Hobbyist or The Real Thing?
Everyone who knows me well is aware that I am an avid motorcyclist. I started riding motorized vehicles at the ripe old age of 12. It was actually a bicycle that my dad and I mounted a 4 horsepower engine on, with a metal spool that directly turned the rear tire. It would go about 40 mph, and I learned many important lessons about defensive riding as cars and trucks zoomed past me. I rode the bike for 2 years, using it daily to deliver newspapers, and often riding it across town and to church youth meetings.
Before the homemade motorbike, my dad was adamantly opposed to my pleas for a motorcycle, so he encouraged my brother and I to get a horse. I loved Princess, and rode at every opportunity. But in all my years of motorcycling, I’ve never been injured as badly as I was—several times—on our horse. A horse falling hard on your knees on a paved road can leave permanent damage. And a horse rearing so that your heads collide can cause fractured bones and severe, long lasting “black eyes.” I think my dad realized that the horse was at least as dangerous as my longed-for motorcycle, and finally relented.
I graduated to a Cushman motor scooter—much better for delivering newspapers, and finally, at 16, I bought my first real motorcycle. A Honda Dream 305, with fiberglass saddlebags, windshield, and touring lights. Over the next couple of years, I rode that motorcycle everywhere, preferring it to a car even in the pouring rain. I made innumerable trips through the mountains into neighboring states, rode it back and forth to college, and on a 1700 mile family vacation trip—while the rest of the family went in the car.
These days, my bike is an 1100cc cruiser, and I still find every excuse to ride. Whether a 15 mile round trip to town to check the mail, or a 4 day cruise through the Smokies with Margaret behind me, I love to ride.
I often find that life’s lessons become clear through experiences. A notebook in my hip pocket for jotting thoughts is as much a part of my gear as the rain suit in my left saddlebag. Perhaps these simple thoughts will encourage you in your daily journey today.
Riding through Gatlinburg a couple of years ago (on a 500cc Yamaha), I was almost ashamed of my equipment. Toward the end of a 2 day ride that included rain and muddy roads, I felt out of place among hundreds of bikers. Riders were wearing chaps, fringed leather vests and fingerless leather gloves, sturdy riding boots, bandanas; and cruising through town on low-slung, custom painted, custom tuned, highly polished mega-dollar bikes. And I was puttering through town on a small, dirty, quiet bike wearing street clothes.
I passed quietly and unobtrusively through town, secretly admiring the costly machines and expensive gear.
A couple of miles out of town, along a section of highway with small grassy banks on either side, there were lots of pickup trucks. Guys and gals dressed like “real” bikers were carefully backing their polished rides off the trucks, wiping the dust from the chrome, adjusting their chaps and gloves, and setting out for a ride into town. Others, having just completed their circuit of main street in biker regalia, were reloading their motorcycles onto the trucks, preparing for the drive to their respective homes.
I had been hundreds of miles (and had the sore backside to prove it), had a muddy bike, and was wishing I didn’t have 4 more hours of riding to return home. All around me were men and women with thousands of dollars invested in their sport, with all the right equipment, producing all the right sights and sounds. But they only rode a few miles through town, enjoyed the stares of the natives and tourists, and got in their air-conditioned trucks to go back home. So, I wondered, who is the real biker here? Is he determined by the size of the bike, the shine of the equipment, the cost of the gear? Or, is he perhaps the one who actually rides?
There’s nothing wrong with the sport as they know it. They just don’t know it the way I know it. And I wonder who is the better model. The one with all the right gear? Or the one who actually does the stuff?
In God’s Kingdom, there are many who have flash and charisma. Blessed with resources, equipment, and the attention of the whole world, they personify ministry and service. Sometimes we can only envy them, and wonder why we—who really love the ministry—aren’t blessed with the equipment and don’t seem to draw the attention.
My observation: Hobbyist often have better equipment but don’t go the distance.
My Application: Our effectiveness is not determined by our resources; our
effectiveness is determined by our steady commitment.
Missionaries often lack adequate resources, and their work sometimes appears weak and ineffective in light of many mega-ministries. Crusades drawing multiple thousands, with reports of hundreds of conversions in a few short days sometimes make one wonder why couples must surrender everything and devote a lifetime to win a few converts. But when the crusades are busy packing the equipment for a jaunt to a new location, pouring advertising dollars into drawing the next great crowd, missionaries are steadily building disciples and modeling everyday Christian faith through their lives. The resources are few; the impact is forever.
There’s nothing wrong with enjoying tremendous resources and using them for special efforts. But let’s never lose sight of the steady, consistent ministry of those who are called—and committed—to doing the ministry daily.