DOES GOD EXIST? Do I exist? What, if anything, is real? These aren't questions I thought I'd be facing my first year in college. But pretty soon, they consumed my thoughts.

A couple of my friends were exploring atheistic and nihilistic beliefs, which led to some unsettling conversations about these theories of existence. The ideas terrified me, particularly the nihilistic notion that nothing really exists, everything is an illusion, and therefore nothing matters whatsoever. According to this theory, we've all been fooling ourselves into believing that there is some real purpose to life.

Up until this point, my spiritual education had taken place in the Christian Science Sunday School. And the metaphysical concepts I was studying in the Christian Science Bible Lessons were having a practical, healing effect in my own life. As a result, my love and appreciation for Christian Science were growing.

But these conversations about the doubtful existence of God and man left me confused and helpless about what constituted reality. I felt that the questions they raised threatened to pull the rug out from under my entire way of viewing life itself—a view that had provided a great sense of comfort, joy, and purpose. Uncertain whether I could weed my way through such confusing thoughts, I continued my study of Christian Science, but avoided tackling any of the bigger questions that were still lingering ominously in my consciousness.

At the beginning of my sophomore year, I was able to participate in a phenomenal study abroad program in the Himalayas, which I could only describe as "heaven on earth." The open landscapes, simple lifestyle, and sincerity of my fellow group members made me feel more alive and freer than I ever had before. The trip also helped me see myself in a new light, one in which I felt more confident, valuable, and open to others. It was a life-changing experience.

When I returned to college the following quarter, though, I was sucked back into the self-criticism I thought I'd shed on the mountains, and I began to get depressed. I felt as if I'd experienced true happiness during my travels, only to lose it and have no hope of getting it back. In this confused state, I was plagued by the same questions I'd left largely unresolved—questions about reality and existence. The fear that nihilism might be true began to get the better of me. Whether sitting on a friend's couch or walking to class, I was often hit with the sudden sinking feeling that absolutely nothing around me was real and that I did not actually exist.

I tried repeatedly to find comfort where I usually did, in the Bible and the writings of Mary Baker Eddy. But the words felt lifeless. Still, this didn't stop God from speaking to me in a way that I could understand. In a philosophy course I was taking at the time, we briefly studied a piece by the 17th-century French philosopher Rene Descartes. He concluded that our ability to ask the question "Do I exist?" proves that we do, in fact, exist in some form. This idea calmed my anxieties and reignited a spark of hope in my thought. From this point on, I was able to trust that I would eventually find satisfying answers to all of my questions. And I began to pray with a renewed dedication and sense of purpose.

I naturally began spending more time alone with God—listening for His answers to my questions. Soon after, I realized that I'd been misinterpreting one of the cardinal points of Christian Science, and the one point that sets Christian Science apart from all other religions—namely, that matter is not real. Referring to Christ Jesus, Mary Baker Eddy wrote: "The 'man of sorrows' best understood the nothingness of material life and intelligence and the mighty actuality of all-inclusive God, good. These were the two cardinal points of Mind-healing, or Christian Science, which armed him with Love" (Science and Health, p. 52).

Before, I'd interpreted this to mean that even the good things in material life—beautiful landscapes, the joys of hiking, cherished relationships—were illusions. But the shift in my understanding came when I realized that the only illusion is that those good things were ever material. What a relief to receive the message that all the goodness in my life is very, very real! But also, that this goodness is spiritual, not material. This means it has never been, and can never be, lost. Mrs. Eddy explained this when she wrote, "Metaphysics resolves things into thoughts, and exchanges the objects of sense for the ideas of Soul" (Science and Health, p. 269). This told me that when one gives up a material perspective on life and existence, it doesn't result in a meaningless void. Instead, an exchange takes place, and a more permanent understanding of man's spiritual birthright fills thought.

This new understanding shed a different light on my time abroad. I realized that the beauty I'd experienced in the Himalayas wasn't confined to that particular locality or to past experiences. The beauty was God's own goodness, totally independent of physical circumstances. I felt I was now doing more justice to the good I'd gained on that trip because I was finally recognizing its eternal nature and could watch it blossom into new, even more beautiful forms wherever I was.

Again, words from Science and Health provided me with much-needed reassurance: "The individuality of man is no less tangible because it is spiritual and because his life is not at the mercy of matter. The understanding of his spiritual individuality makes man more real, more formidable in truth, and enables him to conquer sin, disease, and death" (p. 317).

Initially, I'd come up with the slogan "The Himalayas are here" to remind myself that the opportunity for good is always present. Now, seeing more clearly the ultimate, eternal source of all goodness, I've exchanged the old slogan for the more permanent original: "The kingdom of heaven is at hand" (Matt. 10:7).

Along with this strengthened understanding has come a lasting sense of my purpose—which is to dwell in God's present goodness and watch it multiply. Fear of nihilism and atheism has been completed replaced with the certainty that God does, in fact, exist, and so do I. God's reality is spiritual. It's tangible, and it doesn't share its power with matter. As the Bible says, "I am the Lord: that is my name: and my glory will I not give to another" (Isa. 42:8).

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Miranda Miller is from Columbus, Ohio.

May the divine light
of Christian Science that lighteth
every enlightened thought
illumine your faith and understanding
exclude all darkness or doubt,
and signal the perfect path
wherein to walk,
the perfect Principle whereby
to demonstrate the perfect man
and the perfect law of God.

—Mary Baker Eddy, The First Church of Christ, Scientist, and Miscellany, p. 187