After Charlie: Reflections on Life Since Charlie Kirk’s Death
“Jesus defeated death so you can live.”
Charlie posted this on X four days before he was shot in the neck. Four days before he entered the eternal and abundant life that Christ’s sacrificial death secured for him.
Jesus said, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly” (John 10:10). Tyler Robinson (allegedly) did what thieves do: stole his future, killed his body, and destroyed his family. Jesus did what Jesus does: gives eternal life and gives abundant life.
Here we are, having endured a long year. There have been some remarkable milestones and terrible shortcomings in this year since Kirk’s assassination. I’d like to share a few reflections through the mountains and valleys.
My Own Grief
The days between seeing the video of Charlie’s death and preaching on Sunday were emotionally disorienting. I was on my way to a meeting when my friend Ralph Rebandt, a longtime pastor and former candidate for governor of Michigan, shared that Charlie had been shot. At first, I did not know whether the report was true or how serious it was. Then I saw the close-up video—the bad one. Three thoughts came at once: this is horrifying; this could be AI; and if it is real, Charlie likely will not survive. Because AI videos had become so convincing, I hoped it was a deepfake. It was not. Later, back at my church office, I was talking with one of our pastoral residents when the official notification came through: Charlie died. I stopped, went into my office, and prayed.
I did not learn about Charlie on September 10, 2025. I had been watching him for years. I have appreciated his mind, his heart, and his courage. Charlie was someone I looked up to because he was able to apply biblical truth to cultural issues with ease. He regularly preached the true gospel without apology. He never pulled punches; he was gracious toward hurting individuals and vicious toward harmful ideologies. So when I watched him bleed out on my phone, it felt like a personal loss. Which was strange to me.
I had trouble collecting my feelings and putting words to them. I shared some of those jumbled thoughts later that week: “The death of a celebrity has never really affected me before. I never understood how a stranger’s death could arrest someone into grief or seriously weigh on someone’s soul. Never before… but I understand now.”
As tension grew, I felt (and the elders affirmed) the need to speak up. In my sermon that Sunday, I elaborated: “I wondered why this weighed on me so deeply. Perhaps it is because Charlie was a young husband and father like I am, or that he was the voice of a generation—my generation, or that he was shot for saying things that I’ve said, for believing things that I believe in, and for worshipping the God that I worship.”
At that moment, I knew it was important to speak with courage and clarity, whatever the cost. Many people were supportive and grateful for what I said, though some were not. While other churches saw people leave because their pastors stayed silent, we saw an influx of men, especially young men (more on this later). Still, one of the more painful parts of the past year has been that the few who did leave were people I care about deeply.
Shame on the Mockers
The common reaction to Charlie’s assassination was shock and sorrow. However, there were some who responded with damnable behavior. This exposed just how cold and callous people can be. Within hours, social media erupted with comments like: “Hope the bullet’s okay after touching Charlie’s neck.” Or “Charlie Kirk was an f---ing Nazi. And you know what kind of Nazi is the best Nazi? A dead Nazi.” Or “This makes me giggle.” Within days, there were educators and students who imitated being shot, surrounded with the cackling of equally immoral hyenas. As recently as August 2026, within a year of Charlie’s death, at a left-wing drag event, a man disgustingly danced and sang while dressed up as Charlie Kirk on the day of his death—a white “freedom” shirt stained red to mock his wound. Even Hasan Piker, a radical far-left pundit, recently sang a song to mock his death at a live show.
Shameful and disgusting. How did we get like this? How have we drifted so far away from decency and a moral sanity? The way of evil is full of “men of perverted speech, who forsake the paths of uprightness to walk in the ways of darkness, who rejoice in doing evil and delight in the perverseness of evil, men whose paths are crooked, and who are devious in their ways” (Proverbs 2:12-15).
In my article on Charlie’s martyrdom, I tried to reason with why someone would do such vile things. “Charlie Kirk often spoke the truth, so a liar killed him for it. He spoke with common sense, so a lunatic killed him for it. He spoke with courage, so a coward killed him for it. He spoke about Christ, so a devil killed him for it.”
People hate God. They hate those who love God. They hate those who preach about God. Haters of God do evil things.
God’s Providence Shining
Under that gloomy cloud, Providence shined yet. On September 21, 2025, a wide array of national and church leaders gathered for Charlie Kirk’s memorial service. I cannot think of a single event in my lifetime that captured the world’s attention like Charlie’s death. And without his death, there would be no service.
In God's sovereignty, He saw fit to sprout up a worship service out of a memorial service. In His resurrecting power, God ordained the proclamation of eternal life out of the solemnity of Charlie’s death. In God’s goodness, He used something horrible for something glorious. That is what God does. Remember what Joseph says to his brothers who sold him into slavery? “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today” (Genesis 50:20). God is no less sovereign over the bullet that ruptured Charlie Kirk's neck than over the one that grazed President Trump's ear.
