if music is the language of love-play on!

When you stop and think about it, walking by faith is much easier. As I look back on all the times I worried and fretted, it seems like such a waste of time and emotions that I didn't just trust God. He was going to bless me anyway, why make my life so difficult? For all those who talk about faith but don't exhibit it-it is God's faithfulness not ours that changes things, it is our benevolent creator and savior who gives us life, and promises to fulfill it if only we follow Him and obey. We get the follow part OK, isn't it nice when God agrees with us? Truth be told, we are to agree with Him, it is the obedience part we don't deal with very well. And only in the spirit will we ever get it!

For me, I started to get it at a Santana concert at the Felt Forum, the little theatre at the New Madison Square Garden. Even before I was saved, the music moved me. After watching Ike and Tina Turner as the opening act, I really wanted to see Santana. In this day before paying huge amounts of money to watch a concert on a BIG screen, you just couldn't see her act well from the audience. She hadn't made it big yet as she was the latter part of "and". So at around 1100pm, remember concerts used to have late shows, Santana came out and played some of their hits, and some new songs. WOW! And then the disappointment set in, as they jammed for the next 90 minutes. I didn't go to hear them practice, or jam-I wanted to hear the songs I knew like they sounded on the album. But it took a late night DJ on WNEW-FM to set me straight, to instruct me as to how uncool I really was. While the teenie boppers listened like I did, musicians were turned on by the jamming. And it was an awakening moment-you got to see this group fully come alive, to put their hearts into their music, and not perform for the audience, but perform for each other-feeding off each others playing. And I lost my Top 40 virginity that night, and music hasn't been the same since. It has been better!

Last Saturday at a car show we saw a Beach Boys tribute band play. Their music was OK, but the yellow striped shirts made them look like pansies. And although they sounded like a 45rpm record, it had no heart, no style. Lots of notes, but no music. As I thought back to other tribute bands I had seen, not particularly by choice, I was reminded the real thing is always the best. A Rolling Stones tribute band was playing at 6am at a Love Ride a few years back, and even with an audience of 20,000 bikers-it was still too early in the morning to hear a simulated Mick and Keith play. Way too early. When in Cancun, an Eagles tribute band played-good musically, but some words don't translate well from Spanglish to English-and as much as we tried to hide the giggles, that is what I mostly remember.

Give me 90 minutes of jamming, or like in the south a juke joint. Start playing when the first guy arrives, and close down when the last guy leaves. The night being about the music-not the audience. We just get to visit and enjoy-these guys will play whether anyone shows up or not!

Lately when I think of a tribute band, I think of our Worship team at church. Is it possible that worship teams are really the original tribute bands? For in their music they play tribute to Jesus, for it is all about Him. I watch as John Wickham allows each musician to follow the spirit, and somehow when they all are worshipping God, the music is spirit filled. Music from the heart, the only way it should be played. Faithfully-no matter how large the crowd, for the audience is always just one person to them-Jesus. You see when you play to Him, the music has to sound better. The voices more angelic, and the drums rhythm tighter. Playing by faith allows them to be themselves, and watch as the talent God has given them is magnified in their worship. Trusting God while playing, and playing faithfully to Him. Maybe that is the key to faithfulness-love. Not worrying about performing for man, but being yourself in Christ. Truly a new creature, the old one never would pour all the energy and love into an audience of lesser beings. It takes faith, built on confidence in God, and trusting Him that no matter how bad you play, He still loves you. Again-why He tells us to come as children. Thinking back my boys banging on pots and pans was great music to me-they were playing it for me! Can we live for Christ the same way? Playing for Him?

There are no rules in faith. No missed chords, no tribute bands. The only tribute is when you keep your eyes on the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. He is the music in your life. So sing to Him today. Put Christian words into old songs, and while you sing to Him, He will minister to you. Watch as He does for you, like He did for Joseph, turning bad into good. So sing as if your life depends on it-for it does!

