Encounter at a Crosswalk

My journey into martial arts started unexpectedly one day in Aurora, Colorado. I was at a busy intersection, and, honestly, I felt a bit uneasy about the place. Not exactly the safest part of town, I noticed a person coming up behind me.

She looked young, likely from Gen Z, and was covered in tattoos, with piercings that made you think about how she got through airport security. As we stood waiting for the light to change, I felt the minutes stretch out. It’s strange, but when someone appears a bit rough around the edges, it can spark a sense of nervousness. Given the headlines we often see about violence, I figured it was just sensible to be cautious.

Above us, a bald eagle soared near the hospital where my wife had been recovering for months. I couldn’t help but take out my phone for a photo. She noticed and said, “That’s amazing.”

I responded with a John Denver quote: “If he hadn’t seen the eagle fly, he would have been poorer. We don’t think we’re poor this morning, do we?” She offered a sad smile, as if she was hiding something heavy. “It was necessary given what I was carrying.”

When the light turned, we walked across together. I asked her what she was dealing with.

That’s when she opened up about an abusive ex-boyfriend who threatened to show up at her place. You could hear the fear in her voice. I asked if she had applied for a protection order. She mentioned she was in the process, but she didn’t sound confident. I then inquired if she owned a gun. Suddenly, her demeanor shifted to shame. She rolled her eyes and confessed her past convictions meant she couldn’t own one.

As we reached the other side of the street, I tried to give her practical advice that could help her feel safer right away. But as we conversed, it became apparent that the issue ran much deeper. I sensed she didn’t believe she was worth protecting.

So I looked her in the eyes and said, “Do you understand that your safety is important? That you are worth protecting?”

Her eyes reflected disbelief. So, I reiterated it—not as a question, but a fact: “You are worth protecting.” Tears started to well up in my eyes.

Then I asked if I could pray with her. She nodded, tearfully, and right there, on that busy sidewalk, we bowed our heads.

I can’t quantify how many people prayed for my wife and me during tough times, but I can count the moments I’ve prayed for that young woman on the streets of Aurora. And I believe she wasn’t alone in that moment. We have a Savior who “always lives and makes intercession” for us.

That’s all it takes sometimes. It’s simple: meet her, share steps she can take, pray for her, and offer her the assurance she hasn’t told herself yet.

This encounter was rare, but I think similar moments will happen more often. This generation faces anxiety, depression, and hopelessness on a scale we haven’t seen before. Research indicates that 55% of Gen Z feels moderate to extreme anxiety, while 47% report feeling moderate or extreme depression.

Some of their choices might seem strange to older generations. Bright hair colors, piercings, tattoos—these might not resonate with everyone. Still, as Thoreau pointed out, many people live lives of quiet despair. We all hurt, just in different ways. A wound is a wound, and scars tell stories.

In the wake of recent events, many, particularly younger individuals, are eager to dive into debates. While voices still resonate in public discussions, not every moment of significance demands a stage.

That morning in Aurora, I didn’t set out to change anyone’s beliefs or stir political conversations. I was just there to support my wife after her lengthy surgery. Yet, a brief interaction at a crosswalk turned into an opportunity to remind someone that her life mattered. She had no clue about my struggles, and frankly, she didn’t need to. What began as vigilance turned into a moment of connection—an undeniable pain of another human being.

One generation is understandably struggling. Many of us, perhaps older and less familiar with their realities, can still communicate through our scars. Kindness costs little, requires no training, and can mean the world to someone in need.

All it takes is being prepared to “comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we receive.” In a world brimming with conflict, perhaps this is the most radical act of all.