eighty-one years....two hundred and sixty four miles...five twenty-five two-thousand thirteen

It was supposed to be warmer. 

That's what I kept telling myself as I blew on my hands and basked in the sun breaking through the patchy clouds.

The view was amazing though. the panorama doesn't give what's on the horizon credit. I't's about 20 years of my life down there in Eastern Oregon. Twenty years.... one quarter of the time that my grandmother was alive.


I didn't think it appropriate to take the kids to her funeral. They had only met her a two, maybe three times, and I felt it appropriate to shield them from even the shadow of grief. I loved my step-father's family, even to the point of legally taking his name even though he never adopted me. I remember grandma as .... constant, her smile lit up her whole face, wrinkles and all. I remember her being very practical, she would go along with whatever grandpa and dad had decided, but she would voice her opinion and smile and go along with what they said, even if she didn't agree with it. But you didn't cross grandma either. I found that out one day after school when a friend and I were trying to feed the horses apples. the horses were not exactly tame, but not wild either. One broke to bridle, and the other just not ridden in a long time. We had already thrown in the apples, but the horses were more interested in us, and were coming to the fence where we were stretched out to try to touch them. 

"YOU LEAVE THOSE HORSES ALONE!!' the voice blasted from behind me.... 

I'm not sure if she told my friend to go home before or after she smacked me with her belt. All I knew was I didn't even have time to explain we were only being nice to the horses before I was trotting back towards the house with grandma's bright eyes boring holes in my back as I walked. ... I think I was in 4th grade. 

I stopped again when I had gotten over the pass. by this time I was almost to the point I could not stop shivering. The weatherman had said it was supposed to be almost 10 degrees warmer. That's not a lot, unless you're on a bike without a screen, and gloves that cover your leather jacket cuffs. Even with chaps on, I was glad to have the snow behind me. Yup. Snow in late May.

I met with the family for breakfast. Some I had not seen for more than a year. It's sad that it took that to get us together. It's been a long time since that many of us were together, we even talked of the last time we had all been together, and it's been years ago. The service was short and sweet, my childhood pastor reading from Proverbs 31 and the virtues of a righteous women. My aunt read a native american poem. friends and family recounted things about her that they remembered fondly. All too soon I had to say my goodbyes and leave, the sitter had an engagement in the evening, and I had over a tank to ride.

I kept thinking as I rode back, through hills and forests that she must have been in as a child, of all the things she must have seen in her life. World War II, Vietnam. Korea. Her son was in the Gulf in the standoff with Lybia in the 80's. Watergate. Disco, TV, cellphones, computers... the list goes on.

A quarter of her life and half of mine down there, and that 20 years a fraction more than it's twin I've spent apart from the country stretched out before me. It got me thinking about God and kids and purpose and sovereignty and life and what I've seen..what God has walked me through.

Of course thinking of God made me think of the three years Jesus spent in ministry.

Of the short amount of time between the crucifixion and the death of the apostle Paul... less than the span of my grandmother and the face of the world changed.

It was kind of like having the rug pulled out from behind me.... the thought that sprung up just as I was reaching the outskirts of home.

I'm barely less than half my grandmother's age when she passed.

What will I see in my lifetime?

Palouse Falls

John is a guy I work with. He's a believer too, and we have had some pretty good conversations to deflect from the tedium at work - what's more he rides a motorcycle as well.

A little over a year ago, John and his wife Patty were looking for a church. I just happened to be getting baptized and invited them to come for the service. Now, I was originally baptized when I was 8 years old. I knew what it was, and what it meant at the time, but with a whole lot of water under the bridge since then, I felt the need to make a second public declaration of my commitment at 36. John and Patty came that Saturday night, and have been coming to Crossview ever since... they have new friends, a small group they attend regularly, and are looking for ways to pour their lives into the people around them.

