Gilbert was eight years old and had been in Cub Scouts only a short time. During one of
his meetings he was handed a sheet of paper, a block of wood and four tires and told to
return home and give all  to "dad". That was not an easy task for Gilbert
to do. Dad was  not receptive to doing things with his son. But Gilbert tried. 

Dad read the paper and scoffed at the idea of making a pine wood derby car with his
young, eager son. The block of wood remained untouched as the weeks passed.

Finally, mom stepped in to see if dad could figure this all out. The project began.
Having no carpentry skills, dad decided it would be best if he simply read the directions
and let Gilbert do the work. And he did. Dad read aloud the measurements, the rules of
what Gilbert could do and what he couldn’t do. Within days his block of wood was turning
into a pinewood derby car. A little  lopsided, but looking great (at least through
the eyes of mom).

Gilbert had not seen any of the other kids cars and was feeling pretty proud of his
"Blue Lightning", the pride that comes with knowing you did something on your
own. Then the big night came.  With his blue pinewood derby in his hand and pride in
his heart he headed to the big race.

Once there this little one’s pride turned to humility. Gilbert’s car was obviously the
only car made entirely on his own. All the other cars were a father-son partnership, with
cool paint jobs and  sleek body styles made for speed.

A few of the boys giggled as they looked at Gilbert’s, lopsided, wobbly, unattractive
vehicle. To add to the humility Gilbert was the only boy without a man at his side. A
couple of the boys who were from single parent homes at least had an uncle or grandfather
by their side, Gilbert had "mom".

As the race began it was done in elimination fashion. You kept racing as long as you
were the winner. One by one the cars raced down the finely sanded ramp. Finally it was
between Gilbert and  the sleekest, fastest looking car there.

As the last race was about to begin, this wide eyed, shy, eight-year-old asked if they
could stop the race for a minute, because he wanted to pray. The race stopped, Gilbert hit
his knees clutching his funny looking block of wood between his hands. With a wrinkled
brow he set to converse with his Father. He prayed in earnest for a very long minute and a
half. Then he stood, smile on his face and  announced, ‘Okay, I am ready."

As the crowd cheered, a boy named Tommy stood with his father as their car sped down
the ramp. Gilbert stood with his Father within his heart and watched his block of wood
wobble down the ramp with surprisingly great speed and rushed over the finish line a
fraction of a second before Tommy’s car. Gilbert leaped into the air with a loud
"Thank you" as the crowd roared in approval.

The Scout Master came up to Gilbert with microphone in hand and asked the obvious
question, "So you prayed to win, huh, Gilbert?"

To which this young boy answered, "Oh, no sir. That wouldn’t be fair to ask God to
help you beat someone else. I just asked Him to make it so I don’t cry when I lose."

Children seem to have a wisdom far beyond us. Gilbert didn’t ask God to win the race,
he didn’t ask God to fix the outcome; Gilbert asked God to give him strength in the
outcome. When Gilbert first  saw the other cars he didn’t cry out to God, "No
fair, they had a father’s help". No, he went to his Father for strength. 

Perhaps we spend too much of our prayer time asking God to rig the race, to make us
number one, or too much time asking God to remove us from the struggle — when we should
be seeking God’s strength to get through the struggle.

Gilbert’s simple prayer spoke volumes to those present that night. He never doubted
that God would indeed answer his request. He didn’t pray to win, thus hurt someone else —
he prayed that God supply the grace to lose with dignity. Gilbert, by his stopping the
race to speak to his Father also showed the crowd that he wasn’t there without a
"dad", but His Father was most definitely there with him. Yes, Gilbert walked
away a winner that night, with his Father at his side.

I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.

Philippians 4:13

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Slightly adapted from a submission by John R. Chastain to Sermons.Org