In every medical student's first year, there are many rites of passage. Whether it's your first time wearing the scrubs, opening your first stethoscope or finishing your first OSCE, there are so many big experiences to tick off the bucket list.

One of the most memorable for me was my very first anatomy lab.

Blinking in the cold overhead lights, I vividly remember the panic as the trademark blue sheets were pulled back. My fight-or-flight response was very much focused on securing my speedy flight from the anatomy lab, but like everyone else around me I stayed put. It quickly dawned on me I wasn't going to be able to do this on my own strength, at all.

So, I started praying.

As a Christian, this is second nature – prayer is part of my day, whether that day is good or bad. Time spent in prayer within my church on a Sunday, yes, but also personal prayer sprinkled throughout each day, sometimes in the most unexpected moments. Standing in front of my first cadaver, an observant bystander might be able to tell from my shaking hands and blanching face that I was nervous. But I don't think even the most observant could tell I was praying.

This brings up an important point, when we think about medical students and faith. Faith can never be left behind when we step into a hospital ward or a lecture theatre. It cannot be separated from the student, to be ‘reconnected’ with in their own time. As a Christian, faith is more like the blood in my veins – it is who I am. The treatment I give is always out of a love that flows from my faith. As the Bible says in 1 John 4:19, ‘We love because he first loved us’. I cannot speak for those of other faiths, but for Christians, this is the root of why we practise medicine.

I understand for many colleagues, especially those who aren’t religious, this can sound like a mad notion. However, this is the beauty of having PEOPLE practising medicine. Having backgrounds that we carry with us and can talk about in our workplaces makes us better practitioners.

Celebrating diverse faiths isn't best done by highlighting religious holidays or festivals – it's done by talking about our faith in our practice. It's being aware of how colleagues with a faith will see life and medicine, and how it’s different to those with a different faith, or none at all. Ultimately, it's done by making faith a fixture in our workplaces, and not something we feel we need to leave at the door.

Nowadays in anatomy, my panic is usually reserved for when I'm naming all of the muscles in the hand under time pressure. All the same, my faith is no further from me in my 30th anatomy lab than in my very memorable first.

As the BMA publishes new faith guidance, I’m very grateful that faith in medicine is still on the agenda – it always should be. God will always be my hope, my joy and purpose in medicine and nothing will change that. We would lose so much richness and depth in our profession if we don't see faith for the cornerstone that it is in so many physicians’ lives.

Eva Hampton is a second-year medical student at Queen’s University Belfast medical school.