It is not the notes that turns a person into a musician, it is the song and how it is played. And it is not laws that make us a Christian, it is a daily walk with Jesus in the spirit. A lesson learned 40 years ago from a secular disc jockey, who never heard of Jesus. But understood what gives life to music. We know better-for we know the one who gives life. Jesus Christ-put Him in the first groove and let Him wail! A live album-and you are there to hear it!

Makes you think. I know how some of us sound. And God still loves it. Maybe nothing is too hard for the Lord!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

"why you doing that? How you gonna know how much gas you need if you pay first?"

While getting ready for our next trip, I was reflecting on places we have been to in the past. Places that when you mention them, the person asks "where's that?" Places you don't fly to to avoid, but that you ride to because they are along the way. Not out of the way, but destinations while you are on your way, for that is the best way to travel, and live life. I have found, that the off the tourist route trips are generally the best. And also the most blessings are found there when least expected. Take a step back in time, or into reality, and go for a ride. And like the shirt says, the trip is the destination. So, let's ride!

Say you wish to go to Greenfield Village in Dearborn, Michigan. You can fly and be there in hours, or ride, and take five days. Easy choice, huh? Five days it is. And along the way, you get to see Grand Canyon, Santa Fe, Boulder Canyon, Cheyenne, Mount Rushmore, the Badlands, Lambeau Field, the Upper Peninsula , and finally arrive at your destination. Refreshed and ready to go. Each one a destination in itself for a vacation, you just got an extra nine vacations just by riding there yourself. Plus got to meet some of the nicest people along the way. Who shared other places to see, roads to ride, and places to eat. And eat some great local meals, with the locals, too. Tough choice I know, when you consider how much fun it is to fly. Just the thought of standing in lines, being body searched, and where is my bag with the travelers checks makes me avoid plane travel altogether, doesn't it you? But we both made it to Greenfield Village. Only one took a trip, the other an adventure. You decide which is which.

What is Greenfield Village you ask? Around the turn of the century, Henry Ford decided to build a living museum based on farm life in the late 1800's. Not just any buildings though, houses like Noah Webster's, the Wright Brothers, and the Firestone farm. All historical, and all set in a park like setting. Eat lunch in an 1850's inn with no power, just candlelight. Great food, great atmosphere. Ride around in a Model T, or a Conestoga wagon. Ride the train, but look out for hot cinders, it's a steam engine. Watch the horses plow the fields, and wish you could play with the kids rolling their barrel hoops. Or just sit and eat an ice cream cone and watch life pass you by. At a pace you choose. A great relaxing day, made even more so by the five day ride that preceded it.

If the mention of Ohio makes you think of the Cuyahoga on fire, the congestion in Columbus, or the more cops per mile interstate, try the Ohio River Valley. And be thankful your friends are so narrow minded and went elsewhere. Less traffic without them. Hills, turns, and the river always nearby. Flowers and trees. Rest stops to rest and watch. Stop and look at huge barges carrying goods. Watch as speed boats with water skiers fly by. Stop and eat at a drive-in where the waitresses still come to the car. Real milk shakes, not just a shake. And relax, which is why we vacate, right? Sit on some chairs on Main Street, and visit with others as they pass by. Talk with others, and become part of their day. Listen to kids tell you about the things they've seen. How did I manage to miss them? Maybe even go down by the river, and skim some stones. Far away from the lines at Disneyland, but in the real towns that they patterned Main Street USA after. No actors, just folk. No admittance charge, just a kind wave and firm handshake, no longer a stranger, but a friend.

Sometimes we forget that life is worth the living. We are so intent on getting to heaven, we forget about life along the way. The wonderful trip that God has planned for us gets mired down as life interferes. But it doesn't have to be that way, it is your choice. I am often asked "how do you find these places?" And I wonder how you don't. They are everywhere, just get off the freeway. Stop at a general store and listen to the talk. But it takes getting out and off. Out of your status quo, and off your duff. Just like your Christian walk.

Why fall into the trap of thinking you must go out and witness, when you can be out witnessing the beauty around you? And meeting others, and sharing with them. God appoints these times, sometimes just for you. Don't be so heavenly minded, you miss the gift that God has put before you that day. Tired of northern manna, go south. Too much burger and bun, try local favorites. Not all God's blessings come wrapped in wax paper. Some are piled on the plate by the spoonful. Seconds, anyone? No extra charge.

