A Powerful Explosion

Imagine sitting in the stands at a drag race. You’ve been waiting for some time but still the cars have not rolled out to compete. In fact, you’ve been waiting for so long that all the ice in your soda is melted, and your drink is disgustingly warm. Your nachos are soggy. Your bum is so sore and numb that you can’t bear to sit any longer. But you had said the same thing an hour into your wait. And the second hour. And the third. You’ve sat for so long in the baking radiant heat that you have a healthy burn on the back of your neck. And still, you waited. And now it’s sundown. The track lights are on. It’s getting cool. There’s no one left in the stands. It’s just you. You and your hope of seeing a good race. It seems you’ve waited in vain, for you are alone.

What no one told you is that there has been a mad dash in the shop to prepare your favorite rod for show. The corpsmen have been rushing around in a divine flurry to piece together the engine which someone had destroyed. The tires have been slashed. The steering wheel stolen. The fiberglass hull punctured and fragmented. The gas siphoned and spilled. It’s a terrible mess. The worse you could have never imagined. But the team is fighting for you. They know it’s your favorite ride. They know how much you believe in it, how long you’ve waited, to what lengths you’ve traveled, to come here, today, to see your favorite show. It means everything to them. Because it means everything to you. From the very moment of destruction, the good team has been doing good—repairing what was damaged, replacing what was lost, assembling the whole car from scratch and not with imperishable material that could be destroyed again, but with a seed of truth that strikes electric through the very fiber of the message of the vehicle. The whole team has had you in mind. And you’ve waited. And they know it.

Stunningly. Impossibly. Impossibly your car rolls out with its powerful guttural motor popping and gurgling and revving in a sweet vein of human harmony. It just sounds gorgeous. Music to your long, hurting ears. And it comes. And it revvs. And it revvs again. And there is something terribly powerful about the way its engine dominates the fabric of the track and the stands. It sounds like a modern day lion roaring in a jungle. It sounds like a warrior bellowing in his freedom. That car is not imprisoned. That car is not destroyed. The car will never be destroyed.

And what did you do? All you did was hope for it. All you wanted was to just see it happen. To just give your heart to the game. To just believe that a show is a show. You’re just a number one fan. You were meant for this. This is your ride. And what happens now?

The fans return. You didn’t give up hope. The Team never gave up hope. And now the fans are returning because the car came out for you, and for everyone. And now that they hear the roar of the engine they feel the tingling in their bodies and they like it. That surge of adrenaline through the knees. That clutch in the heart. Soon the whole stands are as it is meant to be because you believed. You had faith even in the suffering calm.

The car toes the line: Blue. Yellow. Green!

No one really knows what happens next.

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