“Maybe I Don’t Go to Church Regularly, But…”

I’ll be honest—church and I have had an on-again, off-again relationship for years. I wasn’t the type to wake up early every Sunday, dress in my best, and head to service. I prayed now and then, thanked God for my blessings, but I wasn’t exactly a model Christian. Life just… got busy. Work, family, errands—there was always something.

But that all changed last winter.

One icy January evening, I was driving home from visiting my daughter when my car hit a patch of black ice. The world spun around me—headlights, trees, and snow whirling like a carousel gone wild. My truck skidded off the road, down a small embankment, and slammed into a tree.

The first thing I remember after the impact was the eerie silence. My hands were shaking, my chest hurt from the seatbelt, and the smell of deployed airbags filled the cab. I should’ve been seriously hurt—or worse—but somehow, I wasn’t. Not a single broken bone. Just a few bruises.

As I sat there in shock, I saw something strange. Out of the swirling snow, a man appeared—tall, with kind eyes. He opened my door, helped me climb out, and simply said, “You’re going to be alright.” Then, just as suddenly, he walked away into the storm.

The next thing I knew, the paramedics were there. I asked them about the man who had helped me. They looked puzzled. “Sir,” one said, “we didn’t see anyone else out here. And there aren’t any footprints in the snow except yours.”

That night, lying in bed, I realized something: God had been with me the whole time. Maybe He sent an angel. Maybe it was Jesus Himself. I can’t explain it. But I know this—my life was spared for a reason.

I still don’t make it to church every Sunday. But my faith? It’s unshakable now. I talk to God daily, I thank Jesus for every sunrise, and I see life through a new lens.

Because sometimes, you don’t have to be perfect for God to show up. He meets you right where you are—and reminds you that you are His. Always.