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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I’ve been sharing a series called, “When Warriors Dream.” It’s a series about living out your purpose and believing that God has called you to experience a full life with him. Each week, I’ve been offering principles that will help us dream “God-sized” dreams.

The first principle I shared is one that I believe many people struggle with. Basically, the principle says that before you will ever do anything, you need to understand who you are. Actually, that’s the “sanitized” version of it. Really, the principle suggests that before you can do anything for God, you must see yourself the way God sees you.

Let’s face it, we are often our own biggest critic. After I preach, I can be harder on myself than any negative email I might receive. Most of us see ourselves as less than we are. We consider others as more talented, more popular, more gifted. When we are asked to get involved, most of us wonder what on earth we can contribute.

Gideon was a guy who seemed to have nothing to offer. He was a coward. He hid from challenge and conflict. He was one of the least likely warriors in the Bible. And yet, God eventually used him as a great leader. Gideon is seen as an incredible man of faith who was willing to risk everything for the sake of his calling.

What changed for him? What caused him to go from being a coward who hid whenever the enemy showed up to a man who led a small army of 300 into battle?

One thing. He finally saw himself the way God saw him.

How did God see him? The Bible tells us in Judges 6:12. An angel appears to Gideon and calls him a “Mighty Warrior.” A warrior? Gideon?

And yet, that is who he was. It took some time, but soon Gideon began to believe it. He believed that God was right in how he saw him. The rest, as they say, is history.

Look, you might not have an angel speak to you while you’re hiding out from the enemy. You may never have to led 300 men into battle. But God has a calling – a purpose – for your life. He has something special for you to accomplish.

But it begins with seeing yourself as God sees you. You’re not a failure. You’re not worthless. You’re not insignificant. God sees you first and foremost as his child. One he loves deeply. You are his and that is not a small thing.

So begin to dream, mighty warrior. Allow God to work through you and be amazed at what you can accomplish when you simply believe you are who he says you are.

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.

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.

Here is the video from the service for David. There are a few places where the audio isn’t that great, but for the most part, it should work fine.

You see, I’ve known Doug and Kim Stringer for 27 years. They are two of the biggest influences in my life. Doug was the best man in my wedding, they were there when my own daughter passed away, they were there when we launched Bikers’ Church. They are more than friends, they are family.

And so, my heart was broken for them.

Since Sunday evening, Heather and I have spent almost all of our time with Doug and Kim. I have been amazed at how their faith has carried them this week. Their strength is a testimony of those who have hope that this world is not all there is.

Yesterday, we accompanied the Stringer family to David’s high school. There were hundreds of teenagers gathered outside of his locker, and as we walked around the corner, the sight was … well … beyond words. But what struck me the most was what happened next. A student spoke up and told the family how much David meant to all of them. Then, Doug spoke and thanked the teens for being there, for supporting them, for loving David. The family took time to look through the many items in David’s locker, and then, as we prepared to leave, Kim said a few words to the kids.

Even in their grief, Kim and Doug were investing into the lives of others.

As we were leaving, a student came up to Kim and handed her a stack of letters. They were written by students addressed to David, thanking him for his influence in their lives. Many spoke of a strong, steady, uncompromising faith that demonstrated itself through a deep love and compassion for others. Students wrote about how they felt left out, lonely, empty, and then David would sit with them, goof around with them, make them feel accepted. Many spoke about how his faith impacted their lives.

It has reminded me how easy it can be to allow your life to impact others. Something we think it has to be something huge, something world-impacting. But rarely is that the case. Most of us will not find the cure of a disease, or invent an alternative energy fuel. But all of us can say a simple, “Hello” to an elderly lady or smile at a student who sits alone. Touching a life isn’t hard to do, it just takes a moment.

How are you living? Do you let those moments pass by without a second thought? Or do you take the time to do something small … something that might be huge for the person on the receiving end. This week, David has reminded me that it’s those small things that make the biggest difference.

Today, do a small thing for one other person. You never know how you’ll change a life.