Friends, the assassination of Charlie Kirk is a reckoning, a tragedy that shakes our Republic like a thunderclap—an echo of Lincoln at Ford’s Theatre, of King on that balcony in Memphis, of Kennedy in Dallas. A nation that once wept over fallen leaders must now reckon with the blood of a young man gunned down not for crimes, but for his faith and for his words. Will we repent and come together, recompense—or further collapse into decay, rot? Will we cultivate a culture of life and acceptance or death and rejection? The choice lies with each of us.
Before I go too far, Scripture tells us in Romans 12:15—“Weep with those who weep.” My heart bends toward his wife, Ericka, toward his children, his family, and his friends. On September 10th, 2025, at an outdoor event at Utah Valley University, Charlie was struck once in the neck while addressing more than 3,000 people. Days later, Ericka—widow, mother, and now bearer of his torch—vowed to continue the tour they had begun together.
Even if you disagreed with him, a young family has lost a husband and father. The killing of a man for his words, his beliefs, or his politics must be condemned by all people who claim to love justice and truth. And before we debate, before we defend, before we deconstruct—we must first weep. That is the Christian’s first hermeneutic of tragedy: not suspicion, not blame, but lament.
In the last week, I’ve re-watched more of Charlie’s speeches than in the last ten years. I confess: I didn’t always agree. At times, I disliked his tone. But when you see his words in their fuller, even epistemological context—the whole rather than the fragment—something shifts.
Before, I might have said I agreed with him sixty-five percent of the time. Now, after seeing more of his heart in longer exchanges, it’s closer to eighty, maybe eighty-five. Context changed my paradigm. And that matters—not because agreement is the goal, but because charity and context are Christian disciplines.
How often do we judge prematurely, condemning a man from a headline or a soundbite? We live in an age of digital guillotines where a stray sentence becomes a death sentence. Yet Charlie himself often laughed at satire—even when South Park lampooned him. He understood what Voltaire meant: “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.”
Disagree with a man’s views—abhor them if you must—but be fair. Many heard Charlie as harmful or insensitive, especially in some African American or LGBTQ communities. I understand why some clips landed that way. But in fuller exchanges, a different picture emerges. Charlie challenged ideas and policies, he did not deny the worth of people. His convictions centered on truth, responsibility, human dignity, and faith.
He was blunt, but bluntness is not hatred nor violence. Debate formats are fast, messy, and imperfect—it’s not always possible to meet everyone exactly where they are in real time.
What, then, was his record? Imperfect, yes. Human, certainly. But Charlie Kirk professed openly, “I am nothing without Jesus.” He told young men, “Having children is more important than having a great career.” He defended the unborn. He called families to be strong. He lifted Bibles higher than applause lines.
And the fruits? Quiet, often unseen, support for Black communities—scholarships funded, initiatives underwritten, young leaders mentored. Testimonies of those efforts are only now coming forward. That is not racism; that is ministry. Accusing him of dehumanization is to ignore the very human faces now rising to honor him. He inspired thousands to open their Bibles, to defend the unborn, and to strengthen families. None of us are perfect—but fruits matter.
Some of Charlie’s comments—such as contrasts between Black family life during Jim Crow and today—struck deep nerves. He was not praising injustice; he was pointing to painful data and asking us to wrestle with why. That is not racism; that is a hard mirror.
Let’s be clear: violence in the name of ideology—whether left, right, or otherwise—is a betrayal of America’s promise. Firebombing pregnancy centers, assassinating activists, killing elected officials, or targeting houses of worship—each is an attack on human dignity and democratic order.
I have seen groups like Antifa and BLM that have been radicalizing people into domestic terrorists. Getting people to believe that words are violence or someone spewing “hate” in their minds means violence or death is acceptable. While the power of life and death is in the tongue, they do not equal violence in the sense that violence is violence. We each get to choose what to do with the words people say. In the end I suggest. guard your hearts people and guard your children.
The Founders saw the danger in a two party type system as well. George Washington, in his Farewell Address, warned against the “spirit of party” that inflames men to “unjust jealousies and false alarms.”
James Madison, in Federalist No. 10, argued that factions are inevitable, but the cure is representation and reason—not bullets.
