getting to "no" you

You cannot teach experience, and one lesson experience teaches is you cannot always make decisions based on it.  For instance last week our F150 wouldn’t start.  After checking the obvious, it had gas, it sounded like a fuel pump.  Recent memory has had me replace two in our other cars last year.  I guess it happens to older cars, my newest is a 2003.  But after surfing for the best deal, and waiting until a Saturday night to install it, still a crank, no start situation.  So we checked all the fuses and relays-good.  A phone call turned us onto trying starting fluid, our next to last resort.  Finally checking the inertia switch ruled out all fuel related possibilities.  $200 dollars later we had experience, and a truck that wouldn’t start.  But one possibility remained, not fuel related, the key.  Newer keys have transponders in them, so the key talks to the truck allowing it to start and run.  So off to the local key shop....on two wheels.  Monday morning.

Where immediately he noticed the microchip was missing, somehow it had fallen out.  Good news, and bad.  Good, key was only $20 rather than the $80 he had quoted me, but he suggested I go back and look for missing price, it had to fallout in truck.  Which it hadn’t, so back to key store, after calling Ford to have key programmed. a dealer only can do this, the machine is way expensive.  But after purchasing the key, I was about to call Ford and have the truck towed, when another man mentioned he had a friend who did mobile programming, so I called him.  For $75 rather than the $120 Ford quoted, he would come by the house, no towing involved.  And when he showed up as arranged, it took him a few minutes and the truck started.  But the deal wasn’t over, he gave me another key for free, and only charged me $65!  And we talked of people we knew in the auto community, we had many of the same friends.  But in talking, he mentioned his 9 year old son, born without part of his heart, and who has had three open hearts surgeries.  Which I can associate with, for we are both miracles to be alive, only God could bring two men together from a missing microchip in a key.  All the “no’s” that diagnostics and experience had taught us were useless, God had a planned meeting for us that day.  And saved us money...and the truck was fixed.  But I go back to the first morning it wouldn’t start and where I sat in it and prayed.  God assured me it would be OK, his OK is always better than mine.  But it was in the no answers he provided, that led me to Bill and the story of his son.  All because my truck didn’t start....

So many ask where is God when I need him?” and when they don’t get an answer, immediately blame God.  But I have learned over the years when God says no, it is because a better yes is coming.  He knows what lies around the next curve, we don’t.  But if we listen to him, really ask “thy will be done,” and then follow it, we are blessed, and we have another testimony to share to encourage other, and give him the glory.  Jesus is referred to as the great physician, not the great doctor.  Doctors practice medicine, Jesus heals.  Doctors diagnose, Jesus not only knows the problem, but has cure and can cure.  All in one convenient prayer, although his timing may have you meet up with others in his plan.  He never hurries, never was late, it is us who are impatient.  And since he never leaves us, or forgets us, he is on call 24/7.  Better and quicker than a 911 call.  From Abraham trusting God who swore by himself, to act because he knew God’s character, he had trouble with his wife’s faith, and today we have the endless battle between Jews and Arabs.  The Jewish race through Isaac who was promised, and was born some 25 years after the promise, and Ishmael, born of his concubine when influenced by Sarah not to wait.  After all they were old, and she was barren.  I wonder if they had waited what the world would belike today?  And I look back to many things I have tried to fix, coming up short.  I think of the doctor telling me I had a pinched nerve in my neck, when really my aorta was about to explode.  The pain was in the same area....but it was a heart problem, one only a miracle of God could cure.  But somehow it always comes back to the heart, from my aorta to the heart of man, the soul.  For hardened hearts towards God will finally end in death as my hardened aorta almost did.  But God knows, in Isaiah 65 he tells us he has the answer in the works before we even pray.  But we still need to follow his lead, even if it takes a life flight on a helicopter, or a ride down to the key store.  If I hadn’t gone back to check for the missing key part, I would have ended up with the truck towed to Ford, as it was it cost less, I got another free key in the deal, and heard of this man’s son.  And was reminded by God how all things work out for good, when we follow his lead, and he wants to bless us.  He had the man in the mobile unit ready just like he had the helicopter ready in Durango, like he had Isaac ready for Abraham and Sarah.  Just  like he has Jesus ready for you.  Today may be your day of salvation, or of a miracle, are you listening?  Or still trying to figure it out yourself?

