call me Ishmael

It is traditional for the oldest son, usually the first born in Texas to have the nickname of Bubba.  Over the years though too many have become Bubbas, and the reference has become diluted.  But still my ears perk up when in the Lone State and I hear someone at the table being referred to as Bubba.  Within certain families it is still a respected title and position.  The Italians have their Bubba, they call him Sonny.  As in Sonny Corleone.  Being the first born gave him  a status and also a responsibility in family matters, and he like Bubba, was the first to inherit the throne when Papa passed on.  He was groomed to accept responsibility, and also got the first fruits as the oldest.  He was favored, and many enjoyed the power and position of being the first born.

We will call him Ishmael, for that is his name.  Born of Hagar, when Sarai, when she lost patience with God and His promise of a son, she told Abram to sleep with her, and they had Ishmael.  But God, being true to His promises, wasn’t done yet, and some 13 years later Isaac was born from Sarai, now Sarah.  Fulfilling His promise, His way, not Sarah’s.  Giving a party for Isaac, when he was weaned, when at the party, when others were laughing, Isaac means laughter, she heard Hagar and Ishmael mocking him, making fun of him.  And she told Abraham, “get rid of them.”  A sudden change in her had produced anger to them, and Ishmael, who once was the only child, and in line for he promise of God, was banished.  Breaking Abraham’s heart, for he loved His son.  Both his sons.  And you have to pity poor Ishmael, this Bubba of 4000 years ago.  One day the next in line, the next out of line, and on his own.  But God heard his mother’s plea, and reminded Abraham of His promise.  True, his lineage would be through Isaac, and would become the Jewish people, but Ishmael would also become the lineage of a people, the Arabs.  And since then, since that day, when the two were separated, the nations they fathered have never gotten along.  With one exception, the burial of their father, for when Abraham died, they both attended the funeral, and made peace, if only for the day.  One father, two mothers, two sons, and one promise.  Two nations.  God honoring all the promises, but finding favor with Isaac, whose name means laughter, to get the birthright over Ishmael.  But God not forgetting Ishmael, and making him a father of a great nation, just not a blessed one.  And for 4000 years, the brothers fight still continues today.

Like many, I can relate to Ishmael more than Isaac.  Living the great life, having a good time, when along comes a circumstance that changes everything.  The boss calls you in-fired.  The doctor calls you in-life flight or die.  Your house faces foreclosure, the bank wants to repo your car.  Your wife falls out of love, and wants a divorce, and suddenly all is wrong with the world.  Your world.  And too many times we look at the circumstances, instead of the cross.  We forget the promises of God, and doubt, fear, and confusion take over.  “Where is God when I need Him?”  And we become bitter, just like Ishmael.  But God never forgot, and He never forgets, He too knows the pain of losing someone.  And reminds us of Jesus, and when we turn to Him, see the promises of God fulfilled.  A choice we make, follow the Lord, and watch as He makes us a way, or become bitter, and having the doubters make fun of us.  Thinking God forgot, when it is us who forgot, and turned away.  It is the tough times that Jesus is there, and many tough times are to show His love.  He is the great physician, but you must get sick to need one.  He is the great comforter, showing compassion in times of trouble, but we see Him more in those times, how easy we forget when things go our way.  He provides when we can’t and has all along, it is foolish to think our job did, God provided that one too.  And He even shows His grace, when things get tough and we forget, He still loves us, and takes care of us.  No three strike law with grace, even Jesus answered to forgive 7x70, 490 times for us public school attendees.  What may seem to us as forgetful, is really part of the plan.  Sarah lost patience, and then banished the gift she thought she had ordained.  But Hagar, Ishmael’s mom, never forgot.  She loved her son.  And Abraham loved his son, too.

