On September 10, 2025, Charlie Kirk: conservative activist and founder of Turning Point USA, was fatally shot while speaking at Utah Valley University in Orem, Utah. The event, part of his “American Comeback Tour,” had drawn thousands of attendees. As Kirk engaged with a student during a public Q&A, a single shot rang out from a nearby rooftop. It struck him in the neck. He collapsed mid-sentence, and was rushed to Timpanogos Regional Hospital, where he was later pronounced dead.
The shooter, identified as 22-year-old Tyler Robinson, was apprehended after a manhunt that gripped the nation. Authorities described the attack as targeted, and disturbing details later emerged, including politically charged messages engraved on bullet casings, though new information contradicts early reports.
The assassination sent shockwaves through communities across the political spectrum. While Charlie Kirk was often described as a polarizing figure, many viewed him as more of a moderate voice within the conservative movement. His death elicited a range of responses—some mourned his loss with sorrow and respect, while others reacted with celebration, reflecting the deep divisions in today’s political landscape.
This tragedy joins a painful lineage of political assassinations that have shaken societies to their core. The killing of Abraham Lincoln in 1865 fractured a nation still reeling from civil war. The assassination of Mahatma Gandhi in 1948 silenced a voice of peace in a time of religious strife. And the death of Martin Luther King Jr. in 1968 left a gaping wound in the American conscience, igniting riots and mourning across the country.
Like Kirk’s death, each was more than violence: They ruptured the public soul, reminding us that controversial ideas should never be met with bullets.
As we reflect on this tragedy, let us resist the urge to sensationalize or politicize it. Instead, let us honor the human cost, a father, a husband, a man devoted to his mission. This act of violence calls us to humility and invites us to respond not with anger or division, but with the grace and faith that define the church. In this moment, the church is called to be a beacon of peace, compassion, and steadfast witness.
The Aftermath: Outrage and Division on Social Media
In the hours following Charlie Kirk’s assassination, social media became a battleground of emotion. Grief poured in from across the political spectrum, condolences from leaders, tributes from followers, and prayers from pastors and pundits alike. But alongside the mourning came a darker tide: confusion, anger, and a disturbing escalation of rhetoric.
Some users shared heartfelt memories of Kirk’s activism, quoting his past remarks on faith and freedom. Others posted graphic footage of the shooting, amplifying trauma and fueling speculation. The overwhelming 26 million posts in the first 48 hours reflected not only grief but also a profound struggle to make sense of the moment, which is deeply affected by the ongoing culture war that shapes our society.
Fringe accounts on both the far right and far left responded with disturbing celebration, and calls to war. Memes mocking Kirk’s final moments circulated widely. Some left-leaning users framed the assassination as karmic justice for his controversial views on LGBTQ+ rights and gun control. Meanwhile, certain far-right influencers declared Kirk a martyr and called for retaliation, with one post reading: “Love your enemies by defeating them and making sure they never hold power again”.
This rhetoric quickly escalated. Some people framed the killing as part of a broader ‘war on Christians,’ encouraging believers to ‘rise up’ and ‘purge the evildoers.’ Others advocated for state violence against perceived ideological enemies, using biblical language to justify vengeance. The tone was apocalyptic, the posture militant.
But this is not the spirit of Christ.
The early church, as we’ll explore next, faced persecution far more brutal than a single assassination. And yet their response was not hatred, it was holiness. Not vengeance, but witness. If we are to honor Charlie Kirk’s legacy as a Christian, we must resist the temptation to mirror the rage of the world. We must instead reflect the grace of the gospel.
A Different Response: The Witness of the Early Church
In moments of violence and persecution, the early church did not respond with vengeance or political retaliation. They responded with grace. The Book of Acts offers a vivid portrait of a community shaped not by fear, but by faith, a people who endured suffering with spiritual resilience and radical love.
Take Stephen, the first Christian martyr. In Acts 7:60, as stones crushed his body, his final words were not cries for justice or revenge. They were a prayer:
“Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” Even in death, Stephen mirrored the mercy of Christ on the cross. His forgiveness was witness.
