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This video gave me chills. If you question where God is when suffering happens, will you also say, here am I?

Take the time to watch this … trust me.

It was a little over a week ago when I picked up my new paint job and put my bike back together. I managed to get a five minute ride in before the bad weather hit. The bike sat, waiting to be enjoyed for five days. Finally, on Sunday I woke up to a gorgeous day. My plan was to take my bike to our Sunday morning teaching series, but when I went to fire it up, the bike wouldn’t start. For some reason, the battery had drained and I didn’t have enough juice to get it started. So, it was another day of riding Heather’s Electra Glide.

I did get the bike running later that day and enjoyed riding it for a few days earlier this week. Still, something wasn’t right. The bike wasn’t starting right away, and it just seemed like the battery wasn’t staying fully charged. I realized on Tuesday that my low beam wasn’t working, and so I decided to take a look at the wiring.

As I played with some of the wiring sticking out of the neck of the frame, I tripped one of Harley’s wonderful breakers. It was then that I knew I had a problem.

Yesterday, with the help of a buddy, I pulled the main wiring harness out of the frame. What we found amazed both of us. There were so many nicks in the wires, bare spots and cracks, that it was a miracle the bike ran at all! In a few cases, wires were shorting out against the frame, overheating, and melting to other wires pressed tight to them. There were dozens of wires spliced into the frame.

Some of the changes were a result of me removing all the wires from my bars a few years ago. You see, I have custom bars on my bike, and I have no wires at all on them. My signal lights and high beam switch are behind my left leg. I have no front signal lights. I have no starter or emergency off button. However, many of the wires that once connected to those things were hiding in the frame. Along with those wires, there were other wires customized by the previous owner.

The previous owner, a friend of mine, had suggested when I bought the bike from him that I should invest in a new wiring harness. Some of the wires were getting brittle, and it was only a matter of time before they began to wear through. It was one of those “I should do that some time” things, but there were other more pressing matters to use my finances on, so the new wiring never happened.

As I pulled the harness out of the bike and began to run fresh, new wires to only the needed connections, I was reminded again how so much of motorcycling parallels the rest of life. As a minister, I’m inclined to think of the spiritual aspect of life, and my mind wandered there a little.

How is your spiritual wiring? Perhaps you first plugged in as a kid when your parents or grandparents dragged you off to some boring church service. Are you still using the same connections? If so, my guess is they’ve become brittle and there’s like a few exposed wires. Perhaps they’re shorting out the rest of the system. Perhaps they’re simply causing things to run a little rough.

Every once in a while it’s healthy to take another look at how you’re wired. You may not have to yank out the entire wiring harness, but maybe it’s time to replace a few wires, to make sure the connection to God is good. I began my spiritual journey 27 years ago. During that time, I have done a lot of rewiring. I still do.

What about you? Time to look at how you’re wired again?

As many of you know, I’m a firm believer is utilizing social media such as Twitter and Facebook. When these tools are used right, they open the door to incredible connections with people from around the world. At least, that’s been my experience.

Last Fall, I headed out on the road for 25 days. During that time, I put over 13,000 kms on my 94 Dyna WideGlide. The bike now has over 200,000 kms (engine was rebuilt around 110,000 kms). It’s a phenomenal bike that has served me well during the few years that I’ve owned her.

A few months before I left on my trip, I met this very interesting biker chick on Twitter. Kelly (@FieryPinkGirl) seemed to be into everything. She talked about her graphic design work, working on her (very cool) Buell, and even dabbling into tattooing. Early into chatting with her, I connected with her fiance, Jason (@HellcatCustoms), owner of Hellcat Customs. He was equally interesting and seemed to be the kind of brother that I would love to find out more about.

As I planned out the trip, the three of us, along with three or four other twitter friends, decided to hook up at the Vegas Bike Show. While I spent most of my time with another twitter bro (@SmoothBiker), I did get to hang out a bit with Jason & Kelly. And, it was a blast. I felt part of “the family” with all of them.

