God Gave Me a Time-Out

God Gave Me a Time-Out

How God Provides When We Can't See His Hand

By Joey Raines

Description:

This is my true story. It follows one man’s unexpected journey from frustration and despair to a powerful encounter with God. Stranded on the side of the road, he questions everything until a divine message reaches him in the most personal way. What began as a simple trip turns into a life-changing spiritual moment that proves God’s love never lets go.

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My True Encounter with God

God was there long before I realized it. He has always been there for me. Even when I was a child, I would sit in church thinking about how much I loved Him. I have always loved God as long as I can remember. I knew He was with me, and I could feel Him.

He was not only silent. He spoke. Not in a whisper and not through a feeling, but with a voice. A voice that reached into my soul. I heard Him. And once you hear the voice of God for yourself, you are never the same again.

This was supposed to be a simple road trip. Just a weekend visit to see family, make a little money, and head back home to my wife and baby girl. But God had other plans. He was not just planning to give me the silent treatment, He was planning to speak out loud. And when He did, I would know beyond any doubt that He saw me, that He loved me, and that He was calling me back to Himself.

I was driving from Grant, a small mountain town outside Scottsboro, Alabama, to Canton, Ohio, to visit family and friends. My wife was at home with our nine-month-old baby girl. We didn't have much money, so I planned to work a couple of days in Canton to earn some or borrow a little from my dad. I was heading north on Interstate 65 in my 1988 Chevy Celebrity when the trouble began.

My car broke down in Franklin, Tennessee, when my radiator lost too much antifreeze. I stopped at a store off the exit, bought a few gallons of water, and filled the radiator. But the water kept leaking out. I decided to find an Auto Zone. The year was 2000, before cell phones were common. Not many people I knew had one yet. They all had landline phones in their houses.

I got directions to the nearest Auto Zone from someone at the store. I drove until my car started steaming, waited about half an hour for it to cool down, then added more water. This happened several times. While waiting to fill it again, I noticed a movie being filmed downtown. Something with horses and carriages from the Old West. It was cool to watch, but I had to keep moving. My car was broken, and I had no money except what I needed for gas to Canton.

My car was getting worse by the minute. The radiator was leaking faster now, and I still had a few blocks to go before reaching Auto Zone. I had no choice but to pull over at a Domino's Pizza I spotted along the way, probably in Nashville. I wasn't stopping for food. I was trying to save my car from dying completely. The staff at Domino's let me refill my empty jugs to pour into my radiator. By this point, my car was making horrible knocking and clanking noises.

I used my BellSouth cellular phone to try to call everyone I knew. I had to be careful because I paid by the minute. I tried to call my dad to see if he could help me. He would have come, but he didn't answer. I called my wife. No answer. I then called her dad to see if she was with him or if he could help me. No answer there either. I especially wanted him to answer because he knew more about cars than my own Dad. My dad wasn't good with cars. That's probably where I got my lack of car knowledge. Still, I wanted to reach my dad because I didn't know what to do.

It was 4 p.m. Central Time and would be dark soon. I tried calling my sister to see if my dad was at her house. Again, no answer. I tried over and over, but no one picked up. This was completely weird. It had never happened before that everyone would be unavailable at the same time.

I don't know why I didn't call my friend Stan. I must have thought he wouldn't come, though he would have been my best choice. Stan is good at many things and a skilled mechanic, plus one of my closest friends. Now that I think about it, I don't believe he had a phone then. If he did, I'm sure I would have called him. I sat in that parking lot for hours, not knowing what to do with my car or how to get home.

Everyone I tried to call usually answered their phones, but that day, no one was answering. I felt completely helpless. And then I did something terrible, something I should have never done. It haunts me to this day. There have been very few days that I haven't struggled with it. It was so bad that I don't want to write it because it feels like doing it all over again. But even though I don't want to, I still will write it.

Here it goes: I sat on the curb of the Domino's parking lot with my feet on the sidewalk beside the busy road. The parking lot was a little higher than the sidewalk. I sat there with my head down, upset, and called God every bad name I could think of. I cursed Him out like no other.

I had been a Christian my entire life. I had loved God since I could remember, even as a child. He had been with me and helped me many times before. I had always respected Him. And now I was cursing Him.

After I did that, I waited. The world went on around me. Cars passing, people walking by. But something was changing in the spiritual world. I could feel it. What would God do to someone who had just cursed Him? Would lightning strike? Would the ground open up? Would I be struck down where I sat?

The response, when it came, was worse than any physical punishment felt. God did absolutely nothing. He simply let me sit there, and sit there, and sit there. Alone. Abandoned. This is not a joke! God heard me. He heard every bad word I called Him, and His answer was silence. A silence that hurt more than words. He taught me a lesson I will never forget through that silence. It was like a spiritual spanking that cut deep. There was more pain in that silence than I have ever felt before. He knew what he was doing, and he knew I felt it.

