My friend Mike is wise and goofy and gentle and strong all at the same time. He’s a pastor but he’s not intimidating or weird. He’s able to speak honestly about life’s joys and trials in way that reminds me of what’s really important. After listening to Mike, I feel more free to be who I really am, and to accept others exactly the way they are.
“Mike, you’re going to die.”
Not exactly the sort of excitement I was looking for when I told one of my best friends I was thinking about buying a motorcycle. After all, a healthy percentage of the pleasure of motorcycles is – follow me on this one – thinking that people are thinking you are cool. The pleasure percentage derived from such a thought is not the same for everyone, but suffice it to say that the amount of pleasure I intended to derive from other people’s thoughts toward me as I revved my engine and whipped around their big boxy cars was significant. My thoughtful friend was unimpressed, and had known me long enough to know that simple walking around is dangerous enough for me.
That was over three years ago. Perception and reality have a funny way of missing each other. A huge problem with the world of motorcycles is there is an adverse relationship between “coolness” and “safety.” And as bold as I may be in the world of imagination, the real world tends to draw out my cautious side. When all was said and done, I had purchased a bike 4 years older than me, a huge, nerdy helmet, and a goofy armed jacket to go with my nice “motorcycle safety course” certificate. Baby steps.
I’ve ridden that old bike (a 1978 CX 500) for the last few years. My intention all along was to get a bit of experience under my belt and then buy a newer, faster bike. For now, the CX is fun, and once in a while, people look at me through their driver side window with that look that must be saying “You are the coolest, toughest, and most exciting man I’ve ever seen.” Imagine what I’d imagine them saying when I got a new one.
Over the years, I had various opportunities for new bikes, but different adventures slowed them down. One of the big ones was that I fell in love and got married. She seemed to think the bike was pretty cool too. Still does. A cautious person herself, my wife surprised me with her interest in newer faster bikes when I would talk about it. Everything seemed to be coming together last year to make the leap to a new bike, until an awkward slide into 2nd base at a slow-pitch softball game (remember my buddy’s concern?) led to a broken leg, and no leaping of any kind for the rest of the year.
All that brings us to last week. There’s a lot going on right now. Sure there’s a lot happening at the church I pastor, but the biggy is that I’m going to be a father. My daughter is due in October.
And then, it happened. Last week, I found an ad for a bike that, if true, was an amazing deal. I felt myself go into something of a trance. I was able to calmly explain to my wife what a great deal this was, but hide the fact that I was obsessing over it. I went and looked at the bike. Its reality was better than its pictures or its description. Within a couple hours, I was riding a 2003 Bandit 1200S home. In case you don’t know, that’s a big, fast, beautiful bike. Couldn’t pass it up.
And couldn’t sleep that night.
The whole next day, my heart was heavy. It wasn’t buyer’s remorse, as we had planned ahead for a new bike, and found one for less than I had planned to spend. It was something else. No matter what I did, I couldn’t snap out of the tight feeling in my chest, or the subtle lump in my throat. Something about this whole situation was just not right. My wife was okay with it; she seemed to like the new bike more than the old one. But her confidence did not quell my anxiety. To put it differently, I had no peace about this bike.
This is a story of self leadership when your “self” is lost.
When another caring friend voiced a thought that I had been stuffing down the whole week, I discovered how lost I really was: “Why did you buy a new bike, Mike? Did you forget that you’re going to be a father?” I gave him the line I had been giving myself: “Well, I’ve been looking for a couple years for a bike like this. Couldn’t pass it up.” But his words touched a nerve. What in the world was I thinking? If I were to make a pros and cons list for this purchase, the “cons” list would be full, and the pros list would have two items: “Because I want it” and “It’s a great deal.”
Wanting something is a powerful reason, though. I found my desire fighting against a thousand voices from within, but it was putting up a good fight. In light of the fight, I tried to pray. My prayers were awkward and cloudy. God is apparently not so keen to speak when you’re feeding him the lines he’s supposed to say. I practically wrote it out for him: here, God, just read this aloud: Mike, I want you to have this bike. You’ll be fine.
Because I knew I was muffling God (and so much of myself), I took the next best step, and perhaps the piece of self-leadership that has been my biggest strength. I asked for help. I wrote to a handful of the people I consistently look to for prayer and wisdom. All I needed was for one of them to say: God says keep the bike. The only response I got was a call from a dear friend: “When I pray for you,” he said, “this one line keeps coming to mind: Family comes First. Hope that helps.”
No one else wrote back, but that was enough. All this time, I had been driven by emotion, by opportunity, and by a desire to complete the “look” I never really mastered with the first bike. Those factors became so powerful that I acted without any prayer, and certainly very limited reflection. And here comes the big lesson in my own self leadership: for me, the most important step is to surrender. When it comes down to it, I’m a bad leader on my own. But I know a great one, and no matter how many odd corridors I lead myself down, He’s there nudging me back.
Anyone in the market for a motorcycle?
Mike Wright is a Colorado native, an incredibly lucky husband to Erin, and a pastor of Littleton Christian Church in Littleton, Colorado. Mike is a coffee snob, a skier, and an occasional blogger at mikewrightsblog.blogspot.com. In October, he’ll be a first-time father.
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