Jesus, a Tire and a Story of Love

I’m a producer and researcher and sometimes scriptwriter for a gospel music channel in Africa. I spend my time phoning artists, bands and celebrities—meaning their managers and agents. I call record labels and event management companies and production houses, which is how I met Danny.

I called Danny to request music videos for the show. He was helpful and pleasant and promised to send the tapes the next day.

The following Monday on my drive home my phone rings.

“Hi Wendy! It’s Danny. How are you? Sorry, I’m phoning after working hours, but I’m still working and I wanted to tell you this.”

“No problem, Danny.” I start to look for a place to pull over while Danny talks.

“I don’t know if you can use this or not, but I thought I’d let you know anyway.”

“Cool”, I say, thinking Danny is about to tell me one of his bands would like to come on the show.

“Well, Wendy, this weekend, was hectic with gigs and stuff, and I got two flat tires on Saturday night …”

I mumble something encouraging while wondering why on earth he is telling me this and what it has to do with me booking a band on the show.

Danny, who, I should mention, isn’t a Christian as far as I know, talks on “… First one tire went and then the spare. I could have got them fixed. I probably should have got them fixed, but I didn’t. This morning when I went out to the car to leave for work, the tires were flat and one was shredded.”

I find a gas station to pull into because the conversation is shaping up in such a manner that it requires my full attention.

“Now, I live on a small holding, you see, Wendy. I am the only person there. My housemate is in a heavy metal band and he wasn’t around. I live on a small holding and it is quite far out of town. I didn’t know what to do. I needed to get to work. So I got down on my knees, on my knees on the ground next to my car. And I prayed. I prayed to God. I told Him He would have to get me out of there. And could He please make it easy.”

“Then do you know what, Wendy, a pickup stopped, and out got this guy wearing a leather jacket with the words, ‘Lamb of God’ on the back, can you believe it, Wendy? ‘Lamb of God!’ He climbed out the vehicle and said: ‘Man, it looks like you’ve got a problem with your tires. Do you need some help?’ I asked if he could give me a lift to the garage. He told me he had dropped his grandfather off in the area and had decided to drop by and see my flatmate. How cool is that, Wendy? Before I even prayed God answered.”

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By this stage I was smiling, grinning, laughing. I told Danny, it was amazing, that God was amazing. Then he got all shy and said: “So I just wanted to tell you that. You got the videos I sent you and everything is alright on my side?”

“Yeah, it’s all great, Danny.”

“Bye then.”

“Bye.”

I drove the rest of the way home laughing and crying and praying. I loved that God had broken into Danny’s life. I thought it was the coolest thing ever that God had decided He was going to rock Danny’s world that Monday morning. I felt honored Danny decided to share his moment, when he realized Jesus likes him, with me. I felt humbled God put me in the position where people like Danny can phone and tell me Jesus likes them. I am looking forward to the day when Danny calls to say Jesus and him are now friends. In the meantime, I will keep immersing myself in a world where people like Danny have yet to meet a man like Jesus.

Wendy Harbottle blogs at halfformedwish.blogspot.com and lives in Johannesburg, South Africa. This extract is from her yet-to-be published book, Undone: Grappling with Grace.

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