Enjoy the life that Jesus Christ promises you. An abundance that can't be found in an airport, or chain restaurant. A meal for half the price, but twice the food, and triple the flavor. No charge for the memories. No gift shop except the picture the waitress takes for you. Or even more special, a picture with the waitress. A moment in time that makes you want to ride 200 miles out of your way just for another. But realizing that the 200 miles is never out of the way, but always on the way. Other places just get in your way.

Jesus tells us He is the way. Trust Him with your travel plans. You do for heaven, don't you? He is the truth. Never had a bad meal yet anywhere He led us. And He is the life. Life to be fulfilled. Life to explore. Life to see all He has for you. Everyday-with three day weekends and vacations at no extra charge.

Remember the people. They are what makes the place. Last year when going in to prepay for gas in Missouri, the girl behind the counter asks, "why you doing that? How you gonna know how much gas you need if you pay first?" Think about that for a minute.

Remember the person, Jesus. Take Him along. Your destination is confirmed with Him, so go on and enjoy the trip. Like He says to. Enjoy life in remembrance of Him. And as you go, you will be amazed at the divine times He has appointed you. Just because He loves you. That's life.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

holding hands ain't for sissies

I was in the garage when the stretch limo pulled up next door. Not paying much attention, until the driver stopped to talk about my bikes, I saw it was for Jake, my neighbor's son's thirteenth birthday. And he and his friends were going out in the limo. And as I noticed the girls in one group, and the boys in another, I laughed inside. I wanted to tell him this was the best time of his life and to enjoy it. But this wise old sage of romance wisely decided to keep his mouth shut. There are some things that are best being found out by yourself, and when they returned it looked like the first lesson had taken place, as one or two of them had paired off with girls, and had crossed over into the battleground called puberty. And I remembered what a long, strange trip it had been.

Her name was Chris, and I met her in study hall. One of her friends had told me she thought I was cute, and so I said "she's pretty," and the romance began. Almost. My friend Guy, who was way cool, was having a party, and invited her because I would be there. For almost a week I couldn't wait until the party, and then Thursday night hit. I was going to meet a girl. I know nothing about them. What do I talk about? What if she giggled? What if..... So as the prepubescent glands went into over load, so did I. Double Clearasil emergency. And that night at the party, I stood in one side of the basement with my friends, while she stood on the other side with hers. My worst dreams realized.

With all my sophisticated, never have dated friends asking "when are you going over and talk to her?" And all her friends asking, "what's the matter with him, when is he coming over and talk to you?" It finally took Michael Cohen and his big mouth to embarrass me and over I went. Forgetting all of the lines I had rehearsed, I blurted out something romantic like "Hi. Having fun?"

To which she lied, "Yes." "Would you like a Coke?" She did. "Would you like to sit on the sofa?" She did and so we did. "Isn't Cohen a jerk?" She agreed. I had started a real live conversation, with a girl, and we agreed on four things. What a great conversationalist. Maybe this whole girl thing wasn't as complicated as I thought. Maybe I had panicked for nothing. I only wish it hadn't taken me over 2 1/2 hours to get up the courage to go over and find out. So for the last 45 minutes of the party we talked, on the sofa, next to each other-I had never sat so close to a girl before, and when it came time for her mother to pick her up, I walked her outside. Still in the dark. And somehow our hands touched, and I was hold hands-with a girl. And she even introduced me to her mother, who had seen the hand holding, and started a tradition of girl friend's mothers who took a disliking to me. Thirteen year old girls in Scotch Plains didn't indulge in such activities. This was all too much for one night.

