Return of The Stolen Bike
Trigger Warning: Do not read this if God doing cool stuff offends you. ;-)
“It’s gone! My bike is gone!” I said, as I walked past the back of my car where, just 2 hours earlier, my bike had been locked to the rack that rested on the trunk. The rack was gone as well. I figured my sanity soon would be, too, if I wasn’t able to ride.
When anxiety or depression try to attack, I ride. It’s my drug. It’s my focus time. It’s my clear-my-head time. It’s when I come up with the best ideas or solutions to problems. It’s God time. It calms everything that no medication or mind-altering substance ever could.
Now this was gone.
I had just gotten to Columbus, Mississippi where I had planned on spending Father’s Day Weekend with my mom and step-dad. Feeling tired when they suggested going out to dinner, I didn’t think to bring my bike inside the assisted living facility before we headed out.
I brought that bike inside as much as I possibly could. I was probably pretty annoying with that request. Like the time the bike took up most of my friend’s kitchen in New Jersey. (Maybe not most.)
I have been so careful to make sure this one treasure was as secure as possible during these travels, but this time…this one time I failed. One more thing I held dear had just been stripped away from me and it was too much.
It was a nice bike…one I would not be able to replace.
As Christina, the facility security guard, took the report, I tried to hold it together. I don’t think I cried, but I sure came close. As I felt the tears start to surface, I began to pray, out loud, thanking God that my bike had been stolen; that He would bring something good out of it because that’s what He promises and I was holding Him to that promise.
I don’t think Christina (pictured below) knew quite what to do with this weirdo bike chick thanking God for a stolen bike.
Christina called to get camera footage pulled then called the police, and then we waited…and I prayed out loud. Strangely enough, I didn’t pray for my bike to be returned. I started off by forgiving whoever took the bike and praying God would bless them…then prayed for God to “bless them with everything they deserve.”
It’s a great prayer for your enemies or people who have hurt you. You’re praying for blessings and maybe hoping God gives them what YOU think they deserve. It still leaves the vengeance up to Him and, for me it makes me feel a little better…not bitter.
My step-dad was pretty angry about it and wanted to find the people who had done it. I won’t say what he wanted to do to them, but it’s probably not what Jesus would do. ;-)
I reminded my parents that we do not wrestle with flesh and blood and this is just another attack from Satan, which means I’m doing something right if he keeps attacking me.
I reminded Satan, out loud again, that he can “keep attacking me and I will keep praising God for the attacks and I will keep giving God glory through the attacks, and with every attack I will just get louder and louder…so keep it up! Do what you need to do!”
Christina missed out on that part and soon returned to tell us that, due to the severe downpour that had happened while we were at dinner, the camera lenses were covered in water and nothing could be seen of the theft.
Christina was so sweet and kept apologizing for something she didn’t do. I finally told her to watch and see what would happen. That anytime I was attacked this hard, it was because something really amazing was just around the corner…and to be stripped of my hair and my bike within about a week of each other meant something super fantastic was about to happen.
I told her to check in with my parents in the next week or two to see what amazingness had transpired. My mom just agreed, “Yep, it’s true.”
About that time, one of the residents, Judy, came to let us know that the police officer had arrived. However, as he entered the facility another one of the residents (Desi, pictured below) let him in and asked why he was there. He told Desi he was there regarding a stolen, black bike.
Desi told him she had just seen one discarded on the front lawn of a nearby church. So, he went to the church, first, to check it out.
When Officer Winford returned, he asked to see a picture of my bike. I showed him and he said, “Yep, that’s the one.”
Me: “What? Seriously? That never happens! Is it in one piece?”
Officer Winford: “Yeah, I think so.”
Me: “Let’s go get it! Can I ride with you?”
Officer Winford: “Ummmmmmm.”
Officer Winford (pictured below) kindly let me ride in the back of his patrol car and we drove for about a minute to get to the nearby Methodist Church, where my bike and rack had been left, not too far in front of a Cross.
