Noah: Man of Resolve

by Tim Chaffey

  “Thanks, Father.” Noah held him tightly, treasuring the rare moment with his father. He let go and bent to retrieve his bundle of items.

  “Here. I also gathered a few things from the feast for you to take with you.” Nina held out a bulging satchel, laden with remnants of her good cooking.

  “Thank you, Mother. I’m sure this won’t go to waste.” Noah kissed her cheek before grabbing both bags in one hand and scooping up a couple of fresh bread rounds in the other. He headed for the doorway, nearly as anxious as the first time he had left home and longing to be alone with his thoughts.

  Noah walked outside and headed toward the rear yard. He spotted a familiar figure seated near the edge of the house. “Grandfather, I’m headed to the Hiddekel now to catch the boat.”

  Methuselah stood. “Do you mind if I walk with you?”

  “I’d love that, but are you sure? The sun’s descent is nearly complete.”

  “I may be old, but I can still handle a walk like this. It keeps me feeling young. Besides, I want to talk to you.”

  Noah stretched a welcoming arm out wide and Methuselah attempted to pilfer one of the rolls. It tore apart and less than half remained in Noah’s grip. “Hey!”

  Methuselah took a quick bite and the bread slurred his words. “I though’ you’re off’ring one.”

  Noah chuckled and fell into step with his grandfather. “I suppose you can have it as payment for your company. I always enjoy our talks.”

  A smile spread on Methuselah’s wrinkled face. Although his 870th birthday would come soon, he still displayed the energy and mobility of a man two centuries younger. “As do I.”

  “What topic should we cover this time?” Noah asked.

  Methuselah cocked his head to the side. “Do you remember before you left home all those years ago when I said that my father was the godliest man I’d ever known and that I saw some of that same spirit in you?”

  Noah thought back almost half a millennium to his coming-of-age ceremony and how the events of that night led him straight to Emzara. “I remember.”

  “As you’ve gotten older, that spirit seems to have grown. You’ve kept your commitment to honor the Creator.” Methuselah put a hand on Noah’s arm. “But there’s something different this trip. You seem distracted, and I’ve rarely seen you smile. What’s troubling you?”

  Noah sighed and tipped his head back to look at the tinged hues of gold and pink beginning to weave their way across the sky. He debated playing it safe by just sharing his everyday frustrations over the growing corruption in the world. In his younger years, those who openly opposed the Creator remained largely confined to certain cities and regions. But as the centuries passed, the immorality of those places had spread like a wildfire and had infiltrated Noah’s beloved Iri Geshem long ago. Thankfully, a slight majority of the city’s aging council members continued to enforce policies consistent with the ways of the Most High. But it’s only a matter of time. Noah shook his head. He had shared those concerns with his grandfather before. His recent unease arose from deeper within his soul.

  He turned to the wise man beside him. “Is it truly worth it? Following the Creator, I mean.”

  Methuselah drew back and ran a hand through his thin gray hair. “Of course it is. Why would you ask that?”

  “This world. Everything. I don’t know.” Exasperated, Noah let his arms drop. “I’m nearly 500 years old, and I’ve followed the Most High my entire life. But what good has it done?”

  His grandfather tipped his head forward a little but remained quiet.

  “Every year the evil grows in our lands. Nachash is worshiped throughout half the world, and I know many people in Iri Geshem follow that abomination now. And it’s hardly any better here. The Nodites’ vile influence is all over this region. You saw the marriage ceremony. Marneka and her new husband have very little interest in the Most High. And I don’t think it bothers Jerah and Pivi at all.” Noah clenched his fists and increased his pace. “If the Creator truly is the Most High, then why doesn’t He put a stop to all the wickedness?”

  “You wish for Him to stop people from acting as they please?” Methuselah asked.

  He knew his grandfather despised the vile behaviors all around them but had learned long ago to cut right to the middle of an issue instead of griping about peripheral matters. Noah huffed. “No. I wish He’d warn them so that they’d know He’s real and would follow Him.”

