I watched the video of the shooting this morning, and I sincerely wish I hadn’t. It was horrific and disturbing. It left me shaken, unsettled, and with a pit in my stomach that I haven’t been able to shake all day.

Charlie Kirk, the founder of Turning Point USA, was gunned down at a Utah event in front of young people who had simply shown up to hear a talk. These were college kids and high schoolers, full of energy and curiosity, suddenly forced to witness something no one should ever see. I can’t stop thinking about the trauma those students now carry.

And whatever anyone thinks of Charlie Kirk—whether they agreed with his tone, his tactics, or his theology—the truth is, he was more than a political figure. He was a husband, a father, a son, a friend. More importantly, he was a fellow American made in the image of God. That alone demands a certain reverence and compassion in how we respond. His life, like every life, had worth. And it was cut short by a violent act that should grieve the heart of every person of goodwill, regardless of party, ideology, or whether you followed him closely or barely at all.

Seeing the Good, Not Ignoring the Flaws

I was never really a Charlie Kirk follower. Outside of a few YouTube clips here and there, I didn’t keep up with his podcasts, speeches, or campus events. But when I took a step back and dug into what he actually stood for, I found myself nodding along with more than a few of his points.

He was bold—sometimes brash, sure—but bold in ways that needed to be said. He championed free speech in an age when it feels like certain opinions are pushed to the margins or silenced outright. He warned young people not to be fooled by the shiny promises of socialism, a system that dresses itself up in compassion but almost always leaves behind poverty and brokenness. And he wasn’t afraid to sound the alarm about the radical left’s grip on our schools, our culture, and our institutions, reminding people that these battles over ideas aren’t abstract; they shape the future our children will inherit.

What impressed me most, though, was that Charlie didn’t stop at politics. He wasn’t shy about sharing his faith and pointing people toward the Gospel. That set him apart in a world where it’s often easier to cling to talking points than to speak openly about Jesus.

Charlie gave a generation of young conservatives something many of them desperately needed: the courage to speak up when the pressure was to stay silent. For a college kid sitting in a classroom where every traditional belief is ridiculed, hearing someone say, “You’re not crazy for thinking this way, and you’re not alone,” can make all the difference.

That being said, there were parts of Charlie’s message that I didn’t necessarily connect with. For instance, he often spoke of America as a Christian nation, even suggesting at times that the Constitution was divinely inspired. I understand where he was coming from; the fingerprints of biblical truth are certainly visible in our founding, and we should be grateful for the Christian influence that shaped so much of our history. Still, framing the Constitution as if it were Scripture risked blurring the line between our civic identity and our faith. To me, the beauty of the Gospel is that it stands above every culture and every nation; it isn’t bound by geography or history.

Charlie also tied “America First” policies closely to biblical principles, particularly on issues like immigration and foreign policy. I can appreciate his heart in that, wanting to protect families, preserve order, and put the well-being of our nation first. Those are good and necessary priorities for any leader. At the same time, I believe we have to be careful not to let love of country turn into something resembling devotion. National pride is a blessing, but it should never eclipse our first love, which is Christ Himself. As Scripture reminds us: “Thou shalt have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:3).

For me, faith and patriotism can walk side by side beautifully, but they’re not the same thing. Christ belongs on the throne, and everything else—including politics and even our dearest national loyalties—must rest beneath Him. I think Charlie, in his own way, was trying to point people toward that same conviction, even if his emphasis sometimes landed differently than I would have put it.

But here’s the thing: acknowledging those disagreements doesn’t mean brushing aside the good that Charlie accomplished, and it certainly does not in any way justify what was done to him. In a healthy society, critique is not only acceptable; it’s necessary. Iron sharpening iron requires honest dialogue, not violence. We can recognize where a man’s methods may have fallen short, or where his message didn’t quite resonate, and at the same time honor the value of his life and the contributions he made. The tragedy of Charlie’s death stands on its own as an act of evil, one that should grieve every heart, no matter where we fall on the political spectrum.

A Voice That Sparked Courage

Whatever one thought of Charlie Kirk’s style, it’s impossible to deny the impact he had. He built something that reached far beyond himself. Through Turning Point USA, he created a movement that mobilized thousands of students who might otherwise have kept their heads down, quietly drifting along with the cultural current on their campuses. Instead, they found a community where they could stand together and say, “We’re not alone in this.”

Charlie’s gift wasn’t just in building an organization; it was in sparking courage. For young men and women sitting in classrooms where their convictions were mocked or dismissed, hearing Charlie speak often gave them the backbone to raise their hands, ask hard questions, and defend their beliefs. He reminded them that faith, family, and freedom weren’t outdated relics but values worth carrying into the future.