But somehow she managed to convince her mother that it was OK to meet me at Guy's the next afternoon and watch the Jets on TV. "Yes, it will be chaperoned," she fibbed, in the name of love, Guy and his girl friend assuming the title, and while we watched football, they chaperoned-and kissed. And having lost all of the courage and savvy with women I had the night before, we talked. While Guy and his girlfriend made out. And just before half time, it happened. Somehow our lips quit talking and touched. Our first kiss! Now we had another thing in common, as we both had never kissed before. And it showed. But by the third quarter, this too had been mastered. And in just 24 hours, I was a man! Just don't hide my Clearasil! I didn't even know who won the game, and I didn't care either.

And for most of eighth grade we were Mike and Chris, until her mother made her stay home one Saturday to study, which we didn't do most nights, it would have cut into our time on the phone together. And I made the mistake of going over to her friend Kyle's house, who did study on school nights, keeping weekends open, and that was it. Never trust a girl who does her homework. And the greatest romance ever at Terrill Junior High was over. And so were the benefits of being Chris' boyfriend, for now all her friends hated me too. No more girlfriend. No more Mr. Cool with my own woman. I had tasted love at the junior high level, my first love, and lost it! And I was heartbroken. And so was she. This wasn't supposed to happen. Guy, what do I do now?

It was many girlfriends and many years later I was to read about a letter Jesus sent to the Ephesian church. A letter telling them how they had left their first love. And I remembered Chris. Hey, maybe there is something to this Jesus thing. But their loss was more than a teenage fancy, they had turned their backs on Jesus, who had saved them. Life had overtaken them, as it sometimes does, and they had succumbed to life, instead of keeping Jesus first. Sin, or another type of Kyle had entered their life, and they had lost their first love. It was the Chris thing all over again. And with it, all the joy that only God can bring to a life. But Jesus invited them back, to be forgiven. And I am sure many did, and were welcomed, but some always seem to be over burdened by bitterness, and choose alternatives instead of forgiveness. Sadly believing the lie that God would never forgive them.

I am sad when I hear of brothers and sisters who turn their back on God, their first love. And replace it with things such as jobs, careers, girlfriends, and money. I even heard of a guy replacing God's love with motorcycles. If you can believe that! And I pray they turn to and return to their first love, as He never left them. For He has shown me that when I put Him first, He adds everything else to my life. Including my wife of 33 years. And let me tell you, based on previous experience of many broken hearts and unreturned ID bracelets, which can get expensive, it is easier and better to stay with Jesus as your first love. Amd when Theresa and I keep Him first in our marriage, the blessings go on-more than we could ever ask for or imagine.

So keep the main thing the main thing-the first love your best love. Trust God with your life and watch as He adds all the things to it you never knew you desired, and far beyond your wildest expectations. Obedience is still far superior to sacrifice. He says that too. And as much fun as those teen years were, I shudder ever having to repeat them over again. Stick with your first love. Never leave it. And if you are looking for a first love, choose the one who first loved you. So much that He died for you.

And yes, after 33 years, my beautiful wife still thinks I'm cute. Maybe it's true what they say, love is blind! Keep Jesus first, and she will always have eyes only for you. Love lesson number one, to the Ephesians. Whoever we may be.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogpsot.com

help wanted, not yours

Have you ever tried to fix something broken and ended up with more problems than when you started? After taking something apart, then putting it back together, exactly, do you have extra parts? Have you ever looked at a problem and said, "piece of cake, I'll fix it," and ended up spending twice as much when a professional ends up repairing your mistake? If so, welcome to my world. Where simple projects can be turned into huge repair bills, and simple projects turned into weekends of turmoil, all because of my help. Add in the pride damage and many times you would have been smarter just to throw the thing out and start over. Which looking back, just adds to the pain, and the legacy.

I have changed oil at night before a trip, only to watch the floor get lubricated because I can't find the drain plug, I thought I had replaced. Lost keys-I found them right where I left them-like, duh? Remember the last time you trimmed the hedges, and cut the cord on the trimmer. Cool sparks. But having a half trimmed hedge only advertised to the neighbors your lack of skills. Which is still cheaper than replacing the tip of your finger, or falling off the ladder you were too lazy to move. And I have even watched a woman turn blue when visiting her in the hospital, saddened that she may die in front of me. Only to save her life, when she grabbed me and told me I was standing on her oxygen line. No wonder the alarms were going off!

