a car my dad would remember

At even a young age my friends and I could identify cars.  Joey’s dad had a 1960 Dodge Polara sedan with those weird backwards fins, so did Tricia’s dad.  Bruce and Barry’s dad had an old “which way is it going” Studebaker.  The man on the corner had a ‘56 Mercury, another neighbor a 1950 Dodge, two tone black and white.  Mr. Pillar had a 1957 Dodge pickup, rare in even those days, and Steven’s dad drove an old 1956 Cadillac.  With the exception of the Cadillac today, cars that most will past by at car shows, or come up low bid at auctions, but these almost non-descript cars are the ones holding our childhood memories.  These are the cars our mothers used to go grocery shopping, to car pool in, to see our dads got to work.  They were utilitarian, built for a purpose, and then thrown away.  Many not even found of any value at trade in, they carried the marks of bicycles ridden to close, ice cream from the DDB, and salt and snow from winter.  They went to the beach, brought home sand, went to the nursery and brought home plants and shrubs, and lumber for home projects from Hand Lumber.  In rare occasions did they get to go on vacations, they were the workers, the servants of the families, and were maintained barely, washed only when really dirty, and often times never saw a garage.  They bore the marks of our memories, the scars of our youth, and many never made past the crusher, as they were never worth more than $50 in trade in, and ended up as scrap.  It is these cars that we grew up in, that we resided in the back seats of, and listened to crackly AM radios in.  With vacuum wipers that every time we needed them, they got slower as the car went faster.  They used the cheapest gas found, and often became our mother’s car, the second car when a new one was purchased.  In our family it was a 1950 Ford coupe, cost $50 to take me to kindergarten.  A shoebox car now collectible, that gave way for a new 1962 Rambler American station wagon.  Exciting in our family, but still with a six and three on the tree.  Can you imagine Ms. SUV in one today? 

My dad was never a car guy, and had a succession of Ramblers in the sixties.  Joey’s mom bought a first Mustang, Scotty’s dad had a cool 1964 Chrysler 300-black.  Bruce and Barry’s dad had a new Falcon, and when his sister died, the old 1950 Dodge went, as he inherited a 1962 Chevy Biscayne.  Again with the exception of the 300, and the Mustang, cars that are unforgettable today, but carry many memories with them.  If my dad was alive today, and if we could get him to a car show, the shiny Muscle Cars wouldn’t interest him.  Cadillac convertibles, MG’s, and Mercedes Benz would be passed by.  He would be found in the back row with the old sedans, many still in the same shape as when they were retired.  These are the cars he would remember, these are the cars that would stir his memory of when he had a new family.  Anything newer than 1965 would be modern, anything older than 1946 remembered from his high school days.  But the heart of his memories would be found in the neglected, unimportant cars.  Cars where the upholstery is worn, maybe a blanket thrown over it, paint faded, and scratched, despite too man warnings “don’t ride your bike by the car.”  There may be old candy wrappers hidden under the rear seats from when we were told “no eating in the car,” and stickers on the door jam reminding him of the next service due.  But the car would only be the conveyance, the mode back to Memory Lane, for the times, places, and people would be what  he would remember.  Never stopping to realize the car played such a important part in making them.  And so this ad in Hemmings for a 1961 Rambler American station wagon reminded me of my father.  Basic transportation that somehow endured when many better cars never made it.  A car with what we all patina, where the memories are right there to see if you take the time to look.  A car that would sound like this in the used car ads,

“1962 Rambler American wagon, three speed, economical six, r and h, recent service.  Deluxe interior.  Make offer.”  Nothing outstanding, nothing special, just another used car buried in the ads.  The make offer with not even an asking price, getting whatever the buyer would offer, hoping the rand h, radio and heater would help move it faster.  This is a car my dad, and my friend’s dads would remember, a car that would attract their attention today on their walks.  A car that when they passed by would stimulate old memories of when they were younger, and the stories would start to ruminate and then be told.  “I saw an old Rambler today parked at the bank.  they just don’t make them like that anymore.  Remember the time... and the faded memories would fill the afternoon.  Maybe those old cars weren’t so forgettable anymore.  Maybe the jobs they did were more important than we remember.  And for every red convertible, there were dozens of these old family cars filling our driveways and garages.

