I am occasionally peaking in on the NASCAR race at Talladega Super Speedway today (Sunday) and that caused me to remember that life is full of restarts. For those of you who think that motor sports are for hicks and watching it on TV is a sure way to induce your Sunday nap, let me explain. When something happens on the track, a crash, debris on the track, etc., a caution flag comes out. That means just what you think, drive cautiously and don’t pass anyone, just hold your position. Often, pit road is opened and drivers will top off their fuel, change tires, or make adjustments to their cars.
After whatever that caused the caution is cleared up, the race resumes with a restart. Here is what I love, when the restart happens, the cars are all bunched up, and when that green flag drops, it is a new race.
You may not realize how much life is like one of these NASCAR races. These races are long, well over a hundred laps. Anything can happen. The favored driver might wind up with his car in the garage, unable to finish. The rookie might pull off a surprise win. Ten cars could be wiped out in a crash. You just never know. But the best part is, after something bad happens, there is a restart.
I wish we could remember that life is full of restarts. If we did, there would be no suicides, no depression, and people wouldn’t be so frustrated, angry, or withdrawn. In short, we would begin living a little more in synch with our God-given identity. Literally nothing could keep us from a grace-fueled restart, especially after something “bad” happens. That’s why we hear those stories of a person’s colossal failure being the catalyst for their finally finding success.
The only thing that can keep us out of the restart is our own stubbornness that insists on punishing ourselves, even though God refuses to. The number of restarts is limitless. We can restart every day or several times a day. We don’t have to wait until something really bad happens, but if it does, that’s a clue that it’s time for a restart.
Then it is a whole new race.
