Jacob Matson. My heartbeat quickened as I glimpsed at the name on the unopened e-mail. I clicked to open it.

Dear Kelsey,
I enjoyed reading your last e-mail. I understand what you’re saying about Jesus being the only way, but I just can’t believe in a God who would send people to hell. . . .

The e-mail continued, and with each word, my heart sank a little deeper. I’d been sure my last e-mail would have penetrated, but my friend, who had grown up in the church, yet now claimed agnostic beliefs, remained as unconvinced as ever. Lord, I begged, what more can I do?

Separate Ways
Jake and I grew up going to the same small church. We attended the same Bible quiz meets, played shepherds in the same Christmas musicals and spent almost every major holiday together.

At the beginning of our sophomore year, Jake and I had corroborated on organizing an awesome back-to- school bowling party. Everyone said it was the best party Evansville Community had ever seen. That was the year Jake moved from our rural Indiana town to Portland, Ore. Youth group wasn’t the same without his goofy antics. But thanks to modern technology, Jake and I kept in touch through e-mail.

Kels,
My new school is awesome. I’ve taken up skateboarding. Can you believe it? Don’t worry, I won’t forget how to drive a tractor. ;) It rained today . . . again.

His early e-mails talked about new friends, the weather and the “out of control” skate park where he spent most of his free time. His weekly updates always made me laugh.

After a few months of e-mailing, I noticed Jake never mentioned God. At first, I didn’t think much about it; he’d never been especially outspoken about his faith. But when I asked him about his new church and youth group, he seemed to avoid my questions. Finally, the truth came out.

Dear Kelsey,
I don’t actually believe the Bible is true, at least not all of it. There are too many things that just don’t make sense. Please don’t be upset. I’m still the same old goofball.

When I read those words, I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. You’re not the same! I thought angrily. How can you turn your back on what you know is true?

I sprang into action. For months now, I’d glued myself to my laptop after school, writing the most eloquent defense of my faith I could muster. The pages of my concordance were worn with use from searching for the right verses. I felt sure if I could just give Jake enough evidence, he’d see his mistake.

It was a good theory, but the stronger my arguments seemed, the more solidly he rejected them. I no longer asked him about skateboarding or the rain. Our daily correspondence had become solely a battle of beliefs.

Faith Crisis
I banged my locker shut and swung my backpack over one shoulder. I was headed to trig, but my mind was far from math.

“Hey, Kels.” My friend Meg matched my stride as we passed the drinking fountain.

“Hey,” I said flatly.

“Is everything OK?”

I sighed. “Meg, have you ever had trouble believing the Bible is true?”

She halted in front of the classroom door and shot me her famous raised eyebrow. “Yeah, I guess so. Need to talk?”

My eyes filled with tears. “Yeah . . . ”

“So he doesn’t believe at all?” Meg asked as she slurped her Superberry Smoothie.

The neon colors of The Smooth Fruit, our favorite after- school meeting place, clashed with my dismal mood.

“Well, he believes in a Creator,” I said, stirring my lemonade. “He says he just can’t handle the God sending people to hell part.”

“Yeah, that’s a tough one,” Meg said. “But you know the Bible says it’s our own rebellion against God that separates us from Him.”

“I know that, but I just can’t convince Jake. He keeps coming up with all these logical reasons not to believe.”

“That’s rough.” Meg looked thoughtful. “I guess that’s why Paul said we live by faith. All the words in the world won’t help someone see the truth if he doesn’t have faith.”

That night I stared at the blank page of my journal, feeling tired and discouraged. Finally, I forced my pen to write: God, I don’t know what else to do. Nothing I’m saying is working. How can I help Jake believe in You?

Room for Growth
The next day, I found a note taped to my locker. Brightly-colored flowers surrounded the handwritten message:

“So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow” (1 Corinthians 3:7). Praying for you! Meg

I slid the folded note into my pocket and pondered its words as I walked to chemistry. Maybe convincing Jacob of the truth wasn’t my job. Maybe I was just supposed to plant seeds of truth and water his life with friendship. I’d been so concerned about proving him wrong that I’d forgotten to be the right kind of friend.

When I got home from school, I opened my laptop and started typing:

Dear Jake,
Thanks for being honest with me about your beliefs. It’s sometimes hard for me to hear because my relationship with Christ is so important. But I just want you to know that anytime you want to talk about ANYTHING — school, life, skateboarding — I’m ready to listen.
Kels

I shut my laptop and said a quick thank-you prayer. It wasn’t up to me. All I had to do was be the person God made me to be, and trust that, in His timing, something would begin to grow in Jake’s heart. In the meantime, I had a little growing to do myself.