I have been crying off and on for three days and I hardly understand it. The world feels like a different place than the one I was in until Wednesday afternoon. I have been asking myself why I am so affected by Charlie Kirk’s death. Have I ever referred to him in my life? Have I ever even typed his name until now? I know I got emails from Turning Point USA and ignored them over the years. I’ve honestly hardly paid attention to what he was doing except that videos of his debates on college campuses would pop up in my social media feeds sometimes, and  I would watch some of them, but mostly I would scroll past. It’s not that I didn’t agree with Charlie if he was debating someone about abortion or any number of topics, it’s that I felt weary of the world and the endless fighting and arguing. I was sure the arguing was futile – no one seemed to be listening. The world would do its thing, the news media would report on what he was doing how it saw fit, and it would only serve to polarize us further. What I’m mostly here to tell you is that I have a growing conviction in the wake of his death that I was wrong.

Charlie’s death has been a revelation. I saw many people comment that they were radicalized by the video footage of his shooting. I did not see the up-close video many saw, and I didn’t seek it out. I hope Charlie can forgive me for not holding that particular vigil for him. I doubt that is the best way to honor his memory. I saw comments on reaction videos saying people were leaving the political left and they would never vote democrat again. I’ve seen people expressing their anger and a desire to come after the left. I looked on with horror as vigil-goers pulled a man who drove through the crowd shouting “Fuck Charlie Kirk” from his car and beat him. I saw a picture of a graffiti-covered sign that said “Kill Charlie Kirk” and underneath, person after person commented: “I am Charlie Kirk.” Do I even need to go into the other types of reaction videos I heard reported? The ones that celebrated his death? I saw a video made by a girl who was at the event and saw him get shot. She never said her political affiliation, but she was crying as she said people in the crowd were cheering after Charlie went down. I have ventured onto TikTok recently. Even my little reaction video got more hateful comments than positive ones. 

I have been too afraid in my life. I have been doing EMDR for the first time, and I said to my therapist the other day I feel like this demon of fear is sitting on my chest. So much of what I do or don’t do is motivated by fear of what other people will think or of what bad things will happen, or frankly, fear of having to suffer even just a little bit. I know I’m not alone because I also saw many videos first-timers wanting to be brave like Charlie was brave. I am no stranger to getting into debates online, but I doubt I was ever so smart and prepared, nor ever so kind. I think I have been holding onto not just fear, but a lot of anger and resentment. Maybe for a lot of us middle-aged people that has been the norm. We’ve come to accept it. I told my therapist yesterday; I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to hold onto bitterness. But I also don’t want to shrink from saying what I know to be the truth when I’m with people who I’m afraid disagree with me. I don’t want to hide behind someone else anymore; expect someone else to say what I’m too scared to say. I don’t want to sit back and hope a political leader will make the world a better place. That’s not what saints do. 

There’s been another reaction I’m having a hard time figuring out how to feel about. To myself, I’ve called this the “Christian left” reaction, even though I don’t always know that these people are on the left. In the hours after Charlie’s death, when what I was seeing and hearing about was so dark, I felt pretty cynical about it all. I thought, yes, what I’m seeing is this thing the algorithm knows I want to see: people mourning Charlie’s death, re-posts of some of Charlie’s more viral moments in debate, people saying they’re disgusted by people celebrating and they’re leaving the left. But the people who don’t have my algorithm are probably seeing something totally different. If they still pay attention to establishment media, maybe they’re not seeing the videos of people celebrating. Maybe they’re seeing Charlie called a “right-wing provocateur” instead. Maybe they’re seeing a more mediated, editorialized view of what went on. Especially if they’re not prone to unfortunately doom-scrolling the way I am. I admit, I have been glued to my screen, trying to see how the world is reacting; desperate not to feel so alone in my grief. 

I know it makes sense to cry. A man, a husband, a father, got shot for what he said. I honestly don’t think that’s why I’m feeling the way I’m feeling. I feel such pain for his widow and children, but I knew right away she’s a strong woman. I honestly don’t think it’s that either. I think what I realized, too late, on Wednesday afternoon was that Charlie Kirk was a good man. Probably a great man. I let the fact that he was known for debating and daring to disagree with people to their face, and to argue his ideas with rhetoric, obfuscate what was obvious once I stopped to pay attention: that he did so with great love. He loved the truth. And he loved people too much to pander to bad ideas. He saw the statistics for his generation and the one coming up under him and he loved those people too much to placate their feelings. He knew that placating and making nice is a slow descent into hell. I know it, and you know it too, even when it’s just eating a little too much or sitting around too long or waiting too long to clean something up or have an important conversation or improve your mind rather than sit in front of another piece of entertainment. When you get to be 43, you start to feel the hell those things create, and you start to see how hard it will be to come back. Charlie understood that he was called to try to save a generation from bad ideas: the fall-out women experience after abortions, often hidden. The devastation experienced by thousands of de-transitioners whose bodies are permanently scarred because no one in their lives would at least say the truth. I could go on. 

