Passing me on the road was a big guy on his Harley–hair waving in the wind and no coat (it was a bit chilly)–and seated behind him was a small kid hanging on for dear life. The child was wearing their dad’s white helmet, the black visor pulled down, and their dad’s oversized blue coat. The kid looked like the dad’s backpack. The child’s head didn’t move, it was pressed hard into the dad’s back looking east. Two small hands gripped the biker’s love handles and weren’t letting go.

I followed them for about a quarter mile before they turned off on another route. I was driving home after an early morning breakfast with a guy from church. before our meeting ended, he asked me what he could be praying for as I am being prepared to go back to Italy. the first thing that came to mind was finances, “I want to go back to the field fully funded. I need God to put me in touch with people who can make that happen.” the second thing that came to me was my friends in Italy, “I want to be more intentional with them. I want a rich soil to be cultivated so that our relationship can progress when I return.” I thought that was a more spiritual answer than the first.

But driving back home, looking at that kid hang on tightly to his biker dad; the thought occurred to me, “When are you going to let go of the things that you don’t control and hang on to Me?” I couldn’t see the child’s eyes, but I am sure they were tightly shut, trying not to anxiously look ahead to where they were headed or behind. I couldn’t see the kid’s eyes, but I saw two small hands holding on for the ride of their life. sometimes, I think faith looks a lot more like that, eyes tightly shut, with a white-knuckled grip on the love handles of the Father.

May we be sent out in faith with the love of Christ. Not holding on to our reputations or abilities, but on to that deficit which reminds us whose we are and who we are meant to become.