things that really matter

It is a well known saying that one picture is worth a thousand words. But also true, is that a few words, choice words, put together in the right order, can be worth a thousand pictures-in your memory. Visiting with my favorite aunt and uncle in Pennsylvania, while walking out to the bike, my aunt noted noted Billy Hicks' truck at his parents house next door. And the next thing I knew, a friend who I hadn't seen since junior high, or at least before we could drive, was telling me in a few short minutes about himself. I was amazed at how 40 years of life could be brought into just a few minutes, but it seems the important things that take so long can only show a glimpse of how important they were in a few moments. And how the more we talked, the more we wanted to know. He had just retired, 30 years a lieutenant in the New Jersey Correctional system, no kids, but was on his third marriage. But his closing words brought back memories, and made me think. He asked, "have you been out to the park? Did you notice how there are so many empty spaces by the pool? Remember when they were all filled up with blankets?" And for a few seconds, both of us went back to a special place in our lives.

So when leaving town, instead of just passing by the park, I pulled into the lot by the pool. The proper and only thing to do. And he was right, where I remembered the grassy areas by the pool covered with blankets and towels, most of it was empty-more green than white. And as I paused there for a few seconds, on this hot and humid afternoon, a young girl, about 15 years old passed by in her bathing suit. Wearing the look I see on so many people of all ages today, one of boredom mixed with despair, I wanted to stop her and tell her "this is the best time of your life. You are free from responsibility. This is the last summer of not having to work, to just be a kid. To enjoy life, and at your age, when girls are going from cooties to cuties, to enjoy every moment like Billy and I did that certain summer."

Getting to the pool after it opened, and giving the girls a chance to set out their towels first, then making our moves. Very few girls ever put their blanket down by me. Meeting new friends-being Steve's cousin from NJ had a certain mystique/mistake about it, and soon we were all in the pool, with girl partners for chicken fights, who only minutes before we were afraid to talk to, laughing and having fun-and summer couldn't get any better. Never realizing the girls had the same fears and reluctance that we had, and once we got over them, the fun you could have in a mixed group. Being a kid, enjoying your last summer as one, before being expected to act like an adult. And the whole time never knowing it. That's innocence.

And later after dinner with parents, would meet again at the snack bar, the same one where my parents met some 70 years ago, and listened to music before playing a round of miniature golf. Or a ride on the carousel-grabbing rings to throw into the clown's mouth. Showing off-it was expected, and was ok. Comparing our sunburns, as our pasty white skin had gotten fried that afternoon, because neither one wanted to stop the fun to be responsible enough to put on suntan lotion. Then as it got dark, pairing up with that first someone special, and wondering down by the bandstand, and getting our first kiss, and unaware, or so we thought, of all the others doing the same thing. Staying out until that late hour of 11pm, and wondering how time could fly by so fast when you were having so much fun. Wanting to be older so we could stay out, but somehow making quality instead of quantity in our time spent together more important. Each minute became a moment, with meaning. Taking advantage of a special place in time-a door of opportunity opened, but only for a short time. I wanted to tell her all this, this is your special summer, look up and do not despair-but when I looked up she was gone. And reality faced me, just what made me think that she would listen to this old guy on a bike, with his wife, anyway? Just a young girl, whose face I can't remember, but will never forget.

And I was reminded of another summer night, eight years later, in Venice, where a friend told me about Jesus, and when I let Him into my life how it changed everything. Devine interventions, we call them, and God has many planned for us. And I was reminded in Romans how it says that while we were yet sinners, Jesus died for us. Long before that special summer, He loved me, and had it all planned out. Now that's love.

If you happen to see Bill, tell him I said he is a good son, taking care of Harry and Shirley, both well into their nineties. But don't neglect your wife either. She is a special one God put into your life, and I pray that she is the one. And I even have an idea for both of you. Why don't you two set a date to meet at the pool, and arrive about 15 minutes late, and set up next to her. Talk about nothing, and play in the water, as carefree as we were 40 years ago. Late that afternoon, take her dinner at the DDB, and over burgers, fries, and Cokes, get to know each other, and fall in love again. Later go by the park, and as it gets dark, sneak off with the others to the benches by the bandstand-but then go home early-not because you have to, but because you want to. And let the romance that once existed be rekindled again. A great prescription for all, who have let life interfere with their plans, and relationships.

