The road to becoming a Christian, for me at any rate, has been paved with the purposes of God. I have learned that there is no event through which God cannot speak; and that he changes our hearts -sometimes subtly, like a careful gardener, and sometimes agressively, like a revolutionary armed with a picaxe- but always for the better.

My finding Jesus was marked by suffering and doubt; yet also by a curious sense of joy and assurance- as though I were satisfied to be searching for an answer that I merely had not found yet. In my attempts to explain the seemingly unexplainable, I strayed from the path; I ventured out into the wilderness- flipping over stones and splitting trees to find my own peace of mind. Yet, at the end of all these soulful excursions, I found myself standing at a strange crossroads- and, stranger still, I always managed to stumble upon the right path.

It was as though some hand were guiding me; a strong and patient hand; a gentle yet commanding hand. In all of my experiences, God- in ways that I still do not fully understand- shaped me and prepared me, so that, as I lay in my bed in January of 2006 and read the Beatitudes for the first time, I felt I had an idea of the blessedness they spoke of. As my tears hit the pages, my eyes were opened. Black to white; death to life- call it what you want- in the end all I can say is that I experienced Jesus. There are few words as vague, and yet no other word accounts for the transformation so fully. My life has never been the same.