on the fourth day we do laundry

Give me a tank bag and I can pack to be on the road for weeks.  Add a tail pack for Theresa and we may never return.  And so our motorcycle packing has been for years.  Of course the Tiger with hard bags has made it easier, but still we don’t need much to get by.  As I watch others dragging a load of bags to put on their bikes, I can be packed in a few minutes, and off riding while they search for items they packed by accident or cannot find. Simplicity is how we tour, and have learned many things over the 48 states and Canada to make our ride easier and more fun.  I have ben using tank bags for over 40 years, if you need more you are over packed.  When I moved west by myself all I had fit in the tank bag on my R90S, just because you own it doesn’t mean you have to bring it along.  We dress in layers and pack accordingly, and over the years have gone with fabric jackets leaving the leathers home.  Not only are they warmer and can be rainproof, they roll up easier and are lighter to pack.  Also pants are good for 2-3 days, and get more comfortable as you ride.  A t-shirt a day, a sweatshirt and swim suit, and socks.  A friend even wears old underwear, throwing them away after use, which also makes room for new t-shirts bought along the way.  I once learned make a list, then cut it in half, then only take half of that, and you will only use half of that.  And we have learned two important tricks to traveling, one is the Post Office, rather than continue to add weight and taking up space you don’t have, mail it home.  Dirty clothes and all, wear your new shirts, and if you need socks, Walmarts are everywhere.  But the one that works no matter the length or distance, whether 10,000 miles or only a week, is simple.  On the fourth day we do laundry.  We pack in 4 day increments, and every fourth day we do laundry.  Also a good day to mail home extra clothes or souveneirs bought along the way.  It is amazing how much stuff you can stuff into a one price shipping USPS box.  Packing skills will aid you here also.  Many times we arrive home lighter than when we left despite buying shirts, etc. using the Post Office.  And be creative, write “contagious” on the box, and watch how carefully it arrives intact. 

But it all comes down to baggage, and the baggage we carry with us.  So many emergency items can be purchased along the way, simple first aid kits can be put together, and even low end motels offer blow dryers.  If camping remember, you’re gonna put your helmet on anyway.  Flip flops pack easy on top, and can be worn when not riding.  But another key is how to pack.  Put the things used most on top, the least on the bottom.  No need unpacking, then repacking every night.  There is some law that it never fits as good as the first time, so do your best to go with it.  Adhering to the rule, if you cannot fit it in your bags or a tank bag, you probably don’t need it.  Make sure your bike is safe and ready and head off.  The road calls, go and have the ride of your life.

Packing light works also in real life.  We all carry a lot of extra baggage we don’t have to.  For some reason we feel we must hang onto things, even when we know they are not good for us.  Some refer to them as addictions, and use them as a crutch, never letting go.  And never finding they can get by just fine without them.  Some get stuck in a rut, which is really a grave, but with both ends open, still a way of escape.  Some don’t know, and use the excuse we’ve always done it this way.  some are brand loyal, “I could never ride anything but a BMW.”  Feel free to write your brand in.  Some go the same trips, some never take one, some only wear leathers, some are posers and don’t know it, and some just don’t care.  Or at least care what others think.  But we all carry extra baggage we don’t need to....

Many live in sin even after they are saved.  They believe in the power of Jesus and his forgiveness, yet hang onto things they don’t have too.  They carry heavy loads when Jesus promises to bear their burdens.  To lighten their load, to direct their paths.  Others tell me “I could never be forgiven for that,” underestimating the fact all sin is forgivable, and never reaping the benefits.  Some are caught up in themselves, and it must be all about them, and they carry about the wright of selfishness.  Pride that must be worn and adorned to show off.  If how you pack tells us about how you tour and ride, then how you live tells us more about Jesus in your life than your words.  Some things need to left home, some thrown away because they are not useful any longer.  Some left behind, they only cause trouble.  Some things are better off forgotten, and some things needed can be picked up along the way.  If Jesus is always with you, why carry anything else?  Why worry?  Why be burdened with excess, when you can have it all in him? 

So leave room for Jesus in your life, home or on the road.  Spend time with him daily, and I have found Sunday’s only are not enough.  I need to be refreshed more often.  I need the fellowship, the teaching, the praise and worship found in the body at church.  I need to be refreshed every fourth day, to do my spiritual laundry.  And not wait until next week, sometimes not wait until Wednesday.  I need Jesus every day, so I take him with me.  I pack him right on top where I can get to him easily.  I try not to let anything get in our way, and when things do, I ask how really important they are.  Do I really need them?  Are they doing me harm?  Some may ask “what would Jesus do?”  I answer, “you have to ask?”  Isn’t he close enough so you know?

We are packing for an eternal trip, and you will leave everything behind except your relationship with God in Jesus Christ.  Make sure that is on your daily list.  No ride, no trip is complete without him along.  Cast your cares on him for he careth for you.  Along the roads of life we will accumulate many things.  Some should be tossed, some sent home, and some kept.  Jesus is a keeper, so take his advice.  Take nothing you don’t need, and everything you do.  Having spent all of his ministry on the road, he knows how to pack, and instructed his disciples how to.  Take only what you have on you, so make sure you pack correctly.  Seek help as needed, God will guide.  And if rejected, take your blessing and move on.  The only thing to pack is love, found in Jesus Christ.  Don’t worry, and again enjoy the ride.

So remember that every fourth day may be OK on the road, but we need Jesus everyday.  Wednesday to be revived, Sunday the same.  You fill your bike’s tank when it is empty, don’t wait for the low fuel or oil light to come on before taking action.  So why live any other way.  And while others are fussing with their load, or repacking, you will be out riding.  Now would you rather hear my traveling stories, or see my packing list?  Be a doer, rather than just a hearer.  Write testimonies rather than read other’s.  On the third day he rose, on the fourth we do laundry.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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