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Okay, I’m struggling here. The past few weeks have been extremely busy, and as a result, I’ve had limited time to write for this blog. I get ideas, but by the time I’m sitting down to type, I’ve forgotten many of them. And, I debate the direction to go. Do I write another spiritually-focused post, or do I push more motorcycle-related stuff? Or, do I simply continue to do both?

So, I’ve decided to toss it out to you, my dear readers. What are the things you enjoy most about this blog? What brings you back for more? Do you like the mixture of stuff, or do you prefer the posts to go in a particular direction. When I first began this blog (years ago now!), the purpose was summed up in my tagline: reflections along the journey. I saw it as simply a place where I could share with those who I’ve connected with some of the things I discover as I journey through this life.

Okay, you’re turn. What would you like to see on my blog? What are the areas you enjoy most?

So, you keep saying that “tomorrow you’ll make a difference.” After all, you have so many more days to live, right? Do you?

My friend, Judy posted this on her blog, and I thought it was too good to pass up.

Go here, enter a bit of info about yourself, and find out how long you have to live.

Btw, I’m going to die on Monday, July 30th, 2040.

This is one of those posts that has the potential of getting me in a lot of trouble. So be it.

Earlier this week, I put the final touches on this week’s message for Bikers’ Church. We’re in the middle of a series called Seven Choices, and we’re comparing the Seven Deadly Sins with the Beatitudes of Jesus. This week, we’re talking about wrath and the peacemaker.

Perhaps it’s a good week for such a topic. After all, in the U.S. there are a couple of very heated issues trending on Twitter and media websites. The first issue is the court overturning of Proposition 8 in California. What that means is that gay couples can now legally be married in California. When the news came out that the court had overturned the ban on same sex marriage, my twitter feed went crazy. Interestingly, the majority of those who commented on my feed were thrilled at the decision. Since I follow a large number of ministers and churches, I didn’t expect that. A closer look showed that most of the ministers I followed said nothing of the court’s decision, while many of the motorcycle, hockey, and tech people that I follow spoke their mind.

The second issue that is causing a great deal of emotional debate is the decision by a Muslim group to build an Islamic centre (along with a mosque) a few blocks from Ground Zero. Most of the blogs and comments I read seem to consider the idea to be extremely insensitive. Even Canadian journalists are offering their opinions. From what I can see, very few people are as brave as this blogger who suggests religious freedom trumps anything else.

I’m not going to dive in to my opinion on either of these issues. Yes, I have strong feelings about both of them. But that’s not the point of this post. Again, my thoughts are on the message I will give tonight at Bikers’ Church. I will talk about the danger of wrath, and how often our desire for justice takes us down a path of bitterness, rage, and destruction. On the flip side, Jesus invites us to seek justice as a peacemaker.

Sadly, I think most people will choose the side of wrath when it comes to both of these issues. In fact, I’ve already seen it happening on Twitter, Facebook, and various blogs. Those who supported Proposition 8 are bigots, homophobes, haters, and against freedom. Those who cheered the court’s reversal are damned, fags, sinners, etc.

I see the same name calling when it comes to those who support the rights of Muslims to build a mosque wherever they choose vs. those who believe it should be stopped.

Can I suggest something? If you are a Christ follower, then your response to these issues should be the same as Christ. You should strive for peace. No, let me correct that. You should do more than simply strive for peace, you should be a maker of peace. You should be one who goes the extra mile to find the common ground on which intelligent, thoughtful discussion can take place. Where emotions are not allowed to control the conversation. It doesn’t mean you have to agree with everything others say about an issue, but you should lead the way in showing respect to those who disagree with you.

At the beginning of this week, I read an excellent article on the Church Marketing Sucks website. Brad Abare wrote a great post called “Opposing or Embracing Muslims.” In his post, he tells the story of two pastors who respond very differently to the issue of Muslims building mosques. I’d like to quote part of that post for you, but encourage you to go and read the whole thing at his site.

The opposition for the Muslim community in Southern California includes Bill Rench, pastor of Calvary Baptist Church, which is located near the site of the potential mosque. Says Rench, “The Islamic foothold is not strong here, and we really don’t want to see their influence spread.” Not only that, but Christianity and Islam “mix like oil and water” he said. According to the Times, Rench predicted a “confrontational atmosphere” if plans for the new mosque move forward.

