One week ago, a memorial service for Charlie Kirk was held at Allstate Stadium. Normally, a memorial is a somber affair—everyone in black, whispering polite clichés about “a life well lived.” But this was different.
Attendees were asked to wear red, white, and blue in honor of Charlie and the country he loved. And honestly? It looked more like a Harvest Crusade than a funeral. Chris Tomlin, Phil Wickham, Brandon Lake, Kari Jobe, and Cody Carnes led worship, while speaker after speaker not only honored Charlie but proclaimed Christ. In other words, exactly what he would have wanted—Charlie’s memorial turned into a revival.
One of the most remarkable moments came when Secretary of State Marco Rubio—yes, a politician—delivered one of the clearest Gospel messages I’ve heard in years. And I’ve given and heard more than a few.
But the most stunning moment wasn’t political at all. It was when Erika Kirk, Charlie’s young widow, forgave the man who murdered her husband. Before the cameras. Before the world. If you want the definition of Christianity in one sentence, that was it.
Charlie Kirk came to Christ at 11, launched Turning Point at 18, and spent the rest of his short life using every ounce of his gifts to point people to God. Corrie Ten Boom once said, “A life is not measured by its duration but by its donation.” Charlie’s donation was massive. Jim Elliot, martyred at 28, wrote, “I seek not a long life but a full one, like you, Lord Jesus.” Charlie lived that kind of life.
And yet, instead of pausing in sorrow, our culture did what it does best: it jeered. Online mobs mocked, gloated, and celebrated his death. This is exactly what Isaiah warned about: “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil. . .” (Isaiah 5:20 NKJV). America hasn’t merely drifted—it has sprinted into darkness, giggling along the way. Politicians won’t save us. Policies won’t fix us. Only Christ can change the human heart.
Here’s the irony: evil never learns. It thinks that by killing the messenger, it silences the message. Scripture—and history—say otherwise. When Stephen was stoned, the church didn’t wither; it exploded. What was meant to crush the Gospel only spread it further. Evil keeps trying to shut God up, and God keeps using the noise to amplify His voice.
So yes, Christians mourn Charlie Kirk. We mourn because his life mattered, because his wife and children are grieving, because the body of Christ has lost a brother. As Ecclesiastes 3 reminds us, there is a time to laugh and a time to mourn.
But there is also a time to act.
This is a dividing line. A watershed moment. Some will rise; others will shrink. The faithful will rise; the lukewarm will fade into the wallpaper. If your goal is to be “cool,” let me break it to you gently: cool is overrated. The coolest thing you can do in this culture is to stand bold for Christ.
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