Author: Matt

I failed at finishing out the trip with weekly updates, but I finished the trip. It got to be that I no longer seemed to have enough time to write. And I guess at the same time things got more personal and I just needed to experience the moments and live them. At this point writing a conclusion seems pointless, since everyone reading this knows I made it, but hopefully it will be meaningful in some way.

I wrote a long update in Kentucky, and lost it all. That night I also got robbed, and got pretty cold, so I was a bit demoralized. In addition, the Appalachians were by far the most physically challenging obstacle I faced. While not nearly as tall as most of the mountain ranges I climbed on this trip, the roads through them are long ups and downs. And they lasted for several weeks, almost up to the last day of riding. But God gave me endurance and strength to keep going.

Part of Kentucky that I rode through had been devastated by flooding earlier this year. As I rode along some of the rivers, I saw clothes, garbage, blankets, children’s toys, and any number of things up in the trees above the rivers, where the floods had carried them from the ruined homes. I saw new mobile homes sitting on empty foundations where a house used to be. I met a kind old lady in an empty trailer, no furniture, no kitchen appliances, simply living through the loss of everything with joy in her heart. I saw churches and Christ followers who were giving up everything to serve the people whose lives were devastated. I also saw churches and wolves who wouldn’t lift a finger or turn their eyes to the misery and destitute people. Although it was horrible to see the orphans, stray animals, lonely and cold men trying to rebuild with the scraps, it gave me deeper insight into the heart of God.

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

James 1:27

The contrast I could see was clear. I met people whose lives embodied this truth. And I could see the false liars who preach that we should serve the poor, and then go home to spend their nights watching the violent hateful pornography of pollution that is called Netflix or Amazon Prime. Better than to watch is to be watchful, lest you allow a tiny bit of evil into your life, which will infect and destroy you. I observed and watched as people put on the earplugs and blindfolds of distraction on to avoid looking at the sin that has infected their whole body. Better to weep and mourn like Paul:

O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?

Romans 7:24

In Kentucky I tried to look at my own life, and how hard and how painful to even be a little honest with oneself about ones condition. It was a bitter and sad place to ride through and reflect on. I met people who were so consumed with their perceived dire situation in which politics has left them. A stark contrast to the honest carefree people in Kansas I so often met. The people in Kansas were out and about, working, living, rejoicing and mourning, while so many I met or stayed with in Illinois or Kentucky curled up on a chair biting their nails as their TV told them to be scared. Soon the day will come for all of us when we die, and the political state of America will no longer matter to us. Better to turn to the only true King while I still have my few short breaths. One day soon I will presumably forget that America was even a place I lived for such a short time. Or at least barely remember it. Better for me to imitate the carefree Kansans who cultivated their spiritual lives more than their physical lives.

I got to the Virginia state line one evening, and sat down next to the sign for a while to cry. After so much distance, and so many days of never seeing that there was a finish line, I had made it to the last state. I reflected on all the states I had crossed. All the hours spent spinning pedals in silence. I felt a newfound respect for both the many people that quit before the end, and those that finish. Both made an attempt. I am no stronger than those that quit. I was so close to quitting in my first few days, and it was only through the encouragement of those that loved me that I made it past those first couple of days. Almost anybody could ride a bike across America. It’s not that special, or particularly hard. A bicycle is almost 100% efficient. It’s a truly powerful way to travel with ease. Yet for me, it was still hard.

In Virginia, I stayed at a motel in the woods. It had been old and rundown, and there was a single, late middle aged woman who moved away from sorrow to come and remodel and run it. She works 365 days a year there. She works the desk, cleans the rooms, and everything else that comes with a motel. It was heartbreaking to see a lone woman whose heart had been so deeply hurt, yet she was full of deep love and compassion. Yet it was such a great example to me of how poorly we judge people. We look up to the rich and powerful, and scorn the humble and weak.

So the last shall be first, and the first last: for many be called, but few chosen.

Matthew 20:16

The days in Virginia sometimes blurred together. The climbing was hard, but the hardest for me was the fact that all of the roads are so curvy and hilly, with no shoulders, so a constant state of awareness was needed to avoid getting run over. It was anxiety inducing to me. I thought I would be numb to that after 4000 miles of cars and trucks screaming past me, one foot away, but it never got easier in my head. There was a lovely mountain pass on a quiet back road which I enjoyed alone, but a tree branch fell on my head, which ruined my good mood with neck pain.

I wish I could relate all of the people I met, and conversations and experiences I had. There were so many every day. I’m not yet sure how this journey changed me, but I know it has.