  “My father used to warn them on behalf of the Creator.”

  “Grandfather, please tell me the truth. Did he really walk with God?”

  “Yes. He was a very godly man.”

  “I believe that, but that’s not really what I meant.” Noah pulled his eyebrows together and turned his head away from Methuselah. “Did the Creator actually speak to him? I guess what I’m asking is” — he ran his hand through his hair — “can we truly know that the Most High exists or are we just supposed to hope that our beliefs are right?”

  “I never heard the Creator speak to him, but I believe He did. That’s why he went to the city of Enoch — to warn the people.”

  “Right. That was so long ago. Where’s the judgment that he talked about?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve learned that the Most High does things when He chooses to, and not always when we want Him to. Maybe He’s waiting for someone else to warn the people.” A coy grin spread across Methuselah’s lips.

  “Who? Me?” Noah stepped over a small depression in the trail.

  With a gleam in his eye, Methuselah nodded. “I told you that you have some of my father’s spirit. Why don’t you do it?”

  “I’ve stood up for the Creator for centuries, but lately, I’ve been so . . .” Noah shook his head and his jaw tightened. “Why should I? After all I’ve done for Him, what has He done for me? We still don’t have any children, and we never will. For 450 years Emzara and I have pleaded with Him for a child, and what response have we received? Nothing. Silence. Why should I continue doing what He wants?”

  His grandfather hesitated before putting a hand on Noah’s arm. “He’s given you all that you have. Your life. Your breath. Your health. It’s all from Him. And He’s given you a wonderful wife. Is Emzara not enough of a gift for you?”

  “Of course she is.” Noah blew out a long breath and the heat in his face slowly dissipated. “But my frustration is for her too. You can’t imagine how much she wants a child. She helped our friends, Tubal-Cain and Adira, raise all 17 of their children, but it’s not the same as having your own. The best time we ever spent together was when Jerah and Pivi allowed the twins to stay with us for about half a year. She talks about them so much. And that was over 50 years ago. For once, she had a small taste of what it’d be like to be a mother.”

  “I’m sorry that you two haven’t been able to experience the joy of raising your own children. I truly am. I don’t pretend to know how difficult that is.” Methuselah pulled Noah to a halt so he could face him. “But let me ask you this. Did you know that many of Jerah’s children reject the Most High’s ways?”

  “Yes, I’ve heard Father talk about that,” Noah said. “It saddens him greatly.”

  “It saddens me, too, but not as much as it hurts Jerah and Pivi. They were devastated each time one of their precious children walked away.” The old man stared at Noah. “Maybe that’s why you remain childless.”

  Noah straightened and rubbed his arms to keep warm. “What do you mean? You think my children would turn away from the Creator?”

  Methuselah held up his hand and shook his head. “No, that’s not what I was trying to say. I meant that maybe the Most High is sparing you the pain that would come if your children did refuse to follow Him.”

  “Do you really think that?”

  Methuselah shrugged a shoulder and began walking again. “I’m just thinking out loud and trying to give you a different perspective on it. I believe the Creator will honor your faithfulness, but I certainly don’t know what He has planned for you.�
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  As Noah massaged his temples and sighed, a tiny spark of hope ignited within. “I wouldn’t expect you to know that. I appreciate another viewpoint, as well, but it doesn’t really change my situation. This wedding reopened the wound of our barrenness. Look at Marneka. She’s not even following the Creator, but she’ll probably have children within a short time.”

  Methuselah remained silent, his eyes sympathetic.

  “I know everything I have is from the Creator. And He’s blessed me greatly. I could probably sell the shipyard and never need to work another day in my life. Yet I have no one to leave any of it to.”

  “I didn’t realize shipbuilding was so profitable.”

  “We make the best boats. We get orders from all over world, even though people could order from local shipbuilders for less. But what good is that? I just wish I could do something more meaningful than making boats. To pour my life into raising a child of my own would be so satisfying.”

