The Uber Ride I Won’t Forget

A Man Who Wanted to Be Seen

I met an Uber driver on the way to the airport. His name was Mat.

From the moment I got in the car, it was clear—this was someone who wanted to be seen.

He was dressed in what might be described as industrial cyberpunk—dark, layered, covered in metal studs and symbols. Large metal rings on every finger. Piercings in his ears, nose, and lip.

His presence didn’t whisper.
It announced itself.

Here I am. Notice me.

And honestly, most people probably did—just not in the way he was hoping.

The Story He Was Living In

As we began talking, I asked him a few simple questions. That’s all it took.

He opened up immediately. The conversation didn’t trickle—it poured, and it didn’t stop until we arrived at the airport.   

He told me he was a priest in an online church—something called the “United Living Church.” As he explained it, it became clear this wasn’t rooted in anything theologically historical or biblically grounded. It was a blend—part Gnostic, part New Age, part something he had constructed himself.

There were themes of special knowledge. Hidden insight. Mysterious numbers. Spiritual power—even the conjuring  of shadowy spirits.  One in particular, he called “Simon Peter.”

And with every turn, the story became more unusual. More expansive. More grandiose.

At one point, it felt like a Forrest Gump kind of story—somehow connected to every major world event of the past 20 years.

But underneath all of it—beneath the language, the ideas, the claims—there was something deeply familiar.  Deeply human.

A longing.

To be somebody.
To be seen.
To matter.

What Actually Opened Him Up

And here’s what struck me most:

He kept talking—not because I was agreeing with him, but because I was interested in him.

I was asking questions. Listening. Engaging.

And he responded the way every human being does when someone is genuinely curious about them—

he opened up more.

It reminded me of something simple, but easy to forget:

We are drawn to people who are willing to see us.

Even when we’re confused.
Even when we’re living inside a distorted story.

The longing to be known doesn’t go away.

 

Why He Couldn’t Hear Me

As I listened, something else became clear.

Mat wasn’t just sharing ideas.
He was living inside a story.

A story where he had special knowledge.
A unique role.
A kind of power and identity.

It lifted him out of the ordinary.
It gave him meaning.

But it also became the lens through which he interpreted everything.

And that’s when it hit me:

There was nothing I could say in that short ride about God’s larger story that he would truly hear.

Not because he wasn’t intelligent.
Not because he wasn’t sincere.

But because everything I said would be filtered through the story he was already living in.

 

A Different Choice

And that realization shifted something in me.

Instead of trying to correct him…
convince him…
or win the moment…

I chose something different.

I chose to see him.

To stay curious.
To stay engaged.
To treat him with dignity.

Because in that moment, that was what he could actually receive.

 

What Actually Changes People

As I got out of the car, I realized something I don’t want to forget:

You cannot argue someone out of a story they are living inside.

Real change doesn’t come from winning debates.

It comes when the Spirit of God begins to open eyes that have been shaped—
and sometimes blinded—by a smaller story.

“…the god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so they cannot see…”                            (2 Cor 4:4)

 

A Prayer on the Way Out

When we got to the airport, I thanked Mat for sharing his story with me.
I told him I would be praying for him.

He thanked me for listening.
He was touched that I would pray for him.

So as I walked into the airport, I did what I said I would do.

I prayed.

That God, in His mercy, would meet Mat.

That the Spirit would gently begin to remove the layers.

That somehow, in God’s timing, he would begin to see
that the story he’s living in—while meaningful to him—
is not the story he was made for.

And that there is a better one.

A larger one.

A story where he doesn’t have to construct his identity.
Where he doesn’t need special knowledge to matter.
Where he is already seen, known, and loved—

not because of what he has discovered…
but because of who God is.

 

What I Don’t Want to Forget

That short Uber ride reminded me once again of something simple:

Everyone you meet is living inside a story.

And often, before they need correction…
before they need answers…

they need someone willing to see them.

Because sometimes, being seen is the first crack in the wall.

And sometimes…

that’s where God begins.

A Question to Sit With

Where in your life are you trying to correct someone’s story—
when what they may actually need first…
is to be seen?