This is a matter of record, so there is no point in denying it: I was not a good student in math or science  not in elementary school, not in high school, not in college.
Frankly, I was at my best in subjects in which the answer was a matter of opinion.
But something changed when my bachelor’s degree was a couple of decades old.
I started reading books and articles in those more precise fields, and I became especially interested in physics.
I haven’t become an authority; far from it, I frequently read the same sentence over and over again before I grasp it. But I find the topic irresistible.
Recently, for instance, I interrupted my day’s work at least a half dozen times so I could read breaking news: a team of astronomers had confirmed Alan Guth’s 35-year-old hypothesis that the universe expanded faster than the speed of light for a cosmic instant immediately after the Big Bang.
For me, wrangling with the implications of something like that is attractive for reasons that may seem contradictory.
On the one hand, the attraction is in the mystery. No matter how science advances, no matter how deeply it looks into the subatomic structure of the universe, and no matter how far it peers into the expanse of space, every discovery poses new questions.
On the other hand, the attraction is in the constant unpacking of the mystery, our ever-growing knowledge in every field of science.
In both of those respects, I sense in science the reality of God.
Albert Einstein wrote this:
“The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. … In this sense, and only this sense, I am a deeply religious man… I am satisfied with the mystery of life’s eternity and with knowledge, a sense, of the marvelous structure of existence  as well as the humble attempt to understand even a tiny portion of the Reason that manifests itself in nature.”
The “marvelous structure,” the “Reason that manifests itself in nature,” are to me the fingerprints of God.
I got that concept in an antiseptic kind of way when I studied Thomas Aquinas in college, but, for me, delving into physics has made the idea more than an academic syllogism.
Father Robert Barron, in a critical commentary on the television series “Cosmos,” referred to two theological premises that are the underpinnings of modern science: the world is not God and, therefore, we can poke and prod and dissect and inspect it in order to understand it better and better; and, the world is understandable precisely because of the order that exists throughout its structure.
“If God made the world in its entirety,” Father Barron wrote on the Catholic World Report website, “then nothing in the world is divine; and if God made the world in its entirety, then every detail of the world is marked by the mind of the Creator.”
As Pope Francis has alluded to several times, virtually every human being is seeking God — including those who don’t put it that way, even to themselves.
Some find God in loving and receiving the love of others; some find God in prayer and song ritual; some find God in Scripture and other spiritual writing; some find God in fasting, silence, and meditation.
It’s a game of hide-and-seek in which, as the late Cardinal Basil Hume wrote, God wants to be found.
And, sure enough, as I stretch my brain and scratch my head over the evolving insights of physics, the science of what-makes-it-all-tick, there is God, hiding in plain sight.