In today’s disposable throw away world where BMW brags about their car being recyclable, many memories are forgotten before they are made.  A sad statement on our lives also, as purpose has taken over in a stylish way.  Things not remembered because they never had a chance to happen, and if they did were only erased to make more room for new ones, which met the same fate.  Some spend their lives like this, and treat their God like this.  He is expected to perform for them, and when he doesn’t he’s traded in.  Or forgotten, and put away.  Their cars may be new, but are of no substance, and their lives reflect it.  When God has a different plan.  But perhaps some of the saddest I see are those who want to serve God, to change the world.  Just because they choose to show up.  Who expect big things of God because they are told it from the pulpit.  Go overseas in missions, start a big church, feed the millions, and brag on how much you raised for the poor.  They miss out on the blessings God has for us.  In ministry we get excited about many small steps, of seeing individuals lives changed.  We watch as God provides the growth, and the means for it.  We just show up and love like he asks.  So many people who are like the old cars restricted to the back row, forgotten,and lost.  Yet this is where we find Jesus among them, and this is where the action is.  Through the wrinkles and scars of their past lives we see the new person Christ has made them, and are reminded how we all are a work in process.  How a job, a set of clothes, or a snack makes a difference.  We see how a Bible study, not to learn scripture, but to see Jesus and how he loves us, and how we can interact with him changing lives.  We see how a hug can be priceless, and how being remembered by name gives them value.   All because Jesus took the time to spend with us, and we pass it on.  Scripture tells us that God keeps a book of remembrance, of things we do for him after we are saved.  I can only hope among the blank pages of mine there are some things God felt were worth writing down.  That the attitude to serve was about Jesus, and not for me.  That human praise be found wanting, and God’s view of me acceptable.  No sins recorded. they are forgiven and forgotten.  I hope that many memories of serving and loving others in the name of Jesus is my legacy here, and in heaven. 

When younger I thought I had to be up front, but find now I can do more in the back row with Jesus getting all the attention.  When he gets the glory, we get the blessings.  And he loves to bless, so give him the glory.  And let others see him in your life, your attitude, and your talk.  Be the kind of person God will remember, a Job who loved God.  A Jonah who loved God, but had a hatred for God’s people, until meeting God face to face.  You may be in the whale, or shielded from the heat of life, God hasn’t forgotten you.  That kindness you show others may be all he requires from you today.  While many talk of wanting to see these men in heaven, along with Paul and Peter, after Jesus, I wish to see those who I shared Christ with.  To hear the stories of how Jesus changed their lives.  To sit with the others in the back row, where all the action was and is,because that is where Jesus is found.  So many of us are like the cars our dads would remember, honor God today by remembering those who are forgotten.  The ones who society and the church are too  busy for.  Make them an offer, one they cannot refuse.  The back row is often where real action is in life.  Cars like my dad’s Rambler remind us of that.  What you remember will depend on what you have done.  Start a new memory today in Christ, it is simple.  Feed the hungry, give water to the thirsty, clothe the naked, visit the sick and in prison, and welcome strangers.  Maybe even clean up their old car, and listen to their stories.  He who has an ear let him hear, there are so many stories about Jesus to be told, and new ones yet to make.  Be a person your father in heaven remembers.  It is the one in 99 that was lost we teach about, not the 99 who weren’t.  Maybe there is something about old cars after all that reminds us of our dads.  What will fill the pages of your book is up to you. I want mine to be filled with memories of Jesus in it. I’m just glad to be in it.  I know the author.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

silent nights that really weren't silent

Tis the season to be jolly, and for many it is.  Christmas is a festive time of  year, when families gather, meals consumed, gifts given, and stories of Christmas past are shared.  Here is one of my favorite Christmas memories, but with a twist.  A bit of mystery to it if you will, a mystery that to this day remains unsolved.  I was about 6 years old, and Christmas Eve was a time of food and family.  A time of after giving gifts, we all gathered in the car, and rode around looking at Christmas lights.  A time of trying to stay up late, but going to bed so Christmas morning would arrive sooner, with more toys.  We may have been kids, but we were no fools.  But on this particular Christmas Eve I was given a jack hammer toy, that made noise like a real jack hammer, just like the ones the real men used building the streets around our house.  It was the hammer tool part, so big you had to stand, just like in real life, with a hose attached to a huge cardboard box painted like a compressor, man I was digging it.  Ralphie may have had his Red Ryder rifle, I had my Michigan loader jack hammer.  And all was not silent that night in our house.  After a few minutes of annoying jack hammer sounds that no one but me and the giver could appreciate, I was banished with my Grandma to the farthest bedroom to play with it, she had picked it out, she was to suffer.  After a few minutes my arms began to ache, you pushed down on the jack hammer part to make the noise, the harder the louder, and my arms were tired.  Grandma’s ears must be near deaf now, and so we put it up for the night.  And after a ride looking at lights it was bedtime, so Santa could bring more gifts.  But unlike most kids that Christmas Eve, I went to sleep dreaming of my jack hammer, and road to build, sidewalks to break up, and a day of construction with it.  More toys would be nice, but I had all I wanted.....and off to sleep I went.

