resurrected bikes, and their riders

CRASH!  BAM!  It was all over in the blink of an eye, and I was laying between the road and my Bonneville, pinned under a car.  A car that had pulled away from the curb without looking, and hit me.  Biker down.  And the police told me it was my fault, which they finally recanted under pressure after they investigated.  Biker prejudice for all to see.  All the screw ups by Escondido PD is another story, but off I went to the hospital, and the Bonne to Mick.  I would never walk the same, but what of my bike?  My fun ride?  What would be her fate?  Left up to some impersonal insurance adjuster, that worked for her company?  And Mick gave me the choice, he could save it or total it, what to do?  I made the right choice-fix it, and he did, better than new, with some custom touches, a Scrambler short fender, and headlight and shorty front fender, just custom enough to still look stock.  Maybe even what the factory had considered.  Her insurance company paid for my medical and to fix the bike, and the event of  that March afternoon faded into history.  Until one sunny Saturday afternoon, October 17th to be precise, when riding with Theresa.  I had gotten ahead of her at the light, a Nissan Maxima between us.  And when the light changed to green, I accelerated....

And again BAM!  I was flying up in the air, then landing on the hood of the Nissan, then bouncing off, landing on my knees some 20 feet away!  Instant pain and confusion set in.  Biker down-again.  And the woman-again a woman gets out and tells me not to tell the police she was driving-she had  lost her license.  Not paying attention, she hit the gas by accident, looking back when her grand daughter in the back seat called her, and hit me full force, pushing my Bonneville, again, some 40 feet stuck in her front bumper.  So hard was I hit the bike never went down, and had to be pried out of her car!  The police were livid when they arrived, why she wasn’t arrested I don’t know, but found out she had breast cancer, and was terminal.  Sad, but still no excuse-she should not have been driving, JAIL her!  How many of us would have been shown the same mercy?  But the toughest part was for Theresa, as she had watched the whole thing happen, right in front of her.  And had to ride home alone on her Bonneville.  One tough, but tender lady. And I would heal, mostly with some after effects, and my Bonne again went to Mick.  Where the decision again had to be made-fix it or total it.  Again we fixed it, using parts he had, and actually came out OK on the deal, but would still be better if it hadn’t happened.  And my legs still hurt, I still walk with a limp, and still have the Bonneville.  Parts available for both, the bike easier to fix than my legs.   But still we ride....

Most are amazed that I still ride, but I take the attitude that I don’t want to spend life in fear of what can happen, I rather enjoy life, and yes I know that idiots in cars can be dangerous.  Just like guns that don’t kill, it takes the one holding it or driving it to cause the damage.  So no, motorcycles themselves are not dangerous, just as cancer victims aren’t, until they drive illegally, and irresponsibly.  And we meet by accident.  Then it may take all the king’s horses and all the king’s men to put you back together again.  Or a good attorney like I had, Leventhal and Shapiro, I cannot say enough good about Stan and Steve.  They won my case in less than a week, I got the money, and their fee was half of the usorous 33%.  I am careful who I recommend, they are the best, they do what they say, and they win.  A somewhat happy ending to a possible tragedy.

