Preface

When I was eight years old bicycles ruled the world. I wanted the new chic and stylish “Huffy Bandit” for Christmas that year more than anything. However, my dad and brothers had other plans. They knew that the bike I needed was one with more endurance that could take the rough treatment of trails and creeks and wrecks and wrecks and well, wrecks! That year Santa Clause brought me a “TeamMurray” with a four bolt goose neck and yellow mag wheels! It was a sweet bike too and much more durable!

My friends Justin and Dougie from down the street were with me all the time when we were eight. They were two of the funniest people alive. Justin was my age and just a little overweight. The kind of overweight that is soft and cute to adults when you’re eight. He was always telling these outrageous stories about how they had been to Hollywood or how he was getting a roller coaster in his backyard. Meanwhile his little brother Dougie would chime in with “Justin you’re such a big fat liar, I’m telling mom you’re lying again.” Dougie was the perfect side-kick. Curly blond hair, blue eyes, and honest! They were great!

It was a blistering hot July day in 1980 when Justin and Dougie came over with two dollars a piece. Their mom had given them the right of passage to ride their bikes up to the 7-eleven alone. My mom, with reluctance, extended that right to me too. We traveled that dirt road to the 7-eleven every day for the rest of the summer. After all, no eight year old can make it a day without grape bazooka bubble gum, a Big Gulp full of Dr. Pepper, and a couple of games of “Donkey Kong.”

One day when we were on our usual trek, I decided I would show off a little. I had done it many times. Usually only while playing “Chips”, the eighties motorcycle cops TV show. But today I was really showing off! The last road to 7-eleven was a dirt road and really fun to fly down at Mach speed. I decided, with little deliberation, to fly down this road with “NO HANDS!” When I started, it was a great idea. I had ridden down this road at least thirty times so I knew the terrain. I was rolling down this road and keeping my balance like never before. The wind in my hair and the sun burning my face life couldn’t get any better. Now, you have to know how hot it is in Georgia in July.When you get out of the shower you quickly wonder if the moisture left on your body is from the shower or the beginnings of the sweat that you’ll feel for the rest of the day. It’s like living in an oven. For the first nineteen years of my life, we didn’t have air-conditioning in our home so all summer I wore the same uniform, no shirt, no shoes, cut-off shorts and a fresh buzz hair cut from Mr. Clark at Eastway Barber Shop.He was a school bus driver who also had a barber shop with a sweet three dollar buzz cut.

Anyways, back to the dirt road. I was racing down the road at Mach speed without the knowledge that they were preparing it for paving the next day. I had no hands on the handlebars and I was screaming at the top of my lungs when all of a sudden I saw something that hadn’t been there all summer. Since they were preparing this road for paving there was a new manhole in the middle of our dirt road. Before I had a chance to react, with no hands I forged into that new manhole. I wish I had video footage because it was sweet. I bet I had five seconds of hang time before skidding down the red dirt road like a rock on a shiny lake at camp. I stood up, let out a huge “Ooouuuch!,” and proceeded to assess the strawberries I had from my face all the way down to my toes. With no broken bones, but a well skinned up body, Justin, Dougie and I walked (me as stiff as I could) pushing our bikes back home. When I got in the tub that night my body screamed again with that ripping pain of a fresh wound being immersed in any foreign liquid.

I have often thought of all the pain I could have avoided that day if I had not tried to be a hero and kept both hands on the “handlebars.” I could have simply steered myself away from the trouble or maybe even had a successful jump. Okay, probably not a sweet jump but this is my story so I’ll take the liberty. At any rate, I could have avoided so much agony if I had ridden my bike like it was designed to be ridden.

I think the Christian life is so much like that. The Bible gives us so many simple things to hold on to that will steer us away from struggles and wrecks in life. Destruction often hides like that new manhole and if we are not holding on to the handlebars that God has given us we will fly over the handlebars and sometimes the pain is much worse than a skinned up body. Some major crashes in our lives, emotional and spiritual, could be avoided if we were holding on to the “handlebars.” I am really excited about the topics in this book. Odds are if you are reading this book you have a desire to grow spiritually. Have you ever looked at a swimming pool and noticed that there are a whole lot more people hanging out in the shallow end than in the deep? Kids, out of shape men, mothers with babies, and teenagers flirting with each other are all that you see. There are very few people in the deep. The deep is where the water is cool, cleaner, and you can actually swim. I am inviting you to the deep. To study God’s word with me as we uncover many of the handlebars that have proven successful for many great Christians for two thousand years. Life gets complicated and the road gets very rocky at times. We can be successful Christians, Philippians 4 tells us that but we must hold on to the handlebars. If God is calling you to the deep, to be a disciple, these handlebars could be disciplines that you hold on to for the rest of your life!

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my beautiful wife and ministry partner, Lisa! She is and will always be my “righteous fox” and my best friend on this earth…

I would also like to dedicate this book to the middle school homeboys at Wynnbrook Church. Thanks for the ride guys…“We will not neglect His Word…”