Waking up the next morning there were toys than any sane kid should have.  So after opening them, prioritizing which ones to play with next, I went looking for my jack hammer.  Which was nowhere to be found.  Checked the bedrooms, the cellar, the closets, but it was nowhere to be found.  Just like Amelia Earhart and Jimmy Hoffa, it had vanished into thin air.  And no one knew where, or had heard any noises in the night.  How could this toy, my favorite toy be lost?  Surely someone knew something, but no one knew or said a thing.  And a silence fell over my Christmas that wasn’t there the night before, and I was sad.  And every time I would bring it up, I was told not to worry, it will show up.  which it never did, or has, it is easier to believe in Santa than where my jack hammer went, a true unsolved mystery, right out of the X-Files of my youth.  With only my brief memory of it remaining, for all who were there that night are now gone, or were too young at the time to remember.  But I do, and I still search ebay, or look in vintage toy stores for one like it.  For only one brief moment I want to return to that Christmas Eve when I was 6, and the joys of jack hammers rang in my ears.

It is ironic that a favorite song of mine and others is Silent Night.  For the night that the song sings about was anything but quiet.  It was census time, and all had to come and be counted and register for tax purposes.  The city of your heritage called you to return, and it must have been like the Shiprock Fair, where hundreds of thousands converge on a small town of less than 15,000 with no hotels, limited stores, and no running water.  So many camp, stay up all night, or sleep in their trucks.  Not at all silent, or even related to Christmas, but a celebration once a year that each Navajo is required to attend.  That was the scene is Bethlehem that night, a stop along the way for teenaged parents to be Joe and Mary.  Jose y Maria for Latinos.  They probably walked or rode on a donkey part of the way, and needed a place for a pregnant Mary to rest that night.  Yet no rooms were found, and inns were not the Holiday type of today.  They were usually of il repute, dirty and dangerous, and not the place for a mother to be.  And so faced with no room for the night, they camped in the courtyard like many others, among the animals of the day.  A night bustling with activity where silence was the only thing not in attendance.  No privacy, no quiet, no nurses or midwifes attending.  And in the midst of all this, God sent his son Jesus to be born.  And still today he enters our lives in different ways, but each one personal.  And like the night of his birth, the evidence of him is still here today.  And so we celebrate his birth, his place in our lives daily, but reserve December 25th of each year as special.  We give presents, and we love to get presents, a tradition started by God that night.  He gave the best present of all, his only son.  And today we give presents to remember his presence in our own lives.  How humbly he came into the world, those around him not knowing who he was.  And how he left just as publicly, with many still not knowing who he was.  But by his spirit we can come to know him today.  And you can know him today just by asking him into your life.  And as we dig deeper into the Christmas story, we are even more amazed.  From virgin birth, to no room at the inn, we have so many songs to sing and celebrate.  No mystery about Jesus was and is, he is God incarnate, God coming to earth in the form of a man to save us.  A night of silence in many hearts, a peace only he can give, despite his humble beginnings.  A day when he was first to be counted by man, without us knowing how much he would ever count in our lives.  Without a doubt, the best gift ever given, or received.  The presence of Jesus in our world, and in our lives.

Yet today the mystery of the missing jack hammer still permeates my Christmas, even pictures of that Christmas show it, proving it really was there, but there is no mystery surrounding Jesus and his birth and his impact on the world.  And in my life.  Christmas toys and memories will come and go, don’t let Jesus be a memory, remember him today, and everyday. Give love as he did, and remember his enduring presence.  Which only leaves another Christmas mystery to be revealed.  One that confuses and many have marveled about over the years.  One we sing about with no reservation, but have  no idea what it is.  Maybe you can enlighten me. Just what is a “round, yon virgin?”

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

working both sides of the counter

When I was in outside sales, I waited at many a parts counter to see the manager.  And wasted many hours looking back being fed with lame excuses.  It seemed I was a stranger, and if I wasn’t there to buy something, I was only in the way.  Many a time I never got to see the decision maker, but did build relationships with the guys working behind the counter.  And in the all too rare occasion I did get to see the manager, I was looked upon as a stranger.  Which I was, as I was on their turf, I was the away team, and an adversary.  But over time I did pick up some customers, and eventually was allowed behind the counter.  I was welcomed among the new friends and business acquaintances I had made, and soon felt like one of them.  I was part of the team, providing goods and services, and soon I could watch and see the competition trying to get where I was.  Which encouraged me to work harder to stay where I was, the wolves were always at the door.  “Cheaper, better, fairer, and of course I wasn’t in their best interest” they were told, but I was in, I was a part of the team, and I could enjoy certain privileges because of it.  And the view changed, as did my attitude, no longer was I welcomed as a stranger, I was family.  A big difference.  A child, but a red headed step child at best.  Until I went to work for one dealership one day.

