Some years ago I was driving alone on an errand through an industrial section of St. Louis. When I stopped for a signal light, a car pulled up next to me, and the driver told me he had seen a part fall from my car a few blocks back. When I asked him what it was, he called it by name and said if I drove much farther without it I would lose my brakes. He told me he saw where it had fallen and that he would be glad to get it for me. I followed him back.
He said he had been a mechanic and knew how to fix the car. He proceeded to the rear of my car, and after a few minutes asked me to put my weight on the passenger side, lean over, and push on the brake. As I did this, a sudden wave of apprehension swept over me and I thought, "This is all wrong." I began to pray.
The man got in the driver's seat and drove us off without a word. I said nothing either. I was praying most earnestly, declaring silently that God made man upright, honest, and moral, and this was all I could see about man; that I could be in no situation where God was not all the presence and all the power there was; also that I couldn't be mesmerized to react to evil. I wasn't afraid; I was so busy praying I didn't have time for fear.
