when life's a beach, go there

In God's ever continuing improvement classes with me, lately we are dealing with patience. And after our recent cross country trip, I think I am finally beginning to get it. Patience has its rewards, and blessings follow those who are patient. But like any battle, once the enemy sees he is going to lose one of his prime impatient representatives, starts throwing all his dirty campaigns your way. And you find if you really want to be patient, you start RIGHT NOW! So that is when we will start.

This last weekend we decided to go to Newport Beach. Joan and a friend were coming in, we could meet at El Cholo for dinner, spend the afternoon at the beach-if the marine layer ever lifted and then I could go to BA-MOTO's second anniversary party in Long Beach the next day. OK, I had ridden the Bonneville up to Newport to meet Theresa. Great plans, and all would seem to work. Just be patient. So we were.

Checking into our motel-the Cozy Inn, cheap, very clean, big rooms-not what you would expect just a few miles from the beach in Newport, the clouds lifted. A find, thanks Lord. Then with the top down-yes we went in the car, we proceeded to Newport Beach.

Now I could care less about the beach, but my better half loves it, so I had decided to spend the weekend with her there, which takes patience. If I have to sit, I wish to have two wheels under me. Doing miles. Seeing things. Going places. This was a test for me. So we crossed over PCH, and proceeded down Balboa Blvd, in traffic. Heavy, then heavier as you go from two lanes to one. And no parking spaces-at all. So being patient, we went on, soon found we had gone through all the number streets that start in the high 30's, and were into the letter streets. And of course the enemy is telling us go back, too many people, too much hassle, and you are wasting your time. And we were, listening to him, so we quit. Even when the thought of that there were only six hours of daylight left, we soldiered on. Until we hit the middle of the alphabet streets. Where the traffic thinned, and the parking meters stopped. Not a good sign, but to the patient a great sign.

You see the ocean didn't stop there, but went on. And turning right at the middle of the alphabet, found parking just two short blocks from the beach-free, and we found ourselves in a beautiful neighborhood. Where all the houses are too cute. But we parked and trekked two blocks to the beach anyway.

Which was empty. Where just a half mile away there were thousands, we were in a crowd of dozens. With the patient. Wide open, clean beach. Quiet, you could hear the waves. With our own life guard, an unreal beach, and a priceless view. All because we had waited, and showed patience. For the price of driving an extra five minutes, in a car, God's answer for our beach day was right here, and while others were impatient, and still circling for a parking space, at an 100-to-1 ration, we sat back, read, dipped in the ocean, and watched as the boats came into the bay. For free, with no hassles!

And still met Joan and Sharon early, before the dinner rush, and then back to the motel. Rested, relaxed, and blessed.

The next day, I rode to Long Beach to meet up with BA-MOTO, which I never did. Once again, being patient, I decided to head home after two times up and down Anaheim Blvd., and was blessed. Missed traffic, and had a great ride home. Don't know why God had me miss the meeting, but He did. And I got to spend more time with my wife-a lot more fun anyway.

God's plans are not always on an express route. You must listen to Him, and for Him to know the proper timetable. And this weekend I was reminded of that, and how listening to Him-obedience, is better than sacrifice-making excuses for the bad times and mixed blessings I cause myself.

So much I can't wait until next weekend! Is that being impatient of me?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

the five faces of Christ

George worked for Chucky Cheese as a mechanic in one of their stores in Texas. When offered a position in Oceanside, he packed up his wife and five boys and moved west. Only to get here and find the job had been filled. The promise broken. Doing anything he could to provide for his family, he finally had to become part of the Interfaith system, where they would provide food and a place to sleep for those in situations like George. And that is where I met his family.

The church we were attending was part of the Interfaith program, which on a rotating basis would house and feed people. And when we met George and Carol, and their five boys, God had a plan. The Interfaith program, although Christian, dealt with unsaved people, some pretty destitute-showing love. And as I found out later, not all churches felt the same way about the homeless. Rather than actually deal with the downtrodden one-on-one, they would just send a check, which the church I attended felt. There, we've done our part, and didn't even get our hands dirty. When they told us "you may be the only ones here with a heart for the homeless," my heart broke. One family in congregation of 800? Where was their compassion? Where was Jesus in their lives? But God....