“For God so loved the world,” we quote, John 3:16, yet we forget that love is patient when things don’t go our way.  We rebel, and turn away.  Thinking we know best, that we deserve all the favor.  Yet as we know, Abraham in all this was called to sacrifice his son-only at the last minute did God intervene with the ram.  His plan all the time, but He wanted to see how much Abraham really loved Him.  So Abraham could see God’s love for Him.  After all, didn’t He promise tat Israel would be through Isaac?  Today you may be facing a trial like Abraham, and you ask “where is the ram?  Where is the promise of God?”  Fact is they never left, they are the same today, as they were yesterday, and will be tomorrow.  But you must turn to God, trust Him,and not lean on your own desires, understanding or experience.  It is in the darkest hour that light shines brightest, and God shines the brightest.  We may not all be Bubbas, or Sonny’s, but we all will have times of Ishmael.  Hang on to the promise of Jesus-“I will never leave you, nor forsake you.”  Patience leads to salvation, and out of the situation.  And the mightiest have the same testimony, Joseph in the well after being sold by his brothers, King David after the death of his son Absalom, and even God, turning out the lights on earth after the death of His son on the cross.  But where there is pain in the night, we find Joy in the morning.  Three days later Jesus rose, the grave empty.  David gets an insight to heaven, Absalom cannot come to him, but he can go to Absalom.  And Joseph becomes the next in line to Pharaoh.  And provides food for his family.  Ironic as he was the next to youngest, the 11th son, and became the Bubba, or Sonny of the family.  Got has a plan for all you Josephs, Absaloms, Ishmaels, and every Tom, Dick, and Harry.  For all who call on His name, will be saved.  And delivered, something the lesson of Ishmael reminds us of. 

So don’t wait until a funeral to get back with God.  Don’t let it take a catastrophe like Ishmael did to gain your inheritance.  It is available right now, let God be God, and all men liars.  And watch as when you seek Him first, then all things will be added unto you.  It works in Texas, and for Bubbas everywhere, and even for the Godfather.  Jesus, now that is an offer God makes that you can’t refuse! God hasn’t forgotten about you, take the time to turn to Him today.  Abraham was over 100 years old at the time, and God honored Him.  I hope you don’t have to wait that long, but if you do, you aren’t alone.  The wait is worth it, and heaven awaits. It will all seem so short in eternity, so let’s begin now.  Today in Christ, is truly the first day of the rest of your life.  Call me Ishmael, for I am blessed.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspto.com

I grew up there and I still don't know where it is

We’ve been to Mayberry, in fact we spent a night there.  At least the town that Andy Griffith based his long running series on, and the town is Mt. Airy, North Carolina.  They even have a mountain named Pilot Mountain.  And the town is all about being Mayberry.  And when entering the Exeter Mercantile in Exeter, California, some 3000 miles west, we were greeted by the owner, “welcome to Mayberry.”  Go figure.  How many have been to Metropolis, aka New York City, the Big Apple?  And did you know the Daily Planet Building is really in Los Angeles, and is three buildings-the opening shot is the E. Clem Wilson Building, the front door is of an unnamed building a few doors down on Wilshire, and of course Los Angeles City Hall is them most famous shot we all remember.  Look up in the sky, it’s a bird, it’s a plane...it’s LA!  Ever visit the Beav and Wally at 211 Pine Street, Mayfield, USA?  No state given, but Leave it to Beaver fans can claim it in many states. Watching the show I feel as if I have been down that street many times...maybe I have.  There are eight towns called Mayfield in the United States.   A rerun of Starsky and Hutch the other night showed BCPD on their jackets, Bay City PD, which is really San Pedro, south of Los Angeles. Many Bay City residents from Michigan to Texas take note.  And of course the most famous address in Malibu, 29 Cove Road belongs to Jim Rockford, been there many times, and courtesy of a wide angle lens, it looks bigger on TV than it is.  The real address is really Paradise Cove Road, and the restaurant there will not let you park unless you eat there-sorry Rockford fans, and on the occasion we did, the food was OK, but no where near enough to warrant a return. Sorry Jimmy.  Note this also the beach where Gidget surfed.