Within a few weeks of arriving home, Jase got in touch with me and asked if he could paint my bike. He had always wanted to do a “religious themed” paint job, and now had the chance. I was floored at the invitation, because I had seen his work on Vegas and knew that this was one of the best custom bike builders I had ever met. To say that I was excited would be an understatement.

But then, a fire destroyed Jase’s shop. My attention turned from getting a paint  job to helping a brother in need. Through the generosity of bikers from around the world, we were able to raise some cash to help Jase keep going while insurance was all sorted out. I had decided not to bring up the paint job again, because I figured he would be far too busy focusing on getting Hellcat Customs off the ground again. But, he didn’t forget. He’s not that kind of guy. He had made a commitment, and asked me when I was going to send down my tins. They were in the mail a week later.

I want to share some of Jason’s words about the paint job. I’ll interject some of my own thoughts as well as a few pictures to help illustrate. These are the first pictures and there will be much better ones taken in the near future.

Here’s some of Jase’s thoughts on the overall job:

Well I just got back from the UPS Store. Shipped my first custom paint job since the rebuild to Canada … I did things very different. I made myself very uncomfortable doing it, but for a reason. Normally I’d pull the paint completely off and start fresh, not this time. The parts had some digs, rock chips, and scratches it had received during its many miles this man has traveled on it. I fixed one dent in the tank and chose to leave some of the other imperfections on purpose… yeah I know, big no no for a custom painter. I chose to do it because this bike isn’t a trailer queen… its a real rider. Its been across two countries that I know of under its own power. The imperfections it came to me with are scars and badges of honor in my eyes. I painted it all here at my house in the kitchen, like I did my first few paint projects for myself years ago. I used a cheap paint gun and a cheap airbrush here at the kitchen table. I colorsanded it by hand with no block in the bath tub. it got polished with a polish pad and a drill… I went completely back to the beginning of my start to do it. I figured since this man did what he could to help out to start over that I needed to start completely over and do things the way I did back then and not the way we do them for show bikes and cars. The idea in this job was to produce something beautiful and different while I was restarting the company. I did. I did it different than I did months before…got to step back to my roots and remember how hard it used to be to produce a diamond out of nothing with no fancy equipment or tricks. I wanted to reconnect with myself and my skills, I did, much deeper than I woulda thought.
Rob Dale, he’s the owner… I really hope he is happy and proud to own this piece. Not because its a show piece, not because of the subject matter, just because its the only one…was done for him as a brother in older methods… I hope he sees things the way I do on how it turned out. This wasn’t a hired show bike build, this was a from the heart meaningful gift…one I hope has as much meaning to him as it does me. There were times during the job things this man has said to me really hit hard and caused a somewhat watery response. I honestly have only been able to talk to him in person for a few hours over the course of a weekend…yet somehow he feels to be blood. Our ideas about life and many of our life experiences are so closely aligned you would swear we lived next door to one another. He is def family.

Again, anyone who says social media is a waste of time, simply hasn’t made the types of connections that I have made. You don’t become family through something that is a “waste of time.” My feelings about Jase and Kells are mutual. They are family. Heather hasn’t met them yet, and still she feels the same way about them. She can’t wait to meet them face to face.
Jase then begins to explain the three parts of the paint job. I’ll use his words and include pictures.

The first piece in this 3 part job is the front fender… I used a video of one of Your speeches to get the image, it represents Faith.

If you watch any of the Bikers’ Church videos, you’ll see this cross behind me when I’m speaking.

What Jase doesn’t know is that this cross was made by a welder who is also a biker and attends the church. Mike designed this cross specifically for the church. He made the simple cross, the put the vines and thorns on it to represent some of the challenges we face on the spiritual journey. If you look closely, you’ll see a motorcycle riding up the cross, representing all the bikers who take this journey.

This picture doesn’t really do the paint justice. When you look at it in the daylight, it almost has a three dimensional look to it. It’s simply amazing.

Jase continues …

The second piece is the tank. The image on it represents Forgiveness and humble men.