The best part of the entire trip was the very end. I know that my words can never relate the feelings, but I will try. I was riding through the forest, and ahead was a curve. As I turned the curve, the edge of the forest met me, and the smell of the ocean hit me. In that moment, I felt like myself. I loved myself and I knew I was at the end. I had an instantaneous sense of life. I felt as though the ride was my life, and the ocean was my death. Through life, I can only have faith and hope of my true sweet home. Yet at death the scent of home becomes a true sensation, and my faith and hope are fulfilled and revealed.

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

John 16:33

It was as though the struggles of the ride were the trouble of my life. How refreshing to look forward to the end of struggles than to live in the never ending sadness of trying to cope with the pittance we have here. “Oh well at least I live in America and have freedoms” or “Oh well it could be worse”. Yes it could be worse, and WILL be worse for those that will not repent and turn from sin. But there is a deep sense of cognitive dissonance which causes depression in me, trying to reconcile anything in a fallen, sinful creation to ever be a true home for me. I can’t fully describe the sensations that came over me, but they were sweet to my soul. And as I stood in the wet sand, and as my feet felt relaxed and comforted for the first time in months, I reflected on what had become the motto of my journey:

Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.

Proverbs 19:21

I reflected to God that I accomplished exactly what I set out to prove to Him. My own private purpose in this journey was accomplished to the very best of my ability. Yet my own hopes for that purpose were not yet accomplished in my life. And they never could be by simply pedaling across a continent. There was no trophy waiting for me, nor could my efforts produce one. And further, it would be a lie to claim that I finished the ride under my own power.

Many people ride across the USA for a cause. To cure a disease, to get noticed, or to enjoy nature. Many people asked me if I had a cause to raise awareness or money for, and most of them were surprised that I didn’t. But at times on my trip, the broken and lost condition of the countless masses of people’s hearts showed me that I rode for a purpose, and for the only cause I care about. It’s the same as the Apostle Paul’s:

For though I preach the Gospel, I have nothing to glory about, for necessity is laid upon me. Yea, woe is unto me if I preach not the Gospel!

1 Corinthians 9:16

I learned that my reason for riding was the same as my reason to do anything in life. Not to carve out 70 years of comfort and pleasure on earth, but to use my time to search for the lasting treasures, and to share the good news.

Life is short, even though it feels so long. My bicycle trip was short, even though it felt like my whole life. We have such a tiny blip of moments on earth. There is only one thing worth doing; a quest with a king’s reward at the end. Nobody can see the prize or the goal. But the time is to seek. There is no time to waste. You may not see what’s ahead.

Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near

Isaiah 55:6

I was alone and rode a bike for a while.

It was a great adventure.

I wish you had been there with me.

I guess I’m not making my Sunday updates very well anymore. Either way, I’m doing my best, and writing something. I only have about 2 weeks of riding to make it to the Atlantic, so there won’t be many more updates anyway. I’m cold, I’m tired, I’m sore, I’m lonely, and I’m cold. Did I say cold twice? Kentucky got hit with a cold spell, which is mostly why I didn’t write anything. Let’s try and catch things up. I went from Missouri, through th. bottom tip of Illinois, to Kentucky. These are my stops from a week ago Sunday to today (Thursday the 20th)

Springfield (Missouri) to Houston
Houston to Ellington
Ellington to Farmington
Farmington to St. Genevive
St. Genevive to Carbondale (Illinois)
Carbondale to Marion (Kentucky)
Marion to Fordsville
Fordsville to Sonora
Sonora to Springfield
Springfield to Berea
Berea to Booneville

I ended up riding two more days with the brothers from Georgia, before they turned south in Ellington to go home. They were very kind and pleasant fellows, and I wish them the best.

I rode through the Ozarks for the first part of the week, until they seemed to end at the Mississippi river, which was also the border to Illinois. The Ozarks were breathtakingly beautiful, with the trees changing colors, but they were brutally steep to ride. But it only lasted about 4 days, so that was nice to keep in mind. I got my first (and probably last) 100 mile day on this trip, because of a serious wrong turn. But I believe God used that wrong turn, because of an encounter I had with the manager of a dollar general I was buying a gatorade from.

Well my phone crashed uploading pictures, and I just lost 2 hours of great writing. I met some really colorful characters last week and wrote an amazing contrast and talked about storing your treasures in heaven. It was great. But now I’m getting ready for bed, so I will have to finish talking about my ride another time. I’m pretty bummed because I think it was a great write up. So you’ll just have to read about it later. I’m sorry this is both late and incomplete.