My car was now junk. I didn't know what to do. I thought about calling a nearby junkyard to sell it. I was worried. No one picked up their phone. I was cut off from all my family and friends. Someone always answered their phone, but not today.

A Domino's delivery driver worked the whole time I was there. He would park beside my car every time he came back from a delivery, running in and out all evening. He was busy. I was there so long that the manager called me inside and told me that if I wanted a job, he would hire me on the spot. I did need money, but I had a wife and a baby girl at home. All I wanted now was to go back home and forget about the trip to Canton.

My original plan was simple: work at a small pizza shop in Canton for the weekend to make some money. I had worked there before moving to Alabama with my family, and had already called the owner, who agreed to give me hours during that weekend. But now everything had changed. My car broke down, I had no money, and I faced a choice: try to get back home to Alabama or somehow continue to Canton. Both options seemed impossible. Through this silence and isolation, I could feel God teaching me a powerful lesson by simply taking away His help when I needed it most.

It was now 9:00 p.m. I'd been stuck in that parking lot for five hours. As time passed slowly, something changed inside me. I started to realize what I had done to God. The bad feeling in my chest wasn't just guilt. I could feel His pain. It felt like a big empty space with no answers to my prayers, just silence that made me question everything. But beyond that silence was something worse: a pain that wasn't just mine. God was letting me feel His wounded heart. I knew my angry words had hurt Him deeply. God, who had always been there for me, was letting me feel some of the pain my words had caused Him. I could feel that I had broken His heart, and He knew that I could feel it. This shared pain was part of my lesson.

I decided I needed to say sorry, not just for me, but because I love Him with all my heart. Even though I only went to church sometimes, I sat down and spoke to Him again.

"Father God," I said, "I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it. But did you forget about me? Did you forsake me? Don't you love me anymore? If you help me get home safe and get my car home safe, I will go to church this Sunday and every Sunday."

When I made that promise to God, I just wanted to get my car back home in one piece. Once there, I could decide whether to fix it, sell it for parts, or junk it. That was my simple plan. Just get back to Alabama with my broken car. But God had something completely different in mind, something much bigger than what I was asking for.

As soon as I finished speaking, the delivery driver came out of Domino's and told me he was going to look at my car. We filled the empty water jugs again and then filled the radiator. I started the car, and there was that knocking and clanking sound again. The water leaked onto the ground.

He told me the problem was a cracked thermostat housing and I needed a new one. He said Auto Zone was only a couple of blocks away and that I should go there to get the part. So I went, I wasn't walking. I closed my hood, got in the driver's seat, and drove there, with the car knocking and clanking the whole way. I was sure this wouldn't work. My car sounded like a tin can filled with loose screws rattling down the road.

It took me only a couple of minutes to reach Auto Zone. I had been stuck in that neighborhood for five hours, and during that time, I could tell it was a decent area. But when I got out of my car at the parts store, I noticed a group of guys carrying what looked like sticks walking up the alley alongside the building. My instincts kicked in immediately. I've always been alert to my surroundings, especially in unfamiliar places. I moved with purpose toward the entrance, only to find the door locked.

I knocked, hoping someone would quickly unlock it. In Canton, back in 2000, Auto Zone was fairly new. The employees had told me that after closing, they were never allowed to open the door for anyone. If they did, someone would be fired. At that moment, I hoped someone inside didn't mind looking for a new job.

A guy inside gestured that they were closed. I wanted to say, "I can tell from the locked door," but instead, I just sighed. Someone apparently hated their job enough to help me. They unlocked the door and opened it. He asked what I needed, and I told him the thermostat housing.

As we walked to the counter, I asked if it was a bad neighborhood. He told me it was bad up to the alley beside the building, but the other side was good. That explained the past five hours. I wasn't shocked because in Scottsboro, the train tracks separated the good area from the bad area, or so I was told while living there.

While he looked up the price of my part, I was sure it would cost more than I had in my pocket. I only had enough money for gas to reach Canton, but now I was just going to try to make it back home, even if that meant driving until the car died. Going home would take about three hours, much smarter than trying to drive seven hours to Canton.

The guy told me the thermostat housing cost just over five dollars. The price was less than six dollars before tax. Thank God! I had enough to buy that part! I was sure it would cost five to ten times that amount! I was surprised. I pulled out my cash and handed it to him as quickly as I could. I still had about ten dollars left. If this part worked and held water, I would try to make it back home to Alabama.

I got the part and headed out the door, looking around to make sure no one was going to try to attack me. I got into my car and returned to Domino's, parking in the same spot. The delivery driver came outside and opened his trunk to pull out the tools needed to fix my car.

