Jesus?

Lightning struck the mountains with a loud peal and thunder rumbled between the valleys.

I’m here.

Thank God.

Really?

Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be a smartass.

How can I help you?

I’m tired of messing up with motorcycles. For the last, I dunno, ten years maybe? I just don’t get the same satisfaction I used to get from a Harley.

And why do you think that is?

I haven’t got a clue, man, I used –sorry. I used to love the whole Harley experience, face in the wind, that 21″ chrome wheel slicing through the air ahead of me, that beautifully shaped tank.

There truly is nothing like a Harley. Even the lousy suspension was a treat. So long as you didn’t hit something big, there was something smooooth about it that I just don’t feel on any other bike. Kinda like an old Cadillac.

It was special.

Yeah. So you know. Like, when you approached a curve, if you were in the right part of the powerband and released the throttle, those flimsy-ass forks would compress and the bike would just fall into the corner in the most delicious way. I mean, most riders would call that a flaw. But if you did it right, the bike kinda crouched like a Dachshund ripping around a bedpost, and then you got the unique pleasure of steering with the throttle. Like with a muscle car.

Precisely.

Hooligan central!

Are you familiar with the First Commandment?

No.

No?

Well, I know there is a First Commandment. Does that count?

No, it does not count.

OK, so help a brother out.

Thou shalt have no other gods before me.

Oh. That one.

Do you think it applies here?

I dunno. It’s not like I worship my Harleys or anything!

Are you being honest?

I sighed. OK. So, like, if I’m feeling down or weird or whatever, I go look at the Softail parked out back and I immediately feel better. But that’s not like, worship is it?

Close enough that it replaces the worship you should be doing.

No offense, but have you ever owned a Harley?

What do you think?

Oh. Sorry. I’m kinda new to this.

It shows.

OK, let me try again. You’re like God and everything. But you’re … well, way up there. I can’t see you. I can’t touch you. I can’t wash you down with McGuires carwash on a warm afternoon and clean your spokes and wax your paint until it shines like the sun.

(Photo courtesy of Billy Sharp.)

And to be honest, a lot of the time –most of the time, actually– you feel so far away. It’s easy for people to claim you don’t exist because, well, it’s hard to find evidence that you do.

Why do you think that is?

Not a clue, Jesus.

Lightning struck the mountains with a loud peal and thunder rumbled about the valleys.

Daaaang. Does that happen every time I say your name?

While I’m visiting.

So if I simply say “Jesus …”

Lightning struck the mountains with a loud peal and thunder rumbled about the valleys.

Jesus.

Lightning struck the mountains with a loud peal and thunder rumbled about the valleys.

Jesus.

Lightning struck the mountains with a loud peal and thunder rumbled about the valleys.

That is so much fun!

What brought me to you this time?

I was kinda, well, begging for help.

You were praying.

Is that what it was?

It was not a very good prayer, but we cut beginners some slack. So why’d you pray?

Because the motorcycles weren’t doing it for me.

Just like Scripture says, right?

I guess.

If you’d read your Bible, you’d eventually stumble upon Isaiah 55:2:

Why do you spend money for what is not bread,
And your wages for what does not satisfy?

I guess I’ve been doing that, huh? I’m sorry.

If you truly were sorry, you’d try to do better. You would resolve to practice praying until you could feel my presence as certainly as you feel the presence of the Harley in your garage.

To be honest, Jesus, praying looks like a drag.

Lightning struck the mountains with a loud peal and thunder rumbled about the valleys.

Sorry. Not sorry. That is so cool! But my point is, like, have you been to church lately?

Jesus said nothing.

OK. Dumb question. But everybody seems depressed. They mumble things they don’t mean and yech, it’s a drag all around.

…these people draw near with their mouths and honor Me with their lips, but have removed their hearts far from Me…

Wow! So God said that?

Technically Isaiah, but yes.