But here are pictures at least. More later.

I’m a day late with this, but I fell asleep practically as soon as I finished riding yesterday. (Now I’m two days late)

On Sunday night, and old coworker rode the train out to try bike touring for a week. I doubt he slept well in the roach motel I got in Hutchison Kansas, but I doubt anybody did. It’s the kind of place you don’t pull the sheets back on the beds.

Monday morning I got to meet the grandmaster of the karate school I attended as a kid. I’ve seen his pictures so often, so it was easy to find him. The ride that day was long, flat, and straight, like all of western Kansas. The wind finally slowed down, which was nice.

That night we camped in Cassoday, met a long distance runner / traveling pastor, and a couple of brothers riding cross country, but not quite the same route as me. I camped out with the pastor, but the other three bikers rode into town and took advantage of some generous hospitality from the residents. I got some great advice and prayer at the campfire that night.

The rest of the week all four of us rode together, with Thursday including a fifth rider; my long time partner Matt who I run into from time to time.

Tuesday night was Toronto Lake. It was beautiful, but possibly the most fetid and disgusting water I have ever swam in. Fortunately there were showers.

Wednesday was the first day in Kansas without a headwind, and the scenery finally started to change from flat and straight to a few little hills and sometimes trees. That night we caught up with Matt, and we all stayed in a Lutheran church outside of Walnut, Kansas. They had a Wednesday night service, and it was great to attend and meet the congregation.

Thursday was the last day in Kansas (the flatest, yet hardest state to ride a bike through). I will remember Kansas as having almost universally kind people. That night was camping at Golden City Missouri, and back down to four riders.

Friday was the start of the Ozarks. Not mountains for someone used to the Sierras, but it’s a constant up and down road. We were close to Springfield, and needed to start thinking about an airport for my ex-coworker to fly out of, so we turned south. Stayed with a nice couple and took Saturday as a rest day. Went to a big sporting goods store, and visited a restaraunt where the waiters throw you the rolls across the room. Quite a silly experience.

Sunday was back on the road. Missouri is beautiful, and the leaves are changing color. It’s all very mild country. No sharp changes or big contrasts. Back in the hills, but it’s nothing like riding over the rockies.

My ex-coworker is flying back to California, much to his dismay, and aftr ecamping in Houston Missouri, I will be saying goodbye to the biking brothers from Georgia today as well. They are cutting down south to ride home, while I continue on towards Illinois and Kentucky.

This week I heard a story in a small Missouri town about some trouble with cross country bicyclists. There was a supported tour with a big group of riders (supported tours have vans that carry all the supplies and set up camp for you at night) coming through this town. At the same time, there was a birthday party for a young boy going on. The birthday party was attended by the mother and all o fher family, and the father by himself. The father was estranged more or less, and the couple was not together. They sent the father upstairs to fetch something or other, and while he was gone, they sang the song and ate the cake. Essentially they got rid of him and celebrated without him. When he got back, he was angry, and grabbed his son. Then the grandfather tried to grab the son and take him back. I guess they were fighting over this kid, and one of the cyclists got between then to stop the fight. The father bit the arm of the cyclist and the fight ended.

The story was told as if the father was the bad guy. He lost his job over the ordeal. And while I don’t doubt he hasn’t done everything right, I can’t help but totally empathize with him. I can see the utter helpless frustration he must feel at being left out of the family. Whether it’s his fault or not, I do not know. But I know that to him, it doesn’t change the horrifying reality he’s found himself in.

How easy it is to sit back when you’re in a group and laugh at someone’s misfortune or weakness. It feeds that need to be known, to be heard, to be important. But that father wasn’t important. Nobody wanted him. And now the story told to cyclists passing through is what a horrible person he is. He lost his job. GOOD. He lost his son. GOOD. He suffered the consequences of his actions. GOOD. He has no family. GOOD.

I’m tired of all that. Poor guy. I wish I could do something for him. What great position of moral superiority do I have over him? Whether loss and hardship and suffering comes as a consequence of our own actions, or if it’s just the way the wind blows, don’t people deserve my pitiful compassion? I can’t save them, but I can love them.

Week 1 in Kansas is over. It’s sort of flat, but it sure is windy.

On Monday I was still in Colorado. I rode through the plains to the Sheridan Lake Bible church, where I met Irwin from Switzerland, and we drank milk and compared notes and maps. I cooked dinner, and he cooked breakfast. It was nice to chat and see yet another amazing European bike. The scenery was the same as all of eastern Colorado; empty grassland.

