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Reverend Mike's Biker Ministry
Thought of the Moment...
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A Message:
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| January 29th, 2007 I've been asked many times in recent memory, 'hey dipstick, when you gonna update your site?' Good question. Time. Its all about time. Or is it? I keep telling myself I don't have the time. Perhaps I've just convinced myself of that when in reality, I need to make time. Assign priorities. Get my shit together. Work, family, brothers, sisters and the occasional complete stranger all seem to have drawn my attention away from this site. Some days, it just seems I'm forever paddling upstream. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy maintaining this site as an outreach. Or maybe as a signpost so that folks know where I am and can find me. And they have. My ministry outside this site is a busy one. So much so that there are times it scares me so completely, I can't describe it. But this is where it really began and I promise, I'll pay more attention to it this year. Stay tuned..........
April 14th, 2004 The next time you feel like GOD can't use you, just remember...
Noah was a drunk AND Lazarus was dead!
"God grant me the serenity to accept
the people I cannot change, the courage to change the one I
can, and the wisdom to know it's me."
January 12, 2004 Written by Tami (Rev Mike's daughter) Wild Child I love riding, Motorcycles, daggers, I belong on the road, My dad is a preacher, I’m proud of all this. ![]()
December 22,
2003
Today is the winter solstice. An
often overlooked day in the year but important to me.
It is the shortest day of the year.
(And the longest night.) But from here, the days will grow
longer and the nights shorter as the winter marches on
towards the promised spring.
I have been watching the days grow
shorter since June. Knowing that it heralds the coming of
winter. Its depressing knowing that the riding season and
the warm, sunny days are waning. Now as each day grows
longer, we are assured of the return of spring. We can
look forward to spring flowers, gardens, birds and of
course the rumble of motorcycles.
So light a candle, burn some incense
and say a prayer for there is much of God's promise to
celebrate this week of December.
Rev. Mike
December 3,
2003
"If a man has a right to find
God in his own way, he has a right to go to the devil in his
own way also. It sometimes happens that the man most other
men would agree is surely going to the devil has instead
discovered a new truth that is leading him away from
established thought and tradition to a better way. In time
these other men will understand and follow.
The Bible singles out the
meek and the poor in spirit for special blessings. We'd like
to add one of our own:
Blessed is the rebel, for
without him there would be no progress."
-Playboy Magazine Forum January
2004 Issue
July 25,
2003
All that is necessary for the triumph
of evil is that good men do nothing.
Edmund Burke
March 27, 2003
Lets talk for a minute
about the affairs of the world.
These are indeed confusing and horrible times. The world’s leaders have made decisions that are affecting all of us. Many in ways that I cannot begin to imagine. We, as Americans, have never been popular on the world’s stage. Most Americans have learned to deal with this while some have not. It’s the way it is. I am not an advocate of war. It is a horrible thing. But I do understand the reasons behind it. Now lets look at reality,,,,, America has changed. It started changing with the attacks of 9/11. We have shown remarkable restraint in the face of unprecedented hostility. The attacks that day were not just against us, but against everyone. These were cowardly acts that inflicted great pain upon not just us, but the entire human race. We Americans already know this however some my international guests may be asking “how does this possibly affect me?” Simple answer: IT COULD HAVE BEEN YOU! I’m going to put my faith in God and our leaders to settle this. I am NOT going to pretend that I know more about why this has to happen than our leaders and God do. Every day more and more information surfaces about the Iraqi leadership that leads me to believe this must happen. In a closing note to all Americans: You do not have to agree with our president. I for one am not ashamed of him. Neither am I ashamed of being an American. It does bother me how some of my own countrymen are treating each other. Those troops are our sons, daughters, aunts, uncles, fathers, mothers, cousins and neighbors. HOW CAN YOU NOT SUPPORT THEM?
Those troops are the same
ones that would give their own lives to defend YOUR home.
And when they come home, every one of them will tell you that they fought for YOUR right to disagree. Now get out there and act like you deserve that. Show them some respect and gratitude.
-Reverend Mike
(P.S. Hey Natalie
Maines, WHAT were you thinking????????????)
November 28, 2002 (Courtesy Timothy Jobst. Reprinted with permission.) Every day "THE ONE" is so very blessed (ripe) in abundance! I had the chance to visit one of the traveling Vietnam memorial walls this week. It was a moving experience. I went alone the first time and found all I could do was stand back, watch, and whisper a prayer. I went back the next day with my daughters. We had a very interesting conversation about history and the cost of freedom. They also got to meet and speak with a veteran of that war. He spoke to my children of names on that wall he knew. He didn't say alot. He didn't have too. It was worth it. We all walked away with a new understanding of that moment in time. If you have the chance to visit one of these memorials, do so. And take your children......... May 05, 2002 Take a few minutes and read these. Think April 18,2002 Some events this past week have prompted me to post this. I find it's lesson well worth having....... A story is told that two friends were walking through the desert. During some point of the journey, they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face. The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, he wrote in the sand : "TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE" They kept on walking, until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath. The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mire and started drowning, but his friend saved him. After he recovered from the near drowning, he wrote on a stone: "TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SAVED MY LIFE" The friend, who had slapped and saved his best friend, asked him, "After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand, and now, you write on a stone, why?" The other friend replied: "When someone hurts us, we should write it down in sand where the winds of forgiveness can erase it away, but when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone, where no wind can ever erase it" Learn to write your hurts in the sand and to carve your blessings in stone. (Learn this, know this, live this!) March 17, 2002 A close friend of ours received his heart transplant this week after waiting a very long time! Thanks to all of you who whispered a prayer when it was most needed! He is doing better than any of us could have imagined! Consider this as proof of answered prayers indeed! (And sign those donor cards!) I was also called upon by a family to perform a special service for them this week. They have a family member in a local jail and were having trouble getting an important message to him. (It would seem that the jailers were not inclined to be a message service and the importance of this message didn't seem to matter either.) I was asked to deliver this information as clergy and attorneys are allowed in (and out of !) the jail at any time. Honestly, the thought had never occurred to me that I could do this. I did go to the jail and was treated with respect and I was allowed to deliver the message. And the family was relieved and grateful; as was the young man I spoke with. My point is this; God put me in a position that he needed me to be at the exact moment I needed to be there. This is proof of his very existence and of his working through each of us. What he had me do was small indeed but the dividend of that action was great and shall be remembered by all for a long time to come. I was honored and humbled that I (of all people) could be of service and I would not hesitate to do it again when called upon. God does indeed move in mysterious ways!! The following story was sent to me. I would gladly credit the author if anyone knows who they are.
During the waning years of the depression in a small south eastern Idaho community, I used to stop by Mr. Miller's roadside stand for farm-fresh produce as the season made it available. Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was used, extensively. One particular day Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas. I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller and the ragged boy next to me. "Hello Barry, how are you today?" "H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas .. sure look good." "They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?" "Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time." "Good. Anything I can help you with?" "No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas." "Would you like to take some home?" "No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with." "Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?" "All I got's my prize marble here." "Is that right? Let me see it." "Here 'tis. She's a dandy." "I can see that. Hmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?" "Not 'zackley .....but, almost." "Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble." "Sure will. Thanks, Mr. Miller." Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said: "There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, perhaps." I left the stand, smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Utah but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys and their bartering. Several years went by each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his viewing that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon our arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could. Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts .. very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing smiling and composed, by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary, awkwardly, wiping his eyes. Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. Eyes glistening she took my hand and led me to the casket. "Those three young men, that just left, were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded" them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size...they came to pay their debt. "We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she confided, "but, right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho." With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three, magnificently shiny, red marbles. Moral: We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. |
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