By Betty Jean Jordan
One of my
delights in life is to look for – and discover – God in the everyday. God is always with us; one of God’s names is
Emanuel, after all! The tricky part is
to have clear enough eyes, ears, hearts, and minds to discern that
presence. Sometimes God is noticeable in
the not-so-obvious places. I
particularly love to see God during one of my favorite activities, riding my
bicycle.
When I train for time
trials, I often do power intervals, maintaining a certain power (wattage) for
several time segments with a short rest in between. It’s pretty intense, and I confess that I generally
don’t focus on spiritual matters at those times. Fortunately, I also do a lot of longer,
slower endurance rides – perfect for some power intervals of a different
kind. We can be transformed by grace
anytime, anywhere – even on a bicycle! Following
are some writings about my rides over the past few months when I have seen that
we truly are a people in the hands of God.
…“In
him we live and move and have our being”…
Acts
17:28
Compadres
January 4, 2014
It was
the coldest Peach Peloton (winter training ride) in quite a while, certainly
the coldest thus far of this season. I
wore my heaviest-duty winter riding gear, including tights, a windproof jacket,
shoe covers, and my best winter riding gloves – all of which are black. The coup de grace, however, was the
balaclava, which I use only on the coldest rides. Covering my whole head and neck, it left just
my eyes exposed, which, of course, I covered with my sunglasses. I looked like a Ninja in a cycling helmet.
Our Peach
Peloton organizer had planned a 100-mile ride.
I knew that I couldn’t keep up the guys’ pace for that distance. Therefore, I mapped out a shorter, 83-mile
route for myself, which worked very well.
About half way into my ride, I turned off by myself and said goodbye to
the guys until we met again at the parking lot.
Around
mile 50 I got to Barnesville. I was
ready for a store stop. I found a
convenient convenience store and parked my bicycle outside, leaving my helmet
next to it. I bought a bottle of
Gatorade and some Cheez-Its. The salty
crackers tasted especially good after the sweet Clif Bars I had already eaten
during my ride. I stood inside the store
while I refueled, enjoying a few minutes of warmth. Even though I pulled down the mouth covering
on my balaclava so that I could eat and drink, I’m sure I still looked pretty
odd standing there in my cycling getup.
If nothing else, what crazy person would be out riding on a day like
this?
That’s
when he walked in. He may or may not
have been a homeless person, but either way I could tell that life had put him through
the wringer. I waved hello as he walked
past me. The thing that struck me most
was his hat. It was a very large, brown,
leather stovepipe hat. No, really it was
shaped more like the Mad Hatter’s hat. I
have no idea where one even buys such a hat.
I was so tempted to ask him to take a picture with me. The Mad Hatter and the Ninja – wouldn’t that
be great? However, I didn’t want to
offend him, and so I just continued to munch on my Cheez-Its. Then, as he walked by me on his way back out
of the store, I waved again to him and smiled.
Wordlessly, he looked me in the eye and placed his fist over his
heart. I don’t know exactly what he was
saying, but I felt connected to him in that moment. Perhaps we are on very different paths, but
he and I are compadres on this same journey of life.
So Great
a Cloud of Witnesses
February 16, 2014
Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a
cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings
so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us.
Hebrews 12:1
Today I
rode on one of my favorite Jasper County roads, Fellowship Road. It has excellent pavement, very little
traffic, and beautiful forests on either side.
There’s something about riding down this road that makes me feel
especially connected to the land.
On a
lovely, warm Sunday afternoon several years ago, Robert and I took another
bicycle ride down Fellowship Road. We
passed a small church; I believe it was an A.M.E. (African Methodist Episcopal)
church. Jasper County, which has a
population of only about 14,000, is dotted with dozens, maybe hundreds
(really!), of rural churches like this.
Some are simply relics from previous generations, but at others, people
still meet, even if it’s only once or twice a month. The congregation at this A.M.E. church was
gathered on that particular day; we heard gospel singing well before the church
building came into view.
African-American churches tend to meet for much longer on Sundays than
do white churches, at least in the South.