On the other end of the spectrum is Reverend Williamson, pastor of the Presbyterian Church in Columbia, Tennessee. Williamson’s story is revered by professor Akbar Ahmed in the NPR story. A local mosque had been burnt down and some had vandalized the remaining property with graffiti and swastikas. Instead of condoning the opposition and wishing Muslims to get out of town, Pastor Williamson gave the Muslim community the keys to the Presbyterian church. “This from now on can be used as your house of worship.”

As Abare points out, both tell very different stories. Both communicate very different messages.

So, am I off here? Am I way out in left field when I suggest that those who follow Christ should actually lead the way in being peacemakers when issues like these arise? Yes, we need to guard ourselves from the danger of compromising our beliefs in some of these areas, but can we not do that and still demonstrate respect for those who believe something different?

I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

This past weekend I had the wonderful opportunity to spend some time downtown. Someone gave Heather and I a coupon for a complimentary night’s stay at the Marriott, and so we decided to spend Sunday night at the hotel. We arrived mid-afternoon, booked into the room, and then headed out to walk around Sparks St. We ended up walking around the Parliament Buildings – specifically along the path that goes behind Canada’s most famous landmark. It had been years since I had enjoyed that walk. In many ways, it was as if we were seeing the view for the first time.

It was a beautiful night and so there were a lot of people out walking around the Hill. It was obvious that most were tourists, coming to Ottawa to enjoy the beauty of this city. I watched people posing for pictures in front of the library, around the many statues that can be found on Parliament Hill, and along the fence that reveals the incredible view of the Ottawa River.

I wondered if my youngest daughter had ever taken a tour of the Hill. I know my oldest had started to do the tour a few summers ago, before her tour was cut short so that Gene Simmons and his entourage could have a private viewing (a story for another day).

As we walked around the buildings that symbolized the story of Canada, I felt my Canadian pride begin to grow again. I love this nation. I also love this city. I was born in Ottawa. Raised here. I love living here. And yet, like so many from Ottawa, I take it for granted. I rarely find myself in awe of its beauty. I certainly don’t take the time to enjoy the very things that people from all over the world come to experience.

On Monday morning, Heather and I had breakfast in the revolving restaurant on top of the Marriott. It was included in our complimentary stay. As we sat by the window, 28 stories in the air, we took in more of what we have in this city. The Supreme Court of Canada stood majestically in our view. The National Art Museum, National Library, Canadian Mint, and a host of other buildings were walking distance from us, and yet we rarely give them a second thought.

I’d like to hear from some of you. Those who are from Ottawa, do you take the time to enjoy the many things that tourists come to see in our city? When was the last time you took a tour of the Parliament Buildings? For those outside Ottawa, do you enjoy the sites of your own city? What are the things that people come to your city to see? When was the last time you took in those sites?

It really is true that we take for granted the very things that are common to us. I look forward to your comments.

Yeah … I know it’s been awhile … but I still have to rub it in. Our Assistant Pastor, Marty sent me this and I loved it:

Looking over my past few posts, I realize that it’s been a few since we’ve talked about motorcycles … so, here we go!

Those who’ve followed me for awhile know that I’ve been having issues with my bike. I know exactly what’s going on, but still, it’s taking longer than I had hoped to get her back on the road.

It all started when I drained my tank last fall to send my tins down to Arizona so that my friend, Jason, at HellcatCustoms could paint them. He did an amazing job, and when I got them back, I excitedly put the bike back together and filled it up with gas.

And that was my problem.

What I should have done was clean the tank first. You see, my bike (and tank) are old. I ride a 1994 Dyna WideGlide. It has over 200,000 kms. With the tank empty for five months, rust built up in it. Rust that I should have cleaned out before reinstalling it.

The rust made it through the filter and into my carb.

After trying a whole bunch of things, I finally figured out what was going on. And so, a few weeks ago, I pulled the tank back off, cleaned it out (filling it half full with soap & water, dropping in about a dozen nuts and bolts, and shaking it like mad). After it was cleaned, I “Kreemed” the tank. Basically putting a new coating inside the tank. Rust problem was solved.

