Iron Angel

Paul encountered many clubs on his travels. Christian, outlaw and secular. Even if their philosophies differed there was a bond. Bikers had a code that went across the spectrum of life. It was a strange thing and almost impossible to explain to some one outside the culture. Paul didn't understand it himself how two wheels and leather created a brotherhood that was almost stronger than religion, politics and life. About the only thing stronger was a bond born in battle. As a Christian biker, Paul had to continually remind himself just who he was and who he served. The biker world had a pull and that pull was powerful. It made a man want things that were not in their best interest. Paul knew all to well that he had a little Jesse James in him. Every man, whether they admit it or not, has some outlaw wish. It's in our make up. Human nature is sinful. No one wants to grow up to be a crook, junkie or a prostitute. No one aspires to be a failure either but how many times do we see a movie or read a book and put ourselves in the place of that bad guy. How many times do you just want to smash the head in of that idiot who desperately deserves it. Paul knew he had almost gotten caught up in the outlaw world just a few days ago. How easy it would have been to throw down a few beers like he used to and get hammered. Who would have known? And that girl, that child who threw herself on him. My God, Paul thought, what a shame. And the fact that he even let it reenter his thoughts more than once was disturbing but it was there. Paul was a Christian biker in an outlaw world and the world was watching. He knew it and it was a battle, daily, to stay on track. Paul knew that without brothers and sisters with the same cut, the same mission, that he would fall. Yes. He rode alone but he was never really alone. There were others out there and he needed them. God provided them just as He provided the world with people like Paul. Paul was not perfect and he was never going to be but he was visible, very visible, and all his actions had consequences. As Paul rode on he asked God to be with his new friends and also to keep him in line. Soon he would have another encounter and his actions might determine the fate of some one else. That thought sent shivers down his spine, the fact that he was being sent by God on a mission and the results of his actions may be a determining factor in a decision for eternal life or death. It was almost enough to make him quit but how do you tell God 'I quit'. You don't. Sometimes the road was exhausting and relentless. It made you want to just stop. Stop everything from moving around you, cease all motion, and just be still. It was difficult at times to hear God when you are in motion. Paul knew he was tired. There were so many hills in his life that seemed to lead no place. Never ending roads and countless decisions. It was time for a break but where and how? As Paul made his way through Tennessee he couldn't focus on anything. The encounter earlier that morning started to diminish as the road spread out in front of him. His mind was too clouded and he found that he didn't even want to pray. Was he afraid of the next encounter, what it might bring or who he will meet? He felt...useless. Depression was setting in like a fog. He pulled off the highway at a rest area and parked away from everyone. Inside the building was a large map of middle Tennessee with a stand of brochures next to it. He needed a diversion. A place to reflect and get back the passion that seemed to be slipping away. What had caused this to happen? He didn't even know but it was there. He found a booklet of out of the way destinations that gave an assurance of peace and quiet. He carried it out side and sat on a bench and looked it over, hoping for a place where he could get back to...what? "Lord. I need a break. Give me something." He set the booklet down and watched people walk in and out of the rest area. It was an endless passage of truckers, families and couples, all coming to or going away from somewhere. Kids laughed and ran as old people limped and groaned. There were a thousand stories and a million situations. Paul walked to the end of the property to be alone in his thoughts. He looked out over the landscape and watched the clouds pass by with the breeze. "What about it Lord?" He said aloud. "Is this it for me? Is this all I have to look forward to every day?" He reached into his pocket and opened up his Bible. He opened up the book to Peter. There was a scripture that had been high lighted but he couldn't remember why. "But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light." "Yes Lord. I know that I have been called. And I answered You too but what about me? I want to serve You. I really do." He closed the book and held it up. "But at what expense? I gave all. I have nothing to my name. I have no inheritance, nothing to call mine. Am I so selfish that I want just a little? Am I asking for too much? Please tell me. Give me something to go by. I know I'm stubborn but I do hear." Paul found a good spot to sit and read. He like the old Testament. The history of it. Struggles by powerful men. Men of God who fell and had to get up. These stories encouraged Paul. They helped him realize that no one was perfect. No one was good enough by themselves. He read in the book of Joshua for a few hours and came to a part that stood him up. "Okay Lord. I get it. I'm sorry." He read it again to make sure of his feelings. "But to the tribe of Levi, Moses had given no inheritance; the Lord, the God of Israel, is their inheritance, as He promised them." Paul put the two scriptures together. He was a priest of God. Called out and sent. God would take care of him and was his only inheritance. What could be better? It was still the same as before but the reality of his mission came back into clarity.