For whatever reason I never learned to ride a bike as a child. I had a bike as a young boy, and it had beautiful training wheels on it. I graduated from my three-wheel "big wheel" to the bike and rode it around with the training wheels until one day something came a little loose and I asked the handy next-door neighbor to tighten it up. He helped me and "helped" me a little more by removing the training wheels that I couldn't possibly need any more. I thanked him and walked the bike home and put it in the garage - never to be ridden again.
I never forgot about the fact that I had never learned to ride a bike and was reminded whenever I saw classmates riding by as I walked home from school. As I got older, I would see people riding bikes and realized that I could never understand or comprehend what they were experiencing.
This all changed for me when I was about 35 years old and discovered, while on a healthy-living vacation in Hilton Head, South Carolina, that three-wheeled adult bikes ("trikes") existed. I was shocked and thought this was the perfect answer for me. I spent the week riding the trikes around the area and feeling the wind in my face. I was experiencing a feeling I never thought I would. I was told by someone watching me from nearby that I had a smile that never left my face.
When I returned home, I was intent on getting my own trike. I told my parents, and my mother - the most supportive person I've ever encountered in my life – pushed back and said, "No, don't get a trike. If you're going to ride a bike, then ride a bike." I was shocked and discouraged. But the discouragement didn't last long. I found a man who claimed he could teach anyone how to ride a bike. I figured that it was worth a try, and while the first lesson was painful and nearly fruitless, by the third lesson I was experiencing something I never thought possible - I was riding a bike.
I began making up for lost time and rode miles and miles on bike paths and through San Francisco and across the Golden Gate Bridge and ultimately, after being challenged by a good friend, trained for and completed a metric century (100 km) ride. My body was exhausted and tired and quivering and sore, but I was smiling, crying, and filled with deep satisfaction.
For most of my life, the idea of riding a bike was impossible until I took that first chance and got a taste of it. But it also took some encouragement from my mother to take a bigger chance, and it also took work and effort. Sometimes in our faith we can find ourselves doing what I did for all those years. Something stopped us from growing deeper, and we took off the training wheels. We spend our lives going through the motions and watching people ride by. God's invitation to us is to take the chance and get a taste of a relationship with Jesus Christ. Being a part of a congregation of believers - others on the journey - will help you find encouragement and partners in the training. It isn't easy, but when you feel the winds of faith in your face all of the effort of the journey makes sense and brings a renewed purpose to your life.
Take some time to consider your present faith life. Imagining your faith as a journey on a path, ask yourself whether you're moving closer to God, sitting on the sidelines watching others go by, or maybe even walking backward wondering whether the path forward is even possible for you. Don't rush this process. Consider the things that keep you from drawing toward God and whether there are ways that you can be more encouraged to respond to God's invitation. If you're on a path that feels like you are drawing closer to God, how can you encourage others on their journey? How can all of us walk alongside others and share the journey, encouraging one another?
