The true story of my close encounter with God

September 2001 — When God changed my plans

At the time, I was playing for a third-division club. I was doing well, my coach believed in me, and I hoped to reach the second division within a couple of years.

But life took an unexpected turn.

My father decided we had to leave our country because violence was getting too close to home. We emigrated to the United States and settled in Miami, Florida. Our trip was delayed by the attacks of 9/11, but once flights resumed, we were granted political asylum.

I believed I would continue my soccer career in Miami. Instead, everything began to collapse.

The Miami Fusion—one of only two MLS teams in Florida back then—declared bankruptcy and disappeared. Then the Tampa Bay Mutiny suffered the same fate. Within a short time, professional soccer in Florida was gone. In Florida! A state where people absolutely loved futbol.

Still, I refused to give up. Soccer was my life. I told myself that even if the whole universe conspired against me, I would persevere.

My last hope was college soccer.

December 2002 — This can’t be a coincidence

Florida International University (FIU) had the only top-level college soccer program in the area. I wasn´t expecting an athletic scholarship, just a chance to try out for the team. I applied, was accepted and  enrolled.  I immediately contacted the coach, and he encouraged me to attend tryouts the following month.

I was ready.

Then, just before tryouts, the university canceled the men’s soccer program due to budget cuts.

It made no sense. It was one of the school’s strongest programs. There were protests—but the decision stood.

Everywhere I turned, soccer disappeared.

Still, I refused to accept it. I trained with amateur clubs, coached youth teams, and even co-founded a small academy called *Soccer Paradise*. I stayed as close to the game as I could.

Then came the moment that changed everything.

One fateful Friday evening, after I finished coaching my U-16 team, another coach invited me to stay and play in a casual match between coaches. I would have to play without taping my ankles—something I normally never did. Still, I decided to stay and play, and you can probably guess what happened.

A reckless tackle shattered my right ankle. The doctors said surgery wasn’t possible.

My soccer career was over.

At the time, it felt like the end of everything that mattered to me.

April 2003 — The first sign

Around this time, I began to ponder deeper questions.

While recovering from my injury with my foot in a heavy cast, I was reading a novel called *Left Behind*, where a skeptical character asks God for a sign. I had never prayed before—but I decided to try.

I said: “God, if You are real,  please send me a sign.”

A couple of days later, while sorting through my mail, something unusual caught my attention. Among the advertisements was a bright blue card. It read:

“A place where miracles happen, and life-changing experiences occur.”

It included an address. I paused—but quickly dismissed it. A sign from God? On a postcard?

No. It had to be a coincidence.

I threw it aside.

April 19, 2003 — The sign confirmed

Weeks later, I asked my stepmother if she believed in God. She said yes. That surprised me, because she wasn’t religious in any visible way.

Then I asked about Jesus, and the rapture, and the role of the Messiah in the Apocalypse. All that good stuff.

She admitted she wasn’t sure, but suggested I speak to someone who might know more—a preacher who had just arrived in Miami, who had a master degree in Theology. Not bad, but what caught my attention was this:

He had a background in professional soccer and had played for the Argentina National Team, with Maradona.

Now I was interested.

She wrote down the address where he had started a church in Miami. When I looked at the paper, my heart started racing.

It was the same address from the bright blue postcard.

That moment shook me. One coincidence is easy to dismiss. Two, aligned perfectly, are not.

When I told her about the postcard address being the same as the preacher from Argentina, she said something I will never forget:

**“God is knocking on your door.”**

What do u think? Could I continue to be skeptical after that? Sure, I guess, but then I thought: "What are the odds?"

Later that night, alone at home, I made a decision.

I prayed a real prayer.

Born Again

For the first time in my life, I prayed with sincerity.

I thanked God.

I asked for forgiveness.

I asked for direction.

And then I asked one pressing question: “God, what is the Bible?”

I did not hear a powerful voice from heaven—but two  words came clearly into my mind:

“Clear" and "eloquent.”

They were not my thoughts. That moment changed everything. Now I just needed to learn who Jesus really was. A rebel? A rabbi? A prophet? The Messiah? Son of God? God himself?

(Hint: Check out the prophecies in the jewish Bible about the Messiah.)

Meeting the preacher

The next day, I went to the address.

It turned out to be a Christian high school. And a church. That church had sent the bright blue postcard. At that time they were temporarily letting a spanish speaking preacher use the cafeteria on sunday mornings.

In the cafeteria, a man named Silvano was preaching to a small group of people.

He had the Argentina accent. It was the retired futbol player.

When I arrived, he was asking if someone wanted to say a prayer giving one's life to God. I raised my hand immediately. No one else did. So we prayed together. I felt no hesitation, no embarrassment—only conviction.

Afterwards I told him how I got there. He told me something simple but now familiar:

**“Jesus is knocking on your door.”**

Miracles

What once felt like a series of football failures started to look like a path being redirected.

Forced to leave my country and my team.

The closed doors.

The injury.

The loss of my soccer career.

When those things happened I felt depressed, even anguished. But it was all for my own good.

Silvano said it would not be easy for others to understand, but God would guide me.

Well, I can testify that He has been guiding me ever since and I have witnessed amazing miracles.

Do miracles exist? What does the math say?

I love math, probability, and even poker. So, being a logical person, at first I tried to explain everything as coincidence.

But mathematical probability tells a different story.

* The odds of being struck by lightning in a year: about 1 in 750,000

* The odds of a royal flush in poker: 1 in 2.6 million

* The odds of winning a lottery: about 1 in 8 million

Extremely unlikely events do happen—but rarely.

Now consider a chain of events, each dependent on the previous one:

* Asking God for a sign after 16 years of disbelief

* Receiving a unique postcard immediately afterward, mentioning Miracles

* That postcard pointing to the specific location of a Christian church

* Being introduced—independently—not to the same church, but to that exact same location

* Finding a preacher uniquely relevant to my interests who arrived in Miami around the same time I did

* All of it happening within a narrow window of time

When you multiply those probabilities, the result becomes astronomically small. In my own estimation, the odds were roughly:

**1 in 5 trillion**

(I you want to check my math, i will add it as extra content at the end)

At that point, the question is no longer:

“Is this possible?”

but

“Was this intentional?”

My conclusion

When something unlikely happens once, you might call it coincidence.

When many extremely things happen in a precise sequence, with meaning and timing, it begins to look like something else.

For me, the conclusion became unavoidable:

It was not coincidence. It was GOD.

Since then, my faith has shaped my life in ways I could never have imagined.

I have experienced healing, guidance, and purpose.

But more than anything, I have come to understand this:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.”

— Proverbs 3:5–6