And Benjamin Franklin, when asked what the Constitutional Convention had given the people, answered simply: “A republic—if you can keep it.”
Friends, assassination is the antithesis of keeping it.
Let me also add the great Frederick Douglass. Born enslaved, beaten nearly to death, he nonetheless declared:
“Right is of no sex—truth is of no color—God is the Father of us all, and we are all brethren.”
And again:
“I would unite with anybody to do right and with nobody to do wrong.”
If Douglass—who endured chains—could forgive, reform, and unite, what excuse have we, heirs of liberty, to celebrate murder? We keep the republic not by violence but by guarding speech, debating fiercely, punishing crime, and refusing to cheer death.
Today, we swim in waters poisoned by cancel culture—a culture where neighbors denounce neighbors, where disagreement is treated as violence, and where violence itself is excused if it silences a foe. For shame.
Let us be clear: free speech includes words that make us uncomfortable. Thomas Jefferson, in his First Inaugural, said, “Error of opinion may be tolerated where reason is left free to combat it.” If we cannot abide error, we cannot sustain freedom.
And yet, in the aftermath of Charlie’s death, some celebrated. Some mocked. Some called it justice. Friends, that is not justice—it is nihilism. It is proof that the soul of America teeters on the precipice.
Celebrating an innocent non-violent man’s horrific death and assassination is evil—period.
I’ve rebuked “my side” when I’ve seen that spirit, and I’ve repented for my own lapses.
The answer to bad speech is not censorship but better speech; the answer to lies is truth spoken in love. Just as the answer to gun violence is not taking away guns but lies in a moral and just society that has respect for human life and humanity. Be better people. See each other as image bearers of Christ.
Being the thought police disfigures us.
What is better? How about infiltrate and rebuild: teach, hire, create, legislate, broadcast, mentor, give, run for office, support godly schools, and go into all the world with the gospel (Matthew 28:18–20). That is how we keep a republic, and that is how we bear faithful witness to Christ.
Scripture gives us a pattern. How then shall we live? With ataraxia – calm courage in the face of chaos. Not indifference, but steadiness.
Jesus Himself was mocked as demon-possessed, called illegitimate, scorned as a friend of sinners. Paul was stoned. Peter crucified. The early church fed to lions. And yet they sang. They forgave. They endured.
Christ told us plainly: “If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before it hated you.” And again: “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”
This is not new ground. God has always given His people examples of how to endure both opposition and loss.
Consider the story of Saul and David. Saul persecuted David, hunted him, sought his life. And yet when Saul fell, David tore his garments and wept. He commanded Israel to mourn and even wrote a lament in Saul’s honor. Why? Because Saul, despite his sins, had been chosen by God.
Love does not erase truth; truth does not excuse hatred. David mourned honestly—naming Saul’s failures, yet refusing to rejoice in his death. That is the model Scripture gives us: a pattern of steadfastness, of mourning without malice, of courage without cruelty.
Permit me an allegory. Imagine a lighthouse battered by storm. The waves crash, the winds howl, the rocks beneath tremble. Sailors on the sea rage at its beam, shouting that the light blinds them, offends them, condemns them. They hurl stones, they curse, they even plot to destroy it. Yet the lighthouse does not answer in kind. It simply stands. It shines. It saves.
Charlie Kirk was not flawless light—but he was kinda like a lighthouse. And the tempest could not abide his beam. They sought to silence it with a bullet. But friends, you and I know: extinguishing the lighthouse does not calm the sea. It only makes the voyage darker, and the rocks more deadly.
Charlie’s death is a threnody for our nation—but it can also be a trumpet. A trumpet calling us to courage, to truth, to forgiveness, to Christ.
So rise up. Forgive. Do not be silenced. Do not fear. Speak louder, pray harder, love deeper. The enemy will not win. For our Redeemer lives.
Who do you want to be?
Come, Holy Spirit.
Let’s go. #RegulatorsMountUp #Jesus #ClubbinSeals #FreeSoup #FDFNY
If you prefer a video version you can watch HERE and share
I may do a part 2 – as I had so many thoughts and this was so long I cut out almost half of it 🙂 :/