Blog #95 January 7, 2025
God’s ability to open our minds to appreciate His ways is truly amazing. In the presence of God’s Spirit the true light of understanding can come from the simplest idea. It happened to me just recently with the phrase, “God’s grace is like when your Grandma gives you a bicycle for Christmas”. I heard that phrase and seeds were planted. My mind began to expand on that idea in ways that I now have to share.
Matthew 13:4 And when he sowed, some seeds fell by the wayside, and the fowls came and devoured them up.
Oddly my first thoughts were not about Grandma’s gift. My mind seemed to be focused on the world and how they would react to my Grandma’s gift. To hear them talk it seems a if bicycles and the knowledge of cycling are something everyone should know about, but in truth not everyone cares to associate with such knowledge. Many think that this knowledge is either a symptom of a cult mind or just childish. I knew this. But still, it was a present from Grandma.
The reality is that Grandma is very good at giving gifts. In fact I have always been able to depend on my gifts from Grandma as something I can use and something I enjoy using. In truth, I know nothing about bicycles or cycling. So, I guess I should unpack it and see if I can fully appreciate what I have been given. Then I have to decide if it is worth the time and effort I am going to have to invest. Unpacking this gift I find that I am completely out of my depth. I am wading around in a pile of parts and pieces that do nothing but confuse me. I need help. If I don’t find help from someone who knows, Grandma’s wonderful gift will just dry up and go away, with me never knowing what joy I missed.
Matthew 13:6 And some fell among thorns, and the thorns sprung up and choked them.
Hurrah, I found a group of people that knew all about Grandma’s gift, how to assemble it, how to ride it, an how to use it to make me happy. How lucky am I? They tried to teach me what each piece was but I soon found out that even for them there where too many pieces and much of the bicycle they just didn’t understand, but we stumbled through it together. Then they taught me to ride. Though I was clumsy and fell a lot, the two that had been set aside to teach me were patient and understanding. The sought to teach me how to successfully ride two full city blocks without falling down. Reaching that milestone my probation was over. I could be a part of the people who truly understood Bike Riding and I was invited to join them. I discovered more joy when I found out that many of them rode on Wednesday nights, too. Happiness and joy were mine because I had found a group of people that enjoyed their bicycle in the same way I enjoyed mine, but then reality crept in on me. I showed up one Sunday with a really cool pair of red stripped shorts and was promptly told that that was not the proper clothes to wear when riding with them. So I switched back to the white shirt, shorts, and of course a helmet. All was fine, but on the inside I really wanted to wear my cool pair of red striped shorts. Every Sunday we rode the same path. When I suggested that we ride on a different path this Sunday, and I was promptly and thoroughly chastised for even suggesting a path different to the one they traditionally used. Their group had been riding this way for years and would keep riding this way forever. That seemed silly because I could envision so many different places to go and things to see if we would just allow ourselves to grow in our attitude about bike riding. But in this group no one shared my vision. In fact most of the group thought it sinful to even think of allowing the bicycle to be used in these deviant sinful ways. So, I rode away from this group and sought out people that weren’t so afraid to open their hearts up to the many joyful ways they could celebrate their bicycle.
Mark 3:6 And some fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it; and it yielded no fruit.
As I got out into the world I found that bike riding was an activity that brought much joy in many ways to people all over the world. For a while I joined a group that wore the bright colored shorts I preferred, and rode for many hours and many miles. As I got to know these people I was surprised to find that most of them really didn’t like riding bicycles. Riding was no more and a means to achieve what they sought. To them it was a dedicated exercise in discipline. They rode to mainly to impress other bike riders with their strength and their dedication. They rode that they might become a group greater in numbers and recognized by the community as the best bikers around. They used their bike riding to influence the community in all sorts of ways that had nothing to do with riding bikes. If they wanted different tax levies or better roads they would go to politicians with their opinions and influence them to do what they wanted done. They weren’t really bike riders. Their bike riding was just a way to gather together people for the purpose of pushing their agenda on the rest of the world. This was not why I rode a bike. So, I left them and searched for others who were not concerned with being bicycle riding power brokers.
Luke 8:7 And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprang up with it, and choked it.
Being burnt twice by false bike riders, I was hesitant to join another group. I just rode on my own. As I grew in my abilities I found out there are all kinds of people that ride bikes. Some used bicycle as their main source of transportation. They rode in rain, in snow, and even on the hottest days of the year. I wasn’t that hardy and I found myself envious of their dedication. Then it occurred to me that they were not too much different that most of the other groups. They didn’t enjoy riding bikes they rode bikes to support their ego by proving to those around them that they would do this repetitive painful activity instead of burning fossil fuels. I found the same thing to be true of those that rode motorized bicycles. Whether they were the battery powered small bikes or the big heavy motorcycles, they were riding for to be seen and recognized as the ultimate free spirited individuals. I found it funny that these staunch individuals all wore the same clothes; rode in the most militaristic manner, and in many cases became overbearing and controlling of traffic patterns and quite belligerent to any who would challenge their authority. Many of them were a detriment to the whole concept of my favorite two-wheeled past time.
Mark 3:6 And some fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it; and it yielded no fruit.