Tuesday I made it to Kansas in the morning. The only exciting part is that the road condition improved. Thus began western Kansas. From what I saw, it is farmland, mostly grain, with giant concrete grain silos by the railroad tracks every 5-10 miles. Now that I described it, you know what most of the week was like. It feels like you are on a stationary bike for days at a time. Nothing seems to move or change. Tuesday night I camped in Leoti, which was a nice town. Talked to a California transplant.

Wednesday I rode to Ness City. I should have rode less that day, because the last few hours were at night, but I made it. In both Leoti and Ness City I had breakfast with the local farmers, and both times the bought me breakfast.

Thursday I went to Great Bend, where I had a hotel waiting for me to take a rest day. Thursday was a hard day. I could see Great Bend for hours before I could get there. Wednesday and Thursday were both days I spent in my low climbing gears because of the headwinds. But I made it.

Friday was the first rest day since Utah. I cleaned my bike, ate a lot, bought groceries, and rested. I think it was good for me.

Saturday and Sunday were both shorter rides, because I only had to get to Hutchison by Sunday night to wait for my friend who is riding the train in to come ride for a week. I did get to visit the national headquarters of my old karate school, and the Cosmosphere, where I took a picture of the piece of the Berlin Wall they had.

Very busy week, and I’m still pretty worn out. I’m not going to write about what I was thinking about this week, because it was pretty personal and I’ve been pretty emotionaly drained. I stopped a lot in these constant gusting headwinds to scream or cry. But I rode through. Kansas is really nice, just a bit windy.

So instead of writing about my feelings, I’m going to show and tell what I carry on a cross country bike trip. If I was reading about someone’s bike trip, I would be interested in what they carried, so here you go. My gear has had many additions and subtractions, and there are still plenty of things I would do differently next time, but here it is:

Rear right: From left to right. Compression sack with extra clothes, towel, sleeping bag liner, tent footprint, pillow, sleeping pad, tent stakes, and jacket in the blue bag.

There are a couple small personal things I didn’t show, but that’s 99% of my stuff. In case you were wondering why there is no shovel, I wish I had one. I use sticks to dig holes. It’s not as nice. And my front hub is a dynamo hub, which is wired to a rectifier that I use to charge the battery pack. I recomend to anyone not to do it that way, and to use a solar charger instead. Make the sun work, not your legs.

And here are the pictures from this week. There aren’t many. The scenery didn’t vary that much. Thanks to everyone who has been so kind to me on this trip and to everyone that has called or texted to encourage me. It means a lot to me. Feel free to reach out and see how I’m doing.

all the photos that didn’t make it earlier.

I missed my Sunday night update, which I was hoping never to miss. But by the time I actually had time, I was too tired to stay up and write.

Monday I left Steamboat Springs, which was possibly the most beautiful town I’ve been to, and climbed Rabit Ears Pass, which was the hardest ride I’ve ever done. I drank all my water in the first 7 miles, and had 43 miles in the Rockies without water in my bottles. So I pulled out my lifestraw and drank lake water. That day was probably my hardest day of riding, but I made it to Kremmling, and treated myself to a brownie sunday and hot chocolate. Monday also marked my second flat tire.

Tuesday I left Kremmling, and was officially back on the TransAm route, after about 1000 miles off of it. I put on my rain gear, since rain was predicted most of the week. Again, just lots of climbing. Passed a nice lake though. I camped by another lake near Silverthorne, with one old friend and one new friend. We stayed up and shared bike stories, and worryingly checked the weather. It didn’t rain that night, though.

Wednesday was a short ride, and I got a bed at a hostel to stay out of the worst of the rain. I’m sure it could be ridden through, but I am not experienced at riding over 10,000 feet in a thunderstorm. 7,000 feet in a thunderstorm was bad enough for me. Met up with a British long distance hiker doing the same as me, and we talked most of the day. The windows shook with thunder all night, so I wa shappy to be inside.

Thursday I summited the highest point of this trip, and started my descent wet and numb. I rode through more of the rockies, met a nice puppy who cleaned my face for me, and camped in the woods.

Friday, after about 8 days climbing up the rockies, I started my long, but speedy, downhill. It was a great ride down. A nice reward. Then I got down to the foothills, where it was back uphill again, but with much different scenery. I met a nice couple who let me sleep in their camper van in their backyard, and made me dinner and breakfast. They had a great dog, too.

Saturday I rode to Puebo, which is the halfway point of this trip. I washed my bike, and made it out to camp by the river. I am completely suprised that I’ve made it this far.