So I asked John a few weeks back if he would like to go for a bike ride. He said sure, and that he have a buddy who would like to come along as well. We met and all I knew is that we were going to ride out to Palouse Falls, a waterfall that is out here in Eastern Washington, I had heard of it and seen pictures, but never been there. 

It was a beautiful day and we rode out through farmland and along the snake river, stopping for lunch and fuel in Starbuck. A few miles later, and here's a couple of photos... 

So this waterfall is practically in my backyard, and I've lived an hour away from it for 13 years and never took the drive there.

Silly? Isn't it? 

I am looking forward to taking the kids out there this summer, because you can hike down to the falls. There is a gravel road that runs from the highway to the falls. Gravel you might or might not know, is NOT a motorcyclists friend. The thing is, you have to be careful not to turn too sharp or rely on leaning to turn like you do on pavement, but you also can't go too slow... you have to maintain some speed to keep upright as well. 

Sometimes I think life is a lot like that.....we either take one look at the road to travel and decide we're not up to it.....or rush in unprepared and end up with road rash.... when all it takes is a little concentration and a steady pace to reach a goal or the next horizon.

I wonder how many other local and northwest attractions that I have overlooked or chosen to disregard? Things I've been too busy to do or didn't take the time for. Having to take a couple of Furlough days a month this summer is going to give me and the kids an opportunity to discover or re-discover life.. 

Just like a new friend and member of my fellowship found a more abundant life...partly because I asked if he wanted to share a moment in my life and come watch my baptism.

John and I and his friend enjoyed the ride, on one of the first real warm days of the late spring. I'm excited to continue to get out to find what else is out there for me to discover... in life and on my bike. 

Just like this gem in the middle of the eastern washington desert, what else lies down just a a couple miles of gravel road?

Mo-To-Ci-Kel

According to my mom Motorcycle was one of my first words.

I don't know why, except for the normal boyish attraction to loud noises and shiny helmets. I do remember that my great grandfather had a little Enduro or Trail Bike that he rode around the community near his Southern California orchard. The next time I remember a motorcycle coming into my life was a picture that my uncle showed me.

...See, John is 12 years older than I am, and my mom and I lived with my grandmother and my uncle for the next 6 years. John was the kind of uncle who a little boy could look up to. Building forts, skinning his knees (and even cutting his fingers off with a lawnmower! how cool is that!), listening to loud music he kept getting told to turn down... but more importantly, he was my friend, listened and could keep secrets... adult enough that i looked up to him and close enough when we hung out he always made me feel his peer. (Check out his blog here, it's pretty darn good reading)

...But I digress. The picture was of him astride a motorcycle with his hair dyed and spiked and a tank top on, with fingerless gloves. The epitomy of cool. Well, to a 12 year old boy in 1987 that is. Now, the funny thing is this was a staged photo from halloween, but I was still hooked. I wanted a motorcycle.

My best friend in High School had an old Yamaha 125 dirt bike. we rode it and broke it and welded it and rewired it until at last 4 wheelers took it's place and my buddy got his license. and his first big street bike.

Now my parents had decided that I was (... which I admit now) not mature enough at 16 to get my license. Somehow though, they figured that not being mature enough to drive also meant that I was not mature enough to ride with my best friend who did. Not in the truck or car and certainly not on his bike.  Of course, this didn't stop me from taking his bike around the block, or up and down the 4 mile stretch of paved country road out on his grandpa's farm where I worked, but I was still not "allowed" to ride the street bike. This was greatly reinforced when just before his 18th birthday my friend hit a deer on his bike. It was a balmy summer evening just at dusk on the highway between two farming communities in Eastern Oregon. Though my friend had seen the deer, slowed down, and the deer had left the road, when he hit the throttle to speed pack up, the deer veered back into the road and collided with his bike. He was wearing an open face helmet, and though he and the bike walked away, he wears a full beard to this day to cover the mangle the pavement made of one cheek.