When I found a people whose pure joy was riding to perfect of their ability to ride I was sure that my bicycle and I had found a home. I witnessed people that could perform magnificent tricks, twirls, and turns, balance themselves on their rear wheel seemingly forever, and jump their bikes high enough to do double and triple flips in the air effortlessly. It was all amazing and inspiring but I soon found out that this magnificent display came at a cost to everyone around them. They were oblivious to travel lanes and would ride wherever they pleased on the roads. Sidewalks and people on sidewalks even in crowded commercial areas were nothing but obstacles challenging their joy. In fact the way they interacted with anyone not on a bicycle was at the same time rude and dangerous. But, that was nothing compared to the arrogance they displayed when amongst their own.
Criticism and disapproval was their only form of communication. Their they were right there with their owner manuals pointing out to you that according to the manufactures your chain was to lose, your seat was at a wrong angle, or the relationship between sprockets on either the crank or the wheels were not only wrong but idiotic and they could show you chapter and verse where they were right, but that was only half the problem. The other half of this critical society were those that never once opened an owners manual, but had testimonies and interpretations “out the wazoo” of their experiences and what they had learned “on the street in the school of hard knocks” about how to care for your bike, how to ride your bike, and how to ignore any and all who would dare to threaten to their ability to follow what they know to be true. As I ran to get away from these zealots I began to question both the gift from my Grandma and my belief that the gift had been an act of love.
Matthew 13:7 But others fell into good ground, and brought forth fruit; some an hundred-fold, some sixty-fold, and some thirty-fold. Who hath ears to hear, let him hear.
It was then that I began a sabbatical. Me and my bicycle sought out places where we could be alone. I loved riding my bicycle, but the joy I was feeling was somehow hollow. I had come to find out that joy was only full when it was shared with another, but my experiences with others on bicycles had tainted my belief that anyone truly enjoyed a bike the way that I did. I was truly in despair.
Mark 3:7 And other seed fell on good ground, and did yield fruit, that sprang up and increased, and brought forth, some thirty-fold, and some sixty and some an hundred.
Sunday became a day with my bike and me. We did what we wanted to, rode where we wanted to, and never let anyone steal this time from us. You could say that I was shutting out everyone else, and you would be right. I had had my fill of imitation bike riders.
Luke 8:8 And others fell on good ground, and sprang up, and bare fruit an hundred-fold.
One particular Sunday changed all the Sundays after it. Halfway through my weekly ride I pulled up lame in a school parking lot. I had a flat tire, but no tools, patches, and worse yet no MacGyver to magically solve my problem. Just as I began to walk my crippled bike home a man about my age come ridding up on a beat up old Western Flyer.
“No patch, no spare, tough way to spend a Sunday” He said. “Need help”? “Sure do,” I said. “Got a patch.”
“I don’t but I am sure someone at the picnic does. Come with me”
So I followed him across the street to a park filled with Moms, Dads, kids, and as complete an assortment of cheap bicycles as I had ever seen. As we walked he told me his story. Seems as if this group of people saw a great need in this world for family get-togethers. Once or twice a month they gathered on Sunday to teach the kids and each other a thing or two about fellowship. I asked if the activity was about bicycles.
He looked at me kind’ a strange then as if he just made a decision He said, “Naw bicycles are just how we get here, but you can join in with or without a bicycle. Really what we are here for is to teach each other how to be friends. How to be nice to each other, care about each other, and just generally get along with each other. Polite is a big word among our gatherings. Seems like the world has forgotten that word. We’d like to see it live again.”
We found me some tools and a patch and as I fixed my flat tire I saw what I still consider to be an amazing thing. Some kids do some really cool tricks on their bikes, but I also saw them taking time to teach others how to do it and how to do it safely. Just as I was getting ready to air up my tire with a borrowed pump one of the kids asked me if he could do it. He and a couple of the others including a parent or two had watched me fix my flat from start to finish. One of the them was explaining just what I was doing as I did it. I realized that I had just become a DIY YouTube video on fixing a flat. The whole day was filled with talk, riding, learning how to be both polite on a bike and safe at the same time. I had never thought about how well polite and safe work together. The sun started getting low and everyone decided to leave together. What a hearting sight when I saw all these people gather into neighborhood groups, tell each other just what the route would be, then left the park on the streets at a leisurely pace, single file, a bike length between each. I got the honor of being the last one in line with my group and had the chore of telling every move right car coming by. What a relaxing safe ride.
I finally found out that my love for my bicycle became a joy when I was able to share it. Seems as if Grandma gift was worth way more than I originally thought. Grandma used that bicycle to teach me what I was really searching for, and that is people and growing with people. I still head to that park once or twice a month. The people are not the same, but the purpose for the meet is, and I suppose that is truly why I go. It is just so “dogone” hearting to see a group of people gathering to do things (anything) in a way that teaches truth, and a caring attitude about life and whoever you happen to be sharing it with. It’s just a good thing.
The blog I shared today was at the very least gratifying. It is amazing how a simple phrase like “God’s grace is like when your Grandma gives you a bicycle for Christmas” can and will when allowed to, grow to become a major testament of God, God’s ways, His people, and the Kingdom.
Never fail to plant a seed when you can.
It is our covenant, our labor and our joy.
FRED