Sunday I made it to the plains. I’ve now got about 500 miles or so of flat grass to ride through. Looking forward to the challenges ahead.

I spent the week with really just one thought. I was really busy dealing with the climbs and insane traffic, that I didn’t have a lot of time to reflect.

In that day the Lord God of hosts

called for weeping and mourning,

for baldness and wearing sackcloth;

and behold, joy and gladness,

killing oxen and slaughtering sheep,

eating flesh and drinking wine.

“Let us eat and drink,

for tomorrow we die.”

The Lord of hosts has revealed himself in my ears:

“Surely this iniquity will not be atoned for you until you die,”

says the Lord God of hosts

Isaiah 22:12-14

In this section, the people had been warned that they would be attacked and killed soon. They mocked the prophet who warned them, and misused the wisdom of Solomon to hand wave away the warning of coming judgement. The same thing happens all the time now, as well. We have a tiny, puny, short number of years on earth. And as for me, I waste most of them. I have such a short time to cultivate my spirit, and how often have I wasted that time? Have I prayed as much as I have played video games, or listened to music, read books, watched TV or movies? When I die, will it matter what fictional character slept with which other fictional character’s wife? How often I wake up and my mocking attitude is the same. “Today I am lonely, I will fill the hours with mindless entertainment, or in being envious of what another man has.” The satisfaction is so short lived. Who am I to call out any other person, when I have spent less time in life cultivating a relationship with the Creator than I have in almost every other pursuit? What other activity in life leads to lasting joy than prayer? How can my life be an example to the lost and hurting people if I live my life in pursuit of my own pleasures and comforts? Jesus said it best:

If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it. For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul? For what can a man give in return for his soul? For whoever is ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of Man also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

Mark 8:34-38

Life is so short and meaningless here. I mean, the physical aspects are meaningless. They all pass away when you die, and you can hold on to them as well as you can catch the wind. And I guess what I’ve been wondering is why I still try? I wish I could communicate how strong this feels to me. I wish I could help each person reading this feel as strongly as I do. I hope you consider what I am trying to say.

Here are a few pictures. There should be about 90 total, but I am having trouble uploading right now. When I find a place with WiFi, I will upload the full set. Lots of pretty pictures of the Rockies, so check back some other time for everything together.

I don’t have time to finish my update tonight. I will try to get it out tomorrow night (Monday). It will probably be interesting.

I just finished week 6. To start, I’m changing my mind on keeping this private. Go ahead and share it however you would like. I’m trying to be more open, which has been helpful to me in writing these updates. I appoligize for being closed off and stuck up about all of this.

Monday I got my bike fixed, again. I got dropped off at a bike shop, but it never opened. Another guy was waiting too. He turned out to be a retired army general, and he gave me a ride to a different bike shop. It was fun to chat with him a bit. Got my second spoke fixed, and explored Lehi Utah a bit. Then I went to a high school baseball game with Laura’s friends, with pizza afterwards. Got to play with the kids for a while before bed, which was the high point of this trip so far. I know it’s probably creepy for a filthy bearded homeless man on a bike to talk to kids in the streets, but my happiest moments have all been conversations with kids.

Tuesday I got a ride past the rest of the city to the start of Provo Canyon. I rode all over the city Monday, so I didn’t feel bad skipping it again. Morning ride up to Heber City, which was nice, with some light rain. I met the bike mechanic in town, and had him put on a new chain. He knows Tim Neenan, who built my bike in 1982. I wasn’t happy about the bike after the spoke replacement on Monday. Anyway, the chain helped a lot. I started my big climb for the afternoon, which is when the thunderstorm started going strong. It was tough, but I made it to the top of the pass. The campground was closed, so I got the whole thing to myself. That was nice, because it gave me a dry picnic shelter to camp in.

Wednesday I was pumped. Put on my rainsuit and took off. Riding on the small shoulder on a busy highway, in the dumping rain, with trucks zooming by and spraying me every 10 seconds, and glasses to wet and foggy to see, but I didn’t care; I was finally moving!. Down a nice big grade, and POP. Another spoke. This time the wheel bent so much it wouldn’t even pedal. I sat by the road a while in the middle of nowhere, trying to think of the best way to quit my trip and find something else to do. Then I put out my thumb and caught a ride all the way back down the mountains. I think the bike mechanic felt bad for me, because he worked all afternoon for free. So with 2 days of hard riding all backtracked, I booked a shuttle for the next day to skip what I already rode (and a bit more). It was either that or quit the trip at that point.

