If you didn’t read the first part of this story, I encourage you to go here first.
–
January 9th, 1983. My family headed off to church. Three months earlier, we would have all been still in bed. However, God was doing something in our hearts, and we were all hungry to learn more. So, we were off to church. Halfway through the service, an usher came and got my step-dad. He never returned, and following the service, the same usher informed us that there had been a fire at the house. He drove us home, and as we turned the corner onto our street, I was amazed at the scene.
Our gas furnace had exploded. It blew a hole in the roof and basically destroyed the back end of the house. The front half was still intact, but everything we owned was destroyed. I remember walking through the remains after we were allowed back into the house and was amazed at how black everything was. The smell of smoke was incredible, and the entire house just felt … dead.
We would spend the next three months in a small apartment/hotel while the house was rebuilt.
Over the next few years, I continued to enjoy riding as well as discovering the spiritual journey I was now on. At seventeen, I bought my first street bike: a Kawasaki LTD 550. I loved that bike. That is, until I blew the engine.
I had some incredible mentors who walked with me during those years. Some would call them “spiritual fathers.” As a result of their leading, I decided to head to Bible College in the Fall of 1986. In my final year of school, I met Heather. She had returned to school after graduating a few years earlier. She had spent some time in Montreal, and had made a few trips to Brooklyn, NY, where she worked with kids in the projects. She had decided to come back to school in order to get a bit more training.
We talked often about her time in New York. We talked about how there were so many who simply didn’t connect with or understand Christians. The church seemed to be ill-equipped to be an influence in their lives. It was passionate talk, full of dreams about “what if?”
However, soon after we married (in 1990), we slipped into doing “traditional pastoral ministry.” We served in some amazing congregations, and were blessed by some wonderful friendships. I tried to fit in to the “suit-and-tie” pastor. I did all the right things and spoke the right language.
And yet, it wasn’t me. Don’t get me wrong, there were times when I wanted it to be me. After all, we were seeing success in our church positions. Each role seemed to be a step closer to “successful ministry.” Doors seemed to open whenever we knocked.
Not that it was all perfect. We met a lot of stupid Christians during those years. We saw a lot of politics and games being played in the name of “religion.” And yes, we experienced the death of our daughter, K.D. I wont go into details, since I wrote about her here. Yet, each of those struggles pushed us to be more successful as pastors.
During all of that, I had sold my bike. I walked away completely from all my past. In fact, to this day, I talk with people I attended Bible School with who are surprised when they find out my story. They had no idea. I simply kept it to myself.
Then, in 2001, I bought another bike. Heather and I began to ride again. We connected with Hillbilly and Nelia. Hillbilly was a guy I knew way back when I was sixteen, but we had lost touch. While I began a journey through Bible College and into ministry, Hillbilly got messed up in drugs and other adventures. When we reconnected, I learned that he had cleaned up and had turned his life over to God.
The dream of a church for bikers was one that Hillbilly had been carrying for a few years. He had been praying for someone to come alongside him who could lead such a thing. The rest, they say, is history. We launched in January of 2002 and haven’t looked back.
Over the years I have learned a lot of valuable lessons. One of the greatest lessons I’ve learned is that nothing disqualifies someone from God’s love. While he isn’t responsible for everything we experience in life, God can take our experiences and use them for good if we allow him. He’s done that with my life.
I’ve also learned that God created me … just as I am. The way I’m wired … all his fault. That means God isn’t bothered by my love of riding. He made me that way. He made you the way you are also. He’s cool with who you are. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to make changes in us … I know that there are many areas I could use change in, but he’s cool with who we are deep inside.
So, while others might find it pretty strange that a guy could be a preacher to bikers, God just smiles. After all, this is who he made me to be. Who has he made you to be?
Thanks for listening.