For these things work, I know. For 36 summers, I have let Jesus into my life, and He has blessed me abundantly. And starting my 33rd summer with my wife, I can tell you after 38 days, 31 states, and after 10,000 miles of riding together, the only thing better than being in love with the perfect mate, is having Jesus in the middle of that special relationship.

Don't put off that special summer again. Enjoy the magic it has to bring to you and that special someone now. Jesus, Theresa, and our marriage-it just don't get any better. And for those 38 days of this summer with her-I will always be thankful. Theses are the good old days.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

MMD-still looking for the cure

The symptoms have been there for years, and in the past 24 months have risen to the surface for all to see. I have been informally diagnosed with MMD, a contagious, emotional and potentially physical affliction. It is not life threatening, but will affect every aspect of your life, and your family's. It shows no age or sexual preference, but is more proficient in men. And unless you are familiar with MMD, you know there is no cure, and only one treatment. MMD, in case you don't know, is Multiple Motorcycle Disorder. And with eight motorcycles currently in my garage, it is time to admit I have it and deal with it.

It started quite innocently, having owned over 34 motorcycles since getting my license in 1971. And only in the recent years has it begun to take me over. With bikes ranging from 1978 to 2008, it spans many years and riding models. And add into the mix riding NEW motorcycles for Triumph, about 10 each year, to any other mortal this would be life threatening, but to me and our household, it is business as usual. MMD doesn't dominate our life, but is definitely a strong influence. And a sure symptom, is when you sell a bike and wish you hadn't. And wish you could have it again, and the journey begins. And in the back of your mind you know that there is another just waiting to break your heart, and maybe your wallet. Like the song Officer Krupke, in West Side Story, "hey, I've got a social disease..." and I'm loving it!

But as many motorcycles try to dominate my life, I have found the Surf City chorus, "two girls for every boy.." to not fit into my life. I always believed that I would meet a girl, fall in love, and that would be it. And like Dick says, "divorce is not an option!." And Theresa has satisfied that desire for over 32 years. And she is also beginning to show the affects of MMD. In times when we had no food, and somehow could buy another bike, she stuck with me. And has gone from "you don't need another bike," to "we don't have the money or room," to "how are you going to fit them all in the garage-with my car?" And since having her own bike, she now is within the contagious area of catching MMD herself. At this point, garage space, and finances are keeping it in check. But we've overcome both those obstacles before. But the real blessing is one wife, for one life, and I am blessed it is Theresa. One girl for this boy, just can't say the same about motorcycles.

And in spite of one wife and many motorcycles, there has only been one desire, and one constant in my life since 1975-Jesus Christ. No matter how many, or what, or when-He has stayed with me, and been consistently faithful. No matter the brand-He still loves me. No matter the garage size-He still cares. And no matter how many Happy Meals we couldn't Super Size due to MMD, He still loves me-as I am, even in this semi-fallen condition. And I find that as long as I let nothing come between us-motorcycles, families, work, ministry, or anything else, He blesses me more than I can handle. It is called grace, and it does away with all laws except for the law of love. And truly, in my heart I want nothing to get between us.

The proper ratios in life are one God, one wife, and many motorcycles. I tell people all the time that Jesus, Theresa, and motorcycles-it just don't get any better! And I believe that with all my heart. And we can do them all together!

So get saved, get a believing wife, and get a motorcycle. Pray, love, and live together. And ride together, too. Heaven awaits, but the blessings start here and now!

By the way, does anyone know of a four car garage, with a bed and bath? Maybe room for my big screen? Call! I got the urge again, I hear there is this CB750 that needs a home...and is for sale-cheap! Can't put the Mustang on the street. Hmmmm....

MMD-you've been warned!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

despite a little help...from my friends

The sign I have seen hanging in old repair shops still makes me laugh, and when I managed small auto repair shops wish I could have charged what it claimed. So I did. It reads as follows:

$40/hour labor

$50 if you worked on it first

$60 if you stay and watch

$70 if you help.