It seems there is no end to what I/we can do when placed in a situation to help. No amount of destruction can be ruled out when tools are placed by me, and be warned now-evacuate if I pick them up. For you see, as I get older, I not only find I know less than I think, but I am able to do less than my ego tells me. "Lead by example," I was told. My answer-"don't watch!" An accident waiting to happen, a precursor of an ER visit, and a legacy of I told you so's! So I have finally learned, let someone else do it. Paying one time is much cheaper than paying for it twice. And also saves time. And although the wallet damage may be more than I expected, the damage not done to the ego and pride is more than compensating. And where better to hide evidence of me being there, if someone else does it? Maybe there is a lesson in this. God are trying to tell me something?

I seem to be on everyone's donation list of late. More people it seems are getting called of God to go out and minister. If only, they raise the funds! Maybe He doesn't know about the recession going on. No money doesn't mean no ministry. Although many interpret that as such. I have even gotten letters that if you don't give, I can't go, and that would upset God. Remember that guy Roberts who begged for money or God would call him home to heaven? He preached faith, but rather have money than heaven. Take me home Lord, I'm ready. Don't let money interfere with your desire to bless me. And I watch as those involved in ministry become a slave to those who do supply the needed money. And I cannot find it in scripture where we are supposed to become a slave to others. Especially when money is involved. When God called me into ministry, He promised me manna in my garage. Manna in my refrigerator, and manna for my mortgage. Not convinced about that, I talked to some elder types, and those in ministry. Their advice-send out letters to raise funds. So I prayed again, and once again God told me-"He would take care of my needs." What He wanted from me was obedience. Maybe raising funds would have been easier.

But then He assured me that He would meet my needs, and not to ask. He had already budgeted for them. "If you ask for it, it isn't a gift. And I like to give good gifts." And when you find Jesus' instructions to His disciples, He told them only take what you have on you, no extra money or food, and He would provide. No book sales, no bake sales, and no laying the burden on others or your church. If He calls, He will provide. Only by helping will you hinder His plans. So I haven't and He has been faithful. Which upset the head of a larger ministry having a fundraiser. I asked him where was the scripture for fund raising, and he glared at me. When I told Him my testimony, he walked away. At the very least, lousy etiquette when asking for money.

Where God guides He provides. He doesn't need your help. He has never asked for mine, probably because He knows me so well. But He also has allowed me to be a blessing in ways I never would have asked for or imagined. That's scriptural. And that's God. So don't let money get between you and God's blessings.

You may have a rich uncle who can help, but it doesn't compare to a rich and loving Father, who makes all of His resources available to you. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. And without Him I can do nothing. And you will never see the righteous begging or their children going hungry. Manna He calls it. Love is what I prefer to know it as. And it has a name-Jesus. So it's personal.

Talk with your heavenly Dad today. Better yet, listen to your heavenly Father. Be a blessing instead of a liability. Be a debtor to no man, and watch as God supplies all your needs according to His riches and glory, in Jesus Christ. If God calls, He also will provide all your needs.

Now if I can just remember that the next time the plumbing leaks. Or I offer to fix something I shouldn't. Self inflicted wounds hurt the most. Trust God. Self inflicted blessings are much better, but still no comparison to what God has planned for us.

And that leaves more time to go riding. Now that's a blessing!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

"have it His way..."

Face it, you live in a hamburger, fries, and a Coke world. The most basic of American meals, except to the straying Vegan, we all worship at the altar of ground beef. Add in fried potatoes-we used to call them French Fries, and a Coke, or diet, and you have the most basic of all meals served in America. Ever have a Big Mac attack? Sometimes you just have to have those two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun. Which Bob's Big Boy perfected years before the Kroc invasion. But just having the desire for a burger can confuse the palate for which one it will take to satisfy the taste buds at that particular moment.