Now it has been said that resurrection power works best in graveyards.  You cannot resurrect something that wasn’t alive once.  Mickey resurrected the Bonneville, and she is still dragging her pegs at high speeds at 67,000 miles.  My body healed for he most part, although I am now permanently disabled.  Theresa still rides, and her Bonne has over 77,000 miles.  So we soldier on....But all could have ended in a worse tragedy-death.  And then what?  You can fix the body, repair the bike, even replace it if needed, but what about the soul?  What happens to a damaged, unsaved soul?  What happens to those who decide to wait to come to Christ, when I ‘m older?  And what if they never make it to older?  Planning to choose Jesus is still saying no-and no is no heaven.  Good intentions don’t count, being born again does.  Now I have visited and know many who have come to Christ near death, which better than dying without Him.  But we are warned that no one is promised tomorrow, who knows what lies behind you at any traffic light?  Who is ready to pullout and take away your life?  And yet some insist on waiting....some missing only the blessings they could have had, some missing altogether.  And it is their choice, just like it was mine and is yours.  Where will you be after death, tormented or resurrected?  No parts or fixes in hell- your life is now totaled.  It is the scrap heap, Gehenna as they called it, fueled by those who denied Christ, and burn forever.  But choosing Jesus guarantees you of what He did, being resurrected and heaven.  A better deal than any lawyer can get you, a better payoff than an insurance company can provide.  On earth I had Mickey, Steve and Stan, and Theresa.  And Jesus to represent me.  Without Jesus it would not have been successful.  But what if I had died, who would have represented me then?  Only Jesus, for on judgment day He is my wonderful counselor, who pleads my case, who took my sin, and will see I am found innocent.  He is the only way to heaven, without Him you plead your own case, before a loving, but honorable judge who knows all the specifics about you...and His mercy is denied you, you chose to deny Him here on earth.  And He honors your request, on earth as it could have been in heaven.  Over in the blink of an eye....no accident here, it is your choice.  So, what is your choice?

We all face death, but we don’t all face resurrection.  Only in Jesus Christ will we find salvation.  So why not enroll today.  Trust Him, and ride in the knowledge that when death do your motorcycle and you part, that you will be in heaven.  You have the ultimate insurance, and assurance in Jesus.  All things will truly pass away, and only He remains.  Now heaven is never described, except to say eye has not seen, no rear heard, nor mind imagined the things of God, but hell is described as darkness, extreme loneliness, the absence of God, the weeping and gnashing of teeth.  Burning fire in complete darkness, with no escape.  No last chance, no partying with friends.  Eternal separation from God.  Now it is time to make a choice.

When it comes to helmets, I believe “let those who ride decide.”  God gives you the same choice on your eternal destiny.  And your right now.  Give it up and gain everything, hold onto everything and lose everything.  Seems like an easy choice, don’t make it harder than it is.  Bikes and relationships on earth can be resurrected.  What happens after death only Jesus can resurrect.  I made the choice to follow Jesus.  My resurrection day is coming, in the blink of an eye, quicker than the accident I didn’t hear or see coming.  Death is that quick.  But so is eternal life....and so we ride on, how confident are you of where your ride will end?  What are you waiting for?  To me it is a who.....

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

Happy Birthday Dad, 1944

FDR concluded:

"Help us, Almighty God, to rededicate ourselves in renewed faith in Thee in this hour of great sacrifice..I ask that our people devote themselves in a continuance of prayer.

As we rise to each new day, and again when each day is spent, let words of prayer be on our lips, invoking Thy help to our efforts.

Give us strength...and, O Lord, give us Faith. Give us Faith in Thee...With Thy blessing, we shall prevail over the unholy forces of our enemy...

And a peace that will let all of men live in freedom, reaping the just rewards of their honest toil. Thy will be done, Almighty God. Amen."

If my dad had lived, he died in 2012, he would have been 86 years old today.  He just happened to have his birthday on D-Day, or was it D Day on his birthday.  But looking back to June 6, 1944, waking up that morning on his 16th birthday, little did he know what was going on, and how it would change the world.  A sophomore at Bangor High School, in Bangor, Pennsylvania, his yearbook that year would have sections listing those who were serving in WWII, those who planned to join up after graduation, and those killed in action.  With an unsure future ahead of him, the US of A was not winning the war at this point, he had two years until graduation, then decide whether to enlist like so many he knew in this town of 5000, or go to college.  Fortunately, by his next birthday, we had won a huge victory on D Day, and the war was over in Germany, May 8, 1945.  But still the specter of war hung over many because Japan had not fallen yet.  A lot to consider at 16 years of age.