I like the $40 customers the best. Let us diagnose, let us repair, and then let us call you when it is done. Fair wage for a fair job. Quicker-faster-cheaper-and fixed the first time. Such a deal. The $50 customer is really the bargain. Just not to the shop. He is the one who took it apart, threw all the parts in a box, after throwing away some that he deemed useless, and then tried to install the wrong part-generally forcing it on and breaking something else. The old saying, don't force it, get a bigger hammer applies here. Remember those electrical parts that are non-returnable-this guy is why. Often heard after asking what happened, "it came that way." Either marking him a liar-true, or a bigger fool for spending money on something that was obviously broken. Never his fault-but you can be sure it can be yours.

Then there is the old retired, usually Navy vet, who insists upon staying and talking to you all day. From complaining about how things were better in his day, he ruins yours. Things cost too much, are too complicated, and remember he is on a fixed income. Like who isn't? And with his help, inane questions, and ability to give his opinion on everything, and anything-the repair takes twice as long. But you can't charge him for it-hoping he never returns will be enough compensation. Again a bargain for the customer, when you consider the child care you must provide while he hangs around. Sometimes even a thank you card from his wife comes a few days later, as she needed a break too.

But the ones who are the most annoying, are the combination of all three. The guy who takes it apart, breaking parts, losing screws, and then throwing the special order part in the trash by accident, and doesn't want to wait while you reorder it-at a higher price. He has no other plans than to bother you today, so he will hang around, commenting, and even trying to help-just not you. His "here, let me help" interference has caused the job to take twice as long, cost twice as much, and kept the mechanics from fixing other cars. And experience will tell the shop owner to bid high-one to cover yourself, two to cover him helping, and three-maybe the high bid will run him off. Note-pick #3! Note, note-on warranty work, which the dealer must take in-we were always 15 weeks out in appointments for you guys. For emergencies.

God has made us all individuals-and I am thankful. Mostly. But because we are human, we also tend to operate off a price list. Some of us just trust God, we go to church, pray, do Bible studies, and live our lives with Him at the center. We have learned that if God guides, He provides, and He knows best. And generally doesn't need our help-and not our advice! He's never asked me, has He ever asked you?

Most people fall into the group that after all avenues are exhausted, then pray. God is their last resort, and only part of their lives when they cannot do it themselves, or are out of money. They bring warped scripture, questionable theology, and it's an all about me lifestyle to the church. Yet somehow know the answer to everyone else's problem, while trying to recover from fixing their own. And wonder why you never return your call. They are the ones who research everything, and find any legalistic reason to satisfy themselves. Beware! You will never be right, or just not as right as them.

I have watched a similar group who always has a question for the pastor. Usually some existential theory, they can't keep tot themselves. So they ask, but never like his answer, so argue. Some wayward book they have read knows more than the Bible. While the pastor has others he needs to see, they take up his time, clock watchers they are called, and can waste anybody's time but their own-your time is theirs. They didn't come to ask anyway, just to argue. And their inability to listen, and rattle on, make them an unwelcome addition to any ministry-yet they continually show up-uninvited! But never identify themselves in this group-only people like them. And generally can't stand people like themselves-the cause is the solution here.

The last group not only has all the endearing characteristics of the former groups, but will undue all good work when given the opportunity. I have watched as after spending time with a couple, the pastor's advice was taken and they are recovering from their problems. Until Mr. Says all, Knows Nothing shows up, and helps. And with his witless insight, and insensitive attitude is able to undo any good that was done. And goes on to help others-leaving a trail of broken lives in his path. Never looking back-for his job is done. And they never got a chance to thank him. Humble, too.

Jesus listens. Then comments. And if we are part of this conversation, not just talking, we will grow when we take His advice. But Godly advice only works when taken. And costs less, and is always more effective. His advice is simple-seek Him first, then all things will be added. A dialog, not a monologue, and you get to know Him better, and your life gets better. Good advice, from the top. No opinions, just the facts. Not good enough?

