As a young man, I went camping in Texas one night in an effort to escape my fears of a failed second marriage that was out of my control.

I was so tired that before I could pitch my tent I fell asleep in the front seat of my car. The next morning I was awakened by the yell of an out of control screaming giant standing on my picnic table! He was swinging a machete!

Surrounding my car were Harley Davidsons, so I couldn't just scramble away. The place was surrounded by an outlaw Motorcycle Club. Looking around slowly from my front seat bed I glared with a sudden youthful fear.

The remaining group of forty or more bikers seemed more concerned with chugging the next beer than with me.'That's a good sign, I thought, now, if I can just squeeze out of here before they notice me.' Then it occured, 'If I bump just one Harley I'm dead!

"You're going to have to face them, along with all your other fears", said the Lord in a still small voice.

"Oh Lord. I came out here to get away, and instead there's a giant crazy biker on my picnic table!"

"Yes, and that's the one you need to speak with first. He's one of mine!" Jesus replied.

"That guy? One of yours?" I questioned in great doubt.

"You're going to have to trust me. Now make your approach to the big guy without fear. In fact, you need to shout at him! That's the language he understands and respects!" replied the Lord.

Meanwhile, the big biker had turned behind a tree and unnoticed by me was in the process of relieving himself. So in nervousness to hurry and obey the Lord, I shouted, "Hey you with the blade! We need to talk!" The big biker turned and gave me a funny stare.

"Give me a minute!" he said, fumbling with his zipper. The zipper seemed to be stuck! 'Oh great! I had to shout at him while he's taking a leak! Now he's really going to be pissed!' I thought.

I had no idea what to expect! "God am I going to have to shake his hand?"

"You better! And look him straight in the eye!" The Lord replied.

With his hand still on the zipper the biker approached. "What can I do for you?" he questioned, wiping his hand on his jeans before stretching it out to me. I gave it a strong shake and explained my need to vacate.

I never looked down.

He stared me over with a smile and replied, "You're a called preacher of the Lord aren't you?" At his response I was totally stunned. That got my attention because my attar only consisted of Levi shorts and sandals. I needed a shave and probably looked hung over from the broken sleep the night before.

We spoke for about an hour while we confided in spiritual affairs. I learned he was recently baptised and filled with the Holy Spirit. He was having some problems adjusting to the Christian way. He asked for prayer and we prayed together while the rest of the group hooped it up in the background.

We were kindred brothers of the faith with mutual respect.

Just afterwards, a tall biker approached and stood right in my face. Thinking I was a spy from another rival biker club, he verbally threatned my life!

I stood without backing up and almost got a neck strain trying to keep eye contact.

I remembered what the Lord had said about being loud and resounded back in a yell that only seemed to echo back at me from the hollow of his belly button. But the loud words surprised him and he took a step back, wavering in drunkeness. He gave me a questionable stare until my new found Christian brother told him to leave me alone. He also told him to get his scooter moved.

It was the tall one's Harley that was blocking my path and he quickly moved it.

On the way home I just couldn't get that questionable stare of the tall biker out of mind. For a moment he actually seemed worried. Scared of the unknown, as I had been.

Since, I wasn't as worried about the things that seemed out of my control. If God could save one of the biggest and baddest bikers in one of the largest outlaw motorcycle clubs, and then use him as an instrument for my safety. He certainly IS Lord over any problem!

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