It is one thing to be invited as a guest to the party, it is another to be family.  And just wearing the uniform gave me certain privileges.  I now could make decisions, even on a limited basis, and had the dealership’s authority behind me.  I was family, not adopted, but grafted in.  I now engaged men and women who once dealt with me across the counter, now I was behind it with them, part of the team.  Our relationship changed, and I was no longer a threat, but if was threatened had them all behind me.  And when I was out of the store, the uniform shirt would identify anyone who saw me who I was aligned with, who I worked with.  I had their power and reputation behind me, I was one of them.  No longer a stranger, but now accepted and protected.  I was one of them.

Romans tells us how we are grafted in, and scripture goes on to say we were  once strangers to Christ, but now we are family.  We are part of the vine, and we need to abide in it if we want to grow.  It is in the vine where we find the family, the love, the protection, and acceptance from Jesus.  But we often don’t feel like family, many times we feel like servants, who can come in, but through the back door.  The employees entrance, with certain clearance instructions.  We are told that our body is the temple of God where the spirit resides in us, but we still feel like a stranger.  We take an attitude  like Moses did, where he was only a servant of God.  He had all the power of God at his fingertips, yet was only a servant, he didn’t take the attitude he was family.  He had the law, and as long as he lived right, he was OK.  Funny how you only are reminded of the law when you break one.  His body was a temple just like ours that the spirit dwelt in, yet he was restricted from crossing over into the promised land.  He was always busy, doing things, fixing things, repairing things, and planning things.  He was always anticipating things to come, and had to be ready.  He never got to rest, much like the priests, who were never allowed to be found sitting, as their work was never done.  Quite a contrast to Jesus and grace.  As the son he had power and authority.  He was to be honored, obeyed, and listened to.  As where Moses had charge over his house, Jesus was given and has charge over many houses.  When he dwells in us, we are his, our body being the temple, not a building made by man, but man made in God’s own image.  And with a spirit to choose who to let in our own house.  And when Jesus is our choice, we too have all the power and authority he has.  We are family, we now have access to all God has, and all he possesses.  We are property, better yet family, and we are the responsibility of Jesus.  He has been given charge over us, the house was made for him, and we are now living in it.  When we belong to the son, we have all the things of the son, but when we are only a hired hand, an employee, a servant, we only have certain accesses.  In Jesus we have it all.  And all because Jesus s faithful over all things his father has provided him.  We are his, what a beautiful thing to know.

But as we change jobs, our access level changes, not so with Jesus.  Once the name is in the book of life, it is in.  Forgiveness works forever, and although we will sin, we are forgiven.  Our hearts crying out when we do, not to be forgiven again, but to acknowledge that forgiveness.  To never let go of that claim, to wanting to please God, and be a product of his redemption.  Only in Jesus is this possible.  Nothing in the law saves, it only condemns.  God’s purpose through Jesus is to come into your life, to inhabit the temple you are, and to be reunited with him forever.  One tough assignment if you are only religious, but simple in Jesus.  And free, as no price could be paid except his life.  It takes life to replace death, and his death gave us life.  And since he was resurrected, we will be too someday.  Jesus works both sides of the counter, but wants you to be part of the deal.  You are welcomed, and he wishes you to know that, to get  your inheritance today.  We are no longer a  number on a card, but a full fledged member of heaven.  Dues paid, lifetime membership, accepted in full, just as we are.  But look out, we are about to change, and the change is incredible.

You may be on the outside looking in, wishing to gain access behind the counter.  The door is open, it is your choice to come in.  Check all your sin at the gate, be welcomes in, and abide in the vine.  Rather than hearing it through the grapevine, be part of the vine, be fed and nourished in Christ.  Quit looking through the window, and see what is going on.  No longer servants but friends, family.  Some still think the church is a building, we are the church.  The spirit live in us.  Moses served in God’s house, Jesus serves us over all our houses.  The master has given us dominion....he is over the house, and until he returns has given us authority.  We may still be called to serve, but now have all the blessings of the master behind us.  Which side of the counter you are on is your choice.  As for me and my house we will serve the Lord.  As family.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