They say everything is bigger in Texas, and maybe  it is true.  Been to Southfork, home of the Ewing’s?  My wife has, and it is again made to be larger than it really is using a wide angle lens.  But it is in Texas.  Just as Miami in Miami Vice is, and Boulder where Mork and Mindy lived-again been by the house.  So it seems there are many places we grew up with on TV and have been to many times, but we still don’t know where they are.  Not on any GPS, map, or not even a local to ask directions, they exist only on film and in our memories.  And due to reruns we can go there just about any night of the week.  Sometimes trading reality for the 25-50 minutes of show minus ads, retreating to a world where Ward always tells Beaver the right thing, Andy knows best, and Jimmy catches the real crook.  Starsky burns through another set of tires, and Mr. Kent returns from the store room.  And JR puts another deal together, and we al cheer his badness.  But in real life, we have towns like Poway, Scotch Plains, Hillside, Yonkers, and Farmington.  Towns where families raise kids, and then they go off to seek their fame and fortune elsewhere.  Towns that never grow in population, but remain steady, with no real reason to leave, and no real reason to stasy either.  And if not for us living there, they have no real reason to exist.  Everytown, USA, bed room communities, and fly over America, which is where most of us live.  Whoever came out of these places?

The same question was asked of Jesus.  He was a Nazarene, and Nazareth was a town of no reputation.  They wondered “can anything good come out of Nazareth?”  He was just Joe and Mary’s kid, with a brother or two, who helped in his dad’s carpentry business.  But was to go on to great things, once He left Nazareth.  We are never told how much of an influence Nazareth had on Jesus, but we know what kind of influence Jesus had on Nazareth,, and the rest of the world.  An example worth following and repeating, wherever God has us now , or will be sending us.  From Texas to Pennsylvania, to New Jersey, back to Pennsylvania, Florida, New Mexico, Colorado, back to New Mexico, and then to California, my course was not plotted by me, but by God.  And someday to heaven-again reserved by God.  For where we are now is not our final destination, we are only passing through, sojourners-I like that word.  And we can leave an impact on those we meet on this trip.  Just like Jesus left an imprint on our lives. 

I am lousy at giving directions, but can get you there.  I don’t remember road names, but landmarks, and where to turn, where to eat, and where to stay.  Many times places not on any map, places in the middle of nowhere, but in the middle of someone’s life.  So I try to take Jesus’ advice to the disciples, “as you go, preach the gospel.”  An ongoing gospel, to whoever, wherever you are.  Using words when needed, and watching as Jesus changes lives along the way.  You many never visit the Cleavers, a perfect family, but you will encounter Eddie Haskell’s, who need Jesus.  You may be sitting on a park bench, and someone come up to you and pour out their life, like has happened to us.  Somehow they knew you would listen, and love them.  You may never see Paradise Cove, but can encourage someone about the Paradise the thief on the cross went to that Jesus promised him.  So don’t feel lost when you remember these towns you grew up with, but have no idea where they are.  They are where you are, and where you are going.   A trip to heaven, with many stops along the way.  And someday we will look up into the sky, and it won’t be a bird, it won’t be a plane, but it will be a super man.  It will be Jesus calling us home.  Riding along getting our kicks on Route 66, watching the sunset over Paradise Cove, and seeing the sun rise on Miami.  No vice, just life.  Wherever you live, so does Jesus.  Invite Him into your home, and accept the offer to visit His.  All who believe will go there someday...and I still don’t know where it is-glad He will show me the way.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

fast girls and cars

An old adage, cleaned up for our readers states, “if it has wheels or a skirt it will break your heart.”  And as many of us know, it will also break your wallet.  So when it came to where our hard earned after school dollars went, many us of chose the wheels over the skirts.  At least for a while, as no one, even the nerdiest had your parents pick up your date, it just wasn’t done.  So the car came before the date, in alphabetical order, and also social order.  And soon we found out that no matter how cool you thought your wheels were, there was someone whose wheels were cooler.  Sadly learned when your date talked about the cooler car next to you at the drive-in, or cancelled and you saw her in it, at the drive-in, while she was home washing her hair.  Add some speed, and soon fast cars were the draw for the girls, with Corvettes, Boss Mustangs, Z-28’s, and 55 Chevies ruling the pecking order as a young man.  Much different today as I see little 4 door Japanese sedans, where have all the convertibles gone, where are all the V-8’s, have girls finally gotten faster than cars?  How far have we fallen from racing stripes, hood lock pins, Wide Oval tires, Cragar SS mags, and open headers?  What is the attraction of a car that was designed to haul your family, and whose motor sounds like a sewing machine?  Have we become a nation of sedans in what used to be a convertible world?  I figure society has just taken a hard left into the abyss, where men shave their heads and women think it is sexy, they drive little sedans with stereos having more power than their engines, and listen to hip hop.  I miss the days of fast cars, and girls in knee socks, short skirts, and sweaters.  Maybe I am showing my age, maybe you are showing yours.  Or maybe I was part of it....