Or so I thought. I still had issues with the carb. I was still getting a bit of crap in the gas. Finally, this weekend, I figured it out. The accelerator pump has a diaphragm that was breaking apart.

So, new kit is ordered and should be in tomorrow. Hopefully by this time tomorrow, the bike will be up and running like new.

So, why am I calling this post “The Bond”? Great question. Glad you asked.

During this entire ordeal, many of you have seen my comments about enjoying Heather’s bike. She has been great at letting me take out her 2002 Electra Glide whenever mine was on the fritz. I’ve probably put as many miles on her bike as on mine this year. And, I love her bike. In fact, I have basically converted over to the “couch-side” and am ready to give up the Dyna for a little more comfort.

That is until I get on my Dyna. When she’s running right, I fall in love all over again. There is a connection that I have with this bike. One that is difficult to explain. One that only a few people – those who ride – can understand. We’ve been across the U.S. together. She never let me down once during that long road trip.

As I sit here tonight, in my backyard, with the garage open, I look over at her. She’s sitting there patiently. Her carb is apart. I don’t think she’s enjoying this any more than I am. She wants to run. She wants to roar. She wants me to take her out for a good long ride.

Hopefully this week.

I saw him about thirty seconds before I passed him. I was cruising down the street on my motorcycle, thinking about all the things I needed to accomplish before the end of the day. I was feeling the pressure. I had procrastinated on a few things, and now I was under the gun. I had no one to blame but myself. I was frustrated.

He looked to be around nine or ten years old. He was straddling a bicycle, his right leg on the pedal, his left on the ground. His eyes stared at the ground about ten feet in front of his bike. He was focused. I could tell that he had tuned out the busy street where cars and motorcycles rushed passed, their drivers focused on all the things that demanded their time and energy.

It was a puddle that had grabbed the boys attention. It was about three feet wide. The rain that fell about an hour before had created it. The same rain that had caused me to grumble as I realized my bike would need a good cleaning when I got home. A rain that I knew was needed in Ottawa, but I wished had fallen during the night rather than when I was trying to cross town on my bike.

The boy wasn’t concerned about the timing of the rain. He wasn’t thinking about deadlines or responsibilities or anything else that was consuming my thoughts. No, the boy had only one thought in his head. I know, because I have no doubt that he was thinking the very same thing I would have been thinking about when I was nine or ten years old.

In his thoughts, he was Evel Knievel. He was staring out over a huge river. He had once chance to cross to the other side without being swept away by the rushing water. He was getting ready, psyching himself up for the world record jump he was about to attempt.

Just as I passed him, I saw a smile cross his face. It was a huge grin. It was the grin of a champion. I saw him lift up on the right foot, the one already on the pedal, as he lifted his left foot off of the ground. It was time, he was going for it.

Did he make it? I don’t know. I tried to watch in my mirror, but the mirrors on my bike are more for show that actual practical use. I couldn’t tell how the daredevil did with his massive jump, but I knew it really didn’t matter. If he made it, he would hear the roar of cheers from the crowd inside his head. If not, he would be imagining his front tire making the other bank, and a miraculous recovery as he managed to get the bike over the other side.

Suddenly, I wasn’t 43 and worried about all I had to do that day. My thoughts went from my dirty bike, the sermon I had to preach the next day, and the yard that still had so much work before it was complete.

I was nine or ten. I flicked the throttle of my WideGlide and heard it roar. I used to put playing cards in my spokes to make noise. Now, I had the real thing. I was a child again, trying to avoid the land mines that had been placed in my path. My adult brain calls them potholes, but at that moment, I was rushing through a maze of bombs in order to save the world.

It didn’t last long, but for a few minutes, I once again enjoyed the wonder of seeing life through the eyes of a child. I have a young Evel Knievel to thank for that.

Why don’t you take time to open your eyes today?

Well, hi there. Yes, I know it’s been a while. While there have been a couple of times when I sat down to begin writing something here, I never did get around to putting my thoughts down. Suddenly, it’s been a few weeks, and I haven’t shared anything.

Now, I have all kinds of thoughts to share with you. However, two of the things I’ve been up to seem to fit together, so let me share them with you and throw out a thought about them. One has to do with my bike, the other is about digging holes.