God is God no matter what you believe, which is a good thing.  He doesn’t change to be like us, but we change to be like him.  I cannot imagine the consequences if it were the other way around.  Just one impatient act by a couple thousands of years ago still is reaping horrible results, and God called Abraham a man of faith.  Imagine what miracles he can do with your little faith, and history of sin.  But you must turn to him, listen, trust and obey.  Get to know God and “no” God.  and learn that no is a wonderful answer when it comes from a loving father.  Paul once said we look through a glass darkly, and what do we see?  Interesting as mirrors were not invented yet, it took faith to look and then obey.  If your mirror of faith is dark, try Jesus.  Open your heart, he’ll open your eyes, for things are not always what we think.  We only seek the symptoms, and a diagnosis.  Jesus is the answer.  And turned out to be the answer to the key for our truck.  He cares about all aspects of your life, from salvation to trucks to motorcycles.   Find out today, you could be riding instead of still waiting for a tow.  You could be a miracle instead of another statistic.  Just say no, God often does, and rejoice in that better yes.  It’s who you know, and who you “no” that makes all the difference.  If God can heal a Ford, imagine what he can do for you? 

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

Mr. Sternwallow runs a factory

It is hard to believe only 100 years ago Alfred P. Sloan was about to change the world of automobiles forever.  Although he never designed or engineered a car, his contribution to automobile history ranks very high.  He was the architect of putting General Motors together, with the plan of each division making its own decisions, but being responsible to the holding company, the mother.  A plan that not only saved the company, but has become a model for industry since.  His famous quote, “General Motors is not in the business of making cars, we are in the business of making money,” was revolutionary, and he was bold enough to describe free enterprise in one short sentence.  Long gone he philanthropic endeavors outlast him, in such places such as Sloan Kettering Institute, for medicine.  Another automotive pioneer was more hands on in the engineering and just the opposite of Mr. Sloan’s management policies.  Henry Ford at one time used to pay bills by the pound, he was too busy with other things, and his statement “it is a poor company that makes only money” reflected it.  His name is on millions of cars still today, while Sloan’s name may be new to you.  But here is one you never heard of, Elihu P. Sternwallow.  Mr. Sternwallow runs a factory.  From here on we will refer to him as ES.

ES started with the North American Veeblefetzer Company about 100 years ago, out of school.  He rose up through the ranks to eventually run it, making a name and reputation for himself.  He was the model of American business, dealing with labor by throwing the unions out, announcing new models, and setting company guidelines for 50 years.  He put the company on the map, and at shows many were amazed and impressed with new models of the Veeblefetzer, drawing rave reviews and new orders, a stand out being the new model 305-J, with self rotating oil cups and horizontal manifolds.  An especially new touch was calibrating the air pressure gauge in litres per cubic meter, for greater confusion.  He was known to invite others to lunch, then reluctantly pay the bill.  A strict disciplanarian he once fired a secretary for becoming ill on the job.  He threw a party for a 50 year long employee, only docking his employees an hour pay for attending.  And in an attempt to curtail injuries at work, fired the company nurse.  A true leader in the industry, old ES is only remembered in publications from long ago. He even had his own in house publication, VEEBLE PEOPLE.   And one in particular, MAD magazine, who invented him in a parody done over 50 years ago.  You see there is no North American Veeblefetzer Company.  But that didn’t stop many from believing the idiocy of it, and some even tried to buy stock in it.  Creating quite a stir when they found out it was a joke on American business.  And willing to invest in something they had never heard of and didn’t exist, a veeblefetzer.  MAD had gone after the basic instinct of greed, added foolishness, and won.  And today I still find it a tribute to great satire, and the fickleness of the American reader.  To me ES deserves a place right up there with Sloan, Ford, and others such as Gates, and Jobs.  For who else created something out of nothing, and created such a stir...at no cost!  Try running that one up the flagpole and saluting it!

It takes a lot of faith to be an atheist with all the evidence about Jesus.  From his recording by Josephus to the Bible, it is evident Jesus of Nazareth was a real person.  And from the testimonies he had to be God.  He had to be who he said he was.  Yet many believe a lie like the one of old ES, choosing to believe a fabricated story, changing facts to meet opinions, rather than changing opinions to meet the facts.  And no matter how or what you believe, he still is who he says he was and is, and is coming back for his church, us!  He was a winner in all he did, because of one simple choice he made, to trust God his father.  Now although he was fully God, he came to earth as fully man, and only in obedience to what his father told him to do was he successful.  He did nothing on his own, even unto death on the cross.  Asking if there was any other way to let the cup pass.  But stayed true to his instruction to his disciples when they asked him how to pray, “thy will be done.”  Yet we take a different route even though we call ourselves Christians, tell everyone we have faith, and praise God when things go our way.  But what when they don’t, when God knows better?  What can we do?