  “It is. Well, at least it is until they complain to their grandfather about why the Creator isn’t doing what they want Him to do.” Methuselah placed a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “I’m joking, of course. You’re a blessing to me and to everyone else I know. Think of what you’ve accomplished. Your boats carry food and supplies to people everywhere. What about that long voyage you and your wife took to finish mapping out the earth? Was that not meaningful?”

  Noah pursed his lips. Many years earlier, he and Emzara along with Tubal-Cain and Adira journeyed around their enormous land mass. It took much longer than he anticipated because he had misjudged how far they would need to sail. But it had been worth it. Even with all the wicked people, the world still held myriad wonders, and during the voyage he had often found himself marveling at the Creator’s handiwork. Emzara had discovered scores of spectacular animals and delighted in studying and drawing them. We wouldn’t have been able to do that if we were raising a family. He sighed. Even the memory of that fulfilling adventure held no comfort for him now.

  Reaching the river’s edge, Methuselah stopped. “Let me ask you this. Where do you get this idea that the Creator owes you something?”

  Noah stepped back, his eyes wide. “I . . .”

  “Do you forget that we’re created from dust, just like the stuff that’s been at our feet this whole walk?” His grandfather’s voice was firm yet gentle. “Is not His forgiveness the greatest gift of all?”

  Noah bowed his head, not ready to give up his anger, but understanding the wisdom in his grandfather’s words.

  “Listen. I understand your frustration. But you need to think about whether you’re wholly worshiping the Creator, or if you’re worshiping the idea of having a family. We serve Him because of who He is, not because of what He gives.” Methuselah turned to face his grandson squarely, gripping both of Noah’s arms and waiting for him to look up before speaking again. “You don’t have to accept this right now, but you have the strength of character to stand for the Most High in these evil times. Don’t let your disappointments get in the way of what He may be calling you to do. Continue to serve Him in spite of how you feel and resolve to follow Him no matter what.”

  Noah stood up tall. “I have a lot to think about.”

  “Good. You’ll have plenty of time for it on your trip home.” He slapped Noah on the back and grinned knowingly.

  One corner of Noah’s mouth turned upward.

  “There it is.”

  “What?” Noah crossed his arms. “I finally smiled?”

  “Nope.” Methuselah pointed past him. “There’s your boat.”

  “Grandfather, thank you. I needed this walk.”

  Chapter 26

  Novanam — Noah’s 499th year

  As always, it was good to travel with you, Valur.” Noah released the old man’s corded forearm. During the week, Noah had wrestled with the thoughts that still plagued his soul, though he had also spent plenty of time helping Valur with the physical demands of running a boat. But even as he worked, he felt his soul preparing for peace, drawing nearer each day to the resolution that would sustain his spirit.

  The captain’s smile revealed a couple of missing teeth, prominent reminders of the story Valur had told Noah about a violent passenger on his boat many years ago. “You’re always welcome on my vessel.” The man tilted his head. “Or should I call it your vessel, since you built it?”

  “Hardly.” Grinning, Noah shook his head and slung his bag over his shoulder before stepping onto the gangplank. “May the Creator watch over you.”

  “And you as well. Be sure to greet your lovely wife for me, and make sure she comes with you next time so I’ll have better company.”

  “I will.” Noah pivoted and eyed the bustling town of Novanam. After marching down the long ramp and reaching land, he turned left in hopes of finding a vacancy at his favorite inn.

  “Hey, Noah.”

  Noah looked up to see Valur calling to him from the ship’s deck above.

  The sailor patted the rail. “Remember, bigger boats.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Noah chuckled, enjoying their traditional farewell in memory of Recharu. He and Valur had partnered up to take over a share of the business when Deks retired. Then Valur had become sole owner when Recharu passed away nearly a century ago. It was Recharu who had first requested larger boats after Noah’s maiden voyage with them as a young man.