He also managed something that’s not easy to do in today’s climate: he made conservatism exciting to a generation that had been told it was stale, irrelevant, or even dangerous. Agree with him or not, Charlie knew how to energize people, how to rally a crowd, and how to make young conservatives feel like they were part of something bigger than themselves.

And that’s worth honoring. Because in an age when so many voices try to silence dissent, Charlie chose to stand tall. He gave others the confidence to do the same. His influence will live on in the students and leaders he inspired, and in the countless people who found the courage to speak up because he first did.

A Nation at a Crossroads

Charlie Kirk’s assassination is far more than the tragic loss of one man; it’s a flashing red light for our country. It tells us that something deep in our national life is sick, and if we don’t face it honestly, it’s only going to get worse. Political violence isn’t new in America, but lately it feels like it’s moving from the fringes toward the center, creeping closer to everyday life. We’re living in a time when anger is boiling hotter than reason, when people who disagree aren’t seen as neighbors anymore but as enemies to be silenced or destroyed.

Scripture speaks powerfully into moments like this: “But if ye bite and devour one another, take heed that ye be not consumed one of another” (Galatians 5:15). Paul originally wrote those words to believers who were attacking each other with infighting and legalistic disputes, but the warning stretches far beyond the first-century church and could certainly apply to our political climate today.

Look around; doesn’t it feel like we’re not just disagreeing anymore, but actually devouring one another? Every news cycle seems to demand a new outrage. Every social media thread turns into a battlefield. Every insult we hurl across the political divide chips away at the shared bonds that once held us together as neighbors and fellow citizens. The more we strip away the humanity of the person on the other side, the closer we inch toward consuming one another completely.

And here’s the sobering truth: it doesn’t matter if the violence comes dressed in red or blue, from the right or from the left; it’s poison all the same. Both Republicans and Democrats should be sounding the alarm, because if violence becomes the new way to “win” arguments, then America as we know it won’t survive. Laws and policies can’t hold a nation together if its people lose the ability to see each other as fellow citizens made in the image of God.

We’re at a crossroads. One path leads deeper into rage and revenge, a road that ends in ruin. The other requires humility, repentance, and the courage to treat even our fiercest opponents as people, not monsters. If we want our Republic to endure, we must choose the second path. It’s not easy, but it’s the only way forward.

Living Differently in a World on Fire

As Christians, we’re called to walk a different road than the one the world is sprinting down. It’s easy to get swept up in the shouting matches, the finger-pointing, and the bitterness that dominate our culture. But the gospel gives us another way. Yes, we should stand against bad ideas. Yes, we should expose corruption wherever it shows up, whether in our own party or across the aisle. But we cannot let ourselves become mirrors of the very hatred and rage we claim to oppose. Scripture puts it plainly: “Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:21). That’s not a suggestion; it’s a command.

Charlie Kirk’s death is a sobering reminder that we live in a fallen, broken world where politics, movements, and even the strongest leaders cannot ultimately save us. They may inspire, they may mobilize, they may even make us feel hopeful for a season, but they will always fall short. Our true hope has never been in Washington, or in a party platform, or in the rise of a new voice on the national stage. Our hope is, and always must be, in Christ alone.

That doesn’t mean withdrawing from the world or sitting on the sidelines. It means stepping into the public square with a different spirit, one marked by truth and grace, conviction and compassion. It means remembering that even our fiercest political opponent is not our ultimate enemy, but a soul made in the image of God. If we lose sight of that, we’ve already lost more than any election could ever take from us.

Looking Back, Looking Forward

Even though I never really followed Charlie Kirk, I can still see the good he accomplished: the spark of passion he lit in so many young people, and the courage he gave to conservatives who might have otherwise kept their heads down and stayed silent. At the same time, I can acknowledge the areas where he missed the mark, like any of us do. His strengths and weaknesses alike were woven into the influence he left behind.

But beyond politics, beyond style and strategy, what grieves me most is this: a man made in the image of God was gunned down in a storm of violence. That should break our hearts, no matter where we stand ideologically. We can’t let ourselves get so hardened by politics that we forget the humanity of the people in the headlines.

Charlie’s death ought to be a wake-up call. We need to step back from the constant outrage and repent of the national rage that is consuming us. Our neighbors—even the ones we argue with most fiercely—are not our enemies. They are souls who need the same thing we all need: the truth, love, and saving grace of Jesus Christ.

So, I pray for Charlie Kirk’s wife, his family, and all who are mourning him. I pray, too, for our country, which feels more fractured by the day. And I pray that in the midst of this darkness, the church will rise up to shine brighter, to speak truth without hate, to love without compromise, and to show a hurting nation that there is hope beyond politics, hope beyond violence, hope beyond death itself. That hope has a name, and His name is Jesus Christ.