Maynard's Motorcycle

Acts 2:38-47

38 Peter replied, "Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.

39 The promise is for you and your children and for all who are far off-- for all whom the Lord our God will call."

40 With many other words he warned them; and he pleaded with them, "Save yourselves from this corrupt generation."

41 Those who accepted his message were baptized, and about three thousand were added to their number that day.

42 They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.

43 Everyone was filled with awe, and many wonders and miraculous signs were done by the apostles.

44 All the believers were together and had everything in common.

45 Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need.

46 Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts,

47 praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.

(NIV)

If there is one thing that the other Presbyterian ministers know about me, it’s that I love motorcycles.

I bet that’s something many of you didn’t know about me, but the ministers of the Presbytery of Tropical Florida know it.

Many times I’ve attended a Presbytery meeting and during the course of the day, three or four times people will come up to me and ask, “Maynard, did you ride your motorcycle to Presbytery.”

I always tell them “no, I drove my car.”

I was in a committee meeting at the Presbytery office just last week and someone asked, “Maynard, do you wear a motorcycle helmet?”

I told them I never did, because it wouldn’t do any good anyway. Everyone smiled.

A few weeks ago, my wife and I went to Key West to attend the annual overnight meeting of the Presbytery. My wife, Ginny, rarely attends a meeting of the Presbytery, and she noticed people kept talking to me about motorcycles. After all, if there is one thing ministers know about Maynard Pittendreigh, it’s that I love motorcycles.

After dinner on the first night of the meeting, someone came up to me and my wife and said, “Maynard, I was down on Duvall Street and I found the perfect T-Shirt for you.”

Well, if you’ve seen the T-Shirts on Duvall Street, you will understand why I was hesitant to ask about what the T-Shirt said. But I had to ask. “Tell me about this T-Shirt.”

The minister told me that on one side the T-Shirt had a big picture of a motorcycle. On the back, it had these words – “If you can read this, my wife has fallen off.”

I told my friend that the next time I rode my motorcycle, I would have to wear that shirt.

Now, I’m going to tell you something that none of the ministers in our Presbytery know about.

I don’t like motorcycles.

I don’t own a motorcycle.

I don’t ride a motorcycle to Presbytery meetings because the last time I rode a motorcycle was in 1969.

That was, in fact, the only time I have ever ridden a motorcycle.

I need a chair to sit in, a cup holder for my drink, a steering wheel, a seat belt and an airbag.

I’m just not a motorcycle sort of guy.

But somehow, the rumor got started at Presbytery that I love my motorcycle. Three or four years ago, I gave up trying to set people straight.

Now, there is a rumor about the Presbyterian Church.

I don’t know how it got started.

And unfortunately, we have given up trying to set people straight.

The rumor is – and I bet you’ve heard this – “Presbyterians are the frozen chosen.”

We are dull.

We sing dull songs.

We go to dull meetings.

We have dull classes.

We never smile, except by accident.

We never laugh, at least not in worship.

We have dull sermons – OK, maybe the part about sermons is true. At least sometimes.

But friends, Presbyterians are not the frozen chosen.

It bothers me whenever anyone says that.

To call us the frozen chosen is to suggest that Presbyterians are not children of an exciting, loving God.

It suggests that the last place you would ever want to be is in a Presbyterian Church.

This rumor that we are the frozen chosen has always bothered me. In fact, not long ago I wrote a book with the title, “The Presbyterian Church Welcomes You.” I started the second chapter by saying, “Woe to anyone who dares to say in my presence that Presbyterians are the frozen chosen. Our church is alive with the power and the presence of the Holy Spirit. We are a people who love the Lord Jesus Christ. We demonstrate a love and concern for our neighbors. We are an incredibly active group of Christians.”