So, first my bike. I love my 94 Dyna WideGlide. Sure it has over 206,000 KMS on it. Sure, the frame is in need of some paint. But, it’s a beautiful bike. It had a “cool factor” long before my good friend Jason from HellCat Customs painted it this past winter. But that paint job raised the “awesomeness” of the bike more than a few notches.

Still, I think I’m getting old. This may be my last summer on the Dyna. I’m pretty sure I am ready to look into a “Geezer-Glide”. Heather’s complaining that she’s constantly having to clean my drool off of her ’02 Electra-Glide. I wont lie, I love riding her bike. I think I want one.

But, for now, I’m still on my Dyna. When it’s running right. Not that it’s been misbehaving, it just needed a little care. So, a month ago, I pulled out the wiring harness and, with the help of a friend, rewired most of the bike. I was good to go.

Except I wasn’t good to go.

The bike has continued to be finicky. Some mornings, it fights with me to start. In the past, this bike fired up first attempt. This year, there have been days when I wondered if it was going to start at all.

Then, in the past week, it’s started to hesitate, backfire, chug along at low speed. It seemed like it was starving for fuel. Last Thursday, I barely got to church on it. I was frustrated. In the past year, almost every aspect of the electrical had been replaced (stator, regulator, coil, plug wires, etc).

So, on Saturday, I pulled the float bowl. Sure enough, there was dirt. Lots of crap. That meant, pulling the tank and inspecting the inline fuel filter on my Pingle petcock. What I found was incredible. To suggest there was rust in the tank would be … well, an understatement. And so, I spent the weekend cleaning the tank, the carb, and even the fuel lines themselves.

Yesterday, I finally got it all back together and took it for a spin. I was so excited to finally get it out and running right. Except two blocks later, it was back to sputtering. I headed home, checked the bowl again. More dirt. It took three attempts before I cleaned out all of the crap. And then, because the bike had been starving for fuel before, I needed to adjust the settings on my S&S Super E. Finally, around 7:30 last night, I took the bike out and she ran like she was brand new. What a beautiful ride it was.

While I was doing that, my buddy, who happens to own his own home renovation business (and who is currently building this bike), was digging holes in my backyard. Actually, he was digging holes in the backyards of about six of my neighbours. You see, he’s replacing all the fences. At first glance, it looked like the holes were going to be fairly easy to dig. But, a foot or two down, he ran into rock. Lots of rock. An easy job suddenly began a very difficult one.

So, what do these stories have in common? Well, sometimes we let things go and before you know it, the dirt inside begins to affect how we live. It clogs our sense of compassion, our love for family, and our sense of purpose. Often it happens slowly. We can sense something’s just not right, but we struggle with figuring out what that something is.

If we rely only on other people to determine what might be wrong, we could be fooled into a false sense of security. You see, sometimes, all others see is the exterior. To them, everything looks fine, and they may even tell you that. But they don’t see the rock that is beneath the soil. They don’t realize that things are not as good below the surface.

Here’s the thing. God does. God sees the rocks, he knows there is dirt in the tank, he can even let you know when the carb needs a little tuning. The question is: have you asked him? Have you invited God to take inventory of your life and help you see what might be wrong inside?

David, who was once king of Israel, wrote a song that is found in Psalm 139:23-24. In it he wrote these words: Search me, O God and know my heart.

Perhaps those are good words to pray. I know I need to.

One of the “perks” of my job is the ability to work from just about anywhere. If I’m in the mood to sit at Starbucks, I head over for a coffee. If I need to zero in on something without any distractions, I hide away in my home office. And, if it’s a gorgeous Spring day and I know I should be outside, I can come to a place like where I am right now, tether my MacBook Pro to my iPhone, and work away, fully connected to the internet.

Today's Office

It’s great. Of course, the some would suggest that it would be even better if I didn’t go online while sitting here. At this moment, while Scott Williams continues to send me boring emails (Scott: I told you I’d mention it), I tend to agree. The advantage of not being online is no more emails from him. But, then again, I wouldn’t be able to write this blog, share this experience with the rest of you, and access some of the files I need in order to work on the stuff I’m doing today.

It’s been an interesting few weeks for me. As many of you know, last week I focused most of my time on standing with my close friends, Doug & Kim Stringer after the loss of their 17 year old son, David. Words cannot really describe what that was like.

