life, and he became known as the apostle of love.  His heart changed, his mind changed, and his attitudes and actions changed.  In 1 John we find him expressing love, and defining love in Jesus, assuring us eternal life, and an example of how Jesus Christ changes lives.  Yet we fail to emphasize how Jesus changed him, and even the fact he changed at all.  We talk about God’s love, yet few ever let God truly have his way with us.  John did, and the example is there to see.  And when you are truly born again, your actions will bear out the fact that you are.  You may be able to fake it in church with others, but your heart will always be missing something.  Other things may come close, but like the elusive red Impala SS of my youth, and dreams, others will offer you a substitute.  A good feeling, a lifestyle, a religion, or an alternative.  But you will never be satisfied until Jesus Christ becomes Lord in your life.

When did it happen to you?  Has it ever happened to you?  Are you denying Jesus, or settling for something as close.  That someone is for real, and wants to come into your life, but must be invited.  He knocks at your heart, the spirit telling you “you need Jesus, you need Jesus,” in ways you didn’t realize.  For some it happens in church, some on the side of the road, some at home, and even some in prison.  But Jesus extends that invite today, to be the one you need, the one you are truly desiring.  The one whose manner of love is found nowhere else, and in nothing else.  Heaven awaits all who believe, but you can have all the joys of Jesus now here on earth.  In ways not imaginable, or dreamt of.  But yet the red Impala SS of their lives escape them...just like Goldilock’s perfect meal.

I may never find my dream car, but I found life in Jesus.  All other desires pale when compared.  Make him the desire of your heart, and find he will give you the desires of your heart.  For 50 years that red SS has eluded me, but for 40 years I have been fulfilled in Jesus.  On earth as it will be in heaven.  I am looking forward to heaven, having found what I have always desired in Christ.  And at the two car shows I will attend this Memorial Day weekend, I shall be on the lookout for a 1965 Chevrolet Impala SS.  Red, black interior, black vinyl top.  There will probably be other 1965 Chevies, but not what I am looking for.  Many things in life will come close, and attempt to satisfy.  Promising what they cannot deliver.  For me my heart is set on one car, and one God.  Seek and you will find.  I am so glad my search for Christ is over....now if I could only find that car.  Maybe just let me sit in it...go for a ride, tunes blasting from the rear speaker.  And for one brief shining moment let me be that 10 year old boy again.  Life will disappoint, Jesus never will.  The right one.  Has he happened to you?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com