I tiptoed silently out of the bathroom and down the hall to my parents' bedroom. Our two black-and-white cats lay on the bed, sleeping. I ran to the bed, scooped up the cats and carried one under each arm back to the bathroom.

Several minutes earlier, my mom had marshaled me into the house from outside, and marched me upstairs to take a bath. I had protested because the sunny, summer morning was beautiful, and I didn't think blackened feet from wandering barefoot and a dirty face warranted a morning bath. But despite my adamant protest that I didn't need a bath, Mom won out.

On the way to the bathroom, I spotted the cats and suddenly developed an intense desire to play with them. I was afraid they wouldn't be in my parents' room later because they generally avoided me, so after my mom had gone back downstairs, I sneaked them into the bathroom.

My eyes scanned the bathroom, looking for a place to store the disgruntled cats squirming in my arms. My eyes lit on an overhead closet. I quickly deposited the cats in the closet and returned happily to my bath. When my mom returned a few minutes later to check on my progress, the cats were voicing their displeasure at being trapped in the dark closet. Loud yowls escaped the slatted closet door. Mom glanced at the closet and then at me.

"Suzanne, did you lock the cats in the closet?" she asked."No, Mommy," I said innocently.Mom opened the closet and the cats tumbled out. They scurried out of the bathroom, skidding across the linoleum floor. "Suzanne, you lied to me," Mom said sternly. She helped me out of the tub and into clean clothes. Then she explained that lying is a sin, and God hates sin.

After giving me a spanking, my mom sent me outside to think about what I had done. As I sat on my swing, pumping my legs slowly, I thought about sin. I had heard that all people sin and that sin couldn't be where God is. As I thought about the lie I had told that day, I suddenly realized with deep conviction that I was a sinner.

I remembered hearing in Sunday school that I could be saved from sin by believing that Jesus died on the cross to pay the punishment for my sin. Even as a 4-year-old, I recognized my guilt and my need for true forgiveness through Christ. That morning, I said a prayer, asking Christ to be my Savior and inviting him into my life.

This past week, as I've reflected on the Easter story, I've been reminded of the simple faith that I had when I accepted Christ as a little girl. I accepted Christ with faith unclouded by theological concepts, faith based on the simple truth of the gospel: Christ died for my sin.

As a Bible college student, I have learned to highly value doctrine and theology. I realize the importance of knowing what I believe so that I can defend my faith and clearly explain it to others. Paul affirms this as a worthy goal in 1 Timothy 2:15: "Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a workman who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth."

However, acquiring too much head knowledge while failing to apply it to the heart can make one's faith grow stale. As a child, I responded to Christ with my whole heart without any knowledge of the inerrancy of Scripture, the hypostatic union or dispensationalism. My soul simply responded to my realization of what Christ had done for me.

Although I value the knowledge I'm gaining at Multnomah, I never want to lose sight of the simple truth. The sacrifice Christ made for me...a sacrifice even a child can understand.