This is Kamillion in the Godzland Ministries studio, where he occasionally records. Kamillion says: "I think music in general is just the definition of expression. In the Bible, it says, 'Give joy to the Lord, and every day make a new song.' "

Photos by Edward Brown / Special to the arizona daily star

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When my cousin Chris Ehlers, "Ox," invited me to a Christian rap contest at the University of Arizona a couple of years ago, I thought it would be a waste of time. I listened to gangsta rap, and at 12, I already was influenced by gangs. But something inside pushed me to go. I wanted to win that competition.

When we showed up at the contest, I met local Christian rap artist Nemasis, the producer and founder of Godzland Productions. "Look at this fool," I thought to myself as I gave Nemasis a mean look. I never could relate to Christian rap or Christians, because I thought most of them were judgmental and snotty. But my whole perspective changed that night.

When I saw Nemasis walking toward me and my cousin, I tried to ignore him. But he shook my hand, then hugged me like I was his friend. I thought, "This guy's straight-up crazy."

When the show finally started, the first rapper was from out of town. I was unbelievably impressed with his rap style and how he pieced lyrics together from the word of God and the culture of hip-hop. When he was finished, I thought the performance was over. But the freestyle contest was just starting.

When the rappers started calling people down to the stage, I got nervous and stayed seated. Ox, who was sitting a few rows in front of me, started shaking his hand, calling me down. He was going to compete, and wanted me to get up there with him. I didn't want to look like a quitter. I'd always told my cousin what a good rapper I was. My mind was saying no, but my heart was saying yes. When I got up on stage, everyone was cheering. The DJ warned us about cussing, and when the music came on, I couldn't feel the beat. My whole body was numb with fear.

So I started to rap. After about nine seconds of freestyling, I stopped because I almost said the "S" word in front of a Christian crowd. I left the stage in embarrassment — I was definitely the worst rapper up there. When I got back to the audience, I turned around and watched Nemasis, the guy who had just hugged me, take the stage. When Nemasis started to freestyle, he stormed up the microphone with biblical deliverance. He put words together in a way that I'd never heard on the radio. My soul was hungry for this kind of rap.

* * *

I had just gotten comfortable in the Tucson Christian rap scene when another of my cousins was arrested for a drive-by shooting with a few of his friends. In the aftermath of the shooting, I grew distrustful of everyone close to me. At school, I rapped about gangs and violence for my friends. My whole mission was to become famous, because I wanted respect — just like everybody else in the mainstream hip-hop scene. I started getting into trouble with gangs again, until one day I heard that my close cousin, in jail, had become a believer in Christ. I became curious. I decided to check out church.

* * *

After a few months, I started to get into the East Coast rappers from the 1990s, like Eric B. and Rakim and Wu-Tang Clan. Through their lyrics, these rappers encouraged me to use more poetry in my own rhymes. After some practice at the sound studio at my middle school, I thought I was pretty good.

Encouraged by my newfound rapping skills, I started participating in the youth group at Life in Christ Community Church. It was in this group that I met youth leader Joe Smith. After a few weeks, I looked up to him, because he has a heart for the youth. While my friends and teachers ignored me and thought they were better than me, Joe paid attention to what I had to say.

Even though I still had a street mentality, my life started to look up: I'd found a new group of friends who supported my faith, and I finally felt accepted at Life in Christ. One of the pastors asked our congregation if any of us would like to attend the Promise Keepers conference in Glendale. A week later, I found myself at an arena with thousands of other Christian men.

During one of the worship services at the conference, I walked to the altar with nothing on my mind except God. I confessed, made a commitment and was baptized. I felt like the whole world changed.

* * *

Five months ago, I went to a party at a local rap artist's house. At the party, Nemasis and his wife, Krystal Llerandez, sat me down and asked me to be a part of their hip-hop ministry, Godzland Productions. I felt confused and excited at the same time. On the inside, I was praising, but on the outside, I was too ashamed to show my reaction, so I just smiled. I never thought I would be a part of an active gospel scene.

At 15, I am one of the youngest rappers involved with Godzland. I write lyrics that bring people to God. I'm also focusing on my own project, a gospel hip-hop CD.

I hope my story helps others realize that there is more to life than the neighborhood you grow up in, or the music that is coming out on the radio — and I hope my lyrics encourage others to keep their eyes on Christ.