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I picked up the delirious? Farewell Tour DVD this weekend and have listened to it a few times. Love their music.

One of my favourite delirious? songs is Find Me In The River. I’ve been singing that song all weekend. Such a deeply honest, raw song about waiting on God when facing difficult trials. While things are going very good for me right now, I do know that many people at Bikers’ Church are facing difficult days. So, here are the lyrics.

Find me in the river
Find me on my knees
I’ve walked against the water
Now I’m waiting if you please

We’ve longed to see the roses
But never felt the thorns
And bought our pretty crowns
But never paid the price

Find me in the river
Find me there
Find me on my knees with my soul laid bare
Even though you’re gone and I’m cracked and dry
Find me in the river, I’m waiting here

Find me in the river
Find me on my knees
I’ve walked against the water
Now I’m waiting if you please

We didn’t count on suffering
We didn’t count on pain
But if the blessing’s in the valley
Then in the river I will wait

If you’re going through a difficult time, don’t stop waiting on God. He is there.

Last night, I was reminded again of what it’s like to be part of a church family. We celebrated with a number of our members in a water baptism service. To be honest, the service was one of the best I’ve ever experienced.

But not the entire service. The preaching was mediocre at best. I can say that, because I was the one doing the preaching. I couldn’t get any momentum. Even as I was speaking, I was telling myself that I wasn’t getting any traction. I rambled. I sucked. I kept skipping over stuff in my notes. It was one of those messages that I have to simply accept as being less that average.

Normally, when I fail to even hit the ball on a sermon, I go home very miserable discouraged. For those who speak regularly, you know how much emotion and energy goes into a message. When everything works, you go home on a bit of a high. When it doesn’t … well, you roll-up-in-a-ball-and-suck-your-thumb  need your space.

If it wasn’t for how the rest of the evening went, I would have gone home very discouraged. And yet, I found myself so excited riding home. It was simply an amazing service.

Two things happened that made it so. First, during worship I felt strongly impressed to say a word of encouragement to those who were battling major obstacles. I said a few words, then invited those who needed prayer to stand. So many stood. Then, others stood with them, putting a hand on a shoulder, or an arm around a brother. We prayed for them. We’ve only done something like that one or two other times, and it’s always a powerful moment. It’s a strong visual of the kind of family Bikers’ Church truly is.

The other thing that really knocked my socks off was the water baptisms. We had four people scheduled to be baptized. One couldn’t be there because of a sick child. So, we had the other three go into the tank and share their story. Each was great. I love hearing how God is changing a person’s heart and life. Then, I asked if anyone else wanted to be baptized. A woman came forward. Then, a young junior high boy asked his parents if he could be baptized. My heart got excited at what was happening.

Finally, we were done. Marty closed the night off in prayer, and we turned off the camera.

And then, it happened.

We have a guy who has been coming for some time now who is in a wheelchair. He was in an accident about 10 years ago and suffered some brain damage. Until he started coming out to Bikers’ Church, he was pretty much a loner. The staff who cared for him couldn’t get him to do much of anything. They say he is a completely different person since he started coming out to BC.

All through the service, and while I was asking if anyone else wanted to be baptized, he would raise his hand, trying to get my attention. I didn’t respond, because I didn’t want to put his worker on the spot.

But after we wrapped up the service, one of our guys came up to me. “He really wants to be baptized. Any chance we can make it happen?”

So, I called out to everyone. “We have one more person wanting to be baptized!” The crowd came back around our tank, and a few of our guys lifted him out of his wheelchair and into the tank. And, we baptized him.

The cheers were incredible. The smile on his face said it all.

It was then, as I looked around at the ragtag group of people who make up Bikers’ Church, that it hit me once again. This is a family. An incredible family. One I am so very blessed to be a part.

You see, there are some people who think they can experience the spiritual journey on their own. They don’t need to attend church or join with a group of people to know God. Personally, I think God values relationships too much to allow us to take this journey alone. He wants to be in relationship with us, and he also wants us to be in relationship with others.

I can’t imagine not being part of such an incredible spiritual family.

Thank you, Bikers’ Church.

Dear people of Vanier,

Like you, I’ve read the newspaper articles. I’ve heard the stories. I know what some say about your community. They say bad people live in Vanier. Drug dealers, addicts, prostitutes, bikers. They say it’s a rough community. It’s not safe to walk the streets late at night.

