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I returned to Hope Fellowship today for another dose of biker friendly worship.

This time I got there in time to fill my cup with some piping hot coffee before the service. That was good, since I didn’t bother to bundle up much knowing the ride home would be considerably warmer. Not the smartest of moves, since Doctor LeCroy had diagnosed me with pneumonia just Friday.

But I warmed up fast. Pastor King flagged me down at the door and we had a short chat. I apologized for missing the last two weeks, and explained that I had been sick one Sunday and the following I had a crisis at work. It’s funny how we always feel we need to explain to the pastor why we missed church. I didn’t tell him I’d missed a couple of years prior to that because I was too lazy and rotten to continue my search for a new church home all that time. Pastor King chuckled and said, “You know, when I have a crisis at work I have no choice but to come to church.”

I was also greeted by several folks who somehow remembered my name from a couple of weeks back when I first visited. I’m always slightly embarrassed when folks remember my name and I can’t remember theirs. Back when I was a cop I could keep names and faces matched up in my head with no problem. When it came time for testimony I always knew which guy to point at when the prosecutor asked, “Is the person you arrested that night almost two years ago in this courtroom?” These days I can barely remember my own name. Maybe I just had more incentive to remember a face back when I was dealing with folks who’d just as soon run, fight, or kill me as talk to me on the street.

But I digress. No worries like that at Hope Fellowship. Some of the crowd looks a bit rough round the edges (like yours truly), but the instant you start conversing with them you realize these are some of the friendliest and down-to-earth folks in God’s Kingdom. They’ve got warm smiles and firm handshakes. Most of them remind me of my brother, Mike… rough, tough, and friendly as a Labrador.

It’s amazing that for the past several years I’ve been searching for a church home and all it took was getting back on two wheels and a few motorcycle articles for God to lead me to the perfect place (for me). I think Hope Fellowship is a family that I can grow with and contribute to. The best churches are the ones that need you just as much as you need them, in my humble opinion.

Today the worship service started with an admonishment from the worship leader (talented gal who has a great voice) to get our running around and restroom breaks done before the pastor got up to deliver his message. Something like that could be delivered in a patronizing way, but this reminder was well received. It’s one of those things that just has to be done once in awhile to remind us that we are in God’s house, even if it is a converted saloon. Folks tend to get a little forgetful of where they are in causal worship environments, I think.

I remember one church I attended for a while that was worse than a movie theater with folks moving in and out of the sanctuary all during the sermon. I always wondered if there was a concession stand set up outside just after the sermon started and removed just before it ended. I mean, how many times does a person need to go pee during one sermon?

Part of the reason the admonishment was so inoffensive was the delivery, done with just the right touch of humor; but primarily it was well received because the folks sitting in that room were a big family, and family doesn’t mind telling each other how to behave when necessary. It was good to know there are limits to the casual worship atmosphere, and that the lines of sanctity and respect shouldn’t be crossed. It’s also good to know nobody was going to frown at me for taking a sip of that awesome hot coffee halfway through the first song to soothe my sore throat. I feel kinda like Goldilocks…this place is just right. The great thing is some hunter shot the three bears so I get to keep coming back any time I want.

Pastor King preached from Matthew 14, specifically on the parable of the sower. He expounded upon the story Jesus told of how seeds, scattered about by the sower, grew or withered depending upon the area in which they fell. I found myself convicted of being “rocky ground” as I reflected on my Christian walk and how often I have allowed the word of God to wither away after a brief time of growth.

Another hearty spiritual meal at Hope Fellowship.

It’s not always about just feeling good and soaking up the joy. Sometimes it’s about accepting the painful truth about yourself and determining to do better. That’s the broccoli of a ministry that delivers well balanced spiritual meals.

At Hope Fellowship you don’t get cookies and milk unless you eat your vegetables, too.

I walked out of that building into paradise. No gold paved streets, but the parking area out front was chock-full of motorcycles. Okay, that may not be everyone’s version of heaven, but if you don’t ride, you don’t know. There was a Honda Gold Wing, several Harleys, a Suzuki, several more Harleys, a beautiful Triumph Rocket III Classic (oops, there went my humility again!)…some more Harleys.

A few months ago I posted a rant here about Harley Davidson riders and how I felt that a lot of them were too hung up on their special brand of motorcycle. Hope Fellowship is one place I’ve found (aside from my days with the Blue Nights) where the Harley riders don’t lord it over metric bikers. I love Harley Davidsons and would like to see that classic American marque always succeed. The Fellowship Riders which happen to ride Harleys are doing a great service to The Motor Company by displaying a friendliness and welcoming attitude to any and all, regardless of the bike, car, or sandals you blow in on.

Hope Fellowship is an amazing story of how God brings His children together. It’s a living example that Christ’s kingdom is open to all who are willing to receive the free gift of salvation, not just the clean-shaven “proper” people of the world (and kudos to the clean shaven “proper” people of the world…you’re just as good as anyone else!). Whether you’re a white collar type of guy or a wrench-twister, a doctor or a carpenter, and whether you drive a Buick or ride a Kawasaki, everyone is welcome at Hope Fellowship.

They’ve welcomed me with open arms…and I don’t have a single tattoo (I swear it’s the truth, Mom).

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