Well, I know this church down the road-in fact I have referred many people like you to it. And, they need you. We'll miss you, but we'll get by. And no, don't thank me-your absence will be enough thanks. Tell them I sent you.

And may the peace of Christ that surpasses all understanding be ours.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

life should be simple, just like me

I watched as the woman stepped onto the running board and slid her leg over the rear seat. She then swung the armrest back behind her, and then plugged in her headphones. Looking at her husband, he then slid his backrest in place, stood on his running board, and slid his leg over the seat. He then proceeded to plug in his headphones, and adjust his windshield. He then started the bike, pushed various buttons to select the CD he wanted to listen to, put on his gloves, and pushed another button lowering his bike to the ground, off of the electric center stand. With music blaring, they ride off onto the freeway, immediately getting into the fast lane, setting the cruise control at the posted speed limit, and watching as cars, trucks, and other riders go whizzing by at 15mph faster, all casting demeaning looks at them, as they cruise down the freeway, totally oblivious to anyone or anything except themselves. The only interruptions are the words they have using their communicators. And they call this motorcycling!

Getting ready to leave on an extended trip, people ask which bike I am taking. When I tell them the Tiger, they invariably ask "is it comfortable?" To which I told a guy the other day, who should know better, "No, but it's only 10,000 miles of trip, I'll get used to it. Why would I want to be comfortable?"

And he acknowledged by a nodding of his head, he understood. I guess the fact that his old Sportster doesn't vibrate-tell that to anyone who ever rode on, and since the addition of a Mustang seat doesn't-now that's a miracle-maybe his nodding head is just a screw loose from too many miles on his two wheeled blender.

Recently I had friends in BA-Moto ride 1000 miles in 24 hours on their Scramblers-no windshield, floorboards, or so called luxury items. They rode, and my hat, 'er helmet is off to them. They understand the truer essence of riding. And I can associate with them, I don't like doing windshields either, although my touring bike, a 2006 Tiger, the old style, has a small one. Keeps wind off the shoulders down. And as I surveyed the bikes in my garage, none of them have a windshield, running boards, radios, armrests, cruise controls, or communication devices. Most unlike my wife's car parked next to them. Motorcycles, as they were designed, they even have handlebars, and not the popular one size fits all that many makes now have instead of the old tubular handlebar. Which means I can replace them if they don't fit. And yes, the Tiger has a Corbin seat, how could such a fine bike have such a horrible seat from the factory? And hard bags for touring. That's it.

But is it comfortable? Try long travel, soft suspension. While your touring bike feels all the freeway expansion joints, I float over them. It weighs less than 600 lbs. fully loaded, gets 45-50mpg, is smoother than a Gold Wing-counterbalanced triple is the way to go, and I've ridden as much as 276 miles on its 6.3 gallon tank. But is it comfortable? Four years, 55,000+ miles and 42 states-ride one and you be the judge. But how do you communicate with your wife?

By phone when she can't go, through hand signs and body language when she does. Makes the conversation when we stop more valuable. And we can take more roads, getting off the freeways, and seeing America-believe it or not the US of A is more than a freeway exit! Note to you homegrown So Cal types.

What you ride doesn't make you a tourer, just as going to church doesn't make you a pew-although you may stink one up. It takes a relationship, sorry Miles, with your ride and the road, and over time when you think you have seen it all, you realize how much you have missed. And find knowing Jesus is like that. The more I get to know Him, the more I realize I don't know. And just like new roads take me places on different bikes, and I see the beauty, and smell the air, in a different way each time I ride. And it takes bad roads, bad weather, and sometimes bad riding partners to fully appreciate what I have. And how far I have come.