It is 1975, and Garry Brown has just built a custom van as an engineering project for his engineering degree at Bucknell.  A 1973 Chevy van 10, it has two layers of shag carpet, two 8 tracks, an ice box, American Racing mag wheels, and side pipes.  Powered by a 307, low horsepower V-8.  A cool van, I bought it, but low on power, but somehow high on sex appeal, as girls loved it.  Maybe it brought out the bad girl in them, the legends far exceeded reality.  I was living with Cakers, a few years older, and his peer group were professionals.  IE, they had jobs.  He invited me to a party one night, and I followed him in the van, hoping to score early and leave.  Which I did, being introduced as the guy who rides motorcycles, I was a real bad boy.  And soon Maggie, school teacher Maggie and all her beauty was talking to me.  Afraid of bikes, she was suddenly intrigued when she asked if I knew who owned the van, and even more interested when I told her me.  Now Cakers had warned me how shallow she was, but between sexual drive, her willingness, and the van, I didn’t hear a word he said.  But fortunately, before we left the party together I heard hers.  She was in love with the van, and “was willing to endure me to get a ride in it,” I overheard her tell her friend.  She was using me, the roles were reversed.  Silently I went into my “I’ll show you” mode, and off we went.  I even let her drive for awhile, and then we drove off to the river, where people parked for romance.  Finding a spot, we waded into the river, and all she could talk of was the van, and I was tired of it.  So skillfully making an excuse to get something from the van, I went back, got in and left.  Leaving her in the river vanless....a victory for all of us who had been used by a pretty face, more interested in our wheels than us.  And back to the party I went, and when some asked “where’s Maggie?” I told them she went swimming, and would call them tomorrow.  The last party I was invited to by Cakers, but his friends were all impressed by the statement I had made.  Never did hear from Maggie though, sold the van after that.  Still ride motorcycles, so does my wife of 36 years.  Proving there are two kinds of girls, those you date, and those you marry, I hope you make the some great choice I did.

Now I like to think I taught Maggie a lesson, I am sure her version is different.  And to her friends she was the victim, to my friends I was the victim, but ended the hero.  So it is good to know your audience before you tell the story, and always better to listen to both sides before making a decision.  Using the wisdom Solomon had when dealing with two women arguing over ownership of a baby, but only one the true mother.  So he offered to cut it in half, give each half to a one claiming to be the mother, the true mother loving her child so much she was willing to give it over, rather than to see it killed, or even shared.  God feels that way about you, He doesn’t want to cut you up, or off, so sent Jesus to show the way back, to be the only way to Him.  Letting us make the decision, for some easy, for some still debating, and for some total rejection.  Listening to others opinions, letting them become a burden instead of going with the truth.  They are like Maggie, wanting a ride, but not counting the cost.  And when caught in their own lies, pay the price.  Fast girls and cars, a sure equation for disaster, even worse in a van.

So it does matter what you drive, ride, who you date, and who you choose to worship.  Fast cars are still cool today, fast girls still going for rides, just missing the commitment of marriage.  Maybe that is why you never hear the stories at old car shows or see the vans the stories took place in.  One night stands in the social/auto world.  And maybe why so many wives, mine included go to old car shows.  They have memories too, and talk of fast men and cars.  Levis with grease on them, Bell helmet shirts, and nights cruising, getting on the gas.  And of going home after a cruise night with their husbands, the way it oughta be.  Some have the wisdom of Solomon, proving it by choosing you, while their friends tell them “their husband got the best of the deal.”  And when Jesus is in the middle of your marriage, even in a world of fast girls and cars, in wheels and skirts, He never lets you down.  For behind the wheel of all great marriages is Jesus.  And the great ones let Him drive.  Which gives us more time to cuddle in the back seat.  Something we could never do with our parents.