There are many things you can do to minister, the most important is obedience to God, who really knows the need. Taking us on a journey we had never been on before, we let the boys and their mom, Carol, stay at our house during the day. Try walking 8-10 hours a day in summer heat with five kids. How neat to just sit and rest, as the kids played in the yard. Theresa took the kids with her on field trips, and brought them to where she taught preschool. We let George have one of our cars, and now he could get out and around and seek work, which he did. One special night, we even baby sat the boys, sending them out on a date for dinner-on us. So many little things, that get overlooked, but are precious.

George got work, and was able to get into low income housing. The little possessions he had, were being stored at an aunt's house, rather reluctantly. This prophetess, self proclaimed, wanted the stuff out of her garage, her luxury car was parked in the driveway. It had been stored longer than George had said-a prophetess, why didn't she see that coming? So borrowing Milton's truck, George and I moved him one night. The two youngest were with him, and while we were moving stuff, they played in the tub. I will never forget George looking up at me, and saying "isn't that a beautiful sound?" The sound he referred to was the boys playing, laughing, splashing, and having fun-at home, their home.

While I was busy at work, Theresa put out signs at her preschool with their needs, furniture, bedding, food, etc. And the parents responded overwhelmingly. I approached our pastor, who kicked in $200 for food, and Theresa tells of the joy of Carol buying things for her family. Where do you start when you have nothing, and need everything? And they were both amazed at how God multiplied!

I don't know where this family is today, but I would like think they are doing well, the kids now into their late 20's, and George working and coming home each night to Carol. Only God knows...

I would like to leave you with this. We are part of a Christian family, with unlimited resources from our heavenly Father, but just need the chance to use them. This is just one event, and not about us, but about being obedient to His call. All glory pointing to God. Coming home one afternoon, I noticed the kids playing with some of Christopher's favorite toys-the ones only he and not anyone else played with. When I asked him about it, he explained how he heard them talking how they had no Christmas, and so he allowed each kid to take one of his toys, even the ones which were his favorites. When I shared this with the head of Interfaith, he was so thankful to hear about it. He had to evict a troublesome family from housing, and it broke his heart. He doubted if he was doing God's calling. But Christopher's story encouraged him to carry on. Only God...

Just two families. One black and broke, with five kids, the other white and blessed with two sons. Both realizing that our true blessings come from God-where no color, social level, or financial barriers exist. Where love covered a multitude of sins, and our family found that the true blessings come in giving, and not receiving.

Don't step over the Lazarus God lays in front of you today. Never doubt what God can do, or underestimate the blessings you are missing by saying no to Him. Jesus said "whoever does these things to the least of them, is doing them to me." Five faces of Jesus, I was able to see, more clearly. Only God...

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

make mine a happy meal

I don't do buffets, all you can eats, or self serve restaurants very well. From overpriced $1.99 buffets in Las Vegas, to the all you can keep down free for alls, I don't enjoy them. For one thing I always seem to get in line after someone on their cell phone must talk incessantly about nothing, and every time I get a chance to pass, they know and speed up. I find the choices are always set up so the things I like are at the end, and such taste tempting dishes such as turkey sausage organic noodle cream delight are first. Who can pass that up? And the ones that have the most choices are like cable TV-nothings on I want! Get me outta here! Quick-a burger!

Serve lousy pizza? Make it an all you can eat. With salad. Nothing better than warm lettuce, and cold pizza. And what is house dressing? Was the house painted with it, or cleaned? I've even tried to time it, so I can get hot, fresh pizza, but somehow end up with the catgut deluxe, or the Italian mystery meat special, the last piece that no one with a pulse would eat. maybe it's true, Mikey will eat anything, but not this Mikey! And you leave full-full of something that is, vowing never to go back until the next time.

Maybe I just don't get the portions right, or the exotic names they give regular food, so pass it over for something less dangerous, how can you screw up tuna fish, but I believe it is a plot to get me. Maybe that is why I am the only one carrying two plates in my first go round, one for show, one for go. Only after an hour has passed after eating do I know which was which.