God allows bad times-sorry any time you have something not go your way, don't blame the devil. God allows tests/circumstances to come into your life, so you can build a relationship in that area with Him. If you were never sick, you would miss out on the great physician. If hungry, the story of feeding 5000 would be just that. If needing help, it would be just a fable, instead of a testimony. Brotherhood, yes we bikers have that, but nothing compared with the Koininia fellowship with God and other Christians. And sadly, if no one ever betrayed a trust with you, you would not have the insight into Jesus himself being betrayed. And just like more miles bring more experience and joy, more time with Jesus brings more joy-read Psalm 1! And what a great place to spend with Him-while riding! He is more than a Sunday morning hour to endure, Jesus loves the open road-remember that is where He spent most of His time. Hmmmm? And loves eating-note to bikers, and is the best tour guide, period.

What does He ride? Whatever He wants, and He has ridden them all, in all situations. Make Him your riding partner today. On any bike, on any road, with any riding group, He makes the ride more fun, and worthwhile. And like life-the simpler you keep it, the more time you have to enjoy it.

Break out of the mold and follow Jesus. You may find that simple is much better, and the time spent more precious. And that riding a motorcycle is much better than taking the car-with its windshields, armrests, radio, CD system, and cruise control. More personal, I believe is what they say-both in riding and with the son of God. Enjoy both today-you will be glad you did.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

he's still the real thing!

One of the simple rules to have at your advantage during negotiation is to be be the lustee, rather than the luster. To have something that someone will pay well above its value, is better than being the one paying the price. And every once in a while, the opportunity comes along to do just that. Once was when working for Coca Cola, a box of incentives, aka prizes for a contest came in. One for each salesman, so no one would feel like a loser, and the winner getting first choice. Jack, the sales manager opened the box and when he saw a golf umbrella made it known he wanted it, but couldn't have it due to not being part of the contest. But jokingly mentioned he would trade anything for it. And he wasn't joking! So doing the proper thing, after winning the contest, I chose it.

Now golf to me has only one purpose, to keep people off the roads and driving a golf ball rather than their car on weekends-when we are riding. I can find no other reason for it, and question any sport where your score is based on a handicap. Mental or physical. So I chose the golf umbrella, partly for the cheese 'em off factor, Jack knew I hated golf, and he hated me, and also because he had this Coke racing jacket I wanted-as did many others. White with red cuffs, a black and white racing stripe and a patch stating "it's the real thing-Coke!" every place he wore it people commented. And the fact he had the only one I'd ever seen, and treasured it, just made it more valuable to me.

I waited him out, and when finally he made some offers-"not interested, hee-hee-hee," he wanted to know what it would take. The jacket-that's it, nothing else-so don't offer. And I had him. Just like the monkey who puts his hand in the cocoanut, and finds the hole too small to get both his hand and the prize out-I had him! And he knew it.

Agreement struck-and to make it worse, I left the umbrella home over the weekend, more cheese 'em off factor as he had been planning to play golf and show it off-rain or shine. So Monday the trade was made, and 25 years later the jacket still hangs in my closet. A double victory-and a lesson to all who negotiate. And I still won't play golf!

Imagine if you would, a group of soldiers, arguing over someone's clothes. For some reason, they were desirable to them, and they ended up choosing lots over them. Nothing special about them, no logos or anything, and add to the fact they were stained with blood from their owner sweating blood in the garden. And then additionally being worn after he was scourged. Stained with sweat, and blood, why would this garment have any significance or value? And add to that the owner was being crucified, they didn't even wait for him to be dead before they started bidding on it. True the owner had been a public figure, even had an audience before the governor, Pilate. And even though innocent, the crowd still yelled "crucify him!" and so they did. But why were his death clothes so valuable when he wasn't even dead yet? And it wasn't until He was dead the centurion acknowledged who he was, but by then the clothes had a new owner.

And when the new owner got them home, what did his wife say? "I'm not cleaning that mess, get that robe outta here." Just dirty laundry to her. Did keeping them original add to their value? When the new owner found out who the old owner was, did he attempt to sell them on e-bay, or negotiate with God, to get into heaven, and further profit? Why would someone be more interested in a man's clothes than the man himself? Did his colors make him, or did he make his colors?

