Hold on tight

Danny's love affair with motorcycles started when he was quite young. Perhaps inspired by the Haney's collection of Harleys across the street, he made up his mind early to ride as far, as fast, and as frequently as he could, with the wind in his hair.

Persuading his mom to act as banker when he was 11, he washed dishes at Littleton Manor nursing home two hours a day, earning $18 every two weeks, money he used to pay his "banker" back the $120 purchase price for his mini-bike.

From that point on, until he'd ridden the life right out of that bike, if he wasn't in school or at work, he was riding.

After becoming a husband and the father of three, economics dictated that he ride in all kinds of weather, donning insulated coveralls, long johns and thick gloves to make the 40-mile trip from Brighton to the Schmidt-Tiago shop in Arvada on all but the most bitter winter days. That commute, even in summer sunshine, became more of a chore than a pleasure, but his best memories of Wyoming include long, solitary rides in the back country, enjoying each new vista revealed at the top of innumerable hills.

I never shared his passion, though he did his best to inspire it, taking me on several road trips, all without incident. (As I watched the pavement beneath us fly past, however, my fertile imagination would go into overdrive and I would imagine any number of horrific scenarios, all involving a great deal of pain, panic and grief.)

Danny even tried to teach me to ride, believing that if I could master the machine, I could master my fear. Alas, I was a hapless pupil, the bike falling over on its side at the first stop sign I came to, breaking the clutch lever, ending the lesson for that day and for time eternal as far as I was concerned.

On the infrequent occasions that we rode together, he would take his seat and I would perch directly behind him. Once he had kick-started the engine and settled in, my arms went right around him, holding fast. I didn't release him until he came to a complete stop and turned the key to the off position. Then and only then, I would let go and, legs shaking, dismount.

Every time I read the passage in Hebrews 10:23 "Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering," or Paul's admonition to the Thessalonians to hold fast to that which is good in 1 Thessalonians 5:21, I remember holding fast to Danny in the face of what I was feared would be a sure and certain death.

It bears mentioning that the only accident Danny ever had while riding, not counting curb bumps and minor mishaps that honed his riding skills as a youth, required him to let go of the motorcycle so that he wouldn't tumble with it when it finally rolled in front of him. Though he had serious road rash in an unmentionable area of his anatomy, no bones were broken and he was able to pick the bike back up, remove the loose pieces, and ride it the rest of the way home.

Scripture has something to say about letting go, too. Letting go of the sins that hinder us (Hebrews 12:1), letting go of bitterness so that we can embrace and extend grace (Hebrews 12:15), even letting go of legalism, for to embrace the law is to make Christ of no effect (Galatians 5:2-4).

In this present age, it is vitally important to know when to hold fast and when to let go. It was in ancient ages also, as Jesus noted in Mark 7:8 "You have let go of the commands of God and are holding on to the traditions of men."

So what are the commands of God? How do we know what to hold fast to and what to let go of?

If we believe that Jesus is the Son of God, and seeing him means seeing the Father (John 14:7);

if we believe that he was raised from the dead (John 21:14) and lives even now to intercede for us from his position at the right hand of God (Romans 8:34);

and, if we believe that "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have eternal life," (John 3:16) then we can hold fast to Jesus' answer when asked which was the greatest commandment in Matthew 22:34.

"'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.'"

To love the Lord is to live in obedience to him; to seek his face; to trust him in good times and in bad and to put nothing else or no one else in his place. The best example left for us to follow in this command is to examine the earthly life of Jesus and to follow him.

Loving our neighbor is akin to the first clause of the Hippocratic Oath, "First: Do no harm." Perhaps we should rather say, "Always, do no harm."

Wherever we are in our journey -- whether mature believers or babes needing naught but milk -- the message is plain.

"Hold fast to what you have, so that no one will take your crown." Revelation 3:11 (NIV)

I don't have all the answers, but I know the One who does. Let's walk together for awhile and discover Him; together.

Dawn