Seriously.
A Cross.
Why there? What happened that the bike was dropped, basically at the foot of the Cross.
My imagination sometimes takes me wild places and, in this instance, I have to wonder if the bike thief had some “Road to Damascus” type encounter where, in front of that Cross, Jesus, or angels, or some other bizarre heavenly creature like the ones described in Ezekiel, jumped out in front of him; freaked him out; and commanded him to drop the bike.
Did he run? Did he walk away? Was he blinded? Does he have some crazy story to tell now? Was he a she? Who knows?
Anyway, the bike was still in good shape and I rode it back to the facility, not realizing the back tire was now flat.
Of course, that had to be fixed and the closest repair shop was an hour away in Tuscaloosa. Bike tech, Austin, did his best to fix the tubeless tire, but was unable to get the bead to seal.
Ultimately, that back tire had to be switched back to having a tube and Austin was able to get my beautiful bike back in good riding condition…
For no charge!
I don’t know why, but the tube, the labor, and dealing with all the frustration was all free. Yay!
To get that bike back, and so quickly, is an absolute miracle! That Desi, who had seen the abandoned bike, was the one who let Officer Winford in the facility, is way more than just a coincidence. Stolen bikes rarely come home. They are, quite often, disassembled and sold for parts and this one has good parts.
That Sunday, I was talking to Judy, one of the residents, who owns a super cute pup, named Gus. (Apparently, Gus kind of likes me.)
Judy really wanted to know who stole my bike and suggested I stop by the Wesley United Methodist Church, where my bike was found, to see if they might have video footage. “Great idea!” I thought.
I wandered over to the church and that is when I realized my bike had been dropped off at a Cross. The “X” in the picture below marks where my bike was found. I had not noticed it in the darkness of night.
As I walked toward the church entrance, I noticed a camera pointed in the direction of where my bike had been abandoned. My hope soared that we might be able to get a glimpse of who took it and maybe an idea of what happened to cause the person who stole my bike to relinquish what had been stolen.
Church had let out and the last few people were filtering out of the building, as I walked up. An obvious look of confusion surfaced on the faces of the group I walked up to. “Ummm…you’re a bit late and what is that you’re wearing?” is my guess of what they were thinking. (Probably not entirely accurate.)
I asked if they knew if any staff was around and they directed me to go inside where I immediately met Pastor Sarah Windham (pictured below.) She greeted me with a warm hug and took the time to listen to my stolen/found bike story. We had a wonderful conversation that eventually touched on some of the deliverance ministries I have gotten to been involved in.
Pastor Sarah let me know that she was well-versed in spiritual warfare and deliverance, especially since she had grown up in satanism and had been set free from it.
“What? A Methodist minister who understands spiritual warfare and deliverance?” I thought. “Amazing!”
The Church is changing and waking up. I believe we will see more of that and I can’t wait to hear more of Pastor Sarah’s story.
It was Father’s Day, and brunch was waiting for her, so I didn’t want to take up a ton of her time. Maybe I can pass her story on later, if I do get to hear more.
Pastor Sarah later let me know the camera was not angled where it could pick up the abandonment of the stolen bike. I guess I wasn’t meant to know that part of the story. At least, not yet.
God tells we are supposed to thank Him for our trials and struggles. We’re supposed to count them as joy. (James 1: 2-4) This is counter-intuitive and difficult to do when you want to be angry at a situation, but He PROMISES to “work all things for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purposes.” (Romans 8:28)
I love Him. I am called according to His purposes and I stand on this promise! And you know what? He keeps it!
I might not always get back the thing that was stolen from me (in some cases I don’t want it back,) but I can count on getting something better, in return.
I have found that the sooner I thank Him for the Crap, the sooner He uses it for good. It’s my job to open the door for blessings through thankfulness and praise and He is faithful to deliver. :-)
He is always faithful!
Remember: Thank God for the Crap!
(more pics from Columbus, MS below)