Their handlebars are their pulpits. Their vestments, black leather. They are Bikers for Christ, and they want to save the godless motorist–not to mention all those wayward Hells Angels types out there. Humming gospel tunes, “motorcycle ministers” are cruising America’s highways, ever eager to save souls and faulty transmissions. Most prevalent in the Bible belt, these bikers wear leathers emblazoned with names like the Full Gospel Motorcycle Association International and the Righteous Riders. The Christian Motorcyclists Association of Hatfield, Ark., has 38,000 members scattered as far away as Canada and New Zealand. Last weekend members gathered in Utah for CMA’s annual religious rally, busily converting riders destined to Live to Ride, Ride to Preach. “The bike,” says Texas Bible-biker Barbara Roberson, “is an inroad to talk about Jesus.”
As the Scriptures teach, the Lord speaks in many tongues, apparently including the roar of a Harley. The spiritual awakening began 12 years ago, when an epiphany struck a drug-ingesting, shotgun-toting biker named Ben Priest. After attending a service in a Houston church, he says, “Jesus fixed my life.” He felt the call to minister to outlaw bikers, founded the Tribe of Judah and took to the road in search of disciples. “There’s a serious communication gap between the biker world and the church,” says the aptly named Priest, who has a gift for understatement. “Bikers freak people out in church.”
Not anymore, thanks to these biker evangelists. Now there’s a growing number of roadside prophets like Bill Mays, 69, who has a Full Gospel trailer attached to his bike. Inside there are jumper cables, cookies for the kids and religious tracts for the parents. Mays happens by on his Honda hajj. The way CMA member Valerie Rose sees it, all this proselytizing was preordained: “The Scriptures tell us to go to the highways and byways and bring them in.”
The Scriptures also say that everyone is worth saving–even cursing, spitting, brutish souls who carry big guns and spraypaint naked women on their gas tanks. As Rose sees it, her job is to assure bikers that “Jesus loves you the way you are.” A former drug-dealing apostate named Tiny wistfully recalls how he was converted at a Tribe of Judah Christmas dinner, where several bikers were standing near a sign that read HARLEY PARKING ONLY. ALL OTHERS WILL BE CRUSHED. When Tiny saw that all these true believers looked just like he did, he was saved. Tiny quit drugs and hit the open road, images of Heaven jangling in his head. Talk about the ultimate ride.