Fast Forward a few years (.... 2010, is 17 years a few?) The first bike I called mine was this 1983 Honda rebel. It had belonged to my grandfather (... more about this in a later post) and I borrowed it from my brother during the divorce. My ex forbid me to have a motorcycle, so perhaps it was not only the limited finances and gas savings, but some rebellion that yet lingered in me that goaded me into borrowing this bike from my brother. In any case I passed my endorsement test and rode this all around try-cites and out to work. A friend at church gave me a gift of a well worn leather jacket and took me on some easy rides around town. I was hooked. 

The rebel was a good starter bike for me, I learned to watch my surroundings constantly, and honestly, riding the bike has made me a much more cautious driver as well. I eventually said farewell to the honda and returned it to my brother. 

The next spring I was on a bus with my daughter headed to an overnight field trip to Seattle. Of course, a 5th grader does not want her dad bugging her when she's with her class, so I had my nose in Facebook on my phone, and saw an old church friend was selling his bike. When we stopped for lunch I called and made the arrangements to pick up my new motorcycle the following week. 

1991 600 Yamaha Radian. My friend - at 82 was looking at fixing up an older bigger bike, and needed the money from this to do it. He was the Chaplin for the local chapter of CMA, and though I had not talked to him for awhile, it was a good deal and worked out for both of us. I'd ride this all summer as well, to work and back mostly, but also on the first "long" ride, from tri-cities up to deer park, north of Spokane with some friends for a weekend getaway at a cabin on a lake. I ended up selling this bike last fall to a student from College Place, WA. I knew I needed something a little more cruiser, and with more HP, this bike just was'nt comfortable on the highway.

May, 2013. This is my current bike. Its a 1993 800 Suzuki Intruder. Throaty in the first couple gears, the style suits me, and it's comfortable for longer rides. I know eventually I'll want something a little bigger, but for now this is it - the price was right and it fit my needs for commuting to work, cruising around town, and providing spice for some weekend scoots and getaways. 

So there is something that is almost primal and unrestrained about riding a motorcycle. Out on the road with the wind in my face and the bike rumbling beneath me, especially when I'm out enjoying a ride through the country or mountains... but even on my commute to work there is something that calls my spirit to revel in life and this journey that God has set before me. I find that I have some really good prayer time when I'm out riding. Just me and the Road and talking to God as if He's riding with me. Of course he is in every literal sense.... but sometimes I imagine him riding just ahead of me, and we talk as we enjoy the thrills of the open road. 

I mean, Jesus rode a donkey covered with the cloaks of his followers into Jerusalem.... not a camel (toyota) or a chariot (lexus) or horse (domestic pickup) but a donkey..... the cheapest mode of transportation at the time.... I don't think it's too much of a stretch to translate that into something in our time with two wheels, jeans and a helmet (he did say to obey the laws after all... ) 

I love being a dad. 


Saturday morning...cinnamon rolls for breakfast... watching my two little ones play together and use their imaginations to come up with crazy and fun stuff to keep them occupied. 


Bedtime prayers and bible stories. I love that my 4 year old won't go to bed without our devotional time... "what are we going to read about tonight, daddy?" As we pray together, or they say grace at mealtime it's incredible to see the transformation from a rote, scripted prayer to what is really in their hearts and minds. 


And the 5th grader, so full of questions on life and perspective that shows her growing from innocence to a greater understanding of life and purpose, and God's active place in her heart. 


Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it. Proverbs 22:6


It's amazing how much this verse, drilled into me by my own mother when I was young has provided direction for me in how I teach them about God. It IS training, and no less than the training that God uses in life to bring us closer to him. It has to be purposeful, consistent, and filled with the love only a father can have for his children. 


Therein lies the difference. 


I've not always been consistent, purposeful and diligent with the way I've been directing and guiding the steps and training up my children. I've made mistakes, and not always made the right choices. 


God, on the other hand, ALWAYS has our best interests in mind. He always allows only what (in his sovereign purposes) brings us ultimately into that closer, transformational relationship with him. And His ways are always perfect, he does not make mistakes, His purposes are always working behind the scenes to train us in the way He wants us to go. 


