Restoration and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

I've got a 1971 350 Honda motorcycle. It's in relatively decent shape, until I look at the fully restored ones online. Then, not so much. Would I like to restore it? Yes. Wait. No -- I'd like it to be restored.

Mine doesn't look like this...

I don't want to do the restoration. To restore it means tearing it apart. Removing dents. Repainting. Getting intimate with grease that predates my birth and dealing with gunk that remembers Nixon. I'm learning that if one owns a vintage bike, one either needs the skills to fix said bike, or enough money for someone else to do it. I have neither. So it runs, usually. And I smell like gasoline after I ride it.

I got mad at my 6-year old son the other day, madder than the situation warranted. Afterwards, I told my son, "Daddy's sorry." And I meant it. I asked God for forgiveness. And I meant it.

But I stopped there. Confession was easy. Saying 'sorry' is even simpler. But I wasn't restored.

Restoration's expensive. The price is the costly question "why?" Why did I get so mad? And the cost of asking why leads to the tough work of dismantling my heart and finding the broken piece. And the broken piece is a boy not much older than my son Aedan. Wounded by the words and actions of another. And then believing that this broken piece is who he truly is.

But seeing that broken part isn't enough. I need listen as the voice of the Restorer speaks truth into the heart-lie I'm holding. I need to let the hand of the Healer reach in and return that soul-part to its original glory. I need to succomb to the embrace of the Abba Father and, from there, forgive those who wounded me.

I'd like to be restored. But until I'm ready to pay the price of intimacy, I guess I settle for a life that's in relatively decent shape and runs, usually.

Sloppy Wet Kiss

If you know John Mark McMillan, you know my title.

Last night he performed at Christian Musician Summit in Buffalo. And all of us who knew him were waiting for How He Loves. You've probably heard David Crowder's version, or several other artists who covered him.

The screens projected the words, and when the 2nd verse came up, it said "heaven meets earth like a beautiful kiss." You may have heard "unforeseen" to describe the kiss. But McMillan's original lyrics are "heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss."

One of my team members hates that line. I love it. But I don't fault the other artists or churches for changing that line. I know I'd get quite a few comments at my church if I used that song with those lyrics.

But have you ever been on the receiving end of God's working? A mighty work of God in someone's life sounds great in a "testimony" six months later. Revivals sound almost romantic in the history books. But when the infinite invades the finite, it's not tidy. It's messy. It's sloppy. It's doesn't fit our ideals.

So maybe our worship songs should start to reflect the mess. As long John Mark McMillan is writing them, they will.

Ministry, Intimacy and a Disrobed Disco

I don’t like to admit this, but when the red letters go on for a couple pages in the Gospels, my mind tends to wander. I know--they’re the very words of Jesus. I’m a bad Christian, I get that. My right brain dominance deals better with the stories and quick pace of Mark versus the conversations and teachings contained in John. Fortunately today I found one of my better angels at the helm while reading John 5. The latter half of the chapter finds Jesus dressing down the “Jews” – most likely meaning the Pharisees and their followers. They had been giving him crap for healing on the Sabbath. At one point in the rebuke he said this to them:

³⁹ You study the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you have eternal life. These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, ⁴⁰ yet you refuse to come to me to have life.

You refuse to come to me to have life.


You refuse to come to me to have life.

Usually I skim over those hammerings that Jesus gives the Pharisees – I mean, sure I have my moments, but those guys were head-of-the-class hypocrites. But verse 40 cut me. I kept re-reading and knew that was standing among those Pharisees being indicted.

For the Pharisees it was studying the scripture and keeping the law. For me, it’s doing ministry. I wrap myself in the robe of pastor and musician instead of the arms of Jesus.

I do ministry instead of intimacy.

It’s not even 10AM and I go from that reading that scripture to Mark Batterson’s new book, Soul Print.* In Scene IV “Alter Ego” Mark’s writing about David’s loin cloth disco. Aside from the story of Michal’s disgust and sarcasm, he points out a subplot in this scene that we often miss:

Royal robes double as his status symbol...David doesn’t find his identity or security in his royalty. David finds his true identity and true security as a worshiper of God Almighty.

Disrobing symbolizes his naked dependence on God.

(Soul Print, by Mark Batterson Kindle Location 1261-70)

I think Jesus is trying to tell me something.



* Not an affiliate link - just making it easy to buy a great book.