Some have tried to change what others say about your community. Some suggest that things are not as bad as the reports suggest. And yet, the articles continue to be written. The papers tell the stories of police raids, prostitution stings, and drug busts.

Is there any hope for Vanier? Again, some say no. They suggest that crime will always be a problem in this community. They have given up. They have no hope for Vanier.

It’s a good thing they are not God. You see, the Bible is clear: in places where it seems like people struggle with sin the most, God’s grace is more evident. (Romans 5:20) In other words, God looks at a community like Vanier and showers his grace upon it. Upon you.

I want you to know that God loves you. He has something incredible in store for your community. He believes in you. He has a purpose for each of you.

A month ago, Ken Jackson wrote an article for the Ottawa Sun describing the arrest of a twenty year old girl on prostitution charges. The arrest happened in Vanier. As he wraps up his report, he observes that the arrest is happening right below a bright neon blue cross. His final words are a quote from the police officer that Mr. Jackson has been riding along with: “It’s all happening under the watchful eyes of the cross.”

That neon blue cross can be found on the side of City Church. An amazing church in the heart of Vanier. And, beginning this Fall, the new home for Bikers’ Church. That’s right, Bikers’ Church is coming to Vanier. And we can hardly contain our excitement.

You see, many of us who consider Bikers’ Church our home know what it’s like to be on the negative side of reports. We know what it feels like to be written off. To be dismissed. To be told that there’s no hope. And yet, we discovered that the reports are simply not true. There is hope. We are not too far gone for God’s grace. We can live a life of purpose and calling.

We’re coming to Vanier because we want to take that journey with you. We think you have something to offer us. And, hopefully, we might have something to offer you as well. We believe that together we can take a journey into discovering God’s amazing and unconditional love. Some of us have been on that journey for many years. Others are just discovering it. We believe it’s an amazing journey and it will be even more amazing to enjoy it with you … the people of Vanier.

Some may wonder why we’re bothering. Why not stay in the comfortable suburbs of Arlington Woods? Why go into the heart of the city … into Vanier? Again, it’s because we believe God has something amazing in store for this community, and we want to be part of it.

Many years ago, Sir George MacLeod, an incredibly influential but unconventional Scottish Clergyman wrote these words:

“I am recovering the claim that Jesus was not crucified in a cathedral between two candles, but on a cross between two thieves; on the town garbage heap….at the kind of place where cynics talk smut, and thieves curse, and soldiers gamble. Because that is where He died. And that is what He died about. And that is where churchmen should be.”

I couldn’t agree more. And I can’t wait until we are moved in to your community.

Twenty years ago today I watched Heather come down the aisle and become my wife. Wow. Twenty years ago.

We met in Bible College (some called it Bridal College). She was returning to school to do her fourth year. I was in my final year. I fell in love at first sight. She … not so much. We began dating a few weeks into the school year. For the first few weeks, she would tell her roommate that she was going to break up with me the next time we got together. But, I’d win her over with my charm. After a few weeks, she gave up and the rest, as they say, is history.

I remember some of the talks we had before getting married. We dreamed about doing ministry among those who were rejected by the church. We talked about what it would be like to be in a community among drug addicts, prostitutes, outlaws, and the homeless. What would it be like to reach the “unreachable” for God?

It took a lot of years to see those dreams realized, but here we are. It’s truly incredible.

We’ve experienced so much together on this journey. Incredible victories, heart-wretching defeats. Unbelievable joy, indescribable pain. We’ve been blessed with an amazing family and wonderful friends. We’ve seen so many lives transformed over the years.

And yet, in all of it, I sit here today, simply in awe of the gift I’ve been given in my wife. Heather has been there at my best and at my worse. There are times when I was there for her. There have been times when I’ve failed her. I don’t deserve her and yet she continues to stand at my side. She is an incredible mother to my children. She’s a phenomenal supporter of my calling. She is the perfect partner to live life with.

So, on this 20th anniversary, I want to tell the world that I love you with all my heart. I look forward to the journey that is before us, and I am so very grateful for the path we have taken so far.

Happy anniversary, Heather.

