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Hall, a former pastor and now an executive and ministry coach in Raleigh, says that over the decades Southerners have become dismayed that NASCAR has become such a big business, outgrowing its Southern, small-town, common-man character.

"People everywhere love the sport. NASCAR was pretty smart in taking just enough of the redneck element out of the sport to make it have a mass appeal, but not try to sanitize it to the point where it lost its appeal," Hall told CT. "The marketing genius of NASCAR is why I am a bit suspicious of the Christian part."

Hall affirms a legitimate role for Christians within NASCAR, citing Motor Racing Outreach as a credible example of providing Christian community. But Hall's greatest concern is when conflict might occur between, for example, NASCAR consumerism and Christian living.

He said it's nearly impossible for chaplains and other Christians not to "fall off" when walking that fine line between the church and the speedway. "When they fall off, in my opinion, is [when] they make their faith individualized, very personal, not systemic.

"The sport itself doesn't favor institutional Christianity. The whole sport exists to advertise unlike any other sport I know of. Maybe I am just cynical. They like having the Christians around because it's one more demographic, one more audience."

For Hall, the underlying issue is how Christians in NASCAR can be an effective witness for Christ and practice a bigger gospel beyond NASCAR identity. He believes the personal witnessing and tools such as the racing flags message are fine. But, he asks, "Are you also challenging the aspects that should be challenged?"

Most race weekends, Motor Racing Outreach parks its caravan in the infield lot. It acts as a community center and provides a semblance of normalcy to drivers and crew chiefs and their families. There are 1,400 or more people who are part of the race community on any given weekend. The Sunday morning worship service may attract dozens at smaller races to hundreds at major competitions.

Melanie Self holds Bible studies for racing wives and girlfriends. Typical attendance is under 40. She also cares for their kids in the MRO Children's Bible Club. "Do you want to start with 'John 3:16' or 'Gimme a J'?" she asks them. The RV floor shakes as Self, a former first-grade teacher, and half a dozen kindergarteners jump and sing and do the Christian Hokey Pokey ("You give your heart to Jesus and you turn your life around"). Self has given each family this song on cd. It often gets played on the private planes that fly these families home. Each week the drill repeats at a different track.

Time for today's lesson. "Who remembers the Creation story?" Self asks. "The snake was the Devil!" one boy says.

Self praises the correct answer. "If we have accepted Jesus as our Lord and Savior, [the Devil] has no power over us," she tells him. She recounts how that snake tripped Adam and Eve. "The Fall means people have to work. That's why your daddy has to get into a racecar every Sunday."

Self holds a stuffed lamb while telling of Christ's payment on the cross for sin. "I have great news," she says. "You don't have to kill a lamb." She gets out racing flags, but her version is geared for unbelievers: the black flag represents a heart dark with sin that red will wash away. She takes the checkered flag as their fathers' cars thunder around the track a few hundred feet away.

"In the race today, there's only going to be one winner. In the race we're in, when we're on the 'J' team, every person wins." At the end she gives the invitation. Deann Alford, a CT senior writer, lives in Austin, Texas.

Copyright © 2008 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

This month's Inside CT looks at trackside chaplaincy.

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August 2008, Vol. 52, No. 8