Every Lap Counts

Leland is nearly twelve has a deep love for Formula 1. He studies the drivers, draws their car's logos, races on sims, and has strong opinions about tire strategy. Recently, he wrote a school essay on Ayrton Senna—one of the greats—not just because of how he raced, but because of what he believed: that racing is spiritual, almost sacred. And in that, I think Senna understood something Jesus was trying to say.

In the Parable of the Prodigal Son, we often focus on the son’s failure—his recklessness, his crashing out of the life he was given. But what if the real message isn’t about the mistake but about what happens next?

Every race has a start line. Every lap is a new chance. Even the greatest drivers don’t win every time. They come in first, yes—but sometimes they come in last. They miss a turn. They fall behind. But the beauty of racing—and maybe the beauty of grace—is that you keep going. You push for a better lap next time. You trust that there's still more in you.

In our house, we talk a lot about personal bests. Not being the best, but doing your best. Beating your time. Holding your line. And that’s what the prodigal son does, in his own way. He doesn’t expect a podium finish when he comes home. He doesn’t walk tall. But he returns. And his father sees him—not for the place he finished, but for the fact that he came back.

That’s how I hear the parable: not as a story of failure, but of freedom. You can come in last. You can come in first. Either way, you are loved. And when we spin out—whether it’s selfishness or stubbornness or something we don’t even understand yet—the heart of the Father is not standing still. It’s already running toward us with open arms and a fresh set of tires.