As you may know, Josiah and I love biking. We have bikes here and they are our primary means of transportation. Not only is my bike branded with the word “hero” but it has a special little feature… it has a bell and stickered onto the bell is sign that reads “I love my bike”… kind of the same style as “I Love NY”, heart and all. When Josiah and I first bought these bikes I laughed at the bell, thinking it ridiculous to love a bike that had no gears, an uncomfortable seat and so completely different than my bike from home. I’ve had moments where I’ve done the exact opposite of “loving my bike”… I confess there have been moments where I have found myself cursing my bike. And I ended up dreaming about this very bike one night:
I was participating in a bike race, one that I had already raced in twice before. What was newfor me was the new feel of using my “African bike” instead of my “Canadian bike”. With the different build, sticky peddles, squeaky frame and limited capacity for speed, I found myself quite frustrated for having to bike this race using my new “hero”. Where I would have biked without limitation, I was struggling. And the strangest thing about this race was that I was required to visit with people along the way. In order to finish the race I had to have tea with people along the way and somehow not appear to be in any hurry. This was quite difficult for me, for I thought that I would never finish the race in time. As the “race” continued, I found myself relaxing, even enjoying the requirement of meeting with people regardless of participating in a race.
When I look back at that dream, it makes me smile. I have often referred back to this dream, sensing that through it God is trying to teach me how to live in this culture. So often I crave to do things my way, what is familiar… I often get frustrated with the slow (and inconvenient) pace of life I encounter here.
The sticker on my bike reminds me that I need to grow in loving the people here, despite their differences, their strangeness (and slowness). I’m still running the race God has set before me, but with much different tools and with much different people.
So in the end, do I love my bike? Occasionally I still curse it but I am coming to terms with it. I am thankful for it and how it greets me with this very reminder every time I ride and ring that darn bell.
I was participating in a bike race, one that I had already raced in twice before. What was newfor me was the new feel of using my “African bike” instead of my “Canadian bike”. With the different build, sticky peddles, squeaky frame and limited capacity for speed, I found myself quite frustrated for having to bike this race using my new “hero”. Where I would have biked without limitation, I was struggling. And the strangest thing about this race was that I was required to visit with people along the way. In order to finish the race I had to have tea with people along the way and somehow not appear to be in any hurry. This was quite difficult for me, for I thought that I would never finish the race in time. As the “race” continued, I found myself relaxing, even enjoying the requirement of meeting with people regardless of participating in a race.
When I look back at that dream, it makes me smile. I have often referred back to this dream, sensing that through it God is trying to teach me how to live in this culture. So often I crave to do things my way, what is familiar… I often get frustrated with the slow (and inconvenient) pace of life I encounter here.
The sticker on my bike reminds me that I need to grow in loving the people here, despite their differences, their strangeness (and slowness). I’m still running the race God has set before me, but with much different tools and with much different people.
So in the end, do I love my bike? Occasionally I still curse it but I am coming to terms with it. I am thankful for it and how it greets me with this very reminder every time I ride and ring that darn bell.