I was amazed. This guy had his trunk full of tools! I'm not joking, there must have been over a thousand tools inside. He pulled out the right socket and ratchet and showed me how to change the part. I did what he said, and it worked. I was so happy that I had done it myself. I felt like a real mechanic. "Watch out, Stan," I thought. "I can do anything now. You have competition!"

Back to reality. After the repair, I filled the radiator one last time and started the engine. Remember what I had promised God when I apologized? I had said, "Father God, I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it. But did you forget about me? Did you forsake me? Don't you love me anymore? If you help me get home safe and get my car home safe, I will go to church this Sunday and every Sunday." I meant that with all my heart.

When I turned the key and started the car, it purred like a kitten. No, smoother than a kitten's purr. It was so quiet I couldn't even hear the engine running. It sounded like a brand-new car. I thanked God and thanked everyone inside Domino's, then headed back home. It was a ten-minute drive back to Interstate 65.

On the way, I had questions for my wife. Why hadn't she answered the phone? By the time I reached the highway, I was still thinking about how no one had answered their phones and was shocked at how well my car was running. I had owned that car for four years and never had any major problems until then. It was a good car, but now it felt brand new again.

At that moment, I decided to continue north after all. I drove straight to Canton, stopping for gas only once and still having some cash left over. I should have arrived on Friday night, but when I got there, it was Saturday morning.

When I finally reached Canton, everyone in my family said they had never received a call from me. My dad was at home; my sister was at home. I eventually reached my wife in Alabama, and she said she never got a call from me, or never heard the phone ring. Her dad also said he never received a call from me. Apparently, no one had gotten my calls, though I had definitely made them.

Anyway, it was all over, and I had made it to Canton with God's help, of course. I told everyone what had happened with me and my car. I don't know if anybody believed it. How could they? They wouldn't even know how to respond, and I didn't get much reaction.

I ended up working at Expresso Pizza that night. Diane asked why I wasn't there Friday night as planned. I explained what had happened. She didn't seem to mind since I was just helping her out, though she probably did need me because it was a plan I had made with her.

On Sunday night, I did what I promised: I went to church at Trinity Gospel Temple. I arrived about half an hour into the service, which was being held outside in the parking lot since it was August. Laverne and Edith Tripp were there, and when I arrived, Laverne Tripp was singing on a stage set up in the parking lot. The Tripps were well-known gospel singers who traveled across America sharing their music and ministry. Laverne was famous for his powerful songs and preaching, while Edith, his wife, sang alongside him. They had appeared on Christian television for years and visited hundreds of churches each year. For many people, seeing the Tripps in person was a special event. It was my first time seeing him in person. I stood at the back among hundreds of people, listening to his gospel song.

When Laverne Tripp finished singing, his voice changed to preaching. The crowd around me faded away as something amazing happened. In the middle of his sermon, he suddenly looked through the parking lot, full of hundreds of people, and his eyes locked directly with mine at the back of the crowd. His voice spoke right to my soul as he said, "I didn't forget about you. I didn't forsake you. And I do still love you. Your whole problem was, you were trying to do it on your own."

My heart nearly stopped. These were the exact words I had spoken to God in that Domino's parking lot five hundred miles away! How could this possibly be a coincidence?

Then came a moment I'll remember forever. I felt a real presence like a warm cloud of love hovering just above my head. Then this presence, the Holy Spirit, came down and filled every part of me. Deep inside my heart, I felt these words clearly: "I'm talking to you."

It wasn't my imagination. It wasn't just emotion. It was God Himself speaking directly to me. The power of those four simple words shook me to my core. When God speaks to you like that, you can't fight it or deny it. All my defenses fell instantly. Tears filled my eyes and ran down my face as I stood there, completely overcome by God's love. That moment was so real, so powerful, that I carried the Holy Spirit's presence with me for days afterward, maybe even weeks, like a warm blanket wrapped around my soul.

After church, I headed to Legends Lounge, a hotel bar in Belden Village, to meet my family and friends. Everyone was having a good time, drinking and singing karaoke. I'd never been into karaoke myself. I was too shy to perform in front of others and didn't think I could sing well, but tonight I decided to try it anyway.

I stepped up and chose "Beth" by Kiss. Feeling nervous, I asked the karaoke operator if I could wear headphones with the original track playing loudly while I sang. He agreed. As I sang, the original vocals came through clearly in my headphones, but everyone else in the lounge only heard the backing track and my voice, no Kiss vocals. Without planning to, I ended up singing with a hard rock edge instead of the slower, softer style of the original. It just happened naturally.

When I finished, I was sure I had done a terrible job, but apparently not. When I took off the headphones, I got a standing ovation from the entire bar. They told me I did a great job singing it in that hard rock style. I hadn't even realized what I'd done. That made me feel good.