Self service, to me is just self serving. And when I go out, I like to be served. Yes there are waiters at these places, who are really bus boys, and they even encourage you to tip them for you doing what it is they could have done. And I do, but the scam continues. And does anyone really know what that frozen concoction is they call ice something or other? Amen to extra sprinkles.

We are consumed with self, maybe this is a glorified example of you really not knowing what you want, or need, and even Galatians 5 speaks of self, but in a different tone. It tells us that self control is a fruit of the spirit. More than just quitting after your fifth Twinkie. Or eating those last three pieces of pizza, just because you can. It demands a choice, I like that, but I see too many using their own criteria, not God's, to make decisions, and there again the fruit comes from self, not of the spirit. Just don't try to tell them. But another fruit of the spirit is meekness, best described as power under control. It can be seen as telling the waiter how bad the food really was, but not-just never returning. Being in a situation where retribution would be expected, but passing on it. A time when God shows you a better way, and when you follow it, blessings follow. But where self control can be based on rules-and sometimes not your own, meekness depends on God-trusting Him, no matter what the solution, knowing He will answer the need you have better than you ever could. Even in simple things like choosing food at a cafeteria, or choosing the one you will spend your life with. There is no aspect of your life He doesn't want to be involved in. Only pride, on your part, shuts Him out. As for me, I have found the perfect place to eat. The food is always what I like, the service great, good company, and at prices I can afford. And I know the cook on a first name basis! No more long suffering-another fruit!

The place, my house. The cook, my wife. Not always my first choice, but when I listen to God, the best choice. Better than eating out. The hot things hot, the cold things cold. And in Mikey sized portions.

Choosy wives choose....Jesus!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogpsot.com

you are never lost as long as you aren't out of gas

Years ago I had a new boss move from Arkansas. He was going to reroute our sales territories, making them more efficient, or so he thought. Looking at a map of So Cal, he broke areas up, using east to west boundaries. Only thing is no one told him that the reason they are defined north to south is that there are mountains as a line of demarcation-with the only way over them every 35-40 miles. And the Pacific Ocean as another boundary, a little tougher to negotiate around.

When preparing for a trip, a major consideration is how do you get there from here? For all roads labeled east-west aren't. US 52 in South Carolina goes north-south, but in Kentucky goes east-west. And when travelling, so many route numbers can be the same road. And in all directions! I-20 travels east or west, but is also aligned with I-59 going north to south, which is also US 11 north and south, but also US 80 east to west. And that is just in Alabama! So much for signs.

A few years back I tried to find the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel, and got as close as Delaware, when I followed a sign that said Bay Bridge-not the same. The CBBT goes north to south, both in direction and on US 13, unless you take US 113 and avoid five traffic lights. Ended up in Washington, DC, not Virginia Beach. But this year following directions, made it down the Delmarva peninsula,Delaware-Maryland-Virginia, for those wanting to know, and across the CBBT. Warning-if you don't like bridges or tunnels, go another way. But for 17 miles across the bay, it is magnificent. Traversing a causeway, much like in the Keys, you are riding along and then the road dips-not good when you are riding over water, but you are entering into one of the two, mile long tunnels. And if you need to turn around-there is only one place, which of course offers a fishing dock, and a gift shop-about five miles to the closest shore. And if you do turn around, figure a four hour ride to where the bridge would take you in 20 minutes.

I have learned to be wary of signs, but even more wary of people who follow them. I know people who lead their lives following signs, only to end in destruction. And God warns us not to follow them. Or our feelings either. His directions to heaven are easy, and easy to follow. Straight and narrow, and only one way to heaven-Jesus Christ. No detours, or u-turns-ask Lot's wife about looking back, God allows them, but doesn't recommend them, and if you keep focused on Him, you will have a great trip. But so many look for alternative routes, and end in failure. You cannot work your way to heaven, or join a church to get there. Passing out magazines to unwanting neighbors will not get you there, or will monetary gifts. Jesus is the way, simple enough. But yet, why do so many believe the lies of someone who is the father of lies-Satan? Do they think he might slip up and tell the truth? Are you willing to bet on that or go with the one who is trustworthy, and cannot lie? No one who goes to hell escapes, anyone going to heaven doesn't want to return.

