Paola Mora Zepeda
My wife, Debbie, was an Adventist, and I was Catholic. I never got any pressure from her or her parents to join the Church. They just led by example. I would try on occasion to tell my wife, “You know what would be a great idea to do this Saturday? We could be among God’s creation and plant a garden.” The truth is, I was trying to convince her to work on the Sabbath, but she never fell for it. She just said, “No, we’re not going to do that.” She was always faithful to the Sabbath, and she would tell me about her personal friendship with Christ, which was a total alien concept to me.
One Saturday in 1998, she tried to get me to go to church with her. I didn’t want to go. I was going to go to work.
I was driving a triaxle dump truck that day, carrying some gravel. Suddenly, my brakes went out on a big hill. I lost all control. Now, being raised Catholic, I had prayed before, but normally I prayed after trying to fix the situation myself and failing to do so — that’s when I would pray. But I knew this time that it was hopeless, and I was helpless, so I prayed first. My prayer that Saturday was this: “If this is the day I’m going to die, then so be it. But God, do not allow anybody else to get hurt.”
I got to the bottom of the hill, to the traffic lights. My friends who witnessed the situation from other trucks said I went through the traffic light at about 63 miles an hour. I had 22 tons of sand in my truck, and there was not a car within 100 yards in either direction. It was like the sea had parted and my truck had gone through, and I just couldn’t believe that had just happened.
Then I saw a big sign that said, “Caution, Little Kentucky River Bridge out one quarter mile.” I said, “Jesus, I’m not done yet. I need to stop this truck.” I put my foot on the brakes and, to my surprise, the truck stopped! The other drivers caught up to me, and they were all concerned. One of them was also a mechanic, and asked, “Ronni, how did you stop this truck? You have absolutely zero brakes.” I replied, “I didn’t. Jesus did.”
That was the last Saturday that I worked, though I still hadn’t come to embrace the truth of the Sabbath.
I was not working on Saturday anymore, but I was still taking my mother to church on Sunday. My wife asked, “You’re taking your mom to church?” I said, “Yeah.” And she said, “You believe your priest? Is he an honest man?” I said, “Yes.” She said, “Ask him about the Sabbath.”
So, I took my mother to church. We came outside after Mass, and there’s Father Clark. I walked over and said, “Father, I’ve got a question.” He said, “What’s that?” I asked, “When is the Sabbath?” He did not hesitate at all. He answered, “Saturday is the Sabbath, but we go to church on Sunday.” And I said, “Why would you do that?” He said, “The Catholic Church changed that centuries ago. We don’t keep the Sabbath. We go to church on Sunday.” And I’m thinking, “God said to go to church on Sabbath and man said to go to church on Sunday … so why am I obeying man over God?”
That’s when I started attending church with my wife, and I was baptized on Christmas Day of 1999. The most beautiful part is that for the first time ever, I started seeing God as my friend. That new perspective changed my whole attitude.
When I look back on my journey, and that day in the truck, I can almost see Jesus sitting there with me, looking at me with a smile on His face, because He had been chasing me all my life to get me to come His way, and I just wouldn’t do it. And you know, Christ is not limited by time or space or the physical; He owns everything. So going down this hill with me at that top speed with no brakes was nothing to Him. It was almost like He was saying, “Now, where are you going to go? You’ve been running from Me all your life. Where are you going?” And I had nowhere to go but to His arms. In that truck, on that hill, I stopped running and I finally found my Savior.
Kentucky-Tennessee | January 2026
Comments are closed.