2000 years later, the question remains unanswered. And people still choose the things God has created, instead of the creator, God himself. For the clothes you see belonged to none other than Jesus Christ. So many see Jesus as a nice man, teacher, or profit. But the Son of God, no way. And choose the creation, when they can have the creator-and eternal life that goes with Him. You see, clothes cannot buy righteousness, or make you righteous, and God looks on your heart, not on the exterior like we do. To us clothes make the man, but to Jesus, He made the clothes. But the soldiers got ripped off, only the centurion recognized who he was, and got the real prize. Look around your life, is it filled with things-or does it reflect the things of Christ? Only when Jesus is in your heart and life, will you bear fruit. Don't wait for a deal on e-bay-get the real thing today-Jesus.

Twenty five years ago I won a jacket in a negotiation. But 35 years ago I took Jesus into my heart. Only one brought life. And only one is truly the real thing. Choose the things which are not seen-eternal, and forego the things which are seen-temporal. Jesus Christ-no matter what the outfit fits all. And in the only style that never loses it-and is yours without any negotiations. Such a deal He has for you!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogpsot.com

the warning

Across from the train station, just south of the railroad tracks, in Santa Paula, is a monument of two motorcyclists, in honor of a heroic feat they performed one night. In the early morning of March 13, 1928, the St. Francis Dam gave way and started its path of destruction to the Pacific Ocean. Without the benefit of on the spot reporters, CNN, or video cams, the water leaving the dam was over 10-stories tall, without warning, and when the night operator, Louise Gipe, got the message, she didn't know when the 100 foot wall of water would be hitting Santa Paula, or what would happen. These telephone operators, known as Hello Girls, stayed at their posts warning neighbors in the valley, not knowing when the waters from the dam, located five miles northeast of Santa Clarita and rushing to Ventura would hit. But wisely one of the first calls she made was to Thornton Edwards, a motor officer. You see phones were still a luxury item, and who would warn those in the low areas without one. And from approximately 130am, until 305am , when the water hit Santa Paula,two men rode warning others, and becoming heroes.

So Officer Edwards jumped on his Indian 4 rode through the lowlands. This was the area that would be covered in the flood and destroyed. Going to every third house, he warned them, and had them warn their neighbors then get out! He also enlisted Stanley Baker, another motor cop on his Harley. Together these two brave motor cops woke neighbors, and had them assist in warning others, all risking their lives that night, in the dark, not knowing when the waters would rush over them. Waters which would sweep 54 miles, waking and warning neighbors to get to higher ground.
And despite their efforts, hundreds, at least 450, still died, and many others lost everything. But if not for these brave riders, warning others and enlisting them to help, it would have been total destruction. True heroes, who in midst of turmoil and chaos, risked their lives to save others. And this monument, called the Warning, represents their heroism-in fact it stands as an honor to all who helped their neighbors that night. And it is only fitting a statue of the two bikers should represent the heroism of that night.

Heroes are usually not prepared for the challenges they rise too. Something in the human heart takes a normal person, and when the situation presents itself, heroism bursts forth into flame and lives are saved. And afterwards, just go back to being the normal person they were before. But they leave an indelible mark for those to follow.

Jesus tells us that greater love has no man than to lay down his life for his friends. And by doing so, for us sinners, displayed the ultimate heroism-love, displayed at the cross. But yet, how many of us describe him as a hero? How many hear His call, His warning of salvation, and respond to it? How many just think it is about religion, and you know how religious people can be. I'm sure that night that some just went through the night sleeping, ignoring the policemen's warning, there is no dam broke. And it could never reach us anyway. That's two hours away from us. Let's just say the truth was overwhelming.

Jesus still offers the same salvation today as 2000 years ago. The same simple message, but how many will let Him be their hero? How many will ignore that biker who shares a tract? Who stops when they are stuck on the side of the road? How would you respond if a tattooed, long haired, biker stopped to help you? Maybe it all depends upon the size of the deluge pouring down on you.

People can drown in inches of water-they don't need a flood. Don't wait until it is too late. Like the motor cops, the warning is there, the way out is available-how you react is up to you. After the flood, they listed the names of the dead and missing. In heaven it's different, they list the names of those alive. Someday you will make a list-choose Jesus and get your name in the book of life. Let Him be your hero, and then be a hero to others. While the world worships all that is new and shiny-take time to worship Him who is eternal.

