When a teenager asks a hard question and you don't know the answer

Some time ago, while I was still at home, we lived on the upper floor of a two-storey building, and occasionally, I would come down to gist with some of our teenage neighbours. During this time, we explored topics ranging from academics and personal development to politics, the state of the country, and many others. One day, a question I never expected came up from one of the boys, who was roughly in his late teens: Brother Tunde, how sure are you that this heaven we are talking about really exists? I was taken aback momentarily. In my mind, I was like, how do I approach this question? Luckily for me, I could recall the story of Lazarus and the rich man, which served as the launchpad for further discussions.

Most of us do one of three things in those two seconds. We bluff, giving a confident answer we only half believe because silence feels like failure. Or we deflect, with "we'll talk about it later" or "just have faith", and later never comes. Or we shut it down: "Don't ask questions like that."

My view is that teenagers notice all three, and they remember. The cost isn't the weak answer. It's that they quietly stop bringing you the real questions, and the real questions are where discipleship actually happens. If you don't have the answer, start with the next heading.

Say it plainly

Start with the true thing. "I don't know." Three words. Then add the part that matters: "and I'm glad you asked me." You haven't lost any authority by saying it. You've shown them what an honest adult sounds like, and that is worth more than a quick answer.

A few lines you can borrow, in your own words:

•     "I don't know. Let's find out."

•     "That's a fair question, and I don't want to guess."

•     "Give me till Sunday, and I'll come back to you. Hold me to it."

•     "What do you think? I'd like to hear it before I say anything."

Find out what is behind the question

Hard questions are rarely only questions. "Why does God allow suffering?" might be a philosophy question. It might also be a teenager who lost someone, or who watched a parent struggle, and is trying to work out whether it's still safe to believe.

Before you answer anything, ask: "What made you think of that?" Then listen for longer than feels comfortable. I'd say this is the step adults skip most, because we're busy preparing our answer.

Keep what you know apart from what you don't

Teenagers deserve a clean map. Tell them what Scripture says plainly. Tell them where thoughtful Christians read it differently. Tell them where you simply aren't sure. Three piles, kept separate.

It sounds like extra work. It's the difference between teaching and performing, and young people can feel which one they're getting.

Look it up where they can see you do it

There's a good model in Acts 17. The believers in Berea heard the apostle Paul himself, and still went to the Scriptures every day to check whether what he said was so (Acts 17:11). If that was the habit of people listening to an apostle, it's a fair habit for a youth leader.

So open the Bible together. Open a good commentary. Let them watch you read, weigh and change your mind if you need to. That's something they can copy for the rest of their lives, long after they've forgotten your answer.

Bring someone in, then come back

Some questions need a pastor, an older believer, a counsellor, or a better book than you own. Tell the teenager whom you'll ask. Then go back to them within the week, even if all you can say is, "I asked, here's what I learnt, and I'm still thinking."

The follow-up is where trust gets built. It's a small habit, and young people notice it.

One warning

Some questions about death, meaning or being a burden are really about the person asking. If something in how a teenager asks worries you, don't wait to look it up. Stay with them, stay calm, and bring in a trusted adult or a professional the same day.

A faith that has been asked

A faith that has never faced a hard question hasn't been tested yet. I'd rather the test happened in a room with someone who loves them, who is honest about the gaps, and who stays. That's most of what a young person needs from us. Not every answer. A steady adult who tells the truth about what they don't have.

So try one small thing. The next time you're stuck, say "I don't know" in one sentence, write the question down where they can see it, and tell them the day you'll come back

What's the hardest question a teenager has ever asked you? I'd like to hear it.

If this was useful, the Substack is where I send one piece like this every week: tundegodfrey.substack.com