The Gospel Will Not Die
In Honor of Charlie Kirk’s Bold Faith
I didn’t watch a ton of Charlie Kirk videos.
I knew of him. I respected him. I saw enough to know he didn’t need to shout to make a point. And when others tried to shout him down, he didn’t match their tone—he raised the level of the conversation instead. I was always in awe at his self-control.
And now…he’s gone.
Assassinated. Murdered. A 31-year-old husband, father of two, unapologetic Christian…gunned down on a stage while speaking his beliefs out loud.
Even more imaginable though is the fact that there are some people celebrating.
That’s what’s wrecking me. That’s what is hurting my heart and spirit.
We’ve Lost Something That We Should All Be Mourning
This isn’t about politics. This is about people. This is about humanity.
When we lose the ability to mourn the loss of someone—anyone—because they didn’t vote like we do or think like we do, we’ve dropped far lower than we want to admit.
Charlie Kirk wasn’t perfect. None of us are. But he stood in rooms where he was the minority opinion and didn’t flinch. He faced opposition with calm, not cruelty. He used Scripture, not slander. And most of all, he was kind—even when it wasn’t returned. He would even encourage his supporters to calm themselves, so his opponents could speak and be heard and seen.
I didn’t know him personally. But I feel like I lost someone I knew.
When You Follow Jesus, You’re Going to Stand Out
I became a Christian in 1989 at a revival at my home church.
Since then, I’ve crossed paths with plenty of people who didn’t share my beliefs. I’ve been called brainwashed. I've heard the “Well, we know how you believe” comments. I wasn’t invited to some things in high school because people knew my answer would be no.
And that’s okay. I was still friends with those people. We just agreed to disagree.
That used to be enough.
The Gospel Will Not Die
What breaks my heart most is thinking of Charlie’s family. His wife. His kids. They won’t get another hug. Another kiss good night. Another bedtime story. Another moment.
That should crush all of us.
But here’s the thing: Charlie’s ultimate message doesn’t die with him.
The Gospel never does.
When people try to silence it, it gets louder. When darkness tries to snuff it out, it shines brighter. When death comes for a follower of Jesus, it never gets the final say.
Jesus prepared us for this. He said:
“If the world hates you, understand that it hated me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love you as its own. However, because you are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of it, the world hates you.”
— John 15:18–19 (CSB)
That wasn’t just a warning. It was a reminder of who we belong to.
This moment hurts. But it also reminds me why we speak up. Why we keep living like Jesus. Why we refuse to hate—even when it’s easier. Even when we are hated.
Jesus Himself looked down from the cross at the very people who were mocking and killing Him, and said:
“Father, forgive them…”
That’s the kind of love Charlie lived for.
And that’s the kind of love I want to live with.
Come, Lord Jesus, Come
I'm mourning today and will probably continue mourning. But I’m also stirred.
I’m seeing believers stand up. Not with hate in their hearts, but hope. Not with anger, but with a willingness to say, “Yes—I believe in Jesus. And I’m not ashamed.”
That’s the legacy of Charlie Kirk. Not just in what he said, but in how he lived. With conviction. With grace. With boldness rooted in truth.
And still…
Come, Lord Jesus, come.