Have you ever done anything that made you look and feel utterly ridiculous? Probably we all have, partly because we are all human but mostly because God has a sense of humor.
One of the things you may not know about me is that I am/was a biker; I ride/rode motorcycles. Just as it is ironic that we Americans drive on parkways and park on driveways, people who ride bikes are called “cyclists,” while people who ride ‘cycles are called “bikers.” Go figure.
A few years ago, my wife and I had traveled to Arkansas with our Christian Motorcyclists Association chapter for the “Changing of the Colors” motorcycle rally, so named because it takes place in mid-October when the leaves in the Ouachita Mountains are changing. While we had some incredible views of God’s majestic handiwork, the weather had definitely not cooperated with us on this trip. About two dozen of us had ridden up to Mt. Magazine, the highest point in Arkansas and the “highest point between the Alleghenies and the Rockies.” We enjoyed a wonderful lunch together at the Skycrest Restaurant by a huge open-hearth fireplace and a long view looking out over the mist-covered valleys filled with various shades of red, yellow, purple, orange, pink, magenta, and brown. I thought to myself, “Heaven must be like this.”
Preparing to leave, we walked outside to a fresh dose of earthly reality. The temperature was thirty-six degrees, and it had begun to rain. Remember, we were on motorcycles. Looking somewhat like overstuffed teddy bears in rain gear and helmets, we began to pull out of the parking lot in staggered formation, when I realized that I didn’t have my rather expensive pair of Wiley-X sunglasses (It’s a biker thing). “Must have left them on the table,” I thought, and radioed to the group leader and sweep rider to go ahead, and I would catch up.
Not even bothering to take my helmet off, I rushed into the dining room where we had been sitting—no sunglasses. None of the wait staff had seen them. They were not in the bathroom where I had washed my hands after lunch. Checked all of my pockets again, no luck. “Someone just picked them up,” I thought, judgmentally. As I climbed on the bike, my wife offered her condolences, and we rode off to catch up with the group.
About twenty miles down the road, my head began to hurt, not a sinus-type hurt but a sharp, piercing pain on the top of my head. Suddenly, it dawned on me. I told my wife over the intercom that I knew where my sunglasses were. They had apparently been on top of my head when I put my helmet on and were now pressing heavily upon the top of my head. We were on a narrow, two-lane road in the rain with no place to pull over, so, the shades would just have to stay put a while longer. Sandy was trying to be kind and not say anything about me being a doofus, but I could feel her shaking with laughter behind me. Though she swore herself to secrecy, the story was just too funny not to tell—not by her but by me. Everyone got a good laugh out of it, making an otherwise miserable ride more bearable.
The lesson here is not about riding motorcycles or keeping up with your sunglasses. It is about those times when we feel that God has abandoned us or that we have somehow lost him from our lives. He has been there all along. It may involve some temporary pain, but sometimes He needs to get our attention. Sunglasses may provide protection for our eyes, but God is protection for our spirit.
Prayer: O God of peace, who hast taught us that in returning and rest we shall be saved, in quietness and in confidence shall be our strength: By the might of thy Spirit lift us, we pray thee, to thy presence, where we may be still and know that thou art God; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (Book of Common Prayer, p. 832).
Blessings and Peace,
Steve+
