I am a NASCAR fan. I smile when I say that because there was I time when the words would never have come out of my mouth. I remember back when we lived in Kansas City having lunch with a couple from church and we had to eat where he could see the race. I thought it was weird to put that much attention into watching grown men drive in a cirlce. Many years later, Asher learned his numbers from the race cars. He learned to identify the racers by their numbers--it was terribly confusing when Tony Stewart was no longer the #20 car. I have participated in NASCAR Fantasy for more years than I can remember right now. My favorite words are: Boogety, boogety, boogety boys! Let's go racing. And you better tell them to start their engines with gusto!
Just now I was watching the start of the Daytona 500. The announcers explained that on the third lap there would be silence to honor Dale Earnhart who's greatest legacy probably wasn't his 7 Daytona wins as much as it was and is his contribution through the ultimate sacrifice in the improvements to safety of the sport he gave his life for. As the cars made the third lap and the announcers were silent, the cameras panned the crowd. Practically everyone there raised their hand and lifted three fingers to honor the racing legend. It was quite moving. I confess I choked up and teared up. And moved directly to my computer.
I was able to gather with other believers this morning for corporate worship. The music, all but for one song, moved me. I was frustrated that I had no voice to sing, but silently mouthed the words and worshiped from my heart. I heard a phrase in the familiar hymn, "How Great Thou Art": Then sings my soul , my Savior God to thee, how great thou art. It's not my voice that is required as much as my soul, my heart, my inner being.
On the one upbeat chorus that I was unfamiliar with, there was a phrase about lifting our hands. I didn't look around much but I did notice that the woman behind me shamelessly and exuberantly raised her hands. And I found myself thinking: what if we would all just close our eyes, would there be greater freedom to lift hands and hearts in praise? Would our faces be able to express our joy or brokenness? In a later chorus I was humbled and broke into tears as I sang, “I’ll never know how much it cost to see my sin upon that cross.”
I thought about that again as I saw that massive crowd of over 100,000 people raising their hands to pay homage to a man who drove fast around a two and a half mile loop and died doing the thing he loved. And I wondered: why were they so much freer at paying homage than we are to the real King of Kings, and Lord of Lords? I think that’s why I really choked up and teared up. Oh sure it was a moving moment, but it was a humbling moment for me--and it had nothing to do with racing and everything to do with life and my willingness--or unwillingness to openly live what I say I believe.