Jason got this image from a image hanging in the church he attended as a child. It’s from the 1800′s, and it is something he has never forgotten. In fact, he was even in contact with his grandmother for inspiration.

I think this picture captures the idea of Jesus that I have always appreciated. I’ve never seen Jesus as week or “americanized.” Rather, I’ve seen his as a carpenter’s son. A man who worked with his hands. A face weathered by the climate of his day.

But also the Son of God. A man on a mission to set people free to experience the journey with him. Jason captured that image better than I could have imagined.

The third image really blew me away. This was all I had from him before I got the pieces:

The third is the rear fender. The image represents Love, Peace, and Hope … The Rear really was tough, the subject matter alone was hard enough with the low quality photo I had from the internet … but when you get really really personal with artwork it really scares me to do it, but I did anyways. Enjoy Brother … With that fender on there you will always have an angel watching your back and faith up front to guide your way.

Of course, this is a picture of my daughter, K.D. He took the image from this post that I wrote in January. He had some help, though. He spoke with both my daughter (@brisni), Heather (@pipesdale) and a brother from the church (@donbleecker) as he worked on it.

And yes, he captured her beautifully. It was completely unexpected. I was speechless as I opened the box and looked at it for the first time. Both Heather and Brit knew what was coming, and so they both stood and watched as I pulled the fender out of its protective covering.

I have gone out and looked at that image more times than I can count since putting the bike back together.

So, there you have it. A paint job that is so personal and tells much of my story like no other paint job could do. It’s simply amazing.

I realize that I have readers from all over the world that tune in to this blog. Still, if you are looking to get work done – not just painting, but any kind of customization – and you want someone who clearly puts his heart into everything he does, then you have to check out www.hellcatcustoms.com. He truly is a biker who understand. He’s truly a good friend.

If you didn’t read the first part of this story, I encourage you to go here first.

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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.

One of the most common questions I get is how I ended up pastoring a Bikers’ Church. After all, it’s not exactly the most common “lifestyle choice.” And so, I’ve decided to write a post (or two) telling you a little about my journey. I debated doing this post for about a week. After all, it’s about the most self-centred post a person can do. It’s a post all about me. But, let’s face it, isn’t blogging fairly narcissistic? Most bloggers use the forum to share their personal opinions on a variety of subjects.

So, let me tell you a little of my journey.

I wasn’t born into a biker family. But I wasn’t born into a preacher’s family either. My natural father was a bank robber. In fact, he went to jail before my second birthday, and spent the next fifteen years behind bars. He did break out of prison on a few occasions. In the early 70′s, he ended up in a shoot out in downtown Ottawa. While he was unharmed, he was arrested and put back in jail. To be honest, I don’t remember any of the incidents with my dad growing up. For some reason I believed he had died when I was a baby (not sure if someone told me that, of if I just assumed it). Mind you, I did grow up always wanting to be the robber when I played “Cops & Robbers” with my friends!

I wasn’t overly close with the Dale side of the family, although I did spend time with my Aunts and Uncles. In fact, it was a couple of my Aunts who taught me to smoke when I was nine! A habit I continued on and off until I was sixteen. The Dale side of the family struggled with a lot of pain. One Aunt committed suicide, my Uncle Terry was beaten to death in 1990, and another Aunt was killed when the small plane she was a passenger on crashed.

I was a loner growing up. For a number of reasons, my mom moved often. In fact, I couldn’t begin to name all of the different schools I attended growing up. My mom cared for my brother (who is five years older), my sister (1.5 years younger), and myself. She was my hero, and I wrote about her here. After her death, my sister discovered that there were actually two other siblings. A brother and a sister who were born between my brother and I. For some reason, she gave them up. Perhaps some day I’ll meet them.

When I was thirteen, my mom met (and married) Gary, an old school biker. It was then that my passion for riding became a reality. I bought my first dirt bike, and along with my step-brother, rode every day regardless of the weather. In his younger days, Gary had been a member of an outlaw motorcycle club. While he wasn’t riding with the club anymore, he was still friends with a lot of club guys. I can remember coming home and finding thirty Harleys parked outside my house. I spent time with guys named “Mountain Man”. I learned to ride with many of them.

