04/07/2025
My name is Kenneth Eze.
I’m a 38-year-old businessman living in Port Harcourt, Rivers State. I have a small family — a loving wife and two beautiful children who call me “Daddy” with the purest joy. But I want to tell you what happened to me on Wednesday, June 12th, 2024, at 5:43 PM — because on that day, death came for me. But God stood in the way.
That day started like every other. There was no sign, no warning, no strange feeling. I had closed my shop early around 4:30 PM to refill our gas cylinder. My wife had been reminding me since the weekend. It was supposed to be a quick errand — something I had done many times before. I lifted the cylinder into the trunk of my navy-blue wagon car, strapped it in like I always do, and said a quick prayer before starting the engine:
> “Lord, just take me and bring me back safely.”
I had no idea that simple prayer was about to save my life.
I drove straight from the gas station at Rumuola to my house at #14 Elelenwo Close, off Stadium Road. The roads were quiet. I remember humming softly to myself, thinking about what we would eat that night. There was nothing to fear. Nothing at all.
At 5:43 PM, I pulled into my compound. My plan was simple: park, close the gate, and unload the cylinder into the kitchen.
I parked the car about six steps from the garage. I turned off the engine. As I opened the door to step out, a sharp, uncomfortable feeling suddenly gripped me.
I can’t explain it — it felt like my spirit was shouting “Hurry up! Move now!” So I quickly walked toward the gate to close it before driving in fully. Just six steps. Just six small steps...
Then it happened.
An explosion — violent, deafening, blinding.
The kind that shakes the very bones in your body.
The kind that feels like the earth itself is ripping apart.
It wasn’t a sound.
It was a force.
A terrifying force that ripped through my car like a bomb from hell.
BOOOOOM!!!
I screamed without even knowing I screamed.
My knees buckled.
My hands covered my ears.
The shockwave punched me in the back like an invisible fist.
My heart almost stopped.
I turned around and saw what no man should ever see from a car he was sitting in just seconds ago.
The roof of my car had torn almost in two — lifted upward like something inside had exploded with monstrous rage. The back flap was flung open. Twisted metal screamed into the air. My car looked like a wild beast had tried to tear it apart with bare claws.
But there was no fire.
No flame.
Just thick, black smoke and death hanging in the air.
I was too stunned to run. Too shocked to move.
If I had still been sitting inside that car — even for a second more…
If I had delayed…
If I had bent to adjust the cylinder…
I would have been blown to pieces.
Gone.
Just. Like. That.
I began to cry.
No, not cry — I wailed.
I screamed, "Jesus! Jesus!! Jesus!!!" as I collapsed to the floor right there in the compound.
My wife ran out of the house barefoot, confused and crying, “Where is he? Where is Kenneth?!” She thought I had died in the explosion. My children were already crying inside. My neighbors ran in, thinking a bomb had gone off.
It was a scene of pure horror.
People rushed to me and touched my body, expecting burns, bruises, blood… But I was clean. My skin was untouched. Not a scratch. My clothes were clean. Not even my slippers fell off.
I survived the blast — but only because I had JUST stepped out of the car.
Seconds. Mere seconds. That’s what separated me from death.
One of my neighbors shouted,
> “Oga, this is not luck! This is not luck! It’s God ooo!”
I was too shaken to speak.
I just knelt on the floor, hands raised, tears pouring, mouth shaking, crying out:
“Thank You, Jesus. Thank You, Jesus. Thank You, Jesus!”
That night, I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I didn’t laugh. I just sat quietly and stared at my hands, knowing I could’ve been lying in a mortuary right now.
I held my daughter tighter that night. I kissed my son like I’d never kissed him before. I looked at my wife and knew that if God had not stepped in, I would never see her face again.
I want you to understand something:
I didn't escape.
I was rescued.
This is not a story about me.
It’s a story about a God who still protects.
A God who sees danger before we do.
A God who pushes death back when it comes too early.
A God who heard a simple prayer and said: "Not today."
My name is Kenneth Eze. And I should be dead. But I’m alive because Jesus still saves.
Don’t scroll past. Help me give God all the glory.
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