The good old days are here again, or still for some of us.  Speed will always be attractive, and so will fast cars and bikes.  But make sure the one you take home to Mom and Dad knows the difference.  The wisdom of Solomon works great in racing and dating, works great even in marriage.  And maybe explains after all these years why I am not a fan of vans, mini or other.  It took the wrong girl to show me the right way.  And it took a loving God to show me the wisdom of Solomon, giving me the right girl, and blessing our marriage.  I’ll ride to that.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

just another afternoon in Sonoma

It has been said the true definition of a diplomat is telling someone to go to hell, and making them look forward to the trip.  Works in politics, just look around if you doubt the definition, but we got to see one afternoon a woman struggle with it at a new car introduction.  We were coming back from Canada on the Sprint RS, enjoying nights in bed and breakfasts, something we did years ago when we had more money than kids, we still have the kids, the money is long gone.  My older son Christopher was working at a Courtyard by Marriott, and one of the benefits was getting rooms at a huge discount at other Marriott properties, places we would have not been able to afford otherwise.  But our destination that night was in Sonoma, California at the Lodge at Sonoma Renaissance Resort and Spa, even the name sounds expensive and it was, but not for us.  For our $49 we got a deluxe suite that cost the commoners over $400 a night, did we feel rich, but out of place.  But when we pulled up into the courtyard, it was filled with Volvo X-90 SUV’s, it was their international introduction, and their were many press and magazine editors there.  In charge was a rather large Swedish looking woman, call her big boned, who was reading off her clipboard to the few who were listening.  How exciting can a Volvo be after all, and Volvo SUV-boring.  But was doing her best, almost militaristic, “you will sit in car and enjoy,” and then we rode in.  You would have thought no one had ever seen a motorcycle before, for as we pulled through the courtyard, and stopped, a few came up to look.  Even some pictures were taken, and one journalist was excited about it being a Triumph, and had actually been to a Triumph intro-much more fun.  Which really annoyed Ms. Volvo, and now she not only had to make her new SUV interesting, but get them away from our motorcycle.  And if looks could kill, it would have been us instead of her, but we survived, and so did Volvo, as they are still selling their X-90 today, and Triumph is still selling motorcycles.  A press intro we will never forget, nor were we invited to, I doubt we will ever be invited back.  Blame it on my son, and his job, if not for him it would have been a lot less exciting, and expensive.

When I watch someone trying to explain something too cerebral, boring, or sleep worthy, I think of Ms. Volvo.  She was the true definition of diplomacy that day, she wanted to tell us to leave, maybe to go to hell, but had to put on her happy face, with dozens watching.  She had to over come the obvious interest in our motorcycle vs. her Volvo, and she knew she was outmanned.  But she kept it together, I’m sure a healthy stay at the bar after helped her to reconsider her future with Volvo, but she never quit.  And reporters can be a tough lot.  Great product, great room, but bad shrimp, they’ll pan the product.  Bad product, great food, they’ll puff the product.  Long after the event is over, they may forget the car or truck or motorcycle, but they remember the food, the rooms, the plane flight.  Just not always the reason they were there. 

In 1981 I went with my friend Tom to the Kawasaki dealer show in Denver.  Tom was a joker, and we sat in the back, him and a few others making jokes, much like Mystery Science Theatre 3000.  New product would be shown, and Tom would comment, sometimes loud enough for others to hear, and laugh.  And when he got dirty looks, I got them too, somehow they knew I wasn’t a dealer, and the peer pressure was almost funny if not so pathetic.  But I endured the show, remembered being glad I had a new KZ750 ordered, and left thinking “this would never happen at a Honda show.”  And I’ll never know....

‘'Sell the sizzle, not the steak,” is an old advertising mantra, but as an inveterate steak eater, I can tell you that you can’t eat sizzle, and  I’d rather eat steak.  It is the product I am interested in, not the clowns, the girls on the cars, or the celebrities on display.  And sometimes they aren’t either, as running into Ivan Stewart at a Cycle World International show a few years back.  He worked for Toyota, and was there to sign autographs.  Except this was a motorcycle show, and the Toyota booth was empty.  I guess the new Ninjas were more appealing that day.  So when he saw me, a familiar face, he wanted to talk, and was glad to see me, usually it was the other way around.   I was a familiar face, and he needed a friend, and among all the sizzle, I was the steak. 

