I’m still learning how to pray, but some of my best prayers were those I prayed from inside a helmet. My first prayers were copies of other people’s prayers. Many teach children to repeat the words of others like training wheels on their spiritual bicycles until they get the hang of it. That’s the way it was for me.

But my prayers got more serious when I started riding motorcycles as a boy.

When I’d get in a spot of self-inflicted trouble on the trail, I used to pray. It must’ve worked. I’m still here, but as my body grew and my appetite for speed and adrenaline increased, so did my need for prayer.

About that time, I discovered the comfort, safety, and convenience of full-face helmets with visors. My helmet became my personal war room for communicating with my God. We talked for hours and hours as I rode back and forth across North America.

But then I was given a new helmet. They called it a steel pot. It was made of steel, painted with drab olive green paint and worked best when used with a helmet liner and adjustable band. It wasn’t bullet-proof, waterproof, and its open-face design didn’t provide the comfort or the convenience of my full-face motorcycle helmets. But, I didn’t get to choose the color or the design. It was standard issue.

I didn’t get to choose my fights either. Soldiers fight. Others decide who, when, and why they fight. Some of my best prayers originated within my steel pot (with and without the helmet liner) as I prayed to survive, fight with honor, defend my comrades, and live one more day.

It must’ve worked. I’m still here, but as my body grows older and my appetite for speed and adrenaline decrease, my need for prayer continues to increase. Thank God I no longer wear a steel pot on my head. Does any military still use those old helmets?

Today I put on my full-face helmet, lowered the visor, lowered the sun shade, started my motorcycle, and rode down the road one more time.

Wise riders always check their equipment, wear the right protective gear, and prepare as if their life depended on it, because it might. Every ride could be the last.

If you saw an overweight elderly man on a small delivery-style motorcycle wobbling down the Panamerican Highway this morning, thanks for not running over me. I was doing the best I could, and it felt great. I was praying all the way.

Even better than the wind, the sound, the sights, and the smells, I prayed like my life depended on it from inside my helmet one more time. It must’ve worked; I’m still here.

This old soldier served on land, at sea, and in the air. I prayed. It must’ve worked. And since it worked so well for so long, I pray more and more. My warfare now goes beyond sea, air, and land into a spiritual dimension I could’ve never imagined as a young man. I was too strong, too independent, and too much like myself.

My battles are tougher than they were. They never get easier, but we get better. Now I’m more like The One I follow, completely dependent on Him, and I’m too crippled and weak to deceive myself or anyone else. Now, finally, after all these years of helmet prayers, I’m finally in shape for Him to use me for the really big fights using His weapons. My enemy is not who I thought he was.

My Lord’s soldiers work, serve, sweat, bleed, sacrifice, and fight. He IS The One who decides who, what, where, when, why, and how I fight.

No complaints. I recommend serving in the Lord’s army. The pay is out of this world, the care is unmatched, retirement is the best, and the life insurance is prepaid. The helmets are the best!