  After securing a room and dining at the inn, Noah walked through the city streets. Once a brief stop for the river runners, Novanam now boasted a few thousand residents and had grown into a major stop for the increased boat traffic on the river. Noah estimated that only a small percentage of the people there followed the Creator, and it was not uncommon for fights to break out in the tavern district at night, due to a combination of strong drinks and strong men.

  Noah steered wide of that area as he headed for a place that had provided him a peaceful respite on a few occasions. Before reaching the top of the hill on the road to Zakar, he turned down a little-used dusty trail to his left. Part of him longed to continue on the main road and visit his friends in the forest village, but he thought back to his grandfather’s words and craved the time alone to reflect and continue praying to the Creator.

  Ducking under broad leaves and carefully dodging thorny plants, Noah regretted not purchasing a clearing blade in town, but the trail soon opened up. Mature trees surrounded him on every side, shading out the undergrowth until it dwindled into almost nothing. He climbed up a large log lying to his left and sat down. Staring out over the city of Novanam and the river just beyond it reminded him of his childhood years watching the occasional boats and dreaming of adventure. Now, centuries later, he had experienced more adventure than he had ever imagined and built just about every large boat on the Hiddekel.

  Noah slowly closed his eyes and took several deep, relaxing breaths as he listened to the birds chirping and forest animals scurrying about. Without a single man-made sound in the air, he smiled and cherished the tranquil surroundings, occasionally opening his eyes to watch the light glisten on the crystalline water far below. His thoughts drifted back to his frustrations and the recent conversation with his grandfather.

  He’s right. Who do I think I am, that I can force the Creator to bless me? A battle between selfishness and gratitude raged deep in his soul. Absently breaking a small branch into pieces, he wrestled with himself. Noah took a deep breath. Creator, do You know what I’m feeling right now? I have no legitimate right to hold on to all this anger, but I find myself unable to let it go. Help me. He paused. Help me let it go. Forgive me for doubting Your goodness. You have given me so much to be thankful for, and I often take it for granted. Thank you for Emzara and her tremendous love and support over these many years. Help us to serve You in spite of our disappointments.

  Noah stopped as relief spread through him and the burden eased a little. As he breathed in a new sense of contentment, he became keenly aware of the silence. All the animal noises, as well as the gent
le breeze, had ceased. The perfect stillness made him a little nervous, and he slowly opened his eyes to something even more alarming. Gone were Novanam, the river, and the opening in the woods before him. In their place, a forest full of tall, straight trees rested on the edge of a large, relatively flat field with the sun high overhead. Having worked with wood his whole life, Noah was certain he knew every kind of timber in the world, but these were foreign to him.

  Instead of resting on the log as before, Noah found himself standing, his mouth agape. He blinked hard. This must be a dream. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Only then did he sense a presence behind him. Somehow in the midst of silence, he knew he was being watched. He turned slowly, then stood motionless. On the edge of the forest, a babbling stream flowed beside an old, small stone house and an outbuilding he was sure he hadn’t passed earlier.

  “Noah.”

  The voice came from his right, although voice might not be the right way to describe it. Instead, it sounded like thunder mixed with raging waters. But his name was clearly discernable.

  Fear and peace grappled for control inside Noah. Conflicted, he wanted to run away, but at the same time, he longed to turn and see who had called his name. A chill ran up his spine, causing his arms and legs to tingle and his neck hair to stand upright. As he turned, a bright glow appeared in the corner of his view. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and faced the light.

  As he cautiously opened his eyes, comprehension eluded him. Hovering just above the ground between the two largest trees in the forest, a flame of fire, not much larger than a man, burned brightly, but it did not consume anything around it. Captivated, Noah gazed at the beautiful yet terrifying sight. The light emanating from the flame seemed to pierce his entire being.

  “Noah.” The intimidating, thunderous voice resounded from the flame.

  Instantly, Noah dropped face first on the ground. Fear surged through his frame, and he felt as if every particle of his body would tear apart. Too scared to think, let alone speak, Noah focused on trying to breathe.