In 1944 no cars had been built for almost two years.  Food was rationed, things like rubber tires, tin cans, and other things that could be recycled were for the war effort.  The US of A was just coming out of the Great Depression, and some thought the war helped, but many saw how war was hell on any front.  Men went off to fight in strange lands, and women took their jobs in the factories, with Rosie the Riveter being born.  As a nation we learned to sacrifice for the good of our country, and pray for it, as only God could intervene.  It is true that some on the enemy’s side too prayed, we both prayed for victory, ours was to restore peace, theirs to take it over.  Evil had shown in ugly head via Hitler, Mussolini, and Hirohito, and we were being led by a President who suffered from polio, and could barely walk.  Yet FDR’s fireside chats encouraged us to unite in one spirit, in one people, and as one nation.  And we did, and the outcome is well known.  We won! But not without heavy losses, both in the battle field, and at home.  We knew about the soldier’s loss, but what did those who stayed home at fought at the home front give up?

Bangor still resides in eastern Pennsylvania, in what is referred to as the Slate Belt.  Back when slate was used for chalkboards and roofs, t was quite prosperous, and when including the various mills for making clothing, and farming, was quite prosperous compared with today.  The mills are long gone, the slate long before that, with only empty slate quarries filled with water to remind them of a different time.  The mills empty, with graffiti, no one goes to Bangor anymore.  but in 1942, at the eve of our joining the war, from February, 1942 to April 1946 a local magazine was published, the only one of its kind during the war.  HOMEFRONT, the idea of J. Horace and his wife Mona Strunk.  Published from their home, it was sent free, a true glossy 8 1/2x11 magazine, not just mimeographed.  It was to encourage and inform their men at war about local news, letters from home, inspiration, and “the fairest of the month,” a local girl.  It is said that no one ever truly knew the impact it had on men far away from home, giving them a reminder of what they left behind, what they were fighting for, and an expectation of coming home after victory.  From 500 copies to eventually 8000, it brought the home front to the men and women over seas.  This was the time of my parents, and little did they know that in 1950 he would marry one Jeanne Murphy form neighboring Pen Argyl, who with her sister and others graced a cover.  My mother, a cover girl, and for what a cause. Just some girls from back home, sharing a Coke at the park, maybe there really was no place like home.  This was a war, like many others, fought by the young, laid out by the generals, and dictated by the Congress.  Many who never lived to reach old age, or even age 25.  Just like the many who stormed the beaches on my Dad’s 16th birthday.  And today we celebrate their effort, and their patriotism, and remember them in prayer, and the families and legacies they left behind.  One soldier even commenting how it made them all homesick, but couldn’t wait for each issue.  There is something about thinking of home, no matter where it is that draws us back.  So too all who served in WWII, and their families, a hearty word of thanks, and appreciation.  And to the Strunk’s, thanks for the memories, then and now.

Battles are fought on many levels, and we only see what is front of us, sometimes.  We get what the media feels we should get, and make our opinions from there.  And when times get tough, and the battles seem insurmountable, we turn to God.  “Where are you?  How could you let this happen?  What’s going on?”  Sometimes even losing hope, based on what we see, and don’t see.  But Jesus tells us different, that the things seen are temporal, the things not seen eternal.  And we often forget about a battle being fought right now in the heavenlies.  Where angels are fighting evil, and God has it all under control.  Where we only see the losing battles here, but cannot see the victories being won in heaven.  We fail to look to the cross, where the ultimate victory was won, and forget that in war we will not win every battle, but we do win the war.  That the final outcome is victory, and we will carry about those scars forever.  Which is why Jesus still shows His scars, to remind us of the horror of the war fought on the cross, and how His victory sets us free.  It is a reminder that in death we have victory, even though it eludes us here.  And a reminder that we are our brother’s keeper, that true love is laying down one’s life for his brother, and to seek Jesus first.  Those men on D Day knew they had a small chance to survive, saying goodbye maybe for the last time to the men around them.  But they fought for a cause, freedom, and proved once again that freedom isn’t free.  And that only the American soldier and Jesus were willing to die for that freedom, one for our lives, and one for the standard of living that god blessed our nation with.  And soon we will have only books and pictures left of these brave men, but Jesus lives forever.  He outlasts each and every generation, up to the last one, of which we may be part.  So as soldiers, it is important to remember where our home front is, and that we are fighting a battle in a war that has been won.  But the battle rages on....