Then there’s Paul and Silas in Acts 16. Beaten and imprisoned unjustly, they didn’t curse their captors or plot escape. Instead, they sang.
“About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God…” Their worship shook the prison walls—with reverence not anger. When the jailer, fearing death, begged for salvation, they offered it freely. No bitterness.
And in Acts 2:42–47, we see the daily life of the early believers:
- Devoted to teaching and fellowship
- Sharing possessions so none were in need
- Breaking bread with glad and sincere hearts
- Praising God and enjoying the favor of all people
This was a church under threat. Yet their posture was not defensive nor militant.
In a time when some are calling for Christians to “fight back” or “purge the wicked,” we must ask: Is this the spirit of Acts? Is this the witness we’ve inherited?
The early church did not seek to conquer Rome, they sought to convert hearts. Their power was not the sword.
Let us remember: the gospel spreads through faithfulness and love. To deepen this understanding, consider Augustine’s response to a similar cultural crisis.
Augustine’s City of God: A Theology of Endurance
In the year 410, Rome fell to the Visigoths. The unthinkable had happened: the Eternal City, symbol of imperial power and civilization, was sacked. And in the aftermath, many blamed Christians. The empire was weakened, they argued, because the old Roman gods had been abandoned. It was in this climate of fear, blame, and cultural collapse that Augustine penned City of God.
His work was not a defense of Christianity’s political utility. It was a radical reimagining of what it means to belong—not to an earthly kingdom, but to a heavenly one.
Augustine drew a sharp distinction between two cities: the City of Man, which is built on pride, violence, and the pursuit of domination.
The City of God is built on humility, peace, and love of neighbor.
He wrote, “What are kingdoms without justice? They’re just gangs of bandits.” His book wasn’t just a critique of Rome, but also a call to Christians to live faithfully amid political favor. Augustine warned that earthly dominance, even cloaked in religious language, risks becoming idolatry. City of God reminds us that our true citizenship is not in empire, but in eternity.
He also reflected on suffering: “In the same affliction, the wicked detest God… while the good pray and praise.”
The same tragedy can harden one heart and soften another. The difference lies not in the pain itself, but in the posture of the soul.
In our current moment, some voices are calling for Christians to seize control, to retaliate, to purge. But Augustine reminds us: the church is not called to build empires, it is called to embody the kingdom of heaven. Our citizenship is not of this world. Our strength is not in swords or slogans, but in sacrificial love.
Let us not confuse cultural dominance with spiritual faithfulness. The City of God is not built by conquest; it is built upon the work of the cross. Drawing from Augustine’s wisdom, how does this apply to us now in the wake of Kirk’s death?
For more about Augustine, City of God and Just War: Subscribe for a free copy of my eBook: Render Unto Caesar Unless He Taxes Your Tea.
A Call to the Church Today
Charlie Kirk’s death is a tragedy. It deserves mourning, not as a political loss, but as a human one. A husband, a father, a believer—his life was taken in violence, and that violence should grieve us deeply. But grief must not give way to hatred.
In moments like this, the church faces a choice: to mirror the rage of the world or to reflect the mercy of Christ. Some voices are calling for retaliation, for purging, for power. But the gospel calls us to something much more difficult and holier.
We are called to:
- Love for our enemies, even when they mock or harm us.
- Prayer those who persecute, not because they deserve it, but because Christ loved us first.
- Be peacemakers in a culture addicted to outrage and division.
This is not a weakness. It is our witness!
Let us remember the words of Jesus, spoken from the cross to those who crucified Him:
“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
This is the Spirit we must carry, not fear or fury, but forgiveness.
Victory through love.
Ceding the culture war doesn’t mean silence or surrender on truth, it means speaking boldly with the love of Christ, prioritizing soul-winning over societal control. As the early church showed, faithful witness often speaks louder than militant rhetoric.
Although our lives seem dominated by the culture war, we as Christians need to be willing to sacrifice the desire to ‘win’ cultural battles if it means gaining more souls for the kingdom of God. Can we accept losing influence in the world’s eyes in order to truly gain others through the love and grace that Christ commands?
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