Thursday I sat around still in a poor mental state, but it was nice to miss more rain. I took the shuttle at night with two lesbians and a gang banger. None of them were interested in knowing Jesus, so I spent most of the time looking at the lightning outside. I forgot my helmet on the shuttle, but slept inside out of the continued thunderstorm.

Friday Saturday and Sunday were all mostly just alone days riding. I’ve just been back in the grind. Wake up with the sun, pack up camp, ride, set up camp, fall asleep at sunse, all with some eating in between. I did attend church in Craig Colorado, after camping in their grass, which was nice. I used to be the person who wanted to avoid talking to people, but now I seek them out agressively. It can get lonely sometimes.

I’m now in Steamboat Springs, which is an amazing place. I have an extremely steep 7 mile climb to start tomorrow, which will be one of my hardest climbs yet. But if I can make it through 3 days of climbing, possibly again in the rain, I will start going down the other side of the Rockies. We will see.

Those were the events of the week, and here are my thoughts.

For she said, ‘I will go after my lovers,
Who give me my bread and my water,
My wool and my linen,
My oil and my drink.’ “Therefore, behold,
I will hedge up your way with thorns,
And wall her in,
So that she cannot find her paths.
She will chase her lovers,
But not overtake them;
Yes, she will seek them, but not find them.
Then she will say,
‘I will go and return to my first husband,
For then it was better for me than now.’
For she did not know
That I gave her grain, new wine, and oil,
And multiplied her silver and gold—
Which they prepared for Baal.

Hosea 2:5-8

I’ve still been thinking about the provision of God, and exactly how backwards I’ve been praying my whole life. My own efforts get me nothing. You can spend your days tending to trees and plants and one day of bad weather can kill them all and leave you to starve. Or good weather can come and bring life. It’s the same with a job. The pride that comes with imagining myself a great engineer is laughable. It’s a meaningless title that blows away in the wind as I die.

All provision, both physical and spiritual, is from God. He gives freely before you know what you need. Does a baby need to ask it’s mother for milk? Not at all; the baby trusts that the mom will provide for it’s needs, and she knows what to do. When the baby is tired it’s put to bed. Every need is taken care of. Now, I think there is a reason to ask for things in prayer. But I believe that it’s more a process to form your spirit into what it was intended to be, than to recieve anything.

I’ve watched birds stand in rivers patiently waiting until a fish comes by. Then the bird violently grabs the fish. The bird was looking in the river for one small reward. This is how I usually pray. “Oh God grant me this one request. Meet my one need”. I forget that I a standing in the river. Through Jesus’ sacrifice I am brought into union with God’s Holy Spirit. To truly pray is the act of looking beyond the physical, and look to the unending river of God’s Spirit. Praying is what teaches us, grows us, out of the narrow confines of what our senses percieve, and prepares us for eternity. 70 years in a body isn’t a long time to prepare, but it’s all we have. I can’t waste it praying for the tiny fish that I need in the moment, when I have been created for union with Christ. All created things will be taken from me. Everyone I love will be separated from me at some point. Praying takes me outside of the world. All the things I love so much, and all the horrible pains. Christ is above them all. Praying is the spiritual equivalent of working hard in school and getting a good job and having a great family and loving your life. Except this life and all the things in it have an end. I need to worry less about what I can get and have now. Whether my hopes are met or dashed on the rocks, it’s no matter. I need to look past that, into the open arms of Christ. Don’t look at the fish. Look at the river which is full of all good things, which flows freely for the taking. The fish will be taken from you. The river is eternal life flowing from the wounds of God’s crucifixion, and is His own Spirit.

To finish, I will just add a thought as to loving God. For years I struggled with understanding where love of God even starts. But it’s simple, and I knew all along. When I was very young, it meant so much to me to see my mom. I would run to her and hug her and she would pick me up. There was no reason whatsoever for that. It was simply that her presence was the fullfilment of all my wants and needs. I took for granted that she would feed me and take care of me, and never gave it a thought. I simply delighted in her presence. Praying is how you learn to delight in Christ’s presence. It may feel silly at first. It may feel silly for years. But it works.

Here are some pictures. Some days my phone was sealed in a waterproof bag, and sometimes I just didn’t take pictures. Not in order, as always. Sorry about that. I can use a PC, but Android software is beyond me. Sorry about any dupliactes.