We fight not against flesh and blood as the men in WWII did, but against evil in high places, evil spirits, and those angels cast down from heaven.  Take time to know that, and love your enemy.  But hate what he stands for.  Love the sinner, hate the sin.  Condemn no one, that is not your job.  Love and as you go, welcome others to the home front, and looking forward to hearing “well done my good and faithful servant.”  Every year I wonder what my Dad was thinking on that day, when I see him I will ask.  And like many others who make it to heaven, he will assure me that it was all worth it.  Only in Jesus.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

go somewhere for a change

“You two are definitely not local yocals.  You like rides that are last longer than a piddly little afternoon.  You like waking up on different coasts.  You like exploring this big, bad slab of a continent, instead of putt-putting around the subdivision revving your pipes, going nowhere.”   Perhaps the single most, definitive advertisement of myself that I have ever read.  Thanks, BMW.  For as long as I can remember, I wanted to travel.  Whether it was riding to Westfield on my Schwinn Typhoon, or to Plainfield, I knew that there was more than where I was had to offer.  Getting my license at 17 only pushed the door open, but when getting my first motorcycle, and heading out on my first cross state trip at 20, I knew that I was hopelessly locked into the call of the open road.  And then at 21 I did the unthinkable to many, I changed my New, from Jersey to Mexico, on my R90S.  Something that none of my friends encouraged me to do, stay in school, get married, stay at Sears, it’s the same everywhere anyway.  And so those who stayed still think it is, but to those of us who ventured away, we know different.  We know how far across Texas really is by riding across it.  We know how wide the Mississippi really is because we have crossed it.  We know the sand in Florida’s gulf coast is finer than the gold coast, and the water softer.  We know that some roads weren’t planned, they just follow the topography, like Skyline Drive in Virginia, and California.  We have run lean at 12,000 feet in Colorado, and been toasted riding across the desert in Arizona.  We know the difference between fresh lobster in New England, and that fresh, flown in in Denver.  We have found that open spaces are wide, but not without life.  That on two wheels we make friends, get better offers, and a better sense of life from behind the handlebars.  That some days are measured in counties, some in time zones, and some without measure.  That premium is cheaper than regular in Kansas, because of the methanol content.  We wake up every morning on a trip, and smell the air, look at the skies, and confirm the guesses made on the Weather Channel.  We wave to other riders, friends, companions, and fellow brothers, wondering how it is where they came from, because we are heading that direction.  And they wonder the same.

We know that BBQ is different is Texas than it is in North Carolina, than it is in Tennessee.  That real steaks taste better over a pit with a foil wrapped potato than microwaved at a Denny’s.  That in New Mexico Christmas means both red and green chili.  And that ice tea is only served one way in the south, sweet.  Yet many are afraid of leaving the safety and security of their own home.  “I’m happy, why should I try something different” I hear, barely audible over their loud pipes.  They brag about the high mileage on their rides, yet when asked where they have been, they say “nowhere,”  all the miles are from commuting.  North means Del Mar, after a week of planning.  Going somewhere, and nowhere at the same time.  I meet men who talk of going all over the US of A on business, never seeing anything more than the airport, and the view from the shuttle to the meeting.  Meals in hotels, never venturing out for local.  Play it safe, stick with chains, I can’t afford to be sick.  And don’t know they are sick already, in an endless malaise of mediocrity.  A rut, which is really a grave, but with the ends still open, providing a way of escape.  Many diseases have no symptoms, and many die from natural causes, unnaturally.  When their life can really be changed supernaturally. 

