Jesus: Son of God, Mountain Biker
For some people, a connection to the Almighty is established by raising hands and lifting voices -mostly in the same key- to God. There have been many times that I too have been blessed by glorifying God through music.
I, however, cannot play music. God bless my Mom for trying to make me, but I never learned to read music. I can't even play by ear. Those who know me know that my singing is sort of like throwing darts. It is best done after a couple of beers in a noisy room where no one is really paying attention. I occasionally hit what I am aiming at, but the safest place is behind me. All this to say that for me, music is limited in how well it connects me to God.
When I was growing up, my Dad would occasionally play golf on Sunday mornings, citing that God made the trees and grass too so it would be a shame to have them go unnoticed. At the time I thought he was just looking for a way to get out of our stuffy Methodist church on warm summer mornings.
Now years later, I am beginning to think he was on to something. Living in Colorado and not enjoying the outdoors is a crime, and I am not one to run afoul of the law. Like most people here, I love the powder and 3,000 foot verticals that make winters on the slopes wonderful. I also need something to do in the off season.
Cycling has long been a passion of mine. About five years ago in Illinois, a couple friends of mine introduced me to the joy of riding where sane people don't go. Moving to Colorado, I learned that there are places where even the insane don't go. These places God created for mountain bikers.
There is almost no greater thrill for me in life than riding, face frozen in a stupid grin, hands poised over the brakes, tires nowhere near the ground, down a slope full of football sized rocks and angry tree roots. Throw in a couple of jumps, loose gravel and cactus trying to swipe your tires and I am closer to heaven that any human has a right to be.
I believe God loves doing the impossible. If He really has the creative heart that we claim He has, there must be a part of Him that loves doing that which we firmly believe cannot be done. Anyone who mountain bikes knows full well that there are things that cannot be done...but are. There is a unique thrill that I feel when I drop over a lip into a downhill. When my brain starts screaming NO! and tries to tell my body to bail out but I keep going, I discover something beautiful. Just as you are becoming convinced that you should have called your lawyer and had your will drawn up, you find that you really are going to clear that rock. You have lived to ride another day. Applause. No autographs please.
That moment is the one where I see God in a way that nothing else in life allows. I get to see the wonder of how he created my body to perform in a way that I could never expect. I get to see His laws of physics, harnessed in my bicycle, demonstrated in a way that most people don't get to experience. I get to see God show off. To steal a line from Chariots of Fire, I feel his pleasure when I ride.
So, is this worship? I used to think no. I used to think that it wasn't holy enough. It wasn't sacramental. It wasn't boring, austere and done between the hours of nine and ten thirty on Sunday morning.
I started to think that it could be worship when someone told me something about keeping my body, the temple of God, in shape. This too turned out to be only part of the truth. Saying that biking kept me in shape or helped me focus at work was also missing the mark.
To say that riding was worship because it served any other purpose was to say that it wasn't worship at all. It was maintenance. I have come to understand that it is worship, plain and simple, just as it is. If God cannot be glorified in the simple act of riding, there is no point in doing it.
This has challenged me to think about the reasons behind much of what I do. What higher (or perhaps lower) purpose am I serving when I go to work, when I talk to my friends, when I eat, when I study, when I ask a girl out, when I go to church, when I raise my voice in song? I cannot truly worship in any of these things until I can worship in each of them alone.
I, however, cannot play music. God bless my Mom for trying to make me, but I never learned to read music. I can't even play by ear. Those who know me know that my singing is sort of like throwing darts. It is best done after a couple of beers in a noisy room where no one is really paying attention. I occasionally hit what I am aiming at, but the safest place is behind me. All this to say that for me, music is limited in how well it connects me to God.
When I was growing up, my Dad would occasionally play golf on Sunday mornings, citing that God made the trees and grass too so it would be a shame to have them go unnoticed. At the time I thought he was just looking for a way to get out of our stuffy Methodist church on warm summer mornings.
Now years later, I am beginning to think he was on to something. Living in Colorado and not enjoying the outdoors is a crime, and I am not one to run afoul of the law. Like most people here, I love the powder and 3,000 foot verticals that make winters on the slopes wonderful. I also need something to do in the off season.
Cycling has long been a passion of mine. About five years ago in Illinois, a couple friends of mine introduced me to the joy of riding where sane people don't go. Moving to Colorado, I learned that there are places where even the insane don't go. These places God created for mountain bikers.
There is almost no greater thrill for me in life than riding, face frozen in a stupid grin, hands poised over the brakes, tires nowhere near the ground, down a slope full of football sized rocks and angry tree roots. Throw in a couple of jumps, loose gravel and cactus trying to swipe your tires and I am closer to heaven that any human has a right to be.
I believe God loves doing the impossible. If He really has the creative heart that we claim He has, there must be a part of Him that loves doing that which we firmly believe cannot be done. Anyone who mountain bikes knows full well that there are things that cannot be done...but are. There is a unique thrill that I feel when I drop over a lip into a downhill. When my brain starts screaming NO! and tries to tell my body to bail out but I keep going, I discover something beautiful. Just as you are becoming convinced that you should have called your lawyer and had your will drawn up, you find that you really are going to clear that rock. You have lived to ride another day. Applause. No autographs please.
That moment is the one where I see God in a way that nothing else in life allows. I get to see the wonder of how he created my body to perform in a way that I could never expect. I get to see His laws of physics, harnessed in my bicycle, demonstrated in a way that most people don't get to experience. I get to see God show off. To steal a line from Chariots of Fire, I feel his pleasure when I ride.
So, is this worship? I used to think no. I used to think that it wasn't holy enough. It wasn't sacramental. It wasn't boring, austere and done between the hours of nine and ten thirty on Sunday morning.
I started to think that it could be worship when someone told me something about keeping my body, the temple of God, in shape. This too turned out to be only part of the truth. Saying that biking kept me in shape or helped me focus at work was also missing the mark.
To say that riding was worship because it served any other purpose was to say that it wasn't worship at all. It was maintenance. I have come to understand that it is worship, plain and simple, just as it is. If God cannot be glorified in the simple act of riding, there is no point in doing it.
This has challenged me to think about the reasons behind much of what I do. What higher (or perhaps lower) purpose am I serving when I go to work, when I talk to my friends, when I eat, when I study, when I ask a girl out, when I go to church, when I raise my voice in song? I cannot truly worship in any of these things until I can worship in each of them alone.
posted by Jason Fleming at 4:10 PM
2 Comments:
Good realization, I just made that one not too long ago. Our existance and our activities can't be seperated from God. Everything we do is either worship or not. I think it's hard for some people to understand this. Most grew up with the idea that worship happens when they sing or pray or read the bible, but that is not a biblical perspective. In Romans Paul says that we should give up our bodies as spiritual acts of worship. So, it's deffinitely more than singing, it's our whole life.
Never underestimate the gift of a finely chosen word from a truth-seeking heart.
When will you share this gift with the world outside your blog? You have it, you know...
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