Coasting

     I was a Schwinn rider in the 1960s. In those days, a kid's bike was their prized possession. It was used almost daily as long as the weather cooperated. We rode everywhere. Our thoughts had nothing to do with strangers or abduction. We worried about where the gang was and what time our mom would call us in.

     If we cruised long enough, we'd spy bikes parked with kick-stands digging into lawns. We'd add our Schwinn to the group and head for the backyard where they might be dividing up teams for a round of "Cops and Robbers on Bikes." The most coveted achievement of neighborhood bike rides was gaining permission to ride to the nearest drug store for candy. It was roughly 2 miles away and visited frequently by car. But, by bike, without a parent, was a feat reserved for biking legends. I only got to go once but I stood taller than my 4' 8" for a week.

     There were several hills in my neighborhood and I tried to plan my rides so that I descended. The heat of August often found us standing on the pedals and pumping our way up the hill with sweat. Those truly defeated were off the bike and walking it up to the top. But down... ah, now that was a treat. 

     I'd speed up before I hit the crest of the hill knowing the ride down would be that much sweeter. And sweet it was as my blonde hair blew behind me in waves and the humid summer air raced across my freckles. I coasted down the hill with hands free, balanced and loving the freedom. No work involved here. No pumping pedals. No shame of walking. The only threat was hitting a rock and skidding to a messy finish line. Without question - Coasting was the best.

    

     The other day, I was reminded of coasting. Of how easy it was and how good it felt. This time, though, when I thought of coasting, it brought me guilt. I've been coasting. And I feel the need for speed. I'm a woman who told Jesus she'd devote her life to him. And in many ways, I have. And in many ways, I've coasted. My life is a comfortable mess. My relationship with Him is still strong, but I'm sensing a "coasting" when it comes to others. You see, I serve where it feels good.

I lead studies with women in my church. Fellow bike riders, so to speak. 

I socialize with people who share the same faith and lifestyle. Their kick-stands land in the same yards. 

I've been given directions to the store and the responsibility to show those who are lost. Do I?

I've trusted in his help on the rocky roads, but I've forgotten to encourage others wobbling on tired treads. 

It's time for me to quit coasting. I've just been enjoying the ride. I must be ready to stand when called and face the hill.  The time is near when I'll feel eternity's freedom blowing across me and I'd like to see familiar faces smiling beside me. On your mark, get set...

     

Latte Gospel

“I just adore everyone in here. You guys are so special to me.” The woman standing at the coffee counter spoke in a loud voice that filled the room. It echoed off wood floors and stark walls. Her frizzed dark hair sat limply on a zebra print coat. As she walked to the condiment bar, her high heeled boots clicked strongly.

“Every day, I wake up and think to myself, ‘Ok, it’s time to put what I want in the closet' Ya know? I mean, it’s not all up to me. I think God has a plan and all I can do is make the best of it.”

“I agree,” said the young tatooed girl tamping beans while soulful indie music sang over the speakers.

“Do you? I know some people think they can control their destiny. And, of course, we do to some extent. I’ve given this so much energy. I mean, thinking it through and everything. It’s so deep. But then, isn’t everything?”

The coffee maiden nodded eagerly and simply answered, “Yeah.”

“All I can do is do my best. I try everyday to make a good impression on the people I encounter. I mean, what else can I do? If I try and talk about God to people, they’re just going to turn me off like I’m one of those intolerant obnoxious conservatives on TV. Oh my gosh, no way! I have my own understanding of what God is all about and I’m not about to force it on anyone.” She picked up her to-go cup and moved to the cash register.

“But, you guys get it,” she said.

“Aww,” The maiden responded.

“That’s why I love you guys so much. Everyone who works here is fabulous. Really. You’re like family.”

She paid for her double soy latte and clicked her heels towards the door. The busy city street lay in wait while she raised her hand saying, “See you guys next time.”

And with that, she carried her witness out the door.

****************************************

A few moments spent in a new coffee shop. One placed smack-dab in the bohemian neighborhood of my city where mostly twenty-somethings and leftover hippies strive to live the politically correct, environmentally friendly and conscience awakening lifestyle. Where people are encouraged to be free, live without worrying about image and “find” yourself.

What I find instead is a pseudo community. Filled with people searching.They aspire to be deep and give approval to others in their quest, yet all seem to be empty and disconnected. Because they are still searching.

Searching people dwell in all communities, whether they are surrounded by head bangers or country club blue-bloods. Regardless of where I encounter them, I leave sad. I want so much more for them. And so did He.

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. John 10:10