leave a clean campsite

I used to always emphasize to my techs to autograph their work with excellence.  That whoever is the next person to lift the hood after they worked there, would be impressed about the work.  This would be the only chance, their legacy sort of speak to whoever had to work on it again.  And you would be surprised the things we found from the previous tech who worked on it.  Gloves, tools, sometimes covers not replaced or fasteners properly tightened. Sometimes missing altogether!  Yet this was what was considered acceptable by lesser stores, but never by me.  We wanted to go the extra mile, and give the customer a reason to return.  Sadly many times we would do all that, only to have a lot attendant lose the keys, leave dirty fingerprints on the dash, or leave the radio volume up, and not on the same station the elderly customer had it set to.  The final verdict being no matter how well or how reasonably priced the repair was, that was their lasting impression.  And based on CSI scores, which we all got paid on, the lowest man on the totem pole could either make or break you.  And in other businesses it works as well.  Dave Thomas, founder of Wendy’s built his business based on a simple philosophy, “the two most important bites of the hamburger are the first and the last.”  He wanted you to want another one of his burgers, how simple is that?

For years I told my sons “give me a reason to say yes.”  Because and everyone else is going is not a good argument.  Give me a reason.  And often times they did, and learned to play the game to win.  I also taught them to put themselves in the best position to make a decision.  Let it be your call, rather than being told.  Again good advice, when taken and applied.  And of course, never make a decision based on emotion, especially a high or low one.  No need to go into how I know.  And in most cases, listen then respond, the old measure twice, cut once rule.  Yet too many hurry, cut once, then try to hide or bury their mistakes.  And only end up making it worse....again, no references upon request.

Almost 50 years ago between terrorizing campsites, and finding the hardest way to not make Tenderfoot in Boy Scouts, we camped a lot.  Which is what Scouts do.  Today I rather go the Camp Marriot, or Camp Comfort Suites route, but back in my younger and less responsible days we camped.  Many times barely escaping sleep by the time the sun came up, and eating, laughing, and farting all night.  Still sounds like fun.  But one thing we were told, was to leave a clean campsite for the next camper.  Impress them about your skills, and maybe even show courtesy, be a good neighbor.  Which often meant obeying rules, and missing Sunday church services to do it.  But on particular trip, it was only BH and me, and we went out of our way once we were done.  Our spot was spotless, with one exception.  We left a courtesy pile of firewood, and drew praise from our surprised scout masters.  A simple expression of good scouting, but no merit badge involved.  But it was of merit, as it exemplifies the golden rule.  Do unto others as you would have them do to you.  Important-not as they have done to you.  And over the years, I was able to apply this simple God inspired lesson to my life both personal and professional.  Autograph your work with excellence.

Just like Joltin’ Joe DiMaggio, who once was quoted after running out a grounder to short in a meaningless game, he explained “what if this was the only time the fans had seen him play.”  He autographed his work with excellence.  Leaving a clean campground behind for others to emulate.  A far cry from the overpaid entertainment industry sports has become.  I wouldn’t have minded camping out with Joe.  Or having him fix my car.  Yet too many leave it for the next guy to be their problem.  Never a good thing to do.  And often times Christians are like this.  They are so consumed with going out witnessing, that they fail in their daily witness.  Repeating only what we know or have heard as truth.  Hebrews 2 tells us “to pay the most careful attention to what we have heard, so we don’t drift away.”  Yet so many only have heard, or hear what they want.  I have friends who know Bible tracts inside and out, can quote the Four Spiritual Laws, and the Roman Road.  Yet when asked simple questions about their beliefs, cannot answer.  And end up arguing instead.  They prefer quickie sound byte Christianity as opposed to fulltime and in depth.  It is about them, then Jesus, and often believe anything they are told.  And sadly pass it on to others.  And then get upset when told to test the spirits as 1 John 4 tells us.  And tend to fall back on the laws of Moses, which were given by angels.  Rather than the grace and mercy given directly from Jesus Christ.  I don’t get it, angels who were created by God to serve, as opposed to Jesus who came to save? 

One true aspect of an apostle was they all saw Jesus.  They saw, heard, and could repeat what they learned directly form him.  Not via rumor or innuendo, no Facebook or Twitter gospel here, just one of truth.  They were eyewitnesses, how compelling is that?  And the gospel is the same for both saved and unsaved-for all to come to repentance!  Yet the legalists will study to find themselves approved, rather than trust the spirit.  True we are to be students of the word, we study to be approved, to confirm, not to be saved.  Jesus does that just fine, and without our help.  Many times despite our help.  He asks us to trust, not to depend on signs and wonders, but trust him.  Make it personal, know his voice.  Be a witness, and leave a clean campground for the next one. 

