There’s a little 6-year-old girl sitting on her grandmother’s lap in a church pew. It’s beyond a late hour, and she’s watching a small production with bright colors among masks and costumes. There’s a red figure that keeps popping out from behind the white curtain screen. It reminds her of a lion, as it has a great mane, with demon, hunting-like eyes. The music is dramatic and quite terrifying, giving a loud “BOOM!” every time the red figure is meant to excite the crowd.

The only problem was it didn’t excite the little girl. It scared her, and she found no relief. Tears started streaming down her face; she didn’t make a sound, and she didn’t even realize she was crying. Her grandmother comforted her, and told her not to worry because the play was almost over. However, the tears continued, but she didn’t even know why she was crying. She knew the red character was just the guy who normally sat two rows ahead of her during morning church services. She saw him every Sunday, and he even took the offering plate a few times. The little girl finally sniffled, making her grandmother agitated as to why the child in her lap was still emotional.

It hit the little girl at the same time the exact thought hit the grandmother. It was the same thought that was told to the little girl from her preacher during Sunday school. God was calling to her, and she finally listened. The grandmother took the young girl by the hand and brought her up to altar. The preacher prayed with the child, and she invited Jesus into her heart, confessing herself to all sins. She miraculously stopped crying; the church congregation clapped and congratulated the little girl.

There was in particular one man who wore black leather, and bore a long beard. He handed the child a small, metal cross with his initials engraved on the back. He said that it was given to him by his parents when he was saved, and he wanted to pass it along.

That young girl was me. I still have that small, metal cross. I am now a rising sophomore at Belmont University.

Ever since that night in the small countryside church, I have found that the young girl had grown up to young woman. What used to be attendance every Sunday turned into every other Sunday. The weekly church functions were no longer. I then went off to college at a Christian university, thinking my faith would mend itself.

I declared a major and minor in the sciences. For my freshman year, I pursued heavily among biology and chemistry courses, staying on track to my pre-med way of living. Knowing that a life in the sciences was contradictory to Christianity, I thought I had to choose between the two. I didn’t want to be a fraud, but I had so many questions about my alleged higher power of a God.

I made it to my second semester of biology, in which a specific book was announced as a required read. The book "Origins: Christian Perspectives on Creation, Evolution, and Intelligent Design," authored by Deborah and Loren Haarsma, brought a new outlook on my life.

I had previously pursued the mysterious facts of the science world, and now I was able to compromise and decide what I wanted to believe. The book gave examples of Scripture and text involved in the sciences. It showed me that I can use God’s word and design to interpret the natural world that I find myself in. Put simply, God may not pollinate the flowers in the spring, but instead he made the bee. The bee was put on this Earth to pollinate the flowers.

This revelation strengthened my faith far more than what a general sermon would have done. I now challenge myself to the scripture and take every stanza to heart. I challenge myself to live by the gospel. I challenge myself to share with others the grace of my almighty God.

My faith is not perfect, nor will it ever be, as faith is a continuum from this life to another, and it can only be strengthened from where I stand now. I wouldn’t have been able to come up with this grand notion without the help of my professors at Belmont University.

I thank them immensely for helping me to find my way among my own thoughts and conceptions.