I’ve always been glad that I come from a faith tradition that gets me
out of church by noon on Sunday, freeing me for an afternoon of cycling. To me, it’s just moving from indoor worship
to God’s outdoor cathedral. Even so, I
have great respect for others’ approaches to worshipping God, and I have to
admit that deep down I desire the strong sense of community that my
African-American brothers and sisters seem to find so much more readily in
their churches.
The music
I heard on that earlier day was beautiful and almost otherworldly, kind of like
something from the movie O Brother, Where
Art Thou? As I relished the feel of
the sunshine on my face, the rhythm of my pedaling, and the companionship of my
favorite riding partner, the music lifted my spirit. I remember that music every time I ride my
bicycle past that spot. Or at least I
think I do…
Did it
really happen? Some months later, I rode
by and discovered that the church had burned down! I was heartbroken for the worshippers who had
met there. Over time, vegetation has
overtaken the burned-out remnants. The
average person wouldn’t know that a church was ever there. After today’s ride, however, I know that that
gospel singing was real. I know because
I heard a different joyful sound: the calls of hundreds of upland chorus frogs
all along the roadside near the old church site.
I love
frogs. I have a CD that teaches you how
to identify Georgia’s various frog species by their calls. Although I haven’t learned as many calls as
I’d like, I’m really good at identifying a few species, including the upland
chorus frog. This frog sounds like rubbing
your fingers along the edge of a comb.
The males send out their mating calls from mid to late winter. Especially with all of the ponded water from
recent rain and melted ice and snow, I wasn’t a bit surprised to hear so many
upland chorus frogs today.
I’ll hear
frog calls coming from a particular patch of standing water, but as I come
right up on it on my bicycle, the frogs cease their singing. You hear the frogs, but you never see them –
like the wind or the Holy Spirit.
Ethereal and miraculous.
Truly, we
are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses. Whether it’s a gospel choir or a host of
upland chorus frogs, God’s people and God’s creatures can’t help but sing glory
to God. Alleluia!
Changing
a Flat
March 20, 2014
With this
being the first day of spring, I most certainly was going for a bicycle
ride. Creation must have been ready for
spring, too. The combination of the
lavender redbud blooms, white pear tree flowers, and green pine trees was
striking in the lovely, early evening sunshine.
(I love Daylight Saving Time!) I
could hear an occasional late-season mating call of an upland chorus frog. One of the zillions of benefits of cycling is
to help me be in the moment. It’s a good
discipline.
For
today’s route I chose an out-and-back down Goolsby Road, a rural Jasper County
ride right near my house. Although
Goolsby Road is a regular part of my Frankenbike (cyclocross bike) rides, I
don’t often ride my road bike on it.
Goolsby has a pretty rough surface and a fair number of potholes to
dodge. Frankenbike’s heavy duty tires
can handle it with no problem, but I have to be more cautious on my road bike,
which has much narrower tires. Still, I
thought Goolsby Road would be a nice variation for today’s road ride. When I got to the end of Goolsby, I added a
little extra mileage, riding on Fullerton-Phillips Road, Jones Road, and Dumas
Road. Jones Road is particularly
beautiful and smooth, and I hadn’t ridden on in quite a while.
I reached
my turnaround point and headed back toward home. As I returned up Goolsby Road, I was cautious
as I approached the bridge over Cedar Creek.
One time I was riding my road bike over this bridge and got a pinch flat
at the rough transition between the asphalt road and the concrete bridge. Today as I approached the bridge, I slowed
down and carefully avoided any big bumps.
Yahoo! Then, right in the middle
of the bridge – whoosh! I don’t know
what I ran over, but my rear tire went flat immediately.
Over the
years I have had an occasional flat tire, but I must confess that I’ve always
relied on others to change my tire for me.
I ride primarily with men, and of course they always chivalrously
volunteer to change flats for me. Once
or twice I’ve gotten a flat when I was riding by myself, like my previous flat
on this Goolsby Road bridge. At those
times I’ve simply called Robert to come get me. My system has worked pretty well, but
recently I have taken action to be more self reliant.