Jesus always delivered more than promised.  A good lesson for us.  Spend the time to handle the details, don’t give directions, walk them to the place they need.  Make them feel welcome, comfortable, and show hospitality.  Which is a gift.  I know you have received it, now pass it on.  Spend it ahead.  And no one has to know except you and God.  A great Ronald Reagan quote is “it is amazing what can be done when no one cares who gets the credit.”  Works in car repair, for Wendy’s hamburgers, for Joltin’ Joe, and for the Boy Scouts.  And most importantly it works with God.  Who has given us a reason to say yes, his name is Jesus.  Who has prepared a site in heaven for us.  Who loves us despite our emotions, and forgives us when we sin, again and again.  Today the way you leave a situation may be the only Bible some will ever read.  If you are identified as a Christian, they expect you to act like one.  So act like one, make it a part of who you are in Christ.  Joltin’ Joe has left and gone away, and Jesus left us to be his ambassadors.  Until he returns for us, autograph your witness with love, compassion, and mercy.  Do it for yourself, do it for God, and do it for the unsaved who are watching.  Ask yourself, would you like to be like you?  It may end under the hood, but it starts in the heart.  And what comes from your mouth tells us what is on your heart...now you were saying?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com 

Nick at Night

Talking with a father and son the other night, I mentioned that I worked for Coca Cola when the NEW Coke came out.  Both were too young to remember, and only got confused when I told the story of how we now have Classic Coke, which really was the original Coke before NEW Coke came out and failed on that fateful Black Tuesday.  They had always had Coke Classic, so that was all there was, and still is.  At least to them.  Today we find classic rock stations playing songs so frequent I don’t listen.  When is the last time you heard anything from Side 1 of The Doors album?  Any ELP?  Todd Rundgren?  How about The Beach Boys, The Kinks, Jefferson Airplane, Quicksilver, or any of the other true classic rock groups?  Yet like Classic Coke, so many have never heard of the original, and think what they are listening to are true classics.  But are so far from it. So as I sit night after night, with 200 channels to choose from, and nothing on TV, I am at least thankful for the remote control.  When is the last time you got up and walked across the room and changed the channel?  Would you be willing to do it 200 times in frustration?  Maybe technology was a good thing, and it has just gone on too long.

But in the midst of our selections we find Nick at Night.  Which at one time played great old shows, classics by any definition.  Shows like Leave it to Beaver, Get Smart, My Three Sons, Father Knows Best, Andy Griffith, and The Beverly Hillbillies.  But now has evolved into TV Land, and many of these shows have gone away.  Replaced with garbage like Hot in Cleveland, The Exes, and Jennifer Falls, all new shows that are decadent at best, with no classic overtones.  Reruns of Raymond, which I don’t like, and King of Queens, who isn’t.  Whatever happened to real classics like The Honeymooners, Sgt. Bilko, and Dragnet?  At least sometimes a spin off channel Cartoon Network shows the Flintstones or the Jetsons.  But the word classic doesn’t mean what it used to, and with us old classics fading from view daily, who knows what the new classic will be?  Justin Bieber?  I can almost hear Laura Petry, “oh Rob!”

But the original Nick at Night took place some 2000 years ago.  Let me set the scene.  Nicodemus, head of the Sanhedrin has heard about this teacher, Jesus of Nazareth.  It is the time of Passover, and many people are in Jerusalem.  Many crowding both Jesus and Nicodemus.  And Jesus meets with Nick at night, in the cool of the evening, which many did due to the crowds and higher daytime temps.  Nicky wants to meet Jesus, he is fascinated by what he hears about him, but is about to be captivated by what he hears from him.  Being in the Sanhedrin, he is well versed in the laws of Moses, and is a rich man also.  We would call him famous today.  A celebrity, yet this unknown, itinerant teacher has caught his attention.  And the ensuing conversation is famous, Jesus tells him “you must be born again to inherit the kingdom of God.”  Now Nicky knows of the prophecies of the returning savior, could this be him?  Yet he goes away confused, questioning, “how can a man be born again and reenter the womb?”  One meaning of the original Greek is again means from above, yet he still wonders.  And for another 16 chapters in John he is never heard of, yet when he shows up with Joseph of Arimithea at the tomb of Jesus with precious burial ointments, we see him here in chapter 19 a changed man.  Somewhere in the 16 chapters he has truly become born again, born from above, and is where once he met in secret at night, now he risks everything at his tomb in the light of day.  But what has happened, how did he become born again?  A term used only three times in the New Testament, quoting Jesus’ original statement.