We can be like Jesus and not question the father’s authority or wisdom.  He took no refuge in unbelief, never questioned what this father told him to do.  Yet we argue, cry, wince, complain, and disobey going our own way, sad after repeating scripture that tells us “all things work together for good for those who love the lord and are called by him.”  And why do you never hear someone rising up the ladder of success claim “it’s all gonna burn someday,” but you do when they are failing?  Jesus put himself in the arms of a loving father, our father and his, and looked to him to sustain him.  And when he did his father brought him safely through, completing the task he was sent to do, to save sinners.  A horrible cost because sin is horrible, and separates us from God.  Only in Jesus do we get through.  Only he is the way.  Only Jesus.

Today you may not be facing death, disease, or a family break up.  You need help from a loving God, one who can make the scripture of all things, both good and bad working together for good, our good.  Although Jesus was his son, and not a messenger or servant angel, Jesus teaches us about obedience through his own example.  He knows and knew suffering.  Yet many still look for Veeblefetzers, rather than him.  It’s our choice.

Finally a quote from old ES, “he placed a sign that read THINK outside his office, drawing a lot of clever comments.”  Think about Jesus for a moment, turn to him.  The battle between head and heart is only 18 inches, but what the heart believes the head can verify, or reject.  Consider the claims of Jesus, have the faith of an atheist.  Look at the evidence, he is who he said he is.  And know that no matter how serious the problem, when even at wit’s end, Jesus never fails.  God will fully meet your need when you need it, in his own way, for your benefit.  So give him the glory due him, and he will give us the blessings that aren’t due us.  He calls it grace and mercy.  Only found through Jesus Christ. Today a veeblefetzer is used to refer to a facetious name or placeholder.  Make believe, yada yada yada.  No veeblefetzers in heaven, only saints.  Of course all you grads of Potrzebie High School know that.  There are names, and then there are names. 

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

tires by the 6 pack

Coming out of the Christmas concert last night with our wives, Dick mentioned what a great night to ride.  The thermometer read 63 degrees, just right for a night ride.  And he was right, and we wish we had.  But yet we had made a concession and come in our cars.  What were we thinking?  I ran into a friend yesterday who is an LAPD SWAT officer. She has a Street Triple like mine, and was having some suspension upgrades done on it.  She has 91,000 miles on it, and has ridden it to the four corners of the US of A.  By herself.  Which is how she prefers to ride, she loves to ride, not stop for coffee.  And I‘m impressed, and you should be too, as she has a same year Moto Guzzi at home with only 80,000 miles on it.  My kind of rider... I also saw Ray yesterday pulling up on his Gold Wing.  Now before you think Ray is some kind of Wing rider with a plush animal on back, he was there to pick up his Hayabusa powered B King, which Mickey had just turboed for him.  It dynoed at 264hp, 200 more than the Bonneville I was riding.  Firing it up it sounded way cool, a nasty snarl from the exhaust.  But when concerned about the sound attracting the cops, was warned “don’t worry about the sound, worry about the burnouts and wheelies.”  It will wheelie in 6th gear, and will do burn outs half a block long.  When I told him to go home and order a 6 pack of rear tires, he laughed and said that was his next stop.  By the way, Ray is 71, and just had prostrate surgery.  Youth redefined. 

