Chapter 8: The Search for Answers

The days blurred together for Noah. Each one felt like a replay of the last—nothing seemed to change. School was the same, the routine was the same, but inside him, everything had shifted. He was no longer the boy who trusted the quiet voice in his heart. Now, he was a boy in search of something he couldn't quite name.

Noah spent hours after school scrolling through his phone, looking for anything that might help. Videos of preachers, articles about faith, quotes from famous Christians—all of it seemed to swirl in front of him. But each time he thought he might find something that clicked, it felt like the words slipped right through his fingers. It was like trying to catch water in a sieve.

At lunch one day, Eli noticed Noah's distracted gaze, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You're not really here today, huh?" Eli asked, picking at his sandwich. "You've been zoning out all week."

Noah hesitated, running a hand through his messy black hair. He hadn't talked about what was going on in his heart yet. Part of him felt embarrassed, like it wasn't something he should be struggling with. Faith was supposed to be steady, right? But now it felt like the ground beneath him was crumbling, and he had no idea how to stop it.

"I... I don't know, Eli," Noah said quietly. "I've been thinking a lot about God. I just don't get it anymore. I keep asking why things happen the way they do—bad things, you know? And... I don't get an answer. I don't even feel like He's there anymore."

Eli's eyes softened, and he set down his sandwich. "I get it. I know things have been tough lately. But just because you don't feel something doesn't mean it's not there."

Noah nodded, but Eli's words didn't settle in the way they should have. He had heard that same advice before. Just trust. But it felt hollow now, like a nice thing people said when they didn't know what else to say.

That afternoon, after the last bell of the day rang, Noah found himself alone in his room, his mind too full of questions. He stood in front of his bookshelf, his fingers trailing across the spines of books, most of which he hadn't read in months. His Bible sat on the shelf too, gathering dust.

With a sigh, Noah pulled it down, feeling the weight of it in his hands. He flipped it open randomly, hoping something would jump out at him. His eyes landed on a verse in Matthew 7:7:

"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you."

He read it again. And again. Something about those words caught his attention, but he couldn't tell why. He sat down at his desk, setting the Bible in front of him. He felt a flicker of something—maybe hope, maybe frustration—rise within him.

Ask and it will be given to you.

It felt too simple. Too easy. Noah had been asking for answers, hadn't he? For weeks, he had begged for clarity. Why wasn't God answering?

But maybe that was the problem—Noah wasn't really seeking. He was questioning, he was doubting, but he wasn't actually looking for God. He was waiting for the answers to fall into his lap. And maybe, just maybe, that wasn't how it worked.

Noah closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. He had never really questioned the voice he had heard as a child. It had come to him so naturally, so quietly, like a truth he couldn't deny. But now... now he wasn't sure what he was even looking for.

He thought about what Eli had said earlier—just because you don't feel something doesn't mean it's not there. It had been a small comment, but now it echoed in his mind. Maybe Eli was right. Maybe he wasn't giving God a chance. Maybe he was so wrapped up in what he didn't feel that he was missing the bigger picture.

Noah stood up and walked to his window, staring out at the sky. The sun was beginning to set, casting the room in golden light. The quiet that had filled his mind earlier now seemed like an opportunity instead of a void. Maybe the answers didn't need to come all at once. Maybe, just maybe, he had to go looking for them.

With a deep breath, Noah closed his eyes again, this time not with frustration, but with a sense of surrender. "God," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "I don't know why I'm feeling this way. I don't know why things are so confusing. But I want to understand. I want to trust You again. Please show me."

For a moment, there was nothing. No loud voice. No overwhelming sense of peace. Just the quiet hum of the world outside his window.

But Noah didn't feel discouraged this time. He felt... something. Not the certainty he had once known, but the smallest glimmer of hope. He wasn't sure what would happen next. But maybe that was okay. Maybe the journey didn't have to have all the answers right away. Maybe it was enough to just ask.