Setting: A sun-drenched petrol station along a winding road. The air smells of petrol and adventure. Jesus, clad in his denim cut-off stands by his motorcycle, filling up the tank. Next to him, a grizzled biker named Hank, tattoos peeking from under his leather cut, wipes grease off his hands.
Jesus: (smiling) “Good day, brother. Fine weather for a ride, wouldn’t you say?”
Hank: (squinting at Jesus) “Ain’t every day you see a guy like you at a petrol pump. Are you some kinda preacher?”
Jesus: (nodding) “You could say that. But today, I’m just a traveller seeking conversation. Names matter less than the stories we share, don’t you think?”
Hank: (chuckles) “Fair enough. I’m Hank. Been ridin’ these roads longer than I care to admit. What brings you out here?”
Jesus: (glancing at the patches on Hank’s cut-off) “Redemption1 perhaps. And a love for wind in my hair. You?”
Hank: (wiping his hands on an oily rag) “Life, mostly. I lost my wife a few years back. Riding helps me forget the ache. Do you believe in anything, Preacher?”
Jesus: (leaning against his bike) “I believe in tarmac prayers – the ones whispered between the rumble of engines. And kindness, Hank. Always kindness.”
Hank: (raising an eyebrow) “Kindness? In this world? Have you been watching the news lately?”
Jesus: (gesturing to the petrol pump) “See that nozzle? It’s like grace. We all need a fill-up now and then. Sometimes, it’s not about the destination; it’s about the journey. Have you ever helped a stranded rider? Shared your tools or a spare inner-tube?”
Hank: (gruffly) “Yeah, I’ve done my share. But kindness2 doesn’t pay the bills.”
Jesus: (smiling) “Maybe not in sterling, but it pays in something deeper. Like when you fix a stranger’s bike, and their eyes light up. Or when you listen to their story – a broken marriage, a lost dream. That’s soul currency, Hank.”
Hank: (looking around) “You reckon God is watching over us?”
Jesus: (pointing to the sky) “Up there, and right here. In the hum of engines, the laughter shared over burnt coffee. God’s in the wind that tousles our hair, reminding us we’re alive.”
Hank: (softening) “You’re a strange one, Preacher. But I like your style. What’s your ride?”
Jesus: (patting his motorcycle) “A custom bobber. Built it myself. She’s called “Grace.” You?”
Hank: (pointing to his weathered Harley) “Old faithful. Named her after my wife Lola. She loved the road too.”
Jesus: (reflective) “Love’s a powerful thing. It fuels us, even when the tank’s empty. Keep riding, Hank. And remember, every mile is a chance to mend what’s broken.”
Hank: (nodding) “Maybe I’ll see you down the road, Preacher. Safe travels.”
And so, at that dusty petrol station, two souls – divine and weathered – shared stories. The pumps hummed, and the sun dipped low. Hank swung his leg over Lola, and Jesus kicked-started Grace to life. As they rode separate paths, they carried each other’s words, a pocketful of kindness to places only the wind knew.
Peace be with you – Muz.
- In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace (Ephesians 1:7 NKJV) ↩︎
- Cause me to hear Your loving kindness in the morning, For in You do I trust; Cause me to know the way in which I should walk, For I lift up my soul to You; Deliver me, O LORD, from my enemies, In You I take shelter; Teach me to do Your will, For You are my God; Your Spirit is good. Lead me in the land of uprightness (Psalm 143:8-10 NKJV) ↩︎