The week ended like it started, with broken spokes. Hopefully I’ll get the bike working and be back on my way. Ending this week in Eagle Mountain Utah, visiting some of Laura’s friends. The week started in waiting for a bike shop to open in Burley, which it did on Tuesday, and the guy fixed my spokes. The repair lasted a week so I’m thankful. The next few days were wilderness days in Idaho and then Utah. Some neat camping spots in the middle of nowhere. I never ran out of water, since I learned in Oregon to carry a lot in the heat. I took a spa day at the Grand America Hotel in Salt Lake City, which was well worth it. There was a 17 head shower. It was like showering in a car wash. That and a massage and I feel pretty good. There were lots of great bike paths in the Salt Lake area, which was 100+ miles long, I believe. Nice to get away from some of the traffic. I didn’t take a lot of pictures, since the scenery over the last week wasn’t spectacular. Not that I’m complaining though.

The hours and days of solitude and quiet reflection have got me thinking about comforts of body and spirit. And the backwards way I think about things. A life without trouble and suffering, without temptation, and without trial, is a dangerous life. I seek out bodily comforts all of the time. Try to have a nice job so that I can live in a comfortable place, with time off to relax and make myself feel good. I look forward to good food to make me happy. I want to go to beautiful places under the guise of “experiencing God’s creation”, or some other lame excuse. But what will the person tell you who has gone to every beautiful country, tasted every good food, lived on the most comfortable beds? Will they tell you that only NOW are they satisfied? Maybe so, but I can’t believe a person that tells me that. Better for me to sit on a painful saddle getting baked in the sun all day, and to meditate on the comforts of the spirit. When I am watching a fun movie and eating good food, I am giving all of my attention to something which lasts barely any longer than a breath.

It is better for a man to be obscure and to attend to his salvation than to neglect it and work miracles… …Why wish to see what you are not permitted to have? “The world passes away and the concupiscence thereof.” Sensual craving sometimes entices you to wander around, but when the moment is past, what do you bring back with you save a disturbed conscience and heavy heart? A happy going often leads to a sad return, a merry evening to a mournful dawn. Thus, all carnal joy begins sweetly but in the end brings remorse and death.

Imitation of Christ

These thoughts and meditations are all part of what I feel I am actually witnessing for the first time in my life. It’s a piece of wisdom everybody talks about, but I have yet to see a single person who understands it well enough to describe it, or a single person who lives this way. I do not have understanding of it, but I am starting to see it. What I am talking about is the idea of what it truly means to “live in the present”. I could write a few chapters of a book with all the thoughts and experiences I have been having in regards to this. I will try to explain, but I am only in the beggining stages of understanding. One key I learned from backtracking my route last week. I left Burley and rode out into the desert. It was an unknown. The big things I think about in those moments are “Where is the next water? What hills are there? Is there a shoulder to ride on? Where will I sleep?” But then I backtracked for a few days to get my bike fixed, and when I rode that same 20 miles, I knew the answers to those questions. The first time, I didn’t know the future, but I concerned myself with it. The second time, in a sense, I knew the future. But it didn’t matter, the outcome was the same. If I had not worried the first time, it would have been the same outcome as the second time. God knew the path before me, just as He knows the future of all of our endevors. And the thing is, I regretted my time worrying. That’s time I could have spent enjoying the spiritual comforts and communion with Christ. This isn’t some guilt ridden religious thinking, it’s really how I felt. And I feel some form of this regularly right now. I look ahead so much. I think I need to learn the lesson of not looking ahead first, because the lesson of not looking back to the past is currently out of my reach. I’m not there yet.

But the spirit endures, and the body does not. In Matthew 22 it says:

Jesus said to him, “‘You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.”

When I spend my life seeking the various comforts and accomplishments, and seeking to fulfil my own needs and desires, I completely miss out on spending my life, every waking moment, in loving God. It’s easy to learn to love your neighbors, because you can see them all the time, even when you don’t want to. And if you forgive them for playing loud music and doing all the other annoying things neighbors do (as I need forgiveness as well), you will love them. Because if you love God first, love to His precious children flows as naturally as water flows downhill. But to LOVE God. What greater purpose is there? If you can’t see it, and I say this with compassion and love intended, you are like an entitled toddler who thinks he deserves to be a college graduate without going through the growth and putting in the time to learn. I know because I’ve been there. I am there. Spiritual growth starts at the very bottom, and there are no shortcuts. And even worse, you can go backwards. I know that from experience too.

This ties together because to live in the present is to love God. To live in the future or the past is to love self first. Love does not seek it’s own. Which is to say, putting your wants and needs first above love of God is to give yourself a false power over your own future, which you can’t even know. It’s like reading a fantasy book and believing it. And when you see that the book isn’t real, you are left with nothing but heartbreak. This is what I am seeing day by day. I don’t see the way out, I only see part of the problem.