Doug made a comment the other day at Bible study, that too many have their Bibles stuffed with notes, are real students of the word, yet have never experienced it first hand.  They know more about Jesus than some scholars, from his shoe size to his favorite food, yet wouldn’t know Him if He sat at their table.  And some have even turned on those He sent their way, they know all the laws, just not the law of love.  Safe and secure we know where to find them on any Sunday morning, in the same seat, the same service, amongst the same crowd.  Who all agree on the same thing, that they are right, and others need to follow their example.  Don’t fix something that isn’t broken, and they cannot see the mediocrity of their relationship with Christ.  It ended with their salvation, and it hasn’t gotten any better.  If knowledge can get them a better seat in heaven, they don’t have the wisdom to know it won’t.  They sit and listen to testimonies from others, and wonder why they have none of their own, why are some blessed and we’re not?  Yet don’t hear the call when called.  And yet Jesus calls, and that is maybe why many are called, but few are chosen.  Their choice.  Some find solace in a third world jungle, and when coming home to visit, can’t wait to get back.  And the few, the proud, don’t get it.  They cannot understand why we can be blessed just helping the homeless, yet they wouldn’t get their hands dirty.  They give until it hurts, and have a low threshold of pain.  They don’t get Jesus, but do His teachings.  It enters the head, but cannot find the heart.

Mediocrity is no way to live or die.  The lukewarm, not being aware of the blessings in challenges, who stick to the same, and not knowing how bitter they are becoming.  Husbands and wives getting older, but not together.  Where a big challenge is Caesar instead of ranch dressing.  Whose mantra of fear is “we’ve never done it this way before,” the sign of a dead or dying relationship.  But it can change, Jesus still is calling, and not just to Africa.  Maybe to downtown, maybe to summer camp, maybe in church.  Just to serve, and to be blessed.  The most blessed Christians I know are not local yocal Christians, but who have heard the challenge, had a vision, a dream, and then followed it.  Who weren’t afraid to fail, and being blessed in the midst of the storm.  Not worrying about which fork to use, but picking up the lobster by hand, and dipping it in the butter.  Washing it down with a moon pie for dessert, and a custard later. Not caring that real milk shakes have 60 more calories than frozen yogurt, but going for the best.  Knowing that hole in the wall places are that way because they want to be, the hole conveniently placed where only some know to look.  While others sand in line at Denny’s, ordering of the low cal menu.  Served from a can.

Nowhere is somewhere, but a place no ne wants to be, or intended on going.  But many end up there in their spiritual walk.  Not knowing the blessings from Jesus that are available.  Don’t be among the casualties, get out and live.  The best view is over the handlebars, going away from, and anticipating the day’s ride.  We know that the ride is the destination, and when we arrive too early, go further in faith.  Sleepwalking in faith, thinking this is all there is to live and the Lord.  Find out how wrong they are, and maybe you are.  GET OUT and live!  Go boldly where no one, YOU, has never gone before.  The road may end, you don’t have to.  Hike a new path, ride a new road, take a new trip.  And as you go, you will be spreading the gospel as Jesus commands us.  Be the brave Samaritan who blesses others while unloved.  Dare to wear the same jeans two days in a row, or three.  Try something you have never tried, and find out what life is all about.  It is all about Jesus...you read the book, now live the life.  If they made a movie of your life, who would play you?  Would it be a movie you would want to see, or have your friends see?    Life for you may be about coming attractions, mine will be about what Jesus has done, is doing, and what He is to do.  On Any Sunday...more than a movie or morning in church.  The road is calling, what will your  answer be?  Go somewhere for a change.  You’ll never know where it is going until you get there.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biekr.blogspot.com

 

he's buying, what'll you have?

Gone for me are the days of 700-800 mile rides, my body just can’t take it after the surgery.  So we have been exploring areas around home, making a 100 mile radius of San Diego, and although tracing, and retracing many miles, we have found places we passed over on the way to other places.  We once would ride 200 miles for lunch-each way, now a 200 mile round trip is called a day.  But among those 200 mile round trips is Boulevard, an exit off of I-8 east of San Diego, or where two old roads converge. One road out, one road back, but the reason for the ride is Wisteria Candy Cottage.  Since 1926 in this old house, in a town where the population is double digits, some of the best chocolate anywhere is found.  Hershey’s, Ghiradelli, Godiva, are all big names, but Wisteria is big time chocolate.  And worth an afternoon ride just for that.  Plus a good chance to wear the sides off of your tires, almost no traffic on the road, and if you must, take the freeway and cut the time, and some of the fun in half.  Impress your chocolate loving wife today.....