Even The Ten Commandments, which are a great way to live your life, don't offer salvation from your sin. Only Jesus does.

Don't be like a trip I took to visit a girlfriend in Ohio. She lived in West Carrolton, and approaching Carrolton, got excited, as I thought I was close. And adjusted myself to a short ride. But you see West Carrolton is only 200 miles and two freeways away-don't let the names mislead you. Two towns, with no relation to each other.

And don't be led by false stories of people dying and following a light. Even Satan can appear as a shining light-Lucifer, and God tells us eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor mind imagined the things of heaven. Be secure in the fact He won't make an exception for you! So set your sights on things on high. Stay in the word, and if it doesn't sound like God, it probably isn't. And as for bridges, He is the bridge between life and death-and the only way. With no place to turn around once you've decided on the right course.

A "free" way, not a turnpike. No tolls along the way-Jesus paid for them all up front. So fill your tank, air up the tires, and prepare for the neatest trip you'll ever take.

I choose two wheels, but He has been known to accept four wheelers also. See you on the road-and if I do, believe you are on the right one-the same one I chose over 35 years ago.

Do this-don't do that-can't you read the signs? Yes, that is why I chose Jesus. Don't even get me started about road signs-or lack of them in Massachusetts!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

seeking grand falloons in Wisconsin

We started the day by riding 61 miles south on Highway 61 in Minnesota, then taking the advice of the traveler with the girlfriend of nine pairs of shoes fame, we crossed the Mississippi at La Crosse into Wisconsin. State hiway 33. What a beautiful route, as it left the town of La Crosse and proceeded into the kind of rolling hills and farmland you picture Wisconsin to be. One of the oldest roads in Wisconsin, it also has to be one of the prettiest. So for the next 100 miles we followed this awesome road, until just outside of Madison-still 30 miles away. Now remember, as neat as a road is, it is the people along the way you meet that make it memorable. Looking for a place to eat lunch, we saw a huge gathering around a church on a hill across a dale. But as we got closer, it turned out to be a funeral for someone, someone who must have been very loved and admired as there were a hundred vehicles at this church, in what was almost a town. So riding on, we entered into Hillsboro. A metropolis in the area, with all of its 1347 residents!

The Czech capitol of Wisconsin, the banners said. And found a late breakfast at Holvy's. The lady who waited on us had taken a break from cooking, and we sat in a cafeteria style seating, where you share tables. Across from us were two couples, who we talked with, and found out one lady painted pictures of round barns, historic to the area, and got a quick history. Even wrote a book, and we laughed as I shared I did too, both self published. Across the room from me, two old farmers in bib overalls were busy eating breakfast-busy as the one old guy kept taking out his teeth and then replacing them-adjusting them let's say. With both men sitting back to back, but leaning back to talk. Strangers, with much in common.

While ordering, a cute, older couple came in. Exchanging pleasantries, he told us they worked for the Gideons, but he was an unofficial pastor of a country church. Seems 32 years ago they asked him to fill in, and he has ever since-but has never been hired, nor missed a service. Wonder how many of us would live like that? Faith will produce fruit when we do! After saying good byes, we all seemed to get done eating at the same time, we took off-impressed by the people God had sent our way, and they were impressed with the ministry God has given us. It takes so many, doing so many different things to make our goals complete! Living proof in Wisconsin-don't ya know!

Different backgrounds, but a common God. And while we choose to serve Him, some wish to be His adversary-check history, you will lose! And a question the other day, still dances around in my head. If God is loving, why does He cause suffering and cancer? Fair question, and I may have some insight, if not the answer. God doesn't cause suffering, but He does allow it. To bring us to Him in our time of need, and also because He is honorable, to us and Himself. He allows us to choose, otherwise it would not be love, but based on what He has done-much like having a rich uncle, and being nice to him because of what he has, instead of just being your uncle, who happens to be rich. And to the cancer part, I like to think, maybe God has sent someone with the cure, but in our sin, what if he was aborted? Taking a life, when he was sent to save lives. Only God knows for sure. Ask Him if you really want to know!