Why does a Double Double taste so different than a Steak and Shake burger? What makes Wendy's so desirable sometimes? How come Five Guys customers wait in line for 30 minutes? It's all meat isn't it? Why when going through New Mexico last week did I have to have a Lot A Burger, with green chile, at Blakes? Why does a burger from my friends at White Diamond in Clark sound so good? Do you think it's possible to sneak a White Castle bag of burgers past my wife? Did you know they are steamed? Different choices for different moods and tastes, yet only Burger King advertises "have it your way." Which only confuses me.

With all these choices to make, why do so many stick with Mickey D's when a Bakers is just next door? Or travel from coast to coast, eating their fine, paper wrapped cuisine, when there are so many other choices, and better ones at that? It seems that when away from home, there is a security in eating at Mick's. You may not care for a rubbery cheeseburger, but at least you know what to expect. What would, or could happen if I stopped at a What a Burger, and it wasn't? What if I was from California, and they put mustard on my burger, and ketchup on my hot dog? Could I survive the insecurity that would come from that first bite? What if-it was different? But what if, it really tasted better, and I couldn't get one like that at home? Do I move? Give up burgers all together? So we stick with what is familiar, and in our world of domestic cuisine, never wander far from the golden arches. Never knowing, but always wondering, just like Columbus did, what if the world isn't really flat? What if local burgers have local flavor, and taste different? Would my friends believe me? How would I ever recover from my new found taste delight?

Believe it or not, we all walk by faith, even when it comes to a pattie of meat. We also walk by sight, smell, and how much does it cost, and how good are the fries. And our walk with Christ can get as boring as the same meal, night after night. When God provided manna for the Jews on their migration, they got bored with it. "Not Carl's Jr. again," they would complain. "Let's go back to Egypt, better food, and yes we are slaves there, but we can choose from the menu." Never trusting God to fully develop their taste buds for manna, and complaining instead of asking for a peek at the heavenly cookbook that came with it.

Today many mainline churches have gone the franchise route with God. Stay within the guidelines of the franchise, and you will be successful. Your attendance with be steady, your income will be sufficient, and no one will get upset with trusting God, they will be safe and secure within the religious experience you provide. But you will never know what God has for you. It takes a brave pastor to follow God. And go against his denomination. It takes a man of God to open communion to all believers, not just those who attend his church on a regular basis. It takes a man of God to trust God when God puts a new spirit in Him. When he could have a plain burger, but wants the Double Chubby Chuck relationship with God. For we truly walk by faith, trusting a God we can't see, feel, or touch, but who we know is there based on His spirit dwelling within us.

Are you getting fed, but leaving empty? Have memorized the menu, but never experienced a full meal deal? Why do your friends leave their church full and fed? Ask God. Tell Him you want more than the basics given out in repetition. You want the biggest, juiciest burger of God available. You want all the blessings, and yes, all the calories too. You want to be overfilled, just like your milkshake glass. But by the spirit of a living God. You want more Jesus than you ever had, and less religion. When asked if you had enough, be free to answer, "I want more!" And then let God fill you in ways you never thought possible. Leave church full, but with a "I can't wait for Wednesday night" attitude, still hungry so that you need another spiritual meal by Wednesday. Just enough flavor left in your beard, so you just have to have more. Become involved, instead of just a steady customer. Eat from the tree of life seven days a week, and experience new and exciting meals other churches tell you don't exist. Be brave enough to know all the songs without the songbook. Then, hand me a menu God, I want more!

And forget about going back into captivity-you have found the freedom in Christ that He promises to each one who calls on Him. And don't keep this new found freedom within the four walls of the church. Cruise the drive-up-get Jesus to go, and take his love outside of a building. Never forget, he is a God on the go, or you never would have gotten to where you are going in the first place. Or where you are going to go from here. Don't be a Jack in the Box Christian-take Jesus with you wherever you go. Share a burger of His love with a friend, and watch as you both never hunger and thirst again. He has been known to feed the 5000 more than once. With short supplies. No other franchise can do that. Don't you think He has a meal just for you? You will never know if you don't ask. Jesus Christ-still the best and only real meal deal out there. Make Him personal today.

