The Legend of FrankenBike

OK. It's not a legend. It's just a story about a bicycle.

My bicycle was born in the 70s. On the frame, it has a manufacturer's logo followed by prestigious awards won by that brand in the early part of that far off decade. There is no record of when it died. It faded away, became unimportant, and was discarded. Perhaps it sat in a garage corner, or was hung, dusty, from the rafters until the day it ended up at the curb, the victim of a cleaning day.

Doctor Bob gathers dead parts and pieces, and saves them. He takes them to his laboratory, or basement, and assembles them. Mismatched, but not misaligned; a frame, wheels, handlebars, derailleur, cables, seat, and peddles again become a living thing. Or at least, they become a functioning bicycle. It was christened “FrankenBike” and he gave FrankenBike to me, and it became attached to me. Quite literally, it's seat (or saddle) became painfully attached to my seat as we trained for 4 months for a week long tour, and then rode 350 plus miles in those few days.

I can say without reservation that FrankenBike was the oldest, ugliest bike on the tour. It made strange noises. The chain came off half a dozen times. But it finished. A few good bikes broke down. I guess an ugly, slow finisher is better than a beautiful-broken.

Bob is a Jesus follower, both in his everyday life and in his avocation of restoring bicycles and passing them on to “would be” cyclists like myself. You see, Jesus took discarded dead men, parts and pieces, and assembled them into the Church. And then He gave the Church to the world. And His Church is not described as beautiful, only without spot or blemish—a description of His washing not our attractiveness.

Bob is always looking. He is not ashamed to stop when he sees a frame or wheel at the curb, and load them in his car. He doesn't care. Jesus was not ashamed of the human debris left on His culture's curb. He lovingly gathered them. He restored them. He assembled them. He gave them purpose. In fact, being discarded or dysfunctional almost seems to be a prerequisite.... “Blessed are the poor for theirs is the Kingdom of God.” “Come to Me all who weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

I was picked up from the curb and carried on Jesus' scarred back. I was made to be joined with others also carried to the place of restoration. We were given life and purpose. But we are a FrankenChurch; assembled parts gathered from the dead. We are made to be like Jesus: human trash-pickers seeking and saving those abandoned on curb of life.

FrankenBike is only an old broken down bicycle ridden by an old, broken down man without enough money to buy a good one. If there is a legend, it's of the kindness of Bob. And he is part of a larger legend—The Legend of FrankenChurch: Going out at night in Rome in the days of the empire, it gathered babies left to die, and raised the children as their own. It made hidden rooms to save Jews from the Holocaust. It touched the Untouchables through Mother Theresa's hands. It shoveled the snow from the widow's walk. It coached the inner city team and cried for the fatherless.

Jesus' Church turns the world upside down. Not because its beautiful, organized, successful, or prosperous; but because it gives comfort instead of seeking comfort. It gives to others what Jesus has given to them: Good News for the lost and unlovely, for the weak and weary.