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By: Janelle Oosterhoff

Published October 8, 2025

Why Charlie Kirk’s death hit so hard

For a time, in September, my Facebook feed – I’m sure yours too – was full of tributes to Charlie Kirk. At this point, I don’t need to tell you that Kirk was big. He was the founder of Turning Point USA, an organization maybe best known for setting up tables at university campuses across the USA, with Kirk, and sometimes his friends too, willing to debate anyone who would take the mic. Some give Kirk credit for Trump’s win in 2024, because of the way Turning Point was so effective in its outreach to young voters.

I felt a weight when I heard about his assassination. And the weight increased as I processed. Maybe that’s how you felt too.

If you track the news, it’s been a heavy year. Overdoses. Transgenderism. Abortion. Stabbings. Euthanasia. Shootings. Never mind the economy. Now this.

But why is this hitting so hard? I only watched Kirk’s videos occasionally. Why am I mourning someone who had so little impact on my day-to-day life? Of course, you have to feel sad for his loved ones – but it’s not that kind of grief. Assassinations are jarring, by nature. Not that I’ve lived through too many.

But this is different.

Charlie Kirk’s murder crystallized the hatred that I’ve been seeing directed towards Christian ideas and towards prolife activists. The hatred that activist Christians have felt directed our way through the condescension and the shouts, now manifested through murder. Across America, and Canada too, thousands celebrated. Mocked. Laughed. Who watches a man die, and laughs? That scares me. The apostle John equated hatred with murder (1 John 3:15), and I’ve never felt how close that link is until now.

In her video commemorating Charlie, Christian commentator Allie Beth Stuckey put it, “We’re bringing words. They’re bringing weapons.”

Ultimately, Charlie Kirk was murdered for views that I hold. Probably not all of them, but the fundamentals. Many of those views are non-negotiable Christian convictions that you and I and all God’s people hold. Christianity wasn’t a part of Kirk’s message: it was the driving force behind it.

The gap and the bridge

For a while, it’s been pretty clear that Christianity stands at odds with secular beliefs.
Now, two seemingly contradictory things come to mind:

1. It’s not an “us” versus “them”
We can’t just write off everyone on the other side. Christ came and died for us while we were still His enemies (Romans 5:8-10), and if not for Him, we would be enemies still. So, if God can do that for us, what might He be working in those folks over there? So we need to talk.

As Charlie put it:

“When people stop talking, really bad stuff starts. When marriages stop talking, divorce happens. When churches [stop talking], they fall apart. When civilization stops talking, civil war ensues. When you stop having a human connection with someone you disagree with, it becomes a lot easier to want to commit violence against that group.”

The Christian response is to treat everyone with dignity (Matt. 7:12), and pray for anyone who hates us (Matt. 5:43-44).

2. There are two sides
We can’t be confused about how there are two sides (Josh. 5:13-14): God’s side, and everyone else’s. As God’s people we are, and are called to be, fundamentally different. To me, the spiritual battle was brought to light by this assassin’s physical act.

Are these two conflicting views? No. These both make sense when we recognize what we share with our enemies: we’re all made in the image of God (Gen. 9:6), and we’re all in desperate need of a Savior. We can look across the divide in humility knowing there but for the grace of God, go I.

Social media makes both sides think, “Duh!?”

The algorithms selecting what’ll show up in our social media feeds only sharpen the division, making it difficult to actually have compassion for others. Everyone wonders:

How can anybody support ____? It’s just so obviously wrong!

Then we all click on what we want to see, and afterwards the algorithm feeds us more and more of the same.

My liberal friend commented, “He shouldn’t have been killed. But he said the gun deaths are worth it, so it just feels ironic.”

Worth it. Worth what? Did he really say that? What did he mean? But the internet clip stops right there. “Hah,” laughs an anti-gun activist. The assumption is that had Charlie known he would be killed by a gunman, then his tune would’ve changed. I disagree, largely because I got to see what else Charlie said.

Another thing Kirk said was: “I don’t believe in empathy,” and since his murder that quote has been pasted across the Internet. “How heartless can you be?” thinks the social studies student. Missed is the next phrase that isn’t included: “I prefer sympathy.” And Kirk went on from there to explain why.

One student asked him, “If your ten-year-old daughter was raped, would you want her to have the baby?” Kirk answered: “Yes.” Some stop listening at “yes.” Those who listen longer hear a compassionate “why.”

