Nearly 60 motorcycles waited outside the First Baptist Church, their riders either mounted or standing nearby. Mike Bright, in his blue jeans and leathers, came forward and asked everyone to join him in prayer.
It was time.
“If we should ride through the night to morning’s light, may we do so in safety,” Bright said as a brisk wind rustled clothing and swayed tree limbs on Sunday afternoon. “May your tires tread on pavement. May your fairing and windshield cut the breeze. ... May you ride forever safely in sunshine and in rain ....”
The occasion was a “bike blessing,” the first of its kind for Emporia. The ritual is a common one for the Christian Motorcyclists Association, not to lift up the machine, but to guard the rider. Bright, a CMA member from Chanute, compared it to saying grace and “blessing the food.”
“The motorcycle is not being blessed so we can somehow make it physically superior or idolized in any way,” Bright said. “The motorcycle is just a machine. It’s a machine we love — but we love Jesus Christ more.”
That common love bound rider and non-rider together on the First Baptist Church’s first-ever “Biker Sunday.” The morning services were a kaleidoscope, with bikers in their bandannas and leather jackets intermingled with the more clean-cut regulars. Even the church’s interim pastor, the Rev. Vic Powell, showed up in denim and leather despite having no experience on a bike.
“I wore it to fit in with you all, but what I know about motorcycles is that they usually run on two or three wheels,” Powell said, getting a laugh from the congregation.
Powell had made some connections with a CMA group in Fort Scott while working at another church. So when an Emporia chapter, the Heartland Samaritan Riders, needed a jump start to get going, Powell and his congregation agreed to lend a hand.
As many as 400 were expected to come. The final number was far fewer, mostly because of the high winds that hit the area throughout Sunday. Several of the bikers elected to arrive by car or not at all.
“I came to meet the other guys at the Burger King and I was the only one on my bike,” said Greg Eyer of Topeka, with a sigh. “They said ‘Well, they’re talking 50 mph winds and it sounds pretty bad.’ So I said, ‘OK, let’s all take our cars.’”
Eyer only joined the CMA about five months ago. Like many members, he had a pretty rough background before becoming a Christian and eventually joining the group.
“I used to hang around with a bad crowd,” he said. “One of my uncles was a leader of the Hell’s Angels, so I got into that crowd. ... I ran with them for about seven years and I was always in trouble with the law.”
His faith woke up about two years ago after a series of heart attacks nearly killed him.
“I had so many heart attacks that I died seven times in three days,” Eyer said. When he woke up, he didn’t remember what had happened. But his wife repeated some of the things he’d said while out of it.
“She said it kind of scared her,” he remembered. “She said I told her I was in a dark, dark space with nobody around me. That kind of opened my mind to changing my evil ways.”
Dave Singmaster of Fort Scott shared a similar account with the congregation. He’d spent 15 years riding with a bad crowd and staying away from home as much as possible, divorcing his first wife in the process. But his second wife, a devoted Christian, refused to give up on him.
“I was an unhappy person,” he said. “I needed a change in my life and I decided to give myself to Jesus Christ. ... It was the best thing I ever did in my life.”
The CMA was founded in the 1970s as a way of bringing the Gospel to the biker crowd. These days, bikers and non-bikers alike are part of the organization, which sees the motorcycle as a tool for ministry “to change the world, one heart at a time.” Bright estimated that the group has about 125,000 members of which about 30,000 are actively involved.
The Heartland Samaritans have been working toward their charter for about three years. Starting an official Christian Motorcyclists chapter requires at least 10 members meeting regularly for six months. The group must be a praying chapter, active in fellowship and discipleship, and involved in evangelism.
After Sunday’s show of support, Bright had little doubt that the Emporia group would have its charter by this time next year.
“It’s obvious to me that this was God’s timing,” he said.