A shorter ride by freeway, but accessible using only back roads is Old Town Orange.  Smack in the center of Orange County, take a trip back 50 years, where you can walk the sidewalks, park for free, and sit in the park and watch the fountain, or read, or people watch, while sitting in the center of the roundabout.  Where traffic stops when you leave the curb, and antique shops invite you in.  Grab a burger and shake at Wilson’s Pharmacy, as many have for over 100 years, or eat at the Filling Station among the college crowd.  But our favorite is Taco Adobe, great South American food, not Mexican, somehow this gourmet chef makes the best tacos around.  Sit on the sidewalk, bask in the sun, and relax.  We do-note the chicken fajitas are to kill for.  And again a Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory for desert.

Looking for a place to eat healthy and still taste good, Simple Simon’s in Riverside, across from the Mission Inn.  Great baked bread, the sourdough is unreal, big sandwiches, and of course dessert, fresh from the oven.  Sitting in or on the patio, no rushing, except to get in.  A good reason to go to Riverside, just for the food.  You would never guess that from the freeway.  On the other side of healthy, read greasy, old school, and ultra comfort is Flo’s, at the Chino airport.  You don’t have to fly in, although I have, how cool is that, look for lots of bikes on weekends.  It seems nothing cannot be made better without gravy on it, and at your denial, they won’t cover your eggs, potatoes, and meats with gravy.  Nothing fancy, you can’t eat atmosphere, walk it off at the Warbirds Museum, then recover by riding all day.  Right through lunch....More back roads can take you to Redlands, where Saverino’s Italian Market and Deli calls you.  In an old industrial area, untouched by yuppie hands, they serve great Italian food, big portions in a friendly atmosphere.  Great sauce.  And save room for desert, tiramisu is always a great desert.  Lots of locals, always a good bet, and if the fire department eats there, you know it is good.  Don’t count your calories, each bite will put you way over.  Ever see a skinny Italian chef?  Was Sophia Loren skinny?  Eat and enjoy, then ride again, up to Oak Glen.

In the fall when it is apple season, the air at 3500” is filled with good reasons to escape for anything apple.  Our favorite, the mini apple donuts, not telling which place, start in the east, ride west, turn left down a dirt road...oops.  Sit back and enjoy the live blue grass music, and forget you are only a 70 minute ride home if you avoid the freeways.  Again,wear some side walls of your tires, even Harleys lean on their side stand.  Now that I’ve made you hungry....

If you notice we have somehow carefully avoided fast food, and chain restaurants.  There are some good ones out there, but we want some original food, some home cooked flavor, and some atmosphere, even if it is at an airport.  Fast food is only profitable if it is fast, you get it fast, you eat it fast, others are waiting, I have even seen signs warning you that you have a 30 minute time limit in McDonald’s, and then leave fast.  Never enjoying the time spent out, or away.  Great food doesn’t have to be a McSomething.  Fast may work at drag races, but fast is not for my food.  Do you know where the most dangerous place is on a Sunday after church?  Try the lines at any grocery store.  Rude, disagreeable, impatient, all the things you weren’t in church, and tell others you aren’t, you become after church.  Works good in restaurants too, I have seen good old brother so and so try to push his way to the front of many a line,  “I’m hungry!”  What do you think the rest of us are here for, entertainment?  I hope you aren’t the floor show.  Good time to exercise the first shall be last, you can first at the end.  So we see many lessons learned at church, don’t ever make it out the door.  But are known by those who don’t go to church, who don’t like God, or better yet, don’t like God’s children-us.  An interviewer called Stickerman visits campuses, with Jesus stickers all over his rubber suit, asking people questions about God.  The answers may surprise you, or maybe not.  Seems most don’t hate God, they aren’t even upset with Him.  But most have had a bad time in church, and he finds that most don’t like Christians because of the way they treat others.  A lot of perception here, but in a time where perception has become truth to many, how are you perceived?  Are you courteous?  Do you tip that hard working single mom waitress?  Is your car covered in Jesus stickers as you cut me off on the freeway?  Do you brag about what a great Christian you are, but fail to brag about what a great God saved you?  Is your walk with Jesus like a fast food experience, get in, get out, and repeat next week, if a better offer doesn’t come along?  Do you order the daily special, and hope it tastes good, if it fits your life?  If Tripadvisor.com had your church listed, would you recommend it?  Do you approach God like you do your eating, same old fast food, with nothing but fillers, when the real thing is just blocks away?  Where are you with Jesus, and is He invited to eat with you?