“Unless the Lord builds it, we labor in vain,” scripture tells us.  Try to tell that to a church looking to grow.  To an over zealous pastor.  We need programs, special guests, movie nights, and free meals.  That will get the people in.  And when it doesn’t, the pastor may turn on the congregation.  He did his part, why didn’t they invite all their friends and neighbors?  How could they let God down, hey, how could they have let him down?  And so we churches die or dying for the lack of a vision.  Great sizzle, but no steak.  Just the opposite of Jesus, who was the meat of the matter.  He was quiet and unassuming, never had any book sales, no PR group to advise others-“ONE NIGHT ONLY-SEE THE SON OF GOD PERFORM MIRACLES!”  And we wonder why some churches never grow.  But what about those that do show up, and are disappointed, is it God’s fault?  Maybe He was booked into another town that night, or just too busy.  Did anyone think to ask Him about His schedule?  But yet we see churches grow in numbers, but not in depth, not in the spirit.  To God it is not about quantity but quality.  Not about the size of the crowd, or the amount of the offering.  It is about trust, something Gideon was faced with.  A miller, told to lead an army, an enemy awaited him of over 30,000, and he was down to 300 men, who had to drink like dogs, so fat and overweight that without God they could only lose, they had eaten both sizzle and steak.  But God provided them victory, it was all about what God would do, not Gideon.

Is your relationship more sizzle than steak?  Are you in it for your glory or God’s glory?  Is Jesus Lord, or just s a genie in a lamp when you want something?  Or just another product intro, where you remember more about the retreat weekend and the food, than the chance to get closer to God?  The gospel is diplomacy in action, telling you of a heaven and a loving God, and making you look forward to the trip.  Don’t pay attention to the guys who ride in and distract you, or the hecklers in the back of the room.  Only Jesus will provide the steak, the nourishment needed, without all the carnival atmosphere.  A meal fit for a king, served by a king, making us feel like kings.  And you get the best rooms available-such a deal, how can you pass that one up?

Ms. Volvo was persistent in her gospel of the X-90.  How persistent are you with yours?  With Jesus?  Diplomacy in action, living what you believe, riding what you believe, and believing who Jesus is.  The Bible calls it witnessing, don’t make it a photo op, but rather a home movie.  To be shared with others for years to come.  Volvo owners welcome.  Just another afternoon in Sonoma...

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

just lookin'

Every shop has one, or should.  He starts out just walking through the show room, being careful not to touch the bikes, although he is dying just to sit on one.  “Just looking,” he replies when asked if he needs help, the questioner already knowing after one look this is no prospect today to sell a new bike to.  After a few visits, usually after school, he notices the service area, and between the sounds, the smells of Castrol, grease, and brake cleaner, he is attracted.  Again when asked, he mutters “just looking,” and wishes he could just get on the other side of the rope separating him from all the excitement.  And on one afternoon, pulls up to the rear door, and when asked, he mutters, “my tire needs air,” and the tech, too busy to help, just points to the air hose, “help yourself kid.”  And he has gained entrance, and suddenly the prospect of filling air is frightening, but after a few attempts he gets it right, thanks the tech, who just grunts, and leaves.  Bragging to his friends how they let him in the shop, how cool.  And soon he stops by everyday after school, and soon is told, “if you ‘re gonna hang around, make yourself useful.”  So he picks up rags, empties trash, and takes abuse from the guys.  He is the one who goes for lunches, and when short on money makes up the difference, and when the order is wrong, it is his fault.  When they can’t find something, he gets blamed, even if he wasn’t there.  All for free, a job that isn’t a job, that doesn’t pay money, but his reward cannot be measured in dollars or sense.  And sometimes the manager slips him a $5 or $10, “go have a good weekend,” and he feels like the richest guy on earth. 