Now, as I sit here considering last week, I find myself wanting to hit the reset button. I want to take time to focus again on what’s important. Family, friends, loved ones, living out purpose, making a difference in the lives of those nearest to you. All of these things are vital. A lot of people want to know what God’s will is for their life. I think if you focus on these things, you’ll likely figure it out.

Earlier this week, I sent out a very simple tweet: “Dear God: Thank You.” I meant it. I still mean it. As I sit here, contemplating so many different things, it seems like those are the most fitting words to say. Thank you, God, that no matter what the day may bring, you are there. We don’t face it alone.

It’s an incredible thought. One that I was reminded of many times the past few weeks.

Now, time to enjoy more of this scenery.

I apologize in advance if I end up just rambling with this post … but something’s been bugging me for a few days now, and it boiled over yesterday.

How is it that in 2010, people can still be so gullible that they believe everything they read, or see on television, without ever checking the facts? Is it because they are just too lazy to actually look into it? Or is it because we really do want to simply trust those who deliver the news or speak with authority?

As a preacher, I tell people all the time, “Don’t just believe something because I say it’s true. Look into it for yourself. Come to your own conclusion. If you accept something as a spiritual truth just because I’m telling you it is, then you’re foolish.” I say that because I’ve seen far too many people get hooked into cultish-type groups simply because they don’t take the time to discover spiritual truth for themselves.

Since I encourage those who sit under my teaching to do this, I don’t think I’m out of line to suggest that we do it when it comes to others who speak with authority.

Over the past week, I have found myself becoming a news-junkie again. For a season, I was hardly reading any news reports or watching much more than the half hour evening news, but this past week, I’ve been flipping back and forth between CNN and CBC. And it’s amazed me just lazy reporting has become. Much of the stuff that is reported is completely inaccurate. Other stuff contains just enough truth to make the listener buy it fully.

I understand why it’s this way. The news media needs quick, catchy headlines. They needs stories that will cause the listener to tune in. It’s all about grabbing our emotions and our attention. CBC currently has a commercial promoting their news channel. In the commercial, the question is asked, “What makes a great story?” All of the recognizable news personalities answer it with one or two words. What I found interesting is that not one of them used the words truth or accuracy in answering what makes a good story.

As I biker, I’m used to seeing inaccuracies in the media. News reports refer to motorcycle gangs even though there is no such thing. I am not aware of a single motorcycle group that refers to itself as a gang. Sensationalized headlines paint every guy riding a Harley as potential bad news. And people buy it, hook, line, and sinker.

Even the police buy into it. Now, I know a lot of great police officers. In fact, 90% of them are amazing people doing an amazing, thankless job. And yet, let’s be honest, they are indoctrinated into believing that bikers are guilty until found innocent. As a result, they truly believe they are in the right when they pull over a biker for no reason.

I know some of you think that this is a rant because I was stopped yesterday. It’s not. The officer who pulled me over was very nice. I had no issue with him. Actually, I felt sorry for him. He pulled me over for no reason other than how I looked. Yes, profiling. He truly believed that it was legitimate to use the excuse, “Just checking paperwork” as a reason for pulling over a law-abiding citizen. He could have run my license plate while following me and discovered that there are no outstanding warrants, no criminal charges, no reason to pull me over, but all he saw was a biker, and stopped me because bikers are bad.

I spoke with a member of a club this past weekend who told me about having dinner with his brother and his new girlfriend. The girlfriend asked the biker why he feels it’s okay to pimp out girls for prostitution. The biker laughed and asked her why she thought he was a pimp. She told him it was because he was a member of that club, and from what she understood, all the members of that club had prostitutes working for them. Now, this guy has a 9 to 5 job (and yes, I’ve seen him at his job). He also works two other jobs to bring in extra money. He pays taxes on all three jobs. He works like a dog. And yet, he’s painted with a brush simply because of a patch on his back.

My point in all this rambling is this: in this day and age, when there is so many ways to check out facts, why do we as a culture just accept what authorities and news outlets tell us is true? Why don’t we take the time to actually research a few things and discover truth for ourselves? I challenge people to do that with spiritual things, and I try to make the effort to do it with every other area of my life.

What about you?