But God is honorable, and this little old part time preacher reminded me of service to Him, and how we are to serve Him, and not ourselves. And how He allowed us to all just meet, by divine providence that Saturday morning. And the glory of God shown by His love, taking us on great roads, and making new friends.

Today you don't know what lies ahead, but God does. Follow His lead, and watch as the day turns into something special. Greet someone at lunch, share a kindness, and you may find you are blessed, while trying to be a blessing. Share life, so many are overwhelmed by it. And pray for those carrying children, they may just have the cure for cancer carried in their womb. Regardless, we are all precious cargo in the eyes of God.

And seek Jesus-sent to save lives, He gave His own. So we could live, and enjoy the road and its company that day. Make Him personal, and be amazed at the people He puts in your path. You may have more in common with them than you think.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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pride of ownership

We got to spend the Fourth of July in Quakertown, Pennsylvania this year, at their annual Community Celebration Day. What a day! Starting with an old car show, then various games, a great food court-local homemade food is still the best, getting wet from the fire hoses during the Volunteer Fire Department competitions, watching the local baseball team play-we may have been the only ones there not related to the players, and finally listening to the community band play patriotic songs, ending with the the Star Spangled Banner, then the fireworks, it was a great day. And reminded us of how great it is in America, and to be an American.

I loved the old car show. To many, they are just old cars. but this show was different. We are used to the over restored, or over stated cars in So Cal-trailer queens not driven, or old cars with 22" rims-just like they didn't come from the factory-yuk. But this show-limited to the first 350 cars, was different. There were many local cars, cars driven on special days like this, and at least a dozen cars, still original, and still belonging to the same family. Local cars with histories, and stories to tell, from the 30's into the 70's. The oldest, a 1930 Chevrolet, was still driven regularly. And as you admired these cars, I love the smell in old cars, you could almost feel the memories in them. These were the first new car bought after getting married, the one you went to the prom in, the one that slept in the garage, while the new cars sat outside in the rain, and the one kept in the garage while its owner was in the service. And in many cases, then was passed down to the next generation. Respectfully. Many times, with the new owner/family member knowing the histories, and stories that went with it-but when their name appeared on the pink slip, giving them a whole new sense of history-now they were part of it-going from spectator to participant, and soon will be adding their own stories to it. A pride of ownership when their name was on the title. And giving them a special entrance into the past, via their future.

Andrew and Lauren got engaged this weekend, and we went with them to get their rings. And how exciting it is to watch as they go from boyfriend/girlfriend to man and wife. And as she becomes part of our family, she will get to know more of the stories, and they will start their own to share with others. But as they go from boyfriend/girlfriend, their relationship changes, and they will enjoy the benefits of the commitment they made to each other, and just like the latest generation taking over the ownership of the car, they now belong to each other. And when their names appear on the license, for any and all to see-it will bring an extra excitement. With ownership brings a responsibility to each other, one they will get to honor and obey. No more my girlfriend, or fiancé, but his wife. The two becoming one.

To those of us who are saved, we also realize the intimacy of knowing Jesus Christ personally. We are part of the family of God, no longer strangers, but friends, as Jesus calls us. We get full access to heaven, and all that goes with it. Suddenly prayer is important, we love talking to God and we can understand the Bible. And actually enjoy reading it! Fellow Christians become brothers and sisters, we look forward to going to church, and we can fall asleep each night fully assured our names are in the Book of Life-and we are going to heaven.

But many just attend church, or maybe even join a membership role, and never enjoy being part of the family. Like the car,they never get ownership of the car, so never fully enjoy it, and are restricted to just being a spectator. Just looking in the windows, instead of riding in it and looking out. They never get the joy of being a man and wife-just living together, not enjoying the benefits, or security it brings in knowing I belong to someone, and under estimating the joy it brings.