If you had to give Him a description of you so He could meet you for lunch, would He recognize you?  Or would He have to ask, is your opinion of yourself much different from what we see?  Maybe ask those that serve you.  The waitress, your mechanic, the parts guy, the pastor who offers advice you won’t take.  What part of Jesus don’t they understand because of you?  So many of these chances are local, are you like Jesus not recognized in your own town?  And if you are, what would the reviewer say about you?  Would you want to eat with you?  Careful, I may be the guy in the next pew.

A walk with God is just that, not a run, not a sprint.  A marathon, daily, so sit back and enjoy the meal.  Enjoy the great service God has given via His son.  Be the exception, be the reason people want to visit your church.  Be the same guy after church you are in it, and if you are the same as the guy rushing, it is not too late to change.  Jesus is in the business of it, great references too.  And He knows the best places to eat, where the portions fill you up, and each meal is a worship service of its own.  From fast food to mega meals, He has seen it all.  So ask yourself, what of Jesus do people see in you?  That empty chair at your table just might be a chance to share some love with a hurting person.  Buy them a a meal, offer them dessert.  If you eat at the best places you don’t have to have it your way, you don’t have to eat off the dollar menu, and you can end up likin’ it  when you eat with Jesus.  Sometimes all without leaving your own home...Stick close to home, set the example there, then eat at your Judea and outer lands.  Great food in Samaria, and other places to, spreading the gospel as you go, just like Jesus tells us.  So many choices, make mine Jesus.  he buying, what’ll you have?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com 

the motorcycle endorsement

I just renewed my drivers license, this time by mail, proving that for at least the last 5 years I have been ticket free.  Will wonders never cease.  Which got me to thinking, I have been licensed in 5 states over a 43 year period-wow!  I have taken written and driving tests and passed.  I must know how to drive, or so it would appear.  And then I enter the real world, and get cut off by soccer moms in SUV’s under the influence of cell phones, upset because she can’t hear over the precious cargo of kids she is hauling, who almost made her avoid her exit, but still she was able to cut across 4 lanes of traffic to get off.  Barely missing me as I get that dirty look like I don’t belong.  And she passed the same tests I did, but only one of us knows how to drive, and is courteous.  And I wish it was her instead of me!  But maybe she and others like her are only partially to blame, because somebody passed her, gave her the stamp of approval and granted her a license to drive.  Sadly she never sees the potential trail of destruction ahead of her or behind her, self absorbed it is our responsibility to look out for her.  But right here on my license, as I have for over 42 years is an M! motorcycle endorsement-I can ride legally.  On anything from a moped to a fire breathing Harley, I am street legal, and have the skills to prove it.  Including the skills to dodge and elude her and her 4000 pound lethal weapon that always seems to be pointed at us.  Just because we both have the paper that says we can.