Jesus rode with those cops that night, and the scripture came alive in them. Who you ride with makes a difference. All based on one heroic act, 2000 years ago, at the cross.

Get your motor running....met out on the highway..looking for adventure... and whatever comes our way...

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogpsot.com

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Danny Dunn and the out of nothing created universe

When I was in fourth grade I got introduced to the Danny Dunn book series. Danny was the all American boy-much like Beaver, and lived with his mom, his dad was killed in the war, and Professor Bullfinch who they took in as a boarder. Professor Bullfinch was like the absent minded professor, whose lab was on the property, and he was always inventing new, but unmarketable things-which Danny would find a use for, usually getting in some innocent trouble. In Danny Dunn and the Anti-Gravity Paint, he actually got some of it on his shoes, and walks on ceilings, but finally gets into trouble when he stows away on the spaceship that the professor builds to go to outer space, and goes into outer space. All this without government intervention or permits-or a budget either. Just like your neighborhood when you were growing up, right?

Well its seems that there was a teacher's edition, with notes, and since my grandmother taught fifth grade, I stumbled across it one day at her house. And read it, giving a whole new meaning to the story. I knew the whys and wherefores, and when Mrs. Vanderbilt asked us about the story, I knew all the answers. And she knew something was up. Now Mrs. V was like Ralphie's mean teacher on A Christmas Story, she even looked like her, and where I felt I should be rewarded for initiative, she called it cheating. In a world where she was trying to get kids to read, this old sourpuss punished me for reading-more! I wish the professor had come up with an anti-Mrs. Vanderbilt paint, I would have bought five gallons. She was a big woman. Just loan me Ralphie's rifle-I'd have shot her eye out!

Recently I read a story about a best selling book. Except after its release it was found the printer forgot to include the epilog. Which when revealed to the public, caused book sales to soar as it was collectible now, and when the author was asked about it, commented, "if it's not there, how would they know it is missing?" What was the big deal? So they printed another version with it and book sales soared again. Take that Mrs. Vanderbilt!

Unfortunately in real life there are no Professor Bullfinchs and his inventions. But there are Mrs. Vanderbilts. We get reality, which can be too tough for most people on a daily basis. So we turn to God, and find Him there, willing and able to help us, and be our friend-in time of need, and all the time. But sometimes we have trouble reading His Bible-why is it that it took until the New Testament to get all the easy names? Anyway, He promises us if we read it, that the message in it will not return void. In today speak, it will change your life if you apply it. But you have to read it first. And like the teacher's edition of Danny Dunn, there are study Bibles out there that give background and insight to the events.
For example, when the women ran to the tomb, and found it empty, the stone rolled away, in Greek it means the stone was literally picked up and thrown! No doubt that no man could do that! Particularly one who had been crucified, after being beaten,and then a spear stuck in his side to prove he was dead. Just some simple notes, giving insight to a well known event. Proving God to be God. Another example is "in the beginning, God created..." the fourth word in the Bible-God. And in Hebrew is plural, stating up front and before creation that God has always existed, and showing Him as the Trinity! And the created-means out of nothing, forget about the big bang, or other goofy theories. God was there, and it is in His book. And with the help of a good study Bible, brings it all into a clearer perspective. And after studying it, we can deal with those who haven't read it, but know so much about it. In love, of course.

So don't be like Mrs. Vanderbilt, and chastise ones who read their Bible-even when not in church. It's OK to skip to the end of the book-note-we win!, and to use a concordance. But nothing beats knowing the author-the one who the inspired the 66 books, written by 40 men chosen by God to write down His words. That author-God. His son-Jesus. And the Holy spirit-the giver of truth. The three mentioned in Genesis. Be a Danny Dunn today and be curious-inquire of God and let Him change your life. And as far as anti-gravity paint, didn't Peter walk on the water? Didn't Jesus pass through a wall? And soon, won't He call His church home in the rapture?

Danny Dunn-good reading, but there is this other book, Daniel....

Good reading-from beginning to end-no epilog needed-and still a best seller!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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