And then one day he is given a shop shirt, many sizes too big, but it doesn’t matter-he is part of the team!  A shirt he wears to school, and when the jocks and nerds make fun of it, he knows deep inside he is part of something they can only enjoy for a moment in victory, but that he enjoys everyday.  He may be low man on the team, but he is on the team.  And when the next kid needs air in a tire, they now can come to him.  He begins to take interest in a certain model, and using money earned, he now gets paid like the other guys, not much, but enough to buy parts at his discount, and have the techs show him how to install them.  Using their tools, and taking the abuse that goes with the position.  But he is learning, all about life, values, and teamwork.  Things that cannot be taught in school, and soon his bike runs, and the back alley is his highway-at least until he gets his license.  His helmet is used, and the paint on the tank doesn’t match the fenders, the engine smokes a little, the tires worn.  But it is his, built with his own hands, helped out with his friends, the guys who work in the shop, all because he stopped by, and was just lookin’.  And on the day he gets his license, and takes his first ride, they all watch cheering him on.  “Hope it stays together, you really gonna ride that thing?  Don’t go far so you won’t have too far to push it back!”  And if smiles were ears, he would hear them when he was well out of sight.  He was riding, and soon between summers, weekends, and afterschool, he had enough to buy his own new motorcycle, at a huge discount.  And was buying his own set of tools.  For he no longer was low man, he was now a mechanic.  His name right there on his shirt, and someday he will be helping the next kid who is just lookin’, and giving someone else a hard time when he gets fries instead of the onion rings he ordered.  He will loan tools, fix things for free, and stay late, open early, and never make a huge salary.  But he has learned at an early age that if you do what you love it isn’t a job, and if you love your job it isn’t like going to work.  At one time a rope stood between him and his dreams, now he is living them.  Something his friends, girlfriend, and parents don’t get, they had hoped he would get an education, go to college.  He got the education, something they don’t teach at Harvard.  He was part of a team.  All he needed was a chance and an invitation.

There aren’t many places a kid can hang out after school anymore.  But kids still hang out in bike shops, staying out of trouble.  Building friendships, relationships, and learning from watching.  A team they don’t have to try out for, with no awards given.  Many don’t go on to success like the kid did above, many will go to college, so get married too son, or move away.  Churches like motorcycle shops still provide a place for kids to go afterschool.  To hangout, to be part of something.  In Belarus, part of the old USSR, a man started a ministry with street kids and motorcycles, the first ones not running, donated by the police.  Just to keep the kids out of jail.  And soon they got them running, and soon formed a club.  A Christian motorcycle club, for the man with a vision for the gospel, leads these kids.  Leads them to Jesus, and watches as throw aways become valuable.  He gives them purpose, a reason to live, and a family.  Three things they were missing.  Built around Jesus, and using motorcycles as the common language.   And a few years ago I found I was a part of this and didn’t know it.  Somehow my stories, the ones you read, are picked up and translated into Russian for the kids to read.  And to learn about Jesus.  Some wearing M25B shirts I sent them, ministers of Christ.  Kids who like the kid in the shop were just lookin’, and someone took the time to introduce them to Jesus.  Using motorcycles.  A form of the gospel some churches will never understand, and where these kids would not be welcome.  But Jesus sees them, sees us different.  He feels comfortable among bikers, street kids, hookers, and junkies.  In many cases a better class of people.  Who don’t realize they want to know Him, until introduced to Him.  The smell of racing caster in the air, just  like it should be.

Fathers, when your kid watch, include them.  Invite them when washing the car.  Cleaning your chain.  Looking for your golf clubs.  Let them help around the house, and get them involved in the conversation.  They are just lookin’, and if you don’t show them, someone else will.  Let them hold the hose, sit on the bike.  Put a helmet and gloves on them.  Maybe give them an old shirt, make them feel part of the family.  Just like Jesus does us, just like He took us in.  Ministry opportunities don’t have to happen in church, spread the gospel of love by putting it in action.  And watch as it gets passed on, rather than passed over.  We were all that kid at ne time who was just lookin’, and some of us have found what we were looking for in Jesus.  The harvest in plentiful, the workers few, some will even be riding.  Every shop has one, are you that one?

love with compassion,

Mike

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