5/26/2013. - Day 61 - God Love Her... *The Blessing of the Bikes*

5/26/2013. - Day 61 - God Love Her...
*The Blessing of the Bikes*



Last night I was nearly too excited to sleep as I eagerly and sort of anxiously awaited the Blessing of the Bikes at The Vineyard Church.  I awoke and sprang out of bed ready to hit the road. It was pretty frigid outside, and colder as I neared the lake. The morning meeting place, Perkins in West Duluth, was only about 12 miles from my grandparents’ house, but on a cold morning even 12 miles is a long way. And it's about a 10° difference in temperature.

I arrived at Perkins and see only about a dozen bikes there this early. It’s only 8:00AM though and I’m surprised I even got up at this hour. Who knows what I’ll do next?

Breakfast is warm and tasty, and I chat with some of the riders before we begin our journey to the church. As we ride along in the crisp morning air, I notice there are riders joining us all along the way. They come from the ends of driveways, intersections, parking lots beside the roadway, and from the other side of stop signs and the approaches of back roads. They file in behind us in a black parade of leather and chrome. I feel self conscious right now because I am wearing a white leather jacket, either like Elvis, or the white wizard from the Lord of the Rings or something.  I feel terribly uncomfortable for awhile with my bright white leather sticking out amidst the black leather-clad riders around me. To the outside world I think I must look like the virgin sacrifice in the middle of some unruly biker gang. Awk-ward.

Soon I have to concentrate on the challenge of navigating MN roads on a motorcycle. This is a feat in itself that resembles a round of Minesweeper in that you must dodge potholes while trying to guess where the next one or patch of them might be. If someone else spots one, they will generally signal it, but this cannot be relied on. MN infrastructure leaves a great deal to be desired. That’s an entire separate book.

I learn a considerable amount about group riding in the short trek. Hand signals, formation, procedures, etc. are reinforced within this convoy. As we make our way to the church, pipes rattling the asphalt, it’s almost as if we’ve been delivered to a great festival. There are tents and tables set up, an area where a rider is performing tricks on a stunt bike, and parking attendants ready to make sure we squeeze as much room as possible out of the sanctuary lot. Other congregation members must park a few blocks away and be bussed over for the service today as the main parking lot is reserved for two wheels only. We angle and squeeze our bikes into the spaces designated by the parking attendants, shed some gear, and make our way inside for the service.

The Vineyard conveniently has it’s own coffee shop right inside the church building itself.  I’m warming up already from the frigid ride this morning, but some hot chocolate will speed up the process. My friend Leslie arrives and together we sit amongst hundreds of bikers, all gathering together in God’s house. I love it. I feel as though I am with “my people.” I ask Leslie if it is uncomfortable for others who might not be as used to being around bikers and to now be surrounded by them. She indicates that she does not feel uncomfortable, but we can both see where a few of the others in the congregation might just be a little wary of their leather-clad neighbors to the right and left today. The majority of the riders have CMA patches (Christian Motorcycle Association), but not everyone notices this, or understands the emblem. I just sit there feeling so amazed that all these different kinds of people can be united in one building for one cause and in peace. It’s beautiful.

After the service, everyone heads outside to enjoy the sunny weather and check out the rows of bikes glimmering in the sun. Leslie and I walk up and down the rows, admiring the unique accessories and paint styles. A live band plays music and everyone enjoys a BBQ.  The prayer teams then begin to make their way out into the parking lot to begin the process of blessing each bike. Riders stand together with their arms around each other, praying for a safe riding season. I’m incredibly moved by these tough looking groups congregating around the bikes, heads bowed. God is so amazing in the ways he brings us together and finds ways to remind us of the power of prayer.

The afternoon ride commences once everyone has been fed and blessed. We ride north to the Iron Range. There are fewer potholes to dodge on this route but I am still cautious. We stop for food and ice cream at a little shop called K&B. I visit with the pastor and his family during this stop and they tell me that there were over 450 motorcycles counted at the church today. Groups of riders that wouldn’t normally even stand on the same block were present and worshipping together in peace. I’m not surprised by this information.
 
I am excited for the ways Christ is working in all of these people.

We gather in a circle for a final prayer, arms around each other’s shoulders or hands clasped together. Afterwards, the gang rallies and we are off once again, headed back to Duluth. My turn is one of the first on the way home, and I receive waves and salutes and well wishes from the others as they pass. What an incredible day to be a motorcycle rider, and a Christian!