Hey, can I have fries with that?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

no Monopoly on grace

I used to love to play Monopoly. You know, the game born out of the depression, that allows you to buy properties, then charge rent when others land on them. It must have been fun for Depression era families to play, exacting money from their playmates, getting a break from the real world where they had to pay to others. A source of relief, even if it was just a game. And available today in versions from Harley to Barbie. The games have changed, just not the rules.

Which we used to make up, for us. Rules like the $100 bill on Free Parking, and paying all fines to the middle. And winning the pot when you landed on it. Not found in the rules. How about $100 for snake eyes? Nope. Three straight doubles and you go to jail? Can't find it. Mortgage all your properties, yet still collect rents? Now that's real life, isn't it? Just not in the rules. And so maybe Monopoly, but not its rules, really does duplicate real life.

And I find many wishing to make up rules, or bend them for their own benefit. Some are sad, and some are sadder. I got a prayer request about a man this week. He has health problems from being 200 pounds overweight. He lost his job, so lost his health insurance. He has so many tickets, he can't pay them. His divorce has caused relationship problems, affecting his family. My first thought when I responded was, these are all self inflicted wounds. And I was told no, that this man knows the Bible, and is well respected among the church. Then I really cheesed them off by saying he has a pride problem. No reply to that one-yet. For like those of us making up rules to the games, he is making up rules for his life. Based on pride, which is very subtle, but always denied when confronted. And always ends is disaster.

I watched as Congressman Weiner got caught in an adulterous affair with numerous women on Twitter. When caught he claimed full responsibility, a noble thing. But didn't apologize, or even change his heart. Now that he claims full responsibility for one sin, and then lying to cover it up, he wants life to go on as normal. I'm just glad I didn't vote for him, or marry a guy like that. What kind of lessons did he teach his kids in this? Don't be stupid, you won't get caught. That's nice.

I also went to a funeral of a friend this week. Her husband, an obnoxious drunk, blamed her family for her death. And did everything he could to keep them out of the service. Cruelty, even in the face of death, I cannot even imagine what she went through living with him. All over money, her dad's, and how he was out to get it. No morals, no rules, not even a plan. Just greed, to the point of having a full on Catholic service, just to make her family sit through it and show how religious she was. Catholic or not, I would be embarrassed if I was called to be part of this. And I am sure the priest would have refused the request if he knew the hatred behind it. Using the name of God in vain, God, who is love. Do you think there were any blessings there?

And these three examples make me sad. I am not impressed by those who know the word, but live the word. This man with the self inflicted wounds needs to repent. Turn to God, and go the right direction. Weiner-repent. Turn from your evil ways, and choose God. And widower, turn from your greed to God, for when you die you will leave the same amount your wife did-everything!

And yet, in every instance, pride goes before the fall. And it still raises its ugly head to me everyday. You think you are so holy, aren't you? No-I realize I can screw up at any moment. But I turn to God for help, and forgiveness. I truly know that the more I learn, the less I find I know. I can do all things through Christ that strengthens me, but nothing without Him. And any success I have in ministering is really Jesus, shining His light through me in that situation. Sometimes despite me. I cannot heal the sick, or raise the dead. Or have faith to move mountains. But I know Him, and He does and can. Isn't it about time you realize it really is all about Him, and not you?

Pray for these mentioned above, for God finds no joy in the death of the wicked. And we all can hit the stupid button at any moment. Trust God, who loves us despite us. Who wishes to lead the overweight man to lose weight, to see his debts paid, and for his family to be reconciled. He wishes for Weiner to be an example of love covering a multitude of sin, and how Jesus can change a heart. And he wishes for greed to leave and give way to giving, where the real riches and blessings are. And in every case, it is up to these people to turn to God, repent, and follow Jesus. Simple enough, even a biker can do it.

Life isn't Monopoly, you can't change the rules to suit you or your situation. But you can start over from scratch, and that chance is given to you right now by the God of the universe Himself. A rule change will not change your heart, but a change of heart sure will change the rules. It is called mercy and grace-given in abundance, from a God who loves you just as you are. And who proves it daily in His love for you.