When I was a pre-teen, my mom married a biker. For me, nothing could be better. My step-dad was a former member of a 1%er motorcycle club. While he wasn’t still in the club, his passion for motorcycles was greater than anything else in his life. Again, for a 12 year old boy, there was nothing wrong with that! On weekends, my parents would host parties, and I would come home to find Harleys lining the street outside my house. Bikers would be sitting on the front porch, the lawn, and all over the back yard. It was awesome! In my heart, I became a biker during those days, riding my dirt bike, counting the days until I was able to get my motorcycle license and a real bike.

I saw a lot of crazy things during those years. There was the time a very drunk guy invited two equally inebriated women to climb onto his bike and the end of the night. They took off, three up on the Harley. They didn’t get far. Two blocks later, they ran a red light and were t-boned by a car. All three lived, although the guy spent a few months in a full body cast.

Then there was the night a bat got lose in the house. At 3 AM, I woke up to five or six bikers crashing around the house, trying to catch the bat. Most were still battling whatever drink caused them to pass out earlier, and all were wearing pillow cases over their heads to protect their hair (and long beards) from becoming the nesting ground of the bat. There was even one biker hoping around on a single leg, his wooden leg in his hand, swinging wildly at the bat. In the end, it was our cat that finally got a hold of the critter.

Of all the memories, none is as vivid as the memories of Mountain Man. To be honest, I don’t know how tall he really was, but to a thirteen year old kid, he was a giant. For years, I believed he was over seven feet tall. In reality, he was closer to six and a half feet. Still, he was a big dude. People didn’t call him Mountain Man because he was short.

For many years, Mountain Man was a hero to me. You see, he stood up for me one time when our family was out having fun. We went to a park and my brother and I were horsing around on a slide. An attendant at the park tried to kick us out, and Mountain Man came over and suggested to the guy that he reconsider. With knees shaking, he reconsidered. And, my brother and I were left alone the rest of the day.

I wanted to be feared like Mountain Man. I wanted to be able to walk up to someone and suggest that they reconsider.

It’s funny how your perspective can change as you get older.

Today, I’m 6′ 2″. I’m probably only a few inches shy of Mountain Man’s height. I ride a cool bike. I’m told that I can be intimidating. And yet, I have no desire to be feared. If anything, I want to be seen as a man of peace. Sure, I’d still like to tell some people to reconsider, but not because they’ve angered me. I want to tell people to reconsider the choices they’re making because I see how their choice will lead them down a destructive path.

After we started Bikers’ Church, I hoped to come across Mountain Man. I met a few others who remembered the parties with my parents, but no one could tell me what happened to Mountain Man. It was only a few years ago that I learned he had died of cancer. He died alone. And suddenly, my childhood awe of Mountain Man became a sadness for how his life ended.

What kind of person do you want to be known as? What kind of person are you already known as? Sometimes the Mountain Men are not all they seem to be.

My good friends, Scott & Melissa, have been serving in El Salvador for over a year now. Recently, Melissa began a blog that invites you to journey with her as both a mom and a missionary.

The latest post on her blog really struck a chord with me. It was actually written by Scott, after he visited a brothel to talk with some of the people working there. At the end of the blog, he asks a simple question, “Is there hope for these girls?”

I encourage you to check out the post here and leave a comment.

It got me thinking again. As the pastor of a Bikers’ Church, I see all kinds of different people come through our doors. Not all are bikers. We’ve seen prostitutes, drug addicts, alcoholics, and even self-righteous pharisees! We’ve got club guys, former club guys, and even a few white collar professionals.

With such a diverse group of people, one thing I have noticed we’ve never lacked. Hope. That’s right, hope. With so many people battling so many different things, I have discovered that there is still an abundance of hope to be found.

You see, no matter what you are going through, there is hope. You may feel like giving up, that there is no hope, but your feelings lie. God promises that he is with you, and when we turn control of our situations over to him, he offers hope.

Hope doesn’t mean that we don’t experience shitty things. In fact, sometimes when we trust God we go through incredible trials. No, hope doesn’t promise us that nothing bad will happen.

What hope does promise is that regardless of the situation, we are not alone. And, in the end, God will turn anything we endure into something good … if we allow him. Hope promises us that what we face is not all there is.

So, don’t lose hope. Whether you’re working in a brothel, battling an addiction, or dealing with a dead-end job, there is hope.

Always hope.