Reed Mueller

I can’t remember for sure, but I think I must have been around six or so when I got my first real bicycle. Of course I’d had a hand-me-down, training-wheeled bike before I got this one (I was the youngest child in my family after all) but this was different. It came shiny, new and never before ridden from the store and it was all mine! I was so excited and proud to have it and I remember thinking how cool it was and how cool I would be riding it. It had high handle bars and a banana seat and I was sure I’d look like those guys I’d seen riding Harleys, without the scruffy beard that is.

While I was truly grateful for my parent’s gift, I quickly discovered that I had a problem: I didn’t know how to ride it. It had no training wheels, was much bigger than the little bike I’d been riding, and I was afraid. Enter my dad who, on a cool and cloudy Oregon morning, walked me and my new bike out to the dead end road on which we lived.

“Go ahead, get on.” he said.

“But I’m a little scared, dad.” I replied.

“It’s okay, Reed, I’ll be here holding on until you get your balance.”

With that promise from my dad to give me courage, I went for it. I struggled onto that banana seat, struggled to find the peddles, and then struggled to get that bike moving forward. And I was successful! It felt great knowing that I was moving forward and even better knowing that dad was keeping that bike from tipping over.

He was faithful to his word to me that day. I don’t know how long he ran along beside me, except to say that he was there holding on as long as I needed him too. And then, when I was ready, he let go and ran along beside me as I balanced on my own, gaining confidence with every revolution of the peddles. My dad was there that morning. He was there holding on when I couldn’t balance on my own and he was there right beside as I continued to ride under my own power.

In thinking back on that day, I remember feeling grateful for my new bike; that thing I’d just received was my focus as a little kid. Now, some 34 years later, I’m still grateful, but for something else. That new bike is now old and abandoned long ago to time and the elements. So I’m not grateful for that it (I’d look pretty silly riding it now). Rather, I’m grateful that my dad was there that morning. I’m grateful that he sustained my balance. I’m grateful that he ran beside me when I was ready. That morning represents one of the best memories I have from childhood!

17Even though the fig trees have no blossoms, and there are no grapes on the vines; even though the olive crop fails, and the fields lie empty and barren; even though the flocks die in the fields, and the cattle barns are empty, 18yet I will rejoice in the Lord! I will be joyful in the God of my salvation! 19The Sovereign Lord is my strength! He makes me as surefooted as a deer, able to tread upon the heights. (For the choir director: This prayer is to be accompanied by stringed instruments.) Habakkuk 3:17-19 (NLT)

Sometimes in life we become grateful for, and find security in, the wrong things – the stuff we have, the paychecks we receive, that status we’ve attained. Don’t get me wrong, they are gifts for sure, but to be grateful in only the gifts, rather than the one who gives them is missing the point and missing the true joy.

Just like time with my dad was the true and lasting gift of that morning so long ago, so our God, who helps us balance every day if we ask him and who runs beside us our whole lives, is our true gift every day. All the stuff we think we can rely on will one day either let us down or be abandoned by us along the way. But in the end, though everything else will go away, He will still be there with us!

Be glad today not because you have stuff, no matter how shiny it is, but because your God, the gift beyond all circumstances, has you!