God Was There Before I Knew Him

It was 2003. My phone was dead, my wheel came off, and I couldn't explain what happened next.

I wasn’t looking for God.

But something happened that I’ve never been able to explain.

I was just trying to get home. Sixty miles from Santa Barbara to Thousand Oaks. I was tired, hungry, and in desperate need of a shower. I had been partying harder than I should have. The details of how I ended up there are still a blur.

Somewhere along the way my phone just stopped working. Not dying slowly. Just… stopped. It was 2003. I had a Sony Ericsson phone that played the Sopranos theme song anytime I received a call. A much simpler time, pre-iPhone.

I made it down to my aunt’s house in Ventura, and when I went to leave, I ended up with a flat tire. My best thought was to call a friend who knew how to change it. She helped me put on a donut, and I didn’t think twice about it. I just wanted to get home.

As I was driving on the 101 Freeway, just before the Camarillo grade, almost home, the entire wheel came off the car.

Not a blowout. Not a warning. The wheel just… came off.

I remember the sound, the sparks, the feeling of the car dragging, but somehow, I was already in the right lane. I pulled over to the side quickly and then I watched the tire roll. It crossed every lane of traffic like nothing was in its way, bounced off the center divider and flew onto the other side of the freeway and hit the side of a big rig.

It could have gone through someone’s windshield, but it didn’t. And somehow no one was hurt.

I pulled over, shaking, and reached for my phone. Ugh, I forgot it was dead. I had no choice but to start walking to a Call Box.

And that’s when I saw a car pull over to help me. I don’t remember if it was a man or a woman. It’s blurry now. Older. Calm. Not panicked like I was. They offered me their phone.

And then they said, “God is watching over you.”

I didn’t want to hear about God. I had no framework for that. I just wanted help. But as I was standing there trying to reconcile what I just heard, my dad drove by.

I was driving a red two-door Volkswagen Fox, pretty distinguishable, and only made for a few years. The moment he saw the car, he knew it was me. He happened to be on his way home from teaching in Oxnard.

Out of all places, all times. He saw me and pulled over.

And when I turned back, the person was gone. No goodbye. No explanation.

Just… gone.

At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I got in the car with my dad. He called AAA, handled everything, and we went home.

Twenty-two years later, I still haven’t been able to shake that encounter, the timing, the details, the way everything lined up.

I didn’t know God then. But something, or Someone, was there. And that moment was the beginning of something I didn’t have words for yet.

And not long after that, I found myself standing in front of a mirror, looking into my own eyes, realizing I was destroying my life.

- No one is too lost to be saved.