Green Bikes and Hairy Legs
The bike was green, a florescent green, with two thick dirty wheels. The rider straddled its’ seat, with a pair of black hairy legs protruding from baggy shorts. A long dark pony tail, greasy and held back by a running shoe lace ran down his back.. He was probably in his mid-thirties, with a face that held long dark shadows in the sunlight.
I watched him as he struggled with the bike, propping himself up on the seat, pushing with one long leg to get a good start, pedal a block or so, and then stop. He’d get off it, squat beside it as if to check the tires, or brakes, or frame. Then on it again. He did this over, and over. On the bike, off the bike. Down the street, up the street. I wasn’t sure whether the problem was the bike, or his confidence in its’ ability to actually take him someplace and bring him back again.
On and off. Again, and again, covering the same territory, his face growing shinier with sweat under the blaze of the sun. One minute he’d push off, ready to head down the street non-stop, and the next, he was squatting beside it again, checking tires and frame and brakes and steering. I felt myself getting frustrated at him. Why couldn’t he just get on that bike and ride it to where he wanted it to go. Surely he’d checked it out enough times to know its’ capability.
Except for the long, dark pony tail and black hairy legs, all of a sudden, I saw myself as the rider. Maybe it was a stretch to compare the God on the pages of my Bible to the single seated metal carrier, but I did.
This man wasn’t at all sure of the bike, which meant he wasn’t going anywhere outside of his comfort zone, just up and down the same street, with an occasional jaunt around the block and back.
Did this typify my Christian walk?
How confident am I in the God of the Bible, that He actually has the ability to carry me through whatever situation I find myself in. How many times do I start out with faith, and then stop and check the situation, and myself, and then the situation again, and somehow lose sight of Him. How confident am I that He will do for me what He promised once I commit to the situation and let Him become my bicycle.
Okay, this is quite a stretch, but the analogy works in terms of practical application. Maybe this hairy legged man wasn’t getting anywhere himself, but he did accomplish something, indirectly, for this observer.
I need to trust the bike. “But blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, who puts his confidence in Him.” (Jer. 17:7 NIV)
By the way, there was no sign of the man on the bike the next day.
Do angels give object lessons?
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