So you see what I mean? Why couldn’t blasting down that road in Yellowstone with Wagner blasting in my ears count as prayer, instead? I mean, wouldn’t that be a cooler prayer than me mumbling stuff I don’t mean in big dark building?

Flight of the Valkyries.

Yes! Did you see Apocalypse Now?

Are you really asking me that?

Playing Wagner while riding my Harley down that road, the revs rising and falling, the curves, the mountains. It feels like prayer. Only I’m not asking for anything. I’m just digging it.

That’s what worship is supposed to feel like.

No way!

As it says in Psalm 98:

Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all the earth:
Make a loud noise, and rejoice, and sing praise.

Wow! So the Bible does get loud pipes! So why can’t riding my Harley be a prayer?

Maybe it can be. Maybe it can. But you are far from that, now. Aren’t you?

It hasn’t felt like that in a long time.

Have you read Ecclesiastes?

I denied myself nothing my eyes desired;
    I refused my heart no pleasure.
My heart took delight in all my labor,
    and this was the reward for all my toil.
Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done
    and what I had toiled to achieve,
everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind;
    nothing was gained under the sun.

Damn. That’s kinda how I feel around my Harleys, now. It really sucks, Jesus.

Lightning struck the mountains with a loud peal and thunder rumbled about the valleys.

Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t do that one one on purpose.

I know.

I’ve tried other bikes, you know. I go out and buy a BMW. Or a Ducati. And a coupla Hondas. I even tried a KTM!

And what happens?

I like them at first.

But?

But then they fail to satisfy.

Why do you think that is?

Because they’re not a Harley.

Aren’t you tired of the bugs in your teeth? The short-shifting? Your pegs grinding in the corners?

No.

Seeking lower companionship?

Now wait a sec. Bhro’s an alright guy.

Jesus smiled.

Your sense of humor is rather wicked at times, isn’t it?

Do you think we don’t laugh in Heaven?

Um … no.

Why not?

There’s not a single joke in the Bible. Not one.

And yet, Psalm 118:

This is the day the Lord has made;
We will rejoice and be glad in it.

Not exactly Comedy Central material, is it?

I’ll give you that, but we do laugh in Heaven. A lot. Now, what did I say about change?

Um … Um …

Go to Isaiah 48:10.

OK. Gimme a sec … um … just a–

It’s after Kings.

I knew that.

Stop lying.

Sorry.

I said, “Stop Lying.”

I grimaced. I dug through my bible. Daaaang. That’s a lot of chapters. This dude WROTE. OK, I’m there.

Behold, I have refined you.

Because you are mine, what used to satisfy the old you does not satisfy the new you.

But I see plenty of guys with Christian colors riding Harleys!

That’s fine for them. They have their walk with God. You have yours.

Sheesh. Preacher didn’t tell me THAT would happen when I got baptized.

No matter how many you keep buying, no matter which model you buy, you won’t be satisfied any more.

Like Ecclesiastes, Huh?

Yes.

So what am I ‘sposed to do, then?

Allow me to renew your mind.

Wha … what are you gonna do to me? Wait. You’re not gonna make me like BMW’s are you?

That’s exactly what I want you to do.

Noooo! BMWs lack the chrome and the purty colors on Harleys. And metal flake. And pin stripes! I can’t imagine loving a BMW like I used to love my Harley.

You will once you do the will of your Father who is in Heaven.

I’m gonna be depressed like the dude who wrote Ecclesiastes, aren’t I?

Not if you do the will of your Father who is in Heaven.

Why do you always say it like that?

It makes him grin.

I hang my head.

Go out and get a BMW. Learn to enjoy it.

You’re asking me to do what you asked Abraham to do, you know. Kill his own son.

And how did that turn out?

OK. You have a point. But how do you know I’m not gonna love my BMW as much as I loved my Harleys and we have to go through all this all over again?

Won’t happen.

Yeah? Why?

It’s not a Harley.