Silenced By a Bullet, Not By Truth: Honoring Charlie Kirk’s Legacy

Yesterday, conservative figurehead Charlie Kirk was assassinated while hosting a “Prove Me Wrong” table at Utah Valley University. A sniper, yet unknown, fired from a rooftop 200 yards away. Charlie was struck in the neck and didn’t survive. He was just 31 years old, a husband, and a father of two.

Like many traumatized Americans, I had the misfortune of stumbling across graphic footage of the assassination—an image so harrowing it made me physically ill, one that will remain seared in my mind long after the media buzz fades.

As if the footage weren’t enough, what’s shaken me most is the reaction of people I actually know. Folks I’ve shared meals with, prayed with, trusted—now smugly insisting Charlie “got what he deserved.” They splice quotes out of context, stitch together clips, and parade him as Hitler reborn—all without a shred of intellectual honesty or basic human empathy for the life just taken. My 14-year-old came home from school saying classmates were cheering. And this is in North Idaho, the so-called heart of conservative America!

The public response has been equally disheartening: videos circulating on TikTok show crowds cheering as Kirk's body fell, with some bystanders even looking back toward the sniper's position in apparent celebration, while online posts from left-leaning users gleefully mock his death, calling it "karma" for his conservative activism.

The same voices that branded him a fascist are now cheering the most fascist act of all: silencing speech with violence. Do they even know what fascism means? They cry “bigotry,” blind to the depths of hatred their own bigotry has birthed. The irony is staggering. The hypocrisy, chilling.

I never cared much for Charlie Kirk. Truth be told, I often found him obnoxiously sexist, forever insisting he knew what would—or wouldn’t—make women happy. More than once, I aired my irritation publicly.

And yet—for all the ways he vexed me—I couldn’t help but admire him. He was fearless. He believed in true civil discourse. While his opponents scrambled to silence him, Charlie did the opposite—he handed them the microphone and challenged them to defend their ideas with logic. When they couldn’t, he quietly made the case for his own.

He was willing to be hated for his convictions, and now he has paid the ultimate price. My heart aches for his wife and children.

This hits me on a deeply personal level. Not because I ever walked his national stage, but because I know—on a much smaller scale—what it feels like to put your physical safety on the line for the sake of truth. I’ve faced threats, intimidation, and the gnawing anxiety that comes with standing for something unpopular. It’s one thing to spar online; it’s another to step onto a stage, voice shaking, wondering if someone in the crowd is going to end you. That kind of fear is real. It’s palpable. And yet, Charlie kept showing up anyway.

There’s a quote that echoes in my mind today: “When you cut off a man’s tongue, you don’t prove him a liar. You only prove that you fear what he has to say.” That’s exactly what happened here. Charlie wasn’t killed because he was wrong. He was killed because someone was terrified he might be right.

In this moment of raw grief, emotions are running high—and I won’t presume to police them. I’ve seen many saying, “Man, I hate the left,” just as I’ve seen the reverse whenever some unhinged right-winger pulls the trigger.

But here’s the truth: hatred, once unleashed, doesn’t stay contained. It twists us. It consumes us. It rots away the very ideals we claim to defend. Does hating the left change the left? No. It only changes us. It makes us cruel. It makes us reckless. It leads to deranged places—where human life becomes a pawn, where political disagreement justifies dehumanization, and where tragedy multiplies instead of healing.

That’s exactly what happened here. Some idiot with a gun, blinded by his own self-righteous anger, murdered an innocent husband and father for the audacity of speaking his mind. He thought fear would win. He thought conservatives would cower, terrified into silence. But fear never wins in the long run. You don’t scare people into agreement—you only scare them into rage, into resolve, into action.

We will not solve this escalation into political violence by leaning deeper into partisanship. We cannot out-hate hate. We cannot out-vilify the other side into virtue. The only way forward is to lean into Jesus—the One who conquered death not by wielding fear, but by laying down His life in love. Only His love is strong enough to disarm hatred. Only His truth can set us free from the twisted ideological lies that bind. Only His light can penetrate a darkness so deep it leads men to murder.

The left has long wielded the slogan “love wins.” And though often used as a political cudgel, it’s not wrong—if it’s lived out. Real love refuses to dehumanize, even in disagreement. And in this, Charlie himself exemplified it. He didn’t silence the left, he engaged them. He didn’t strip them of dignity, he handed them the mic. He fought hard, but he fought clean.

So grieve. Rage. Advocate. But above all, stand—not in hatred, but in courage. Because God’s love wins when courage refuses to bow, when truth refuses to hate, and when conviction refuses to cower.

That’s Charlie Kirk’s legacy, and we honor his sacrifice by taking up that banner.