Change your direction today-take ownership. Sit behind the wheel. Know the joy of seeing your name on the title. Know the joy of introducing that special partner as your husband or wife. Grow together as one, til death do you part. But don't neglect your time spent with God. Make the most of it by letting Him into your heart today. And someday when we all get to heaven, will enjoy a wedding feast indescribable.

And let the memories of your holidays be filled with fireworks form the precious memories God has waiting for you-and not just on the Fourth. Independence Day-the day you let Jesus Christ into your life-and into your marriage and into your car.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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life is a ball

A lot can be said for growing up in a neighborhood of boys. From palling up with one or two guys who become your best friends, to just hanging with the guys, many great times are had. Times outside, generally playing in the street, for my generation didn't have the burden of computers yet. You actually went outside and played-and were physical. And come to think of it, I don't remember very many fat kids, so we had no need of a presidential committee to study obesity in youths. We were kids, and we liked to play-from sunup to dinner time, then out again afterwards, until it was time to come in-when it got dark in the winter, and as late as 10 o'clock in the summer. Except on special nights when we slept out-not over, but out, on a patio or in a tent.

And the simplest yet most fun toy invented is the ball. Alone or in groups, you can play numerous games. Alone all it takes is a wall to throw it off of. And summertime meant baseball, and if you were good enough playing Little League. But even more fun, were the games you played on the streets, and the rules you made-ground rules the big leagues called them, courtesies to neighbors cars and yards to keep you out of trouble were a better description, each different for the times you played in front of each kids house. So many of our games were played in front of Scottie Aldinger's house, where a manhole cover was home plate, and the sewer drains were first and third bases. And at the circle by Chris Farley's, where any ball kicked onto the grass past the curb was an automatic homerun. Serious business at age 10.

Now asphalt can be hard on a leather covered hardball. So every once in a while someone would show up with a rubber covered hardball-but somehow it wasn't the same. With the real hardball, it would get scuffed, and then the cover start to tear, and you wanted to be the one hitting when the cover came off. Then the yarn would unwind, everywhere, until you were left with a hard rubber ball in the center, which was rumored to contain acid that would blind you if opened-so we never did. Golf ball centers were also rumored to have the same center, and once we even cut into one, with rubber bands exploding in our hands, we finally got to the center-but gave up-leaving an urban legend intact, at least in our neighborhood. We would occasionally get brave, and give one to a dog, watching him trying to bite it while the rubber bands snapped at his face, but would never let him bite into the rubber center.

Today kids have organized sports, with rules and adults, and not quite the fun. But I see many kids and adults whose lives are unraveling like the old baseballs we used to play with. But not realizing it until it is too late. Never realizing what is at the core, and just going onto another ball. And we still like to watch dogs fight/bite at the rubber bands while chewing a golf ball, but don't understand when our live becomes like one. For at the center of each is our heart, and without God we find a hard center, that we are afraid to open up-might be poison inside. So as our life unravels, we go with it, keeping it all inside until it is too late-game over.

Or we become like the rubber covered ball, thick skinned, and not the just same as the real thing. Our lives become a substitute for what they could be in Christ. And soon we find without baseballs to play with-our game is over, rained out.

Only in Christ does he offer you extra innings, a chance to give it all up to Him, and to let our inner core soften. And as I watch people's lives unravel in front of me, they are looking for something as a solution, when it is really a someone they need-Jesus Christ. Take time today to examine your old glove, I.e. your life, and the balls that come with it. Before they fray, or rip, or begin to unravel, let God into your life. Give Him your problems, and watch as you get to play more, and enjoy it more. Use the proper equipment, and watch as you can go into extra innings without getting tired-God says they shall walk and not get weary, run and not faint. Stay the kid in God's eye, let Him be your Father, and watch as your life changes.

Come to Christ as a child, He advises. Someday we will all become adults, but we don't have to grow up. It just takes a little faith, like believing what is inside that hard rubber inner ball. If anyone knows don't tell me, there are some things you just have to experience yourself.

Trust Jesus. He is a baseball fan. Even the Bible, in Genesis One starts, "in the big inning..."

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogpsot.com