A few years later, my mom began to search for meaning. That search led her to a church, where she turned her life over to God. In the Fall of 1982, our family began attending church. I had no interest in anything spiritual, and believed that church was for old people, women, and sissy guys. No real, tough guy would ever be a Christian.

That opinion changed a few month later when the preacher shared the story of Jesus. As I listened to what Jesus experienced on the Cross – the punishment that he took upon his body – I was in awe. Anyone who could be a strong as Jesus was worthy of my respect. I began a journey of discovering him. A journey I have continued to this day.

LIfe wasn’t easy after I began my spiritual journey. I thought it would be. I thought that being a Christian would mean that everything in life would begin to go better. I thought I would have no more problems. No more challenges.

That all changed on January 9, 1983. The day my house blew up. But, I’ll save that, and the rest of the story, for tomorrow.

Another incredible video. Happy Easter.

He is risen!

An incredible voice. Trust me, this video will move you.

For many bikers, there comes a time every year when the bikes are stored away for winter. Those who ride all year long simply cannot understand the pain and anguish we feel as we go through our winter storage routine. For months, we groan as we read the status updates of our friends who are hoping on their bikes in mid-January for a day long run. Some of us can’t take it, and we pull out bikes out, throw them on a trailer, and make a pilgrimage to the land of year-long riding. No, some of you will never understand what it’s like to have a season when riding is not an option.

At the same time, you can’t know the thrill of having riding season begin. We watch the weather channel religiously, marking the days on our calendar to when we can ride again. For us in my neck of the woods, that season usually begins some time in April. Oh, there can be days in late March where the weather is a few degrees above freezing, and a few brave souls (read: crazy people) will pull their bikes out for a quick spin around the block.

This year has been incredible. In Ottawa, we had no snow accumulation in March. The temperature was far above normal the entire month. Many people have had their bikes out for close to a month now (some even longer). Even the street sweepers (the ultimate sign that riding season is upon us) have been out, cleaning away the winter debris. This upcoming weekend, we are expected to shatter the record for warm temperature in this area. Amazing.

Most of us go through a spring maintenance routine before starting the riding season. While each person’s ritual is different, most include:

• checking or changing the oil
• checking or replacing the spark plugs
• checking tire pressure
• checking lights, brakes, etc
• making sure all cables are lubricated
• adding fresh gas
• washing the bike

Again, there are far too many things I could put on a list like this, but my point is, there is a ritual that almost all bikers follow before they head out on a true “first ride” of the season.

Even those who are not all that serious about taking care of their bike usually follow some sort of routine at the beginning of the season. It’s like having a new year’s resolution. “This year, I’m going to wash my bike more. I’m going to care for it better.” They may not stick to it, but at the start of the season, their intentions are certainly good.

Yes, this weekend will be a time when many will dive into their spring maintenance ritual (if they haven’t done it already). It will be a weekend filled with smiling, happy bikers in the National Capital Region of Canada.

It’s also Easter weekend. Tomorrow is Good Friday. This Sunday is Easter Sunday. Can I suggest that you consider another routine? I have no idea where you are with any spiritual mindset, but perhaps this is a good weekend to take stock. Maybe there’s a little tweaking that needs to happen. Maybe you need a total oil flush. But why not take some time this weekend to do a little maintenance on the spiritual side of your life?

If you’re in Ottawa, I’d invite you to join us tonight for our Bikers’ Church service. We’ll be celebrating communion as part of the evening. Regardless of where you are, there will be services happening on Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Maybe it’s a good time to check out a place near you and take a little time to remind yourself that there is more to life than the hear and now.

Whatever you do, don’t neglect a little spiritual maintenance to go along with your bike’s spring maintenance.

Happy riding, and Happy Easter!

I love a good debate. I love it when people are willing to discuss an issue with the desire to learn and discover more. My mom taught me to love learning. Growing up, she and I would engage in some pretty intense debates. We’d pick an issue, choose sides, and debate. Even though we usually held the same views on a subject, one of us would play the role of the opposition, and usually would become very passionate in defending that side of the subject. Outsiders would hear us debate and think we were having an intense argument. But we loved it.

