Sixteen years ago, on this day I became a follower of Jesus. Before that he was a myth or, at best, an old story. On this day sixteen years ago He came to life and became Lord.

How He managed to transform a hyper ambitious, self centered, immoral me into His friend and disciple is, truly, a mystery. But he did.

It's too bad you can't transplant faith as you can an organ. It would be so much easier. I can't even prove His existence or describe convincingly that «after» life. I can only use cliche metaphors like: « life went from being black and white to full eye popping color», or, « i went from 2d to 3d». How can I describe that song inside, that melody so sweet that stays with me through thick and thin? You can only jump from the cliff yourself to experience the flight yourself.

The trajectory of my life has been heavenward for sixteen years. Sure it makes turns and sometimes drops like a roller coaster only to soar back up on wings of power and love. For sixteen years I have been taken by the hand and led, with patience, lots of grace, with great tenderness. It's too bad you can't transplant faith.

Human language has not invented the words that would be able to describe my gratitude.