Childlike adults get to go to heaven

The other day, I pulled my old bicycle down from the rafters of the garage. Blowing the dust off, I discovered both tires were flat and the seat had some kind of funky fungal action going on.

Two new inner tubes and a few adjustments later, I pedaled out of the garage and coasted down our long, steep driveway onto the tiny rural road in front of our house. The steep drive gave me an instant head of steam. I coasted for several hundred feet, the wind in my hair — well, the wind blowing where my hair used to be!

Eventually, I slowed to a wobble and it occurred to me, “Oh yea, you have to pedal these stupid things!”

It’s been years since I’d ridden on two wheels that required pedaling, much preferring motorized versions with obnoxiously loud exhaust. I never got into the easy-rider fashion look even though I do have the classic V-twin physique — you know, a large midsection that requires a back rest and handle bars that reach back to the rider?

I simply can’t ride one of those cafe-style motorcycles. The ones that blast by with the skinny guy lying over the gas tank, face to the wind, his shirt tail climbing his back. My problem is obvious: Two objects simply can’t occupy the same space at the same time, and my midsection clearly is not made for those lie-down cafe bikes.

Which brings us to the reason I decided to recommission my old Huffy, replete with its white-walled balloon tires and beach-style handlebars — I need the exercise.

I have made several heart-pounding, leg-aching laps around our neighborhood these past few days and remembered why I loved biking as a youngster. Don’t look for me at the next bike-a-thon, but I am honestly enjoying the exercise. I just hope I’m still at it when the cold winds of November blow.

I wish I could say I feel like a kid again, but I’m not there yet. I’ve discovered I do think like a kid while riding, and for that, I’m extremely grateful. One old memory that I’m determined to relive involves balloons and bicycle spokes. Some of you already know where I’m going with this, don’t you?

Back in the day, us kids would tie a partially inflated balloon to the fender brace of the bike. Then we’d walk the bike forward while pushing the balloon into the spokes in such a way that it wrapped itself around the fender brace.

That forced the rounded portion of the balloon to rub against each spoke as it passed by, producing a rhythmic cadence that with speed sounded just like a motorcycle. It was a glorious sound as I recall, and this senior citizen can’t wait to try it again!

I think we all need things in our life that return us to our childhood. Do you remember how exciting life used to be when you were a kid? I do, and I’m discovering one sure way to revive those feelings is to act more like a kid — not take myself so seriously.

My dad would often remind me, “Ron, don’t take yourself too seriously. No one else is.” I’ve discovered he’s right.

The joys of childhood are very akin to the joys of our faith. Both require us to look beyond ourselves to a higher power and a greater purpose than the drudgery of our daily grind.

I hope you’ll take a tip from me: Every once in a while, pull your childhood out of the attic, dust it off and go for a spin.

Jesus himself reminded us of the importance of seeing life through the innocence of a child. He said: “Mark this: Unless you accept God’s kingdom with the simplicity of a child, you’ll never get in.” (Mark 10:15)

I don’t believe for a moment that Jesus is speaking negatively but rather is gently reminding us that an occasional return to the carefree innocence of childhood is part of a balanced journey toward heaven.

Ron Grubb loves to tell life stories and apply God’s truth as he leads the Lancaster School of Ministry and pastors at Life Church, 4 miles north of Lancaster on Ohio 37. Ron welcomes your thoughts at ron@lifechurchohio.com.