A hotel on Boardwalk won't get you into heaven. And no card will get you out of jail, free. Life is not a game. It is better to live by grace than rules. For if not for God's grace, there go I.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

pet peeves

Whoever started the rumor that dog was man's best friend was pretty close when they made the call. For throughout the ages, mine at least, dogs have been a loyal companion, a hero at times, there when no one else would be, and like the saying says, a friend. And many famous dogs, courtesy of Hollywierd, have become famous. Rin Tin Tin, Bullet, Scooby Doo, and of course Lassie, who never seemed to be far from danger when it occurred. Which makes you wonder, was the dog cursed? Why was it she was always there when danger occurred? But from mine explosions to runaway bulls, Lassie would save the day, and in less than 30 minutes, and at no cost to the taxpayer. Where is she now that we need her most?

But forgotten in this legacy of canines, goes a non-descript dog from Kansas, that preceded all of the above. Going by the simple moniker of Toto, he was not only all of the above, but well travelled too. So how could we have overlooked this furry little dog, so underestimated that his legacy is reduced to one sentence from Dorothy, "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore." Which he already knew, by the way, for he was no dummy.

And it was after they landed in Munchkin land, and took up with her three, new outcasts, that his true character began to show. The Scarecrow who needed a brain-Toto already had one. He slyly looked behind the curtain to see the sham of a Wizard, if ever a wiz he was, Toto was more. He was able to unmask him, and allow the others to get their wishes. Stealth and cunning, he was also the first to find the Wicked Witch of the East. They don't make dogs like that in Hollyweird anymore.

The Tin Man only wanted a heart, again Toto had him beat. He stood by Dorothy when she was scared, and took her famous somewhere over the rainbow ride with her. And when no one else stood by her, he was ready to leave town with her-add adventurous to his credit list.

Ahh, the Cowardly Lion. Had it not been for Toto, who unmasked the great and powerful Oz, he would be still hiding in the forest. It took Toto's courage to make the Wicked Witch of the West proclaim, "I 'all get you, and your little dog too." If he was not a threat, why mention him? And he wasn't afraid to lead the way to Emerald City either. And when it came time for the balloon to leave, ran off the cat, and saved Dorothy from a ride to oblivion. Rescued finally by Glenda's words, "there is no place like home," which again Toto knew.

But few remember him as a fashion plate. So next time all you trendy types follow the latest 45 minute fad, and think you are so cool with a purse dog, remember it was Toto who started the craze. he was the first purse dog, way cooler than these rat sized, dog imitators that the trendy crowd insists on carrying. He rode on the back of bikes in baskets, and on the journey of a lifetime on the Yellow Brick Road-in a purse, carried by Dorothy. Take that Rodeo Drive, take that Guess jeans, and take that all you ego fed, trend following, imitators. Your purse dog style was originated in Kansas, by a farm girl, with a non-descript Cairn terrier, who looked more like a mutt. Maybe Dorothy was right, for looking back at what she started, truly Toto, you ain't in Kansas anymore. What a long strange trip it has been.

You see, Toto could have basked in all the fame, but like Abram, and his strange trip to Sodom, wanted nothing from the King, and chose not to ally himself with him. He would not accept even the smallest gift, thread from a flip flop, so he would not be in debt to him. Or owe him a favor in the future. for like Toto, Abram had character, but more importantly, he had Melchizadek's visit to intercede. He had the assurance from God that all would be taken care of him, just trust God. And I think the end justifies the means, as Abraham, his new name, made him Father Abraham-the patriarch of the Jews. Excuse me king, now what was it you have to offer?

Today you will be offered many things. Things that may sound good, that may bring you glory and recognition. Remember Toto. Unheralded, and more famous than all other screen dogs combined. And let your Abram experience with God remind you that it is all about Jesus, and not you. For if you believe in Him, you too shall do greater things, just like He promised.

Maybe dog is man's best friend, but I like it when God is my best friend. Jesus calls me friend. I like that. What does He call you? And what do you call Him? Purse dog carriers, what's in your wallet?

Heaven awaits those that believe. Dogs in heaven? You know Toto, I just don't think we will be in Kansas anymore.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot

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