Maybe Nicky’s original confusion came from the fact he thought he had to do it himself.  It has to come from above, and has to have incorruptible origins.  It is a work of the spirit, whose job is telling us “you need Jesus,” over and over again until our day of salvation.  It is a choice we make, based on the urgings of the spirit, based on faith in who Jesus Christ is.  A supernatural, magical transformation from death to life.  No wonder Nick questioned it, and so many do today.  For we look for outward appearances, evidence we can see to confirm the change, yet for each one of us it is different.  Individual.  Some get excited, it is emotional and immediate changes are seen.  For some it is a gentle transformation as told in Romans.  For some they are silent Christians like Joe of A was, but when urged by the Holy Spirit performed the task he was assigned, giving up his grave for Jesus.  So that famous meeting with Nick at night still has personal ramifications, everlasting ones even today. 

So today you still must be born again, born from above to enter the kingdom of God.  It takes Jesus, and he made it easy so I could get it, and free, so I could afford it.  Not cheap, for he paid a huge price, but paid it for us.  It is more than adopting a new philosophy, for if it was philosophers could debate it.  If it was a lifestyle, People magazine would promote it.  If religious, religion would embrace it.  And if a code to live by, men would form clubs to show their righteousness.  It is not a self help, for you cannot save yourself.  You need a savior.  Yet all come close, and we see evidence in the world of all, but Jesus saves, only Jesus is love.  And even nailing him to the cross couldn’t deter his message, for he rose again just as he said.  So it must be more than a belief system, it must be personal.  So personal he gives the invitation, and shows you himself.  An experience that must be experienced, for there are no words to describe it.  You can come close to the emotion of it, but it is impossible to relate a relationship with an infinite God in finite terms.  So many go away like Nick did that night, looking to understand, when all Jesus asks is for us to be faithful.  To trust, to try him out.  And he says “you must,” for there is no other way under heaven or earth by which we can be saved.  He is the way, the truth, and the light.  And in 25 words explains the meaning of life via John 3:16-17.  You must be born from above.  Are you?

That same Jesus that confronted Nick at night is calling out to you now.  You need Jesus, but perfect love does not demand itself.  It requires a decision, to be saved or not.  And since God is a spirit and must be worshipped as such, it takes a spiritual rebirth to be saved.  And in heaven we will get that new body, I get a new aorta!  I’m excited about that!  So have you been born again?  Born from above?  Or are you still channel surfing for a savior, and finding many channels, but nothing on?  Only Jesus is the way, classic before Coke, rock, or anything else.  He is the rock, make sure your name is on the role, be saved today.  It is just between you and him, but you will find you cannot keep him inside.  Nick didn’t, and couldn’t, going from night time in the garden, to daytime at the tomb.  Where all could see him.  But it started with the spirit urging him to meet with Jesus.  An appointment has been set for you, maybe today.  Maybe tonight.  Will you keep it?  What questions will you have?  Will you listen to the answers?  Will you be born from above? 

I don’t watch Nick at Night anymore, nothing on.  Don’t miss your night, your appointment with Jesus.  Be like Nick that night, make it personal, consider his claims, and let him change your life.  For Jesus, like the original Coke, is the real thing.  Jesus is it.  The most refreshing way of every day.  From above....so set your sights on things on high...only Jesus saves.  Still searching, over 200 channels and nothing on?  He comes to you...without a remote.  Before cable, before DTV, he was and still is the best thing on any channel.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

when the road ends, the adventure begins

Growing up, Princeton Avenue wasn’t paved yet.  Nor had it gone through yet, and ended after about six houses with a big wooden barrier warning drivers the road ended.  Sometime in the mid-sixties they paved the road, hard to imagine any subdivision without curbs and asphalt today, but the barrier remained for years until it was removed and new houses built.  But for us kids on our Schwinns, JC Higgins, or Rollfasts, just the other side of the barrier the fun began.  Over the years a dirt path had been established, and it was only passable on foot, or skillfully navigated by our bikes.  A wonderful land where no cars or adults interfered, a place where we built tree forts, climbed trees, and played pirate, pretending a huge downed weeping willow was our ship.  In summer the weeds grew high, and in winter the snow covered it, with each season providing new challenges for us. I wondered if many adults ever knew of all the fun to be had just the other side of the barrier, as none were ever seen there.  Where the road ended, we didn’t nor did the fun.  Cars and adults knew enough to stay out, and when their road ended, our adventures were just beginning.  A pathway to unexplored woods, to new neighborhoods on the other side, and new kids to meet.  Who shared a common path with us, just coming at it from a different angle.  Their beginning was our end, our our beginning was their end, and we all met in the middle and played together.  Unsupervised, with no rules, having fun and letting only our imaginations dictate the adventures for the day.  We didn’t need to be entertained, as we were entertaining, and life had not told us yet we couldn’t have fun.  But as we got older, and the older guys in their teens would cut through with their girl friends, we saw new adventures as they held hands, and sometimes even kissed.  YUK!  And we were chased more than once for spying on them in mid kiss, even though they were right out in the open.  And then the day came when the fence came down, the bulldozers arrived and built a street.  With houses to follow, and suddenly the playground of our youth was gone.  Progress they called it, and for awhile we missed it, until we came of age when we walked with girls, hand in hand, and tried to sneak a kiss, but had no woods to do it in.  The barrier had been removed, the land was now open to all, and the adventures ended.  Or at least took on a new meaning, with new adventures to come.