While I love discussing an issue, I can’t start arguing. People who simply want to push their opinion without an openness to learn drive me nuts. People like that usually have no clue about why they hold the opinion they do, they simply have always felt that way and watch to argue until you admit defeat.

You see, that’s the difference between a good debate and just arguing. In a debate, you want to make your point, but you also want to gain understanding in the view of others. You want to learn. In an argument, you simply want to win. There’s no desire to learn.

I’ve watched in amusement at how many Americans are responding to Health Care Reform. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I know little about the issue. To be honest, it simply doesn’t matter to me. Health Care in Canada is … well … fine. It could be better, but it certainly could be a lot worse. The thought of someone having to choose between paying rent or seeing a doctor is simply foreign to me. There has never been a single time in my life where I have worried about money before seeing a doctor.

Yesterday, I spent some time reading up on American Health Care Reform. I flipped back and forth between a few channels on television to see what the pundits were saying. Then, I got frustrated and gave up. All I found were people wanting to argue. They would throw out these huge statements, like HCR would be the destruction of America.

At one point, I even whispered to myself, “Is there anyone willing to learn from the other side? Doesn’t anyone want to work together to simply make their country better – whether or not that includes HCR? But all I found were people defending their position, arguing to win against the opposition, and unwilling to actually dialogue. Even on Twitter, some of the statements were so extreme, that I couldn’t help but chuckle.

I use HCR as an example, but the same is true of any topic. We are launching a new series this week at Bikers’ Church called Believe. As I’ll be pointing out this week, it’s time for Christians to stop defending their position by making extreme statements or by trying to win an argument. It’s time to dialogue and be willing to learn from those who criticize our beliefs.

At least that’s my opinion. What’s yours?

I realize that I am taking the Jefferson Airplane song horribly out of context by using it as the title of this post. That’s the beauty of blogging. You can do whatever you want! (Update: As some have pointed out, the song is from Buffalo Springfield. I believe it’s from both, but what do I know about music?)

As some of you know, I announced last Wednesday that I will stop writing the daily Oil Change once the current series concludes. That’s scheduled to happen in a couple of days. I’ve actually been done writing them for a week now. That means I didn’t have to spend some of Friday and all of yesterday writing Oil Changes. It was great! Mind you, I spoke at Greenbelt Baptist Church on Sunday, so that took up some of my day on Friday and a little of Saturday to finalize my message.

I woke up yesterday morning feeling like I wasn’t swamped before the week even started. Since I was still struggling with a cold I picked up on the weekend, I decided to lay low and do minor things. It was so nice out, that I ended up jumping on Heather’s bike and going for a spin. I ended up at a friend’s place and we chatted over coffee for about an hour. It was wonderful. The rest of my afternoon was spent reading a book that I need to review here on the blog (will do it later this week). At one point, as I sat on my front deck reading, my neighbour, Anne, came across the street and we chatted for a good twenty minutes. I hadn’t talked to her or her husband since last Fall. It was good to catch up.

As I sat, enjoying left over ribs from Sunday night, it hit me that no one is going to give me days like the one I had yesterday. If I don’t choose to make time to have time, I wont stop. I wont look around.

Perhaps you’re in the same boat. It seems like you’re always running. Always doing. Are you waiting for someone to stop the world so that you can find the time to enjoy it? If you are, you just might find yourself always waiting. You need to choose to find time to have time.

There’s a passage in the Bible where the author is describing chaos in the world. He describes a time where earthquakes are happening. Mountains are crumbling. Tsunamis are threatening. Nations are in crisis. And in the midst of it all, he writes these words:

Be still, and know that I am God!” (Psalm 46:10)

Notice that it is the listener who must choose to be still. Must choose to stop.

I’m not sure what’s going on in your world. But maybe there’s a sound that you are missing because there is too much external noise right now. If that’s the case, perhaps it’s time to stop and listen.