I am grateful. To be without many of the comforts I am used to, I have more time to ponder on the love of God. Maybe I have immersed myself too deeply into materialistic American Christianity that I have been willing to admit to. Prosperity of body and of wealth and of comforts is truly so short lived. But the humble turning to God is the beggining of life itself. Life I hope to live.

Here are some pics from the week. Not particularly amazing. I barely cared to take any.

I expected to be out of Idaho after only one week, but alas, I remain. On my push through the high desert several parts of my bike broke, and I was not able to fix them all beside the road. I planned on being in Utah tonight, but I backtracked to Burley, Idaho. It seems as if I will be taking Labor day off of riding while I wait for shops to open on Tuesday. Good plans just don’t always work out. But it helps me see more clearly the theme of this entire trip. I don’t care about crossing the USA by bike. I don’t care about my other plans and goals and desires. My head still cares, but my heart longs for the true purpose of this trip. To know Jesus more.

“I have known men who came to God for nothing else but just to come to Him, they so loved Him. They scorned to soil Him and themselves with any other errand than just purely to be alone with Him in His presence. Friendship is best kept up, even among men, by frequent visits; and the more free and defecate those frequent visits are, and the less occasioned by business, or necessity, or custom they are, the more
friendly and welcome they are.”

Alexander Whyte

What kind of relationship have I cultivated for so much of my life? How many years of the vague repetative praying did I live through? How often I came to God only when I needed something? How silly to forget I need Him even to breathe (Isaiah 42:5). And for all my needs I need not even ask. In Matthew 6 Jesus was very clear that you don’t need to pray about those things. On my trip, I struggle with that fear sometimes. Where will I sleep? What if I can’t find a place to rest? Yet it doesn’t matter. Some days I have asked for a place to sleep, other days I haven’t. God has provided something every night. Prayer is soley purposed to submurge yourself in God’s Spirit. If you supplicate your needs to Him, it is to vindicate His name and bring Him glory. Elijah, the model of a prayerful man, was so aligned with God’s will, that his requests were spoken as with the authority of God. He asked God to stop the rain simply by declaring that it wouldn’t rain. I’m not there yet. One day this week, in the barren buttes north of the Snake River Canyon, I begged God for shade. Instead of shade in a land with only sage and thorns, dust and heat, I heard water. Hidden off the road was a small stream of cool water. Behind the dried thistles was a small shoreline of lilac and green grass. I plunged my feet and head into the water and found more relief than shade. My will was not God’s will. His was better.

There is no higher purpose, higher calling, or more humble existence, than to know Jesus. The king and savior who desires you as a friend should not be scorned. Everything I see and hear and touch and taste is so temporary it can barely be called real. How hard a lesson that is to truly learn. I feel as though I am years away. I still try to catch the wind in my hands. But all my retirement funds, my currently strong legs, my family and friends, all my hopes and dreams, and everything I love in the world will blow away and be forgotten. All that remains is the spiritual treasures you stored up. And what treasure greater than to know the living God? What other desire is worthy to be pursued? Nothing else for me, thanks. Disney poisoned the world with the lies about true love. Proverbs 3 says to wear steadfast love about your neck. Christ is the only true love a person can have. Every other object of love goes away in the end. I am learning slowly to see how I subconciously and conciously set my heart on other things. It’s getting baked out of me in the sun. God meant for us to know our soulmate and find all good things in that relationship. But it’s not a prince or a princess, it’s a king.

The trip? There have been interesting meetings and beautiful sights. Farms with sprinklers to stand in, and so on. But mostly when I think about last week I think about 100+ degree days with steady and strong east winds that make it hard to pedal. I’m tired and sore, and not sure what the future holds. I hope I can get my bike going and keep riding. If I can get over the Rockies soon there will be a chance I can finish the trip. I’m about 1000 miles in, or at least was until I backtracked. If it wasn’t challenging to do a solo crossing of the USA by bike, I guess it wouldn’t seem as exciting. Some days I wake up and just wish I could go surfing and get a burrito afterwards. I miss how good the icy water makes my body feel all day. I don’t think I will ever miss this bike ride. But I know that whether I finish or not, I have already seen the truths of many scriptures come to life, and I see more clearly the purpose in life, even though I am still so far from true understanding. I hope you don’t read this and think I have it all together or am some sort of inspiring person. I get frustrated many times a day. I occasionally sit by the road to cry for a bit. Not one mountain I summit is a victory. The only victory in my life is the cross Jesus bore for me. Everything else is dust in the wind.

Not such amazing pictures this week. Not in order either; sorry.