What I saw when I finally watched Charlie debate was courtesy for the person coming to the mic. He often told his crowd of supporters to quiet down and give the debater space to speak. He would concede if someone had a good point. He would encourage the person he disagreed with that they’d been brave, thanking them for being vulnerable. He would tell them they did a good job. I saw many, many other videos of people talking about how Charlie affected their lives, either directly because of something he’d done for them, or indirectly through his messages. He was relentless in his belief in Jesus Christ. He did not couch his message in other terms. He was not trying to be politically correct or “inclusive.” Ironically, he ended up attracting all kinds of people. Many of them disagreed with him. Many of them said they were better because of Charlie Kirk. 

This is what I wanted to say most of all. I feel Charlie’s death personally in a way I don’t understand. And I think that’s happening to millions of people right now. I’ve seen him called a martyr – and he may be the closest thing we have in America. I don’t claim to see clearly enough to judge that. But I know what I am noticing, and it’s the way saints are often recognized in the Orthodox church: it’s years later in the grassroots influence they have had over the lives of others, and especially in their deaths. Our saints will have gained a cult following and devotion for many years before being canonized, and yes, they are often surrounded by miracles. What I feared in the hours after his death was a violent reaction on the right. I certainly saw enough of that rhetoric and blame to fear it. I know that’s not what Charlie wants, even though he disagreed with the rhetoric and policies of the left and was vocal about it. But I have not seen violence erupt. No riots, no looting. The very night he was killed, I saw people gathering on the steps of buildings and singing worship songs together. I saw video after video of young, gay men and women with tattoos and piercings saying they didn’t agree with Charlie but they were touched by his life and they wanted to return to God, to return to church. And that’s what I feel in my own heart. I’ve never left the church, but I’ve been failing to show up for my kids the way I want. I’ve been failing to show up for my community and my church the way I want. I’ve been failing to take care of my body so that it can be a tool God can use for the good of others. I’ve been too afraid to do hard things and have hard conversations. Making excuses. I’ve let anger and bitterness take root in my heart and stay there for too long. I’ve neglected to pray as much as I ought to. I’ve neglected my mind and opted for the worst forms of distraction and entertainment instead. I’ve given up on doing the creative work God has given me to do. 

You may have seen people saying: “They created a million Charlie Kirks.” This, God willing, is what that means. Not that everyone will go debate people on college campuses and start a conservative podcast, but we will not let a good man’s death be in vain in our own lives. We will let the change in our culture start in our own hearts and minds and spread to our neighborhoods and our churches, and our friend groups. We will repent, first and foremost, of our sins. We know what those are. Repentance means seeing ourselves clearly, making a change, making amends where we can. Very often it means backtracking painfully. We will have the hard conversations and forgive people. We will have grace for those we consider our enemies. We will pray hard for the people who celebrated Charlie’s death because they’re suffering in such darkness if they can do that. We will resist evil and tell the truth about what that is without fearing who thinks what or says what about us. We will give to the poor until it hurts. We will put down our phones and spend our time talking to people. We will get married and build families. Some of us will decide to have more babies. Some of us need to adopt or foster children. We will build things and fix things in front of us that need building and fixing. We will not hide away, afraid of what might happen, afraid of the end of the world, afraid of the laughter of people if we express the wrong opinion. We will try to see the image of God in every single person in front of us, no matter how much that person may hate what we represent, or even hate us. I have seen people worshipping God these last few days. Around the world. I have seen people resolving to do better and be better, and I am one of those. I think, as I believe that Charlie is now interceding at the throne of God and that he was at the very least engaged in saintly pursuits, this is what I am feeling. Charlie is still at work. He is still *FOR* us. He is praying for us now, unencumbered by anything else. What I saw of his life when I paid attention leads me to believe this is right where he wanted to be. It is unfortunate that it takes the death of a good man to wake people from their sleep. 

If you are someone who hated Charlie and celebrated his death, please know that I don’t harbor ill will toward you. I don’t want violence to happen to you. I will pray for you. If we have disagreed in the past, I will also be praying for you, for God’s blessing on you, for your good and your thriving. I encourage you to pay closer attention to your ideological opponents, to Charlie and what he had to say, but especially how he said it. Maybe you will be surprised.