The primary interaction was between two boys about the same age. I saw the one who was evangelizing get up off the ground after being pushed down. With tears in his eyes, he came close once again to the kid who had pushed him down and said, “I love you and just want you to know Jesus.” With that, the kid who had pushed him down said, get out of my face, and then swung a wide punch and hit him squarely on the cheekbone, which caused the kid to stay down for a while as his friends gathered around him to make sure he was alright. Seeing this, I was torn. 

Last night, I woke up thinking about something I had witnessed long ago that had disturbed my young faith. The years have stolen most of the details of that night from my memory, but the impactful aspect of the event still lingers. It was one of those moments when the simplicity of youth is confronted with the complexities of reality.

Here is what I remember about the night. It was the late 1980s. My parents, a good friend, and I had traveled to another small town in western Kansas, and we were at a county fair. It was one of those nights when the warm air feels good on your skin. My friend and I had gone off alone to do what 15-year-old guys do—look for cute girls. I can still see the short brownish buffalo grass that carpeted the fairgrounds. It was almost dry enough to crunch under your feet when you walked. That detail probably remains with me because I would soon see a kid about my age lying in it after he was knocked to the ground.

The incident I am about to describe might seem trivial compared to the more shocking scenes we see on social media today, but it left a lasting impression on me. To help understand, you will need to recall what it was like to be young if you are not currently living it. Remember the time when everything was bright and new. Think back to when your primary mode of transportation was a bicycle, and romance was an exciting new prospect you did not fully understand. Other than schoolwork, nothing yet had begun to lose its sheen. During this time of life, we feel everything emotionally, and it does not take much for something to be a learning experience.

My faith had seen few challenges and, though real, was simplistic. I still held the idea that just about anything considered Christian was unequivocally good, and anything opposed to it was, without mixture, bad. It was this freshness of youth and simple faith that accompanied me as I walked with my friend to the outskirts of the fair, where we saw a commotion. There were about five kids our age, a couple of girls and three boys, surrounded by about six or seven other guys. The smaller group had been sharing their faith with the larger one, and when we walked within distance to see what was going on, some of the guys in the larger group started to grow hostile.

The primary interaction was between two boys about the same age.

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