As kids we never realized that the barrier was for our benefit, as it kept the world out.  But later we came to regard gates, fences, and barriers as preventing us from going where we wanted to go, they impeded our progress.  If only we could see them in the eyes we once did as kids.  Maybe that is why adventure bikes are growing in popularity.  They enable to keep going when the road ends, or the pavement stops.  We can no longer wonder what is down the path, but wander down it and see.  And so for many who have ridden for years, a new road awaits us, one where only our imagination and fears limit us.  To travel down the roads of our youth, but now at higher speeds than our Schwinns would ever see.  Maybe they are called adventure bikes for reason, as those of us old enough and able to remember remember when they were called dual purpose, or enduros.  High pipes and knobby tread, whoever thought we would return to our roots on them today.  Allowing kids of all ages to never have to grow up, if only our parents knew what really went on beyond the fence.  Adults were limited, as kids we hadn’t acquired that trait yet.

Many come to Christ today and see the barriers removed.  We are free from sin, have a new life, and it is exciting.  We can go places, see things, and see them through Christ’s eyes as we go on in life.  Yet for many this is where the adventure ends, as denominational barriers are put up.  Some concentrate on laws and legalism, robbing us of our new found freedom.  Thou shalt not is echoed in their belief system.  Some are bound by the new life by never being discipled, and never growing in Christ.  Wondering why some are so blessed, yet their own lives are on of drudgery.  And eventually fall back into their pre-Jesus state, saved but not enjoying all the benefits.  A fence has been erected between them and God, and they don’t see it, and if they do, are afraid to go beyond it.  They stay safe and secure on this side of the barrier, telling themselves this is all there is.  But for those of us who want all the Jesus we can get, we find ways over and around the barriers man puts up.  We find that when scripture says “we can do all things in Christ who strengthens us,” we believe it.  We see the miracles because we trust God, we see healings because we know Jesus is the great physician.  We have hope because he gives us hope, and way beyond anything we can hope or imagine he provides.  A paved road just becomes the beginning, and doesn’t end when it turns to dirt.  We just lean on God more, and follow him down the path, knowing he has gone ahead.  And when the going gets rough, we adjust to his speed, the holy spirit becoming the suspension and smoothing out the bumps.  We may not know what lies ahead, but we know when God is in it we will be blessed.  And since he is everywhere, and ever present, we look forward to new roads and new challenges, where God can be God, and all the other lies told to us by liars become just that.  Losers make excuses, we make testimonies.

It doesn’t take an adventure bike to be adventurous, it takes trust in Jesus.  Seems we had more faith in our old two wheelers to take us places than we do God sometimes.  No kid ever wanted to be called a scaredy cat, or a wuss.  We need to have the same confidence in Christ today.  We need to see the fallen trees and wonder how they fell.   Keep our eyes on the path before us, and keep going when we encounter others using the path for their own purposes.  When chased out know that sometimes it is for our own good, and choose another path, knowing God is leading.  We don’t need fear to become a barrier from all the blessings of Jesus.  Take the attitude that if God presents it, then he will take us through it.  Not around or over, but through it. Encouraging those who are scared, and leading those who are lost or confused.  For when sin ends, a life in glory begins, and when God gets the all the glory, we get all the blessings. 

Life is an adventure, what you make of it depends on your choice on who you follow.  Stay bound to laws and never grow, and always wonder why.  Or live in the spirit, and see the places that others cannot only imagine.  It has been said that only those who can see the invisible will do the impossible, we trust a God who reveals himself by is spirit.  We have faith, become obedient, then fully trust.  I get excited about new roads, and where they lead.  But I know I never travel alone, and when the road ends, Jesus never does.  Trust him to take you down some new roads today, become a dual purpose person, living in the world but not of it, become an enduro, enduring when others turn back, and find that in Christ, when the road ends, the adventure is only beginning.  Remove all the barriers between you and Jesus today....I dare you!  What are you, a scaredy cat or something?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com