"..Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? if you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him?' - Matthew 7:9-11


Good things. Abundant life that surpasses the trials, the temptations, the distractions that try so hard to get our focus away from the gospel and Jesus's goal of restored relationship with our Heavenly Father. 


"...Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us I bow my knees before the Father from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us.."  Ephesians 3:14-20




And... there's the real gem....the nugget that we so often overlook. 


God Loves being a dad too. 

Prayer for Today

Ephesians 3:20, Proverbs 3:5-6, Psalms 107:8-9

The steadfast mercies God endure forever, His lovingkindness and faithfulness to us is never-ending. As our father he desires to give us, bless us, and grow us into maturity.

I thank you today Lord for the un-hoped for and un-looked for blessings... the love and mercy you have shown me.. and the continual grace you shower down on me.

Let me keep you and my relationship with you first and foremost in my thoughts and soul - to honor you and bring glory to your name. Bring healing to my spirit, wash over my soul and purify my thoughts and actions; let my testimony be one unspotted from selfish actions or temptations - but rather one of strength and power - to overcome by the Holy Spirit living in me.

Bring healing, health and completeness to those I have burdens for. Let the peace of my children be great; Let them know your love above all and protect them from the enemy's lies.

Let my strength rest in seeking you, as I hope in one day, and anticipate your promises. Let your Word dwell in me richly, a spring of life to all who need to know your light. Let me trust in your sovereignty and the purposes of your will with all my heart, and not seek the desires of my own understanding. Your plans for me are exceedingly above all I could hope for. Continue to fill my soul with good things, and let my life sing to you.

Man of Sorrow

John 11:35

Jesus wept.

This is not the basis for a grand theological truth, or a promise of God's blessing. It's not a precept to follow or a spiritual law. It's not a hymn of worship or a word of prophecy.

Two succinct simple words.

Powerful words. Words that to be truthful give a beautiful picture into the heart of the Son of God, the son of man.

Matthew Henry wrote:

'Being found in fashion as a man, he acts in the way and manner of the sons of men. It was shown by his tears.... We have not a high priest who cannot be touched by a feeling of our infirmities'

If Jesus was so moved by compassion to tears, even knowing that their sorrow would soon be turned to joy, how much more should we follow his example?

A couple verses prior, John writes in verse 33

When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with her, he groaned in the spirit, and was troubled..

Groaned.

The son of God was troubled.

I think some of this gets lost in translation. The word groaned doesn't mean 'sighed' or 'grieved', but rather that he 'powerfully checked his emotion. And he was troubled - which means 'a visible anguish'

Jesus felt so strongly that he was unable to contain his emotion.

John uses the same words again in verse 38 'Jesus therefore again groaning in himself cometh to the grave....'

I think that the Holy Spirit through the Apostle John in recording Christ's actions and emotions leading up to Lazarus's resurrection is painting a vivid picture of God's heart. How it breaks for us, for the curse of separation.

And God's longing for restoration to right relationship with Him.

The story of Lazarus is a reflection of the gospel itself, the clarion call of God's voice calling forth the lost from a life separated from him, from peace, from joy...and that is the real sorrow.

God's word in it's entirety was given to show us his character, and reveal who he truly is.

Smallest verse in Bible, yet one of the most powerful.

God's Will

God didn't create evil. Evil by definition is absence of God - brought about by free will to choose His truth or turn from Him. There are consequences of sin, both when we sin and when we are sinned against. However, God in his providence and sovereignty will use even the consequence of sin to accomplish his will. His will is that none should perish but all should come to repentance. We can hope for the removal of sin's consequences, but the reality is that sometimes we are delivered, sometimes we are empowered, and sometimes we are laid bare, so that He may remake us.

Our focus determines our reality, because we can choose to live for Him and seek him in all things, or we can choose to be selfish and turn from him.

It's not about the circumstance - it's about the relationship. God restoring us to Himself... And using all of life to do so.