It is difficult enough to write about the most high-profile political assassination in this country since the Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy killings of 1968. It is considerably more difficult to do so when the victim was a personal friend. The pain is profound. Charlie Kirk and I had gotten close, and we had spoken less than 24 hours before the fatal bullet struck to discuss his upcoming campus tour. But if there is one thing that I know about Charlie, the quintessential public square warrior, it is that he would not have wanted us to sit on the sidelines.

The stakes are too high. We have a nation — and a civilization — to save. So, we fight back our tears and we summon the fortitude to plow ahead. We do so not because it is easy but because it is right. An assassin may have permanently silenced Charlie, but we won’t let him silence us too. As it says in the Book of Psalms, one of Charlie’s favorite books of the Bible: “Hope for the Lord, be strong and He will give your heart courage, and hope for the Lord.” We must all now channel that courage — Charlie’s signature trait.

Charlie Kirk died, as so often seems to happen to the greats, doing what he loved: modeling civil discourse in the public battle of ideas. The living embodiment of the First Amendment in his tragically truncated life, Charlie died as a (literal) martyr for free speech. He was murdered one day after the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression released a discomfiting survey showing that one-third of university students believe violence is an appropriate response to speech. The celebratory reaction to Charlie’s assassination across swaths of left-wing social media was also positively chilling.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but: This is how republics die. A people that loses the ability to engage in civil debate and instead resorts to violence is a people no longer capable of republican self-governance. It is a people that has ceased to be human and has instead become indistinguishable from the animals. It is a people that has renounced the fundamental uniqueness of mankind, rooted in another one of Charlie’s favorite books of the Bible, the Book of Genesis: “And God created man in His image; in the image of God He created him.”

There is nothing good down that road. There can only be chaos and anarchy. There can be no civilization or human flourishing.

Is this — the senseless assassination of a devoted young father and husband — finally, finally, the turning point after which America will pull itself back from brink of political violence and willful self-destruction? I’d certainly like to think so. But it is hard not to be skeptical. There was no turning point after James Hodgkinson attempted to assassinate the Republican congressional baseball team in 2017. There was no turning point after Nicholas Roske attempted to assassinate Justice Brett Kavanaugh in 2022. There was no turning point after the senseless murder of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson last year. There are too many other examples to count.

There are two easy ways we can all honor Charlie’s legacy. At the time of his death, Charlie was putting the finishing touches on a book about the Sabbath — yet another biblical concept he championed in his personal life. It would be a fitting tribute to Charlie — and the Hebrew Bible-rooted form of Christianity that he, like the American Founders, so greatly championed — for more Christians and Jews alike to honor Charlie by committing to honor the Sabbath just like he did. We must also double down like never before in our commitment to free speech and the civil exchange of ideas. His martyrdom must galvanize younger conservatives like never before. We must not allow Charlie to have died in vain as a free speech martyr.

Charlie and I held a different conception of the nature of the Divine. But we shared a passion for the Judeo-Christian biblical inheritance that is the backbone of Western civilization and the reason for that civilization’s superiority over the forces of darkness. As a religious Jew and a religious Christian, furthermore, we also both believed in the possibility of eternal life.

To quote the psalmist once more, then: “Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff — they will comfort me.” Charlie, always one to not merely talk the talk but also walk the walk, has now himself walked in the valley of the shadow of death. And I have no doubt that the Lord is comforting him at this very moment.

Pray for his beautiful wife, Erika, and the Kirks’ two young children, who will now grow up without their father. And as for you, Charlie: Thank you for all you did. I hope to see you on the other side, my friend.

COPYRIGHT 2025 CREATORS.COM