Changing
a bicycle tube isn’t really that hard, but it’s a skill that takes
practice. Certain steps can make the
process a lot easier and faster. A few
months ago Robert gave me some refresher training. Perhaps fortuitously, Robert had gotten a
flat on our ride the previous weekend, and watching him change it reminded me
of the steps. Today I was going to
change my own flat!
Remove
wheel – check.
Use tire
tool to loosen one side of tire – check.
Remove
damaged inner tube – check.
Inspect
inner wall of tire for sharp object that may have caused flat – check.
Place new
tube inside of tire – check.
Work
loosened tire back onto wheel – check.
Place CO2
cartridge on tube stem and inflate tube – check.
Place
wheel back on bicycle – check.
It may
not have been the fastest tire change ever, but I did it! I was ready to roll! Or so I thought… Before I could even get back on my bicycle, I
heard it again – whoosh! Man, was I
bummed. I didn’t have another spare
tube, and so I still had to call Robert to come get me.
Later, I
learned that whatever I ran over actually put a big gash in my tire, which
punctured the new tube when I inflated it.
So, I wound up having to replace both the tube and the tire. The damaged tire wasn’t something I could
have fixed on the road, but at least I had changed the tube correctly!
Cycling,
like life, is not without its risks. A
few bumps, flats, detours, or even crashes are inevitable. The important thing is to carry the tools you
need to handle the difficult situations.
Also, some roads are better to travel than others. In fact, some roads should be avoided
altogether; sometimes you learn that after a mistake or two! The good news, however, is that we can always
count on God to be with us all along the way and to see us safely home.
Word
April 5, 2014
My
child, keep my words
and store up my commandments with you;
keep my commandments and live,
keep my teachings as the apple of your eye;
bind them on your fingers,
write them on the tablet of your heart.
and store up my commandments with you;
keep my commandments and live,
keep my teachings as the apple of your eye;
bind them on your fingers,
write them on the tablet of your heart.
Proverbs
7:1-3
Cycling
can be very meditative. Sometimes a
particular Bible verse or passage will come to mind while I’m riding. One time I started thinking about how a
particular person had hurt me. I thought
I had forgiven the
person, but for whatever reason, the pain resurfaced as I pedaled.
Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how
many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to
seven times?”
Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.”
Matthew 18:21-22
These familiar
verses came to life for me on that ride.
Maybe I wouldn’t ever forget the person’s wrongdoing, but I realized
that every time I remembered it, I could release the hurt to God, not letting
it take control of me. I had a new
understanding of forgiveness.
My
cycling contemplations aren’t always so profound, however. I think that God has a terrific sense of
humor, which is why the Living Word sometimes reveals itself to me in rather
quirky ways.
For several
weeks every spring, the pine pollen really bothers my eyes. It doesn’t affect my breathing, thankfully,
but the large grains make my contact lenses very uncomfortable when I’m riding
my bicycle. Usually, I just tough it
out, squinting and letting my eyes water.
Occasionally, however, it gets bad enough that I take my contacts out
mid-ride. Maybe I should invest in some
prescription sunglasses (I need sunglasses even more than I need my contacts
when I ride my bicycle), but I’ve never bothered.
Today I
conducted an experiment. I rode in the
Journey Ride for Autism, a charity ride in Macon. Instead of waiting for the inevitable pollen
pain, I decided to take my contacts out before the ride. Thus, I rode the entire 100-mile route half
blind. It worked pretty well; I think I
only ran over one thing that I would have seen if I had had my contacts.
You
hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see
clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.
Matthew
7:5
I ride
with mostly guys. Spending several hours
at a time on our bicycles, we take at least one “nature break” during our
rides. The men have it easy; they just
stop on the side of the road in a wooded area and answer the call. On the other hand, we women have to be a
little more discreet. I ride a little
ways ahead of the men and find a private bush.
I always laugh to myself and pretend that I can’t look back or else I’ll
be like Lot’s wife at Sodom and Gomorrah.
But Lot’s
wife looked back, and she became a pillar of salt.
Genesis
19:26
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