December 10th, Advent Day 14
Not long ago, husband Steve and I were having lunch at one of our favorite “country-style” restaurants when he – ever the inquiring journalist – noticed a group of people that he had identified as motorcyclists (i.e. bikers). He had also noticed a fleet of motorcycles in the parking lot as we came in.
These folks were a congenial crew, obviously enjoying each other’s company as well as their meals. They were noisy, but not disturbingly so. In fact, we found ourselves enjoying their banter despite the fact that we had no idea what it was all about.
When the group got up to leave, Steve spoke to a gent passing by our booth and asked if they were indeed cyclists out for a Saturday spin. They were, we were told. They were also from an area church made up entirely of biking enthusiasts, and the very nice man Steve had chosen for his impromptu interview was none other than their pastor.
Our new acquaintance told us about his members’ love for the Lord and how they had combined it with their passion for biking. I won’t share the name of the church, but I will say that it includes references to both biking and an established church denomination. We learned that its membership, like those of many other churches, had been diminished by the ravages of COVID-19 but was now regrouping.
The group left the restaurant before we did, but was still in the parking lot when we emerged. Steve, again the inquiring journalist, walked into its midst and before I could say “motorcycle” was sitting atop an intimidating vehicle called a “trike.” Like the benevolent tricycles we all grow up with, it had three wheels but powering those three wheels was an obviously very powerful energy source.
After a lot of good-natured joshing about how it looked as though one of these massive machines might soon wind up in our driveway, we were on our way, discussing this very unexpected and surprisingly meaningful encounter all the way home.
Now it may be stretching things to compare the wilderness ministry of John the Baptist with these God-loving biking enthusiasts with their braided hair, worn jeans, piercings and tattoos, but on that sunny Saturday, my husband and I experienced a kind of spiritual awakening – not in the weekly pews of a church building but in a country diner and its asphalt parking lot.
God’s love and the love of God are all around us. We just have to open our eyes, our minds and our hearts enough to see and experience it.