And I thought about another friend who has a life threatening illness.  Yet I the midst of it took of for Alaska on his own, on a bike with over 100,000 miles on it.  I thought of years ago meeting Julius Kagel, a legend among BMW riders, who only stopped riding at age 83 when a car ran a red light and killed him and his bike.  I am proud to say I once rode with him.  I thought of the time a hot shoe in Durango wanted to race me.  He was fast, and I finally agreed if I could pick the route.  “OK, Phoenix.”  We never did race, he wasn’t prepared for 500 miles of speed.  And as I look a the bikes in the garage, 4 Triumphs and a Suzuki, the Triumphs have over 280,000 miles them, and one being ridden in 48 states.  But adding in the oldest, the 1978 GS1000 Suzuki with only 30,000, I have over 300,000 miles of memories sitting here.  But they were bought to ride, and we do.  No idea how many miles on the dirt bike, some fun cannot be measured in distance, just time spent in the saddle.  So we ride, and trying to remember all the bikes I have owned and ridden over the years, I have ridden almost 1 million miles.  Many hours on the road, which may explain my helmet head, and hard of hearing.  But like my friends above, we ride.  It is woven into our life and lifestyle.  We have stories while others only have time to listen.  Some wonder what it is like, we cannot describe it.  Heavenly times are like that.  And yes we admit that we have chosen a dangerous lifestyle, but we live to ride, and ride to live.  We enjoy all that life offers from behind handlebars,  and when today’s ride is over, look forward to tomorrows.  Our Christmas shopping list is easy, it is all done at motorcycle shops.  Our leathers are worn, our hair is flat, and our cameras full of memories, only surpassed by the ones in our memories, which no film or camera could copy. 

An old saying tells us “I didn’t quit riding because I got old, I got old because I quit riding.”  Maybe that is why we will never grow up, never get old, but just get older.  We get out and ride.  Good advice, and found in scripture.  We are  told to not be only hearers of the word, but doers.  See, scripture does encourage us to ride, Jesus would have.  But yet when I encounter many after church, they talk of new books read, lessons on KWVE, and their latest small groups.  And although they are constantly educated, they aren’t out doing it.  They have only experienced Christ within the church, they never get out and take Jesus to the world.  This same group always wonders why I’m not at the men’s ministry, or serving at church.  Yet don’t get it when I answer about being out ministering while they are in class.  God has told me more than once, “if the seat of your pants is wearing out faster than the soles of your shoes, you have it wrong.”  I get it, I prefer to be a doer rather than just a hearer.  I want all that Jesus has to offer, and all the blessing he can give.  They are found out on the road, where he spent most of his time.  Out among the lost and hurting, not hanging out with the Pharisees.  They lived in bondage to the law, the next service, the next teaching.  If Jesus had never uttered a word, his life and style would still have led others to him.  It is like advice given to new fathers, “they won’t remember your words, but they will remember your actions.”  We remember Jesus on the cross long before we remember his final words on it.  So pick up your cross and ride.  Wear out some shoe leather, see for yourself what Jesus is talking about.  Log some miles with the lost instead of among the saved, you studied to find yourself approved, now go out and prove it!  Today may be the day you stop reading other people’s testimonies and making some of your own.  You will never know until you get out of church, and take the church out to the people.  Jesus got it, and many do today.  Jesus was a servant and was out serving.  Are you serving or being served?  Check please, maybe a reality check. 

A few years ago when Theresa was a new rider, she she was offered by a friend who is president of an international motorcycle ministry to trailer her bike to Hollister.  It was about 450 miles each way, and she told him no.  She was riding, wasn’t that why she bought her Bonneville?  Wasn’t Hollister a motorcycle rally?  So maybe it is the ride that is the destination, and how you get there is important.  My final destination is heaven, and I want the most from life I can get on the way.  Life is for the living. Let the dead bury their own.  II want to enjoy the life Jesus has offered me, and don’t wish to miss any blessings.  Or to be a blessing to others.  Get out and live.  Wear out some shoes, break a sweat.  Get your hands dirty.  Stand with a homeless guy who smells.  Whose feet are shoeless.  Whose home is no address.  Tell him about what Jesus has done for you.  Love and encourage him.  But first you must have the testimonies to share.  And they will listen when they know how much you care, not how much you owe.  Some quote scripture, I rather live it.

Ray and I left at the same time yesterday.  My Bonneville down 200 hp on his B King.  His license plate reads “it is good to B King.”  But it is better to know the King, Jesus Christ.  Pray for Ray, I love the guy, he is seeking, yet hasn’t ocme to Christ yet.  My last words to him were “wanna race?”  To which he replied jokingly “I left my title at home.”  Power is good, but only when used properly.  Jesus is the power, and the glory forever and ever.  Bring your title next time Ray, I’ll leave mine at home.  But I won’t leave Jesus.  He goes with me everywhere.  Worn out leathers and all.  Did I mention the Rocket 3 land speed record bike was there also?  465 miles per hour.  Suddenly Ray seems so slow.  You’ll never know until you get out and see.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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