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“Holy Smoke! A Moped, a Miracle, and a Surprise”
Motorcycles, Mopeds, Scooters… They are a controversial subject. They are beloved by many, including a few of my own sons, and hated by others. Personally? I don’t care for them. The raw noise, the billowing smoke, that lingering scent of oil and petrol… Let’s just say, I have my doubts that these beasts will be roaring through the heavenly fields. But hey, that’s just me! If you’re a fan of these two-wheeled machines, don’t tune out just yet.
As we know from Scripture, all things work together for good—even mopeds. One of them became the unexpected centerpiece of my next Story of the Week. No, it’s not a rant. It’s the tale of a young man who stormed on a moped through the flowerbeds and who was in for a rather lovely surprise.
Welcome to another episode of Story of the Week and I wish you a happy, faith-filled weekend.
Kind regards
JK
The Maniac On The Moped
By JK Stenger
One day, the Lord called me to His throne.
I dropped everything and came running. “Yes, Father?”
He looked at me lovingly and said, “I have something to show you. Want to know what you think.”
I blushed. What was this about? “Of course, Lord,” I stammered. “Show me.”
He beckoned me closer. “Look here,” He warmly declared, “Let me show you the heart of someone I love deeply. A saint. What’s this heart like?”
I was flattered that God would seek my opinion. After all, I had accomplished quite a bit and I had learned a lot on my pilgrim’s path. But on the other hand, to give my opinion about the heart of some great saint was a bit unsettling. I steeled myself for what was coming.
Suddenly a ray of light pierced through the temple. I was surrounded by a golden glow and found myself in a glorious meadow. I was in a flower-filled meadow, birds twittering, mountains on the horizon, and a gentle breeze ruffling my hair. Was I in heaven perhaps?
However, upon closer inspection the farmhouse appeared neglected. The paint had peeled off the window frames and the door hung at an angle in its joints. That homeowner should have better maintained his property. Disgusting.
At that instant, I was startled by the sound of a scooter which came roaring across the field. Bunnies barely escaped, birds scattered, and a moped-maniac (for lack of a better word) with wild hair tore through a flower bed. He made a clever skidding manoeuvre with his machine in front of the door that caused the earth to spurt up, and then stepped into the farmhouse with muddy boots.
I felt a surge of anger. When a moment later I heard the television turn on and a sultry lady’s voice claim that the best shampoo in the world could be purchased at the local supermarket for a mere pittance, I grumpily turned my head and said, “Lord, I’ve seen enough. This is not the heart of a saint. This worthless fool disregards your authority and demands a strong rebuke.”
“Why do you think that?” God asked in a soft voice.
Surely God didn’t need to ask. “That’s obvious,” I replied, a little hurt. That man wastes paradise. His prayers, if any, probably involve you to miraculously paint his windows, fix his door and handle all repairs. He might even expect you to brush his teeth. He’s a disgrace. And You love that man?”
The Lord nodded, his eyes filled with affection, and He said in a tender voice, “Yes, I love him. He is my son.”
“Nice son,” I mockingly thought, but didn’t dare say it out loud.
“It’s just a vision,” the Lord went on. “But that’s how I see things in the Spirit. And that man on the scooter you call a moped-maniac … That’s you.”
Me!!
My heart was pierced as with an arrow, shattering my carefully built religious ideas while revealing a stunning truth. At first, I wanted to argue. This was just too painful. God was wrong. That wasn’t me. I was always busy for the Lord, working in his temple and doing things for the Kingdom.
But the arrow had done its work effectively and instead of words, tears came.
I saw myself for what I was: hypocritical, lukewarm, self-absorbed. My faith was entirely built on the wrong foundation. Not on grace but on my own works.
“W-What do I do?” I tremblingly asked.
“The Lord put His hand on my head. I felt His warm gaze upon me as He said, “Nothing. I don’t want you to do anything.”
Nothing?
He nodded. “Trust is all I ask. I love you exceedingly. I once gave my life for you, and would do it again in a heartbeat. However, you need to learn about grace and truth. I had to pierce through your darkness to show you My light.”
Overwhelmed with warmth, I threw myself into His arms. “Father,” I cried, “How good You are. Forgive me my lukewarm faith and my shortcomings.”
Thus, I stood in His embrace until He took my head in His hands and said, “Go back to the temple. We have much work to do. But never forget that I particularly love that moped-maniac of the vision, and that there are many more such maniacs who need Me.”