After having one drink, I decided to leave. As I walked through the parking lot to my car, and no, I wasn't drunk; I'd only had one drink and felt no effects of alcohol, my friend Stan pulled up with his wife, Ronda. They stopped beside me and asked if I was leaving. I told them I was, but if they were going in for a drink, I would join them for another.

As we talked, Ronda told me that my face was glowing. I explained what had happened on my trip to Canton while in Tennessee. I told them the whole story and what had occurred at church shortly before I arrived at the lounge. Ronda then repeated that my face was glowing.

That was because God was in me. The Holy Spirit was present.

Before I moved to Alabama and made the trip to Canton, I had already lived there. I was born and raised in Canton, where I met my wife. After we got married, we moved down to Alabama, where she had been living with her dad before we met.

When I told God that I would go to church every Sunday, it wasn't the first time I had made that promise. About a year before this trip, I had the same deal with Him, but I failed to keep it.

Back then, I only went to church on Sunday nights, not Sunday mornings. Sometimes I went on Wednesday nights too, but I didn't like those services. They were boring. I went to Trinity Gospel Temple for many years. I liked Brother Dave. He always ministered on Sunday nights, but wasn't there on Wednesdays. Someone else preached then, and I didn't connect with their messages.

God knew I only went at night. I doubt He cared what time of day I went. I was a night person. I usually stayed up until morning before going to sleep. That was my normal schedule my whole life.

When I worked in factories through temp services, I always worked the midnight shift. At one factory, I worked from 7:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m., 7 days a week, for 2 years straight.

Before making that deal with God about going to church every Sunday, I worked at a country club. During golf season, I worked every Sunday night. I tried many times to get Sundays off, but the executive chef always told me "no" because he had nobody to replace me. I asked many coworkers to work for me on Sundays, but they all refused.

I gave up trying and just worked.

Several months passed, and I still wanted to go to church. Nobody would work for me. I told God that if He gave me Sundays off, I would go to church. This conversation was private. I never told anyone, not even my shower head. The next day, I went to work and looked at my new schedule. I noticed I was off that Sunday. I asked the executive chef why he scheduled me off. I was surprised because nothing else had changed. Everyone else who worked Sundays was still working, and no new people were added.

The chef told me, "I don't need you on Sundays anymore." Since we still had the same number of events scheduled, I was confused. I asked if someone else would replace me. He said, "No, I just have enough people to cover the shift." I asked if it was just for this Sunday, and he said he didn't need me on any Sundays anymore.

I was never scheduled on another Sunday the entire time I worked there. It wasn't because I had convinced someone to work for me. Other coworkers who still had to work Sundays seemed upset about it. No one replaced me for the rest of the season.

I knew right away that God had answered me, giving me Sundays off. I went to church that Sunday. I kept going for a little while, then something else came up, and I stopped. I wasn't against God or trying to ignore Him. To me, He was still my life. I just ended up doing other things on Sundays. Maybe He was beginning to teach me a lesson, or maybe I was just failing Him.

But that was about a year before my trip back to Canton. Now let's move to what happened after that trip.

In the two years after my trip, I got caught up in other work and stopped going to church every Sunday, despite my promise. I'm ashamed to admit it.

When I finally decided to return to church, I didn't go alone. I brought my niece and nephew with me. They're from different sisters, and we went to Trinity Gospel Temple together.

When we arrived, Laverne and Edith Tripp were there again. Two years had passed since I last saw them. I had been carrying guilt since I stopped going to church, feeling like I had let God down. I hadn't kept my promise to go every Sunday, and I had struggled with that.

When we showed up, the service had already started, which was typical for me back then. For some reason, during those years, I was always about 20-30 minutes late to church. By the time we arrived, Laverne was already preaching. The service was outside in the parking lot again, with an altar and stage set up.

When he finished preaching, he invited people to the altar. I went up with my nephew and niece.

I had something weighing on my heart. I wanted to tell him what had happened two years earlier when I had seen him. More importantly, I wanted to confess that I hadn't kept my deal with God. I was ready to admit it.

As he walked past me, he didn't even look my way. But just as he was in front of me, still walking, he said, "You didn't make a deal with God." Then he stopped, turned around, looked me straight in the eyes, and said, "But if you did, you shouldn't have. You should have said..." What he told me I should have said, I can't remember. His words slipped away from me. Then he continued, "Just pick up where you left off, and it will all be forgiven." He turned back around and walked away.

In that moment, a heavy burden lifted from my heart. I felt that God had just spoken to me again through Laverne Tripp, just like He had two years before, only less angry-sounding.

Thank you for reading. If this story meant something to you, inspired you, made you think, or just kept you reading, I’d be honored if you’d tap the ❤️ to show some love, hit subscribe to follow me for more, and if you feel like it, you can leave a tip, totally optional, but always appreciated.

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