An old proverb tells us “you never criticize two things about a man, his love making and his driving, and not necessarily in that order.”  Make fun of a guy’s date, no big deal.  But make fun of his driving look out.  He’ll be madder than an SUV driver on a cell phone who missed her exit.  You’re gonna pay, and the fines aren’t light.  Yet skills and licensing don’t go hand in hand, one not necessarily dependent on the other.  And just because you can navigate in a parking lot under a DMV inspector for 10 minutes, doesn’t mean you have any skill.  You have rights, how about some responsibilities?  How about those skills?  How about courtesy?  How about the others on the road?  How about....?

About 10 years ago I went to a funeral of a motor officer who had been killed in the line of duty, you guessed it, hit by a car.  It was a large ceremony, this man was popular, and well liked.  From the talk about him, he was the kind of guy who would give you the benefit of the doubt when he pulled you over, it was about safety, not revenue enhancement.  And after friends told their stories, the pastor stepped up, and astonished a few of us.  From the description of this man, I would have guessed heaven, but after the pastor spoke I left wondering.  It was something he said that made me wonder, and ought to make you wonder too.  He said “Terry is in heaven today, I know because he finished his membership classes after joining our church.  He had just received his certificate of membership...” and my heart sank.  Was this man’s eternal destination based on a certificate?  Do you get to heaven just by joining a church and attending a few classes?  Just like getting your driver’s license?  Is driver’s ed. harder than heaven?  And here was a pastor, a called man of God telling others a lie about salvation.  Where was Jesus?  Where was repentance?  Where was the forgiveness of sin?  Where was the truth, that only Jesus sets you free?  And I left wondering about Terry, had he been duped into thinking he was going to heaven because he had passed a test?  And had a license/certificate?  Did it have to be renewed like a license, did he have to show it to prove he was a Christian?  Or was he speeding through life without regard for others and their destiny, like a mother under the influence of cell phone?  Talking, but never getting it.  Hearing, but not listening.  Endless babble, with no concern for anyone but themselves?  Was his name written in the book of life?  Did he know Jesus?  Do you?

My M1 status on my license is valuable to me.  It allows me legally to ride anywhere on anything I want.  It makes me legal, I have met the qualifications to ride legally.  It says nothing about my skills, ability, or relationship with my rides.  Just met the requirements and passed the test.  But I ride confident every day because my name is written in the book of life-I’m saved.  I do not have a membership card for any church, I know Jesus.  I didn’t attend classes, I asked forgiveness, and was forgiven.  I repented, and became born again, a new man in Christ.  And hopefully my life reflects that, for if ever challenged, I have only the witness of knowing Him, no papers to show it.  I have no denominational backing, or religious training.  I attended no schools, I wasn’t offered a discounted salvation.  I realized Jesus paid the full price, believed by faith, and trust Him everyday to get me through, and am confident when I die, I am going to heaven.  Why couldn’t the pastor have shared the same message that day?  Why couldn’t Terry have heard it?  I only hope he did, and that his relationship with God went far beyond religion, and was more personal. 

On my license it says I am an organ donor.  Not because I ride, as some sick, prejudiced, anti motorcyclists joke, but because I care about others and their lives.  Give them a chance to live using what I have no need of anymore.  For when Jesus tells us to love the Lord your God with all your might, heart, and strength, I do, but struggle sometimes with the love your neighbor in the minivan as yourself part.  But I still pray for those who cut me off, even though they drive like hell, I don’t wish them to go there.  But only in Jesus will they be assured heaven, no other endorsement will get you there but the one of Jesus.  Do you have that endorsement?  if you are wondering, you might not.  Be assured of heaven today, giving it all over to Jesus, and let Him change your life.  And maybe your driving style.  Sadly too many will neglect Jesus, and drive through life an accident waiting to happen, but it doesn’t have to be that way.  Like we tell people, learn to ride, and ride your on ride.  Make it personal, and live that way too.  Personal with Jesus.  No religious lines, no party lines, just a line in the book of life with your name.  I have been a motorcyclist for 47 years, a Christian for only 39, yet prefer to be known as a Christian motorcyclist.  Jesus first is who makes me who I am, and what I am.  Whose endorsement do you have?  Passed or passed over?  Let’s ride.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com