It is not easy to articulate how inspiring it was for me to hear theologically sound speeches from some of the most powerful men in the world—J.D. Vance (Vice President), Marco Rubio (Secretary of State), and Pete Hegseth (Secretary of War). Partisanship aside, I am blown away at the height and width this service had. The most powerful man in the world, President Donald Trump, and the richest man in the world, Elon Musk, were both in attendance. Not only that, but the reach was undeniable. Roughly 100,000 gathered in person, another 100,000 in nearby venues, and 100,000,000+ viewed online.
Secretary Rubio closed his remarks with these sweet and biblical words:
One of the things [Charlie] would want us to take away from this memorial is the following: his deep belief that we were all created—every single one of us—before the beginning of time by the hands of the God of the universe, an all-powerful God who loves us and created us for the purpose of living with Him in eternity.
But then sin entered the world and separated us from our Creator. And so God took on the form of a man and came down and lived among us. He suffered like men, and He died like men.
But on the third day, He rose, unlike any mortal man. And then, to prove any doubters wrong, He ate with His disciples so they could see Him, and they touched His wounds. He didn’t rise as a ghost or as a spirit, but as flesh. And then He rose to Heaven.
He promised He would return, and He will. Because He took on death, because He carried that cross, we were freed from the sin that separated us from Him. And when He returns, there will be a new heaven and a new earth, and we will all be together. We are going to have a great reunion there with Charlie and all the people we love.
The Tide of Young Men
Churches across the nation reported a swell of men, especially young men, coming to church for the first time, or first time in a while. Our church was no different. There was a tangible sense of purpose and ambition that has been lacking in evangelical churches for some time.
The following day, I posted on X: “To all the young men (and women) who came to church for the first time or first time in a while, welcome. But know that was the easy part. Keep on coming, open up the Bible and read, and flee from sin. You’re not alone. Let’s do it together.”
Three days later, I posted again: “If you’re fired up, good. Fire is good. Fires can be used to warm a house up, but it could also burn a house down. That’s why you need a fireplace. Sparks are fleeting, embers are lasting. If you’ve been lit up for Jesus: find a church, get in community, get in the word, spend time in prayer, repent of your sins, turn to Christ. Day in and day out.”
I share these two posts because they capture what I saw: the tide of young men coming to church and then drifting away. Even though I anticipated that many men would not keep up with it, I still lament over those who have since left. But I rejoice in those who have stayed.
According to a Barna Group study, “one in four Americans report taking spiritual action as a result of Charlie Kirk’s death.” Around 28% of Gen Z personally took spiritual action since Charlie’s death. That number increases to 40% among practicing Christians.
God used Charlie’s death to wake up sleepy Christians and to save dead men. I am grateful to have personally witnessed this in two men: Ty and Coleman. These aren’t perfect men, but God seemed to have gripped their hearts during this season, and I think both would credit Charlie for contributing to that. These two men have been coming to church almost weekly since. Ty’s first time with us about a year ago was his first time ever going to church. Coleman hasn’t been coming alone either; he’s been bringing his wife and kids with him.
If nothing else, God used the martyrdom of Charlie Kirk to draw young men “out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9). There is a tide. It swells and shrinks, but I pray that God will turn the tide into a flood. That our world would be washed over with revival.
This will not happen until young men die to their sinful flesh, recover biblical manhood, and pick up the cross. Cowardice is our sin; courage is our virtue. By the grace of God, there will be a wave of courageous Christian men who are willing to fight for biblical truth, enjoy the eternal and abundant life that Jesus gives, and love others deeply and ferociously.
G.K. Chesterton rightly said, “Courage is a strong desire to live taking the form of a readiness to die.” Don’t be a coward. Be courageous. Die to self and live in Christ.
After Charlie
Here we are, one year after Charlie’s public assassination. What have we learned? How have we changed? What will we do next? It has been a wild year, full of conspiracy and injustice and mockery and infighting and grief and confusion. But God has done wonderful things too. Things like saving men like Ty, sanctifying families like Coleman’s, and sharing the gospel like Marco Rubio.
Do not feel bad for Charlie. He is not in pain; he is not stressed out; he is not longing to come back. He has entered into joy (Matthew 25:23). Jonathan Edwards, the great American theologian, once said, “You shall leave a few friends to go to the employment of thousands nearer, dearer, and far more excellent than any upon earth.” Charlie is not dead—not really. He is more alive now than any of us.
I want to love more. To love Jesus, my wife, my son, my church, my friends, my city, my country. I want to be known for the sincerity and severity of my love. I want to be so full of the love of Christ that I can’t help but spill it out. I want to stand firm. To not be swept away by the current of the worldly, or the cries of manipulators, or the cackles of the scoffers. I want to have a steel spine without having a stiff neck. I want to be a brick wall between those I love and those who want to harm them. I want to build. I want to have holy ambition directed toward something good and lasting. I want to make things that make, mature, and multiply disciples. I want God to be glorified with the words I say and the work I do.
I want to live like Charlie. And if God sees fit, I want to die like Charlie too. Tertullian, writing around AD 200, famously said, “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.” This means that you can kill us, but that will only fertilize the soil that will soon produce more fruit. Tertullian told his Roman persecutors, “The more you mow us down, the more we grow.”
