Wheels Keep Turning with God

When you’re in the saddle, you become attuned to both the spin of revolution and the place where rubber meets the road. Spending time on a bicycle reminds you that life is all about cycles. The seasons turn. Empires rise and fall. Children become parents, parents become grandparents, and one day we return to the earth from which we came. Joy gives way to sorrow, and sorrow eventually gives way to joy again. We live by rhythms more than by straight lines.

Buddhism begins with the observation that human life, as we ordinarily experience it, is marked by an underlying dissatisfaction. We suffer because everything we cling to—our possessions, relationships, health, achievements, even our own lives—is impermanent. This condition is called dukkha, the First Noble Truth. We suffer not simply because painful things happen, but because we keep expecting what cannot last to last forever.

Cyclists, of course, have their own version of the First Noble Truth: sooner or later, you’re going to suffer. Every ride eventually climbs a hill. Every century ride has a point where your legs begin negotiating with your mind. The wind shifts against you. The rain starts falling. Your back aches. Your lungs burn. If you ride long enough, suffering isn’t the exception; it’s simply part of the journey.

Christianity recognizes this reality, but it tells a different story about suffering. Scripture knows the cycles of human existence well. “For everything there is a season,” writes Ecclesiastes. We are born, we labor, we rejoice, we grieve, and we die. Yet Christianity insists that these cycles are not all there is. Suffering is not merely something to be endured or escaped. In Christ, suffering can become redemptive. It can be transformed into the very place where grace, compassion, perseverance, and resurrection take root. In Christ, history is not merely a wheel turning endlessly upon itself but a journey with a destination. The resurrection interrupts the cycle. God does not simply teach us to accept impermanence; God promises to redeem it.

Summer is the season when we wish time would stand still—or at least slow down enough for us to savor it. Long evenings, family vacations, afternoons on the lake, and quiet rides down country roads all seem to whisper that perhaps this moment could last forever. But, of course, it doesn’t. The world keeps turning. The sun begins setting a little earlier each evening. Gardens ripen toward harvest. The first school supplies quietly appear on store shelves. College students begin wondering where they’ll live in a few weeks. Parents start thinking about bus schedules and soccer practices. Even while we are enjoying summer, summer is preparing us for autumn.

Perhaps that is not something to resist but to embrace. Every season has its work. Summer’s work is not merely recreation; it is restoration. It is the season when we gather strength, deepen relationships, and remember what matters before the demands of fall return. The wheel keeps turning, but by God’s grace we are not simply going in circles. We are being formed. We are becoming the people God is calling us to be.

So whether you are still actively riding a bicycle or simply remembering the freedom of rides long ago, the old saying still rings true: life is like riding a bicycle. It has its climbs and descents, its headwinds and tailwinds, its moments of exhilaration and exhaustion. The wheels keep turning. The road keeps unfolding. And faith reminds us that we never ride it alone. Christ meets us on every mile, redeeming even our suffering and guiding us toward the destination he has prepared. So enjoy these remaining days of summer. Let them restore your body, renew your spirit, and prepare you for whatever road lies ahead. And keep pedaling.