After class, I found myself driving to a McDonald’s on Interstate 87 to meet Tony, a former member of the outlaw biker club. He told me a story that changed my life. He said that he met God when Tony was in a coma and that there was a time when he had to choose between heaven and hell in the afterlife. In his vision, God asked him: “Do you want heaven and me, or do you want hell?” Tony chose God.
I first met Tony at Broken Chains Biker Church, a church dedicated to worship aimed at saving bikers from a life of sin. Tony requested that his last name be withheld.
His testimony is similar to many who walk the path of broken chains, or salvation. Most of the Burlington-based church’s attendees have walked the path between hell and the paradise of souls, between the sacred and the profane.
The church is an 11-minute drive from Elon University’s campus. The service takes place in an unassuming building in downtown Burlington. This is a place where the sacred and the secular mix every Sunday.
At first it seems not. The interior has a calm suburban feel and Harley-Davidson decor. On the wall is written: “We stand for the flag, we kneel for the cross.” Each member has a tattoo on their arm. The audience converses with the preacher. They crack jokes with personal religious commentary in their deep Alamance County voices. It’s like a direct conversation with God. For these people, God is the voice in their head.
Not everyone rode motorcycles. This service was open to all. This church is both a religious organization and an equestrian club.
I decided to write a column about this biker church to explore the distant religious voices I’ve always heard. I’ve spent most of my life distancing myself from it, but could I completely ignore that voice in my head? As I reported, I kept the biker’s Bible they gave me in my car. Now is the time for questions.
Pastor Steve Hinton founded the church in 2015. This church grew out of the Biker Bible Study Group he once hosted. In his youth, he lived fast as a biker. He smoked, fought, slashed, and sometimes kept a loaded shotgun on his person. Currently, he lives his life as a family man. When I spoke to him at his home, he kept checking on the casserole he had put in the oven for his wife.
“If I hadn’t been saved, if I had continued living my life, I would have died or gone to prison,” Hinton said.
Hinton found God in 1979 after leaving Elon’s bar with his best friend’s girlfriend. He started drinking that night and couldn’t stop. Hinton said at the time that his intentions were “less than pure.” He thought about his death, but he understood that if he suddenly died, he would go to hell. He said he felt like his heart was broken.
Hinton was a habitual brawler and was kicked out of a bar, but he sold his motorcycle to fund his studies in the ministry. Since then, Hinton said, his anger has gone and he has become his true self.
“This transformation has truly been a lifetime event,” Hinton said.
Hinton said Alamance County has a sizable biker population. Part of Hinton’s job is to meet bikers where they are. He goes to the roughest biker bars to spread God’s work. And like Jesus preaching to lepers and beggars chased outside the city walls, Hinton preaches to bikers.
“I would sit at the bar with them and have a beer and I would have a bottle of water or a Diet Coke,” Hinton said. “We talk about faith.”
Hinton said he found freedom in his relationship with God. He didn’t like the word religion. To explain Christianity. He centers on an individualistic idea of God.
“Jesus calls us to freedom. Don’t let freedom be an excuse for sinfulness,” he said.
Mr Hinton said part of what turns people into bikers is a lack of trust in the establishment. I saw that pattern in his faith.
For Hinton, biker ministry pastors cannot be judgmental. He sees Broken Chains as a haven for people who aren’t as welcome in other churches. Mr Hinton said the biker could sometimes “revert back to his old lifestyle”.
In his work, he had to provide spiritual guidance to traffic accident victims and addicts.
“The Biker Ministry is very demanding,” Hinton said.
Mr. Hinton recently retired and the church is looking for a new pastor. Both services I attended had potential candidates. Both preached differently than Hinton. One wore a suit and sang a song with his wife, including choreographed hand movements. Another joked about Jesus avoiding hanging out with Democrats, and the conversation turned to the Israel-Hamas war.
I felt a wave of disappointment wash over me. How could a Christ-like person make such a judgment? Is religion just a behavioral weapon? I spoke to the Broken Chains people instead.
The people of Broken Chains make the church what it is. Everyone I spoke to seemed willing to testify. Testimony is essentially a religious story of life.all members of
Broken Chains Biker Church has undergone a resurgence of sorts.
God was a very personal force for them and changed their lives dramatically to the point of complete devotion. How do you get to that point? In Tony’s case, one option is to die.
Tony put out his cigarette and shook my hand. He was waiting for me with his wife. He said he has an “unbelievable” story. He used to sell and run cocaine, had six wives, and died twice.
He found God when he died a second time. Tony had a drinking problem, which led to pancreatitis that left him in a coma. In his coma, he saw a white ball bouncing and followed it. He said Tony begged for 15 days to meet with God and decide whether he wanted to live a Christian life.
According to Tony’s testimony, hell is not what most people think it is. To Tony, it looked like a door with darkness in the middle. He said he feels extremely hot. Tony claimed that God showed him everything he had done wrong in his life.
“He showed me where he was selling cocaine and some of them were homeless. Some people are.” [overdosed] Odd number. “Some people showed me selling cocaine and gave me rent,” he said.
Tony said his religious journey led him to heaven. After passing through the tunnel, he sighted a structure within it and climbed to the top. He then woke up, dedicated himself to God, and never drank alcohol again.
He avoided the word religion. For him, God is personal, like someone to talk to. He told me his story with a warm yet stern gaze. His wife verified every aspect of the story. When I got up to leave, he hugged me.
After listening to his story, I went back to my car and grabbed the biker-themed Bible I had kept in my car. A Bible with a picture of a motorcycle on it. Is this Bible everything? I think that’s what me and the voices in my head understand. A voice in my head that I think is God.