Explanations on immigration and marriage aren’t heard, but clips “proving” xenophobia, transphobia, and homophobia dominate YouTube. Charity is dead. Assumptions of good intent are gone, and undiscerning scrolling forms a worldview. Those who hear only what they want call him a hateful, dangerous fascist. When that’s your belief, then all redeeming qualities fail. They’re not redeeming qualities at all – they’re manipulation tactics.

And assassinating a fascist is a heroic act.

One spray-painted billboard read: “Death to all Charlie Kirks.”

That’s enough Internet for me today.

Can we get back to normal life?

It’s tempting to dismiss this as a one-time event. A crazy person shot a MAGA activist. We’re not American. Most people aren’t crazy. Right?

Maybe we could start to be discerning again. More neutral. The words “He had it coming,” will always be wrong. But we might reflect, “Should he really have linked his Christianity so closely with partisan politics?” or “He was unnecessarily controversial… if he just spoke the Gospel, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Not quite victim blaming, but maybe we should adjust the halo a bit? Should we really call him a martyr?

If he is one – if that’s what we were to conclude – we’d also have to conclude that Christianity itself is hated, not just some Christians who don’t put a good face to it. Then it’s not just about Charlie; you and I are hated. And I think the 100+ church burnings across Canada in the last 5 years bear witness to Who is really hated.

So no, this wasn’t a matter of tone. We don’t look at prophets in the Old Testament, and suggest perhaps their tone was off. Sorry, Jeremiah. You were a bit harsh there – a little too blunt on that one!

Watch any of his videos – in whole – and listen to those who knew him; Charlie Kirk was incredibly patient and well-versed. He was grounded in the Gospel, in both public and personal life. Many young people attribute their own shift to conservatism to Charlie Kirk, and many are now opening their Bibles for the first time while navigating the loss.

Charlie Kirk was targeted because he was effective.

The turning point

I’m not the first to say this – it’s ringing all over the Internet: in the bullet, hate took a physical form.

And this is how Charlie’s wife responded: “You have no idea what you have just unleashed across this world and across this entire nation.” Erika Kirk is right, God has so used this that in Charlie’s death his voice has been amplified. His videos are being watched even more. And I’m excited for all the new voices who have been emboldened to speak. Christian voices.

As I’m writing this, a lot has already been said. An insane amount of commentary. But the hate felt personal, so I wrote too.

I’ve done outreach – speaking up for the unborn – some of it on university campuses. My life hasn’t been in danger, but the hate’s been the same. The people in Kirk’s videos are the same sort that pro-life activists talk to every day on the streets. Like Charlie Kirk, I enjoy talking to someone who radically disagrees with me; I get to show my own humanity, and I get to tear down the image of heartless, ignorant pro-life monsters that they’ve crafted about us in their minds.

Conclusion

Charlie’s assassination brought it home: they hate us – they really hate us. And there are so many of them.

I wrote a poem a few years ago, while struggling with the weight of others’ opinions of me. I find it a good measure for checking my own heart and actions. Am I doing something wrong, or am I just scared of being ridiculed? Am I hesitant to speak because I think it’s prudent, or because I fear the opinions of others?

Strive, at the end of the day
When fingers are pointed my way,
To have no fault but Thine.

Let them hate my faithfulness, I say.
Your laws, they laugh at.
Your love, they despise.
I pray, they find those in me,
And be not me, they criticize.

You and I both know we’ll do it imperfectly. But that’s not the calling. We don’t have to worry about perfection – Jesus has accomplished that for us. The outcome of evangelism isn’t on us either.

But obedience is. May God grant us the courage to speak out boldly and patiently to a world that so desperately needs to hear His Good News.

Picture is adapted from one by Gage Skidmore and used under a CC BY-SA 2.0 license.

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The assassination of Charlie Kirk

A new era has been marked; Christians must tell the truth. Unsurprisingly, on September 11, 2001, I wept. I also wept, unexpectedly, on September 11, 2011. Perhaps it was delayed grief, but mostly, it was a delayed realization. Sitting that Sunday morning with my young daughters, only 6, 4, and 2 at the time, it struck me how different their world was from the one I wanted for them. The same sense struck this week, on September 10. The assassination of Charlie Kirk seems to mark a new era, a world no one wants but may very well be here. Calling the murder a “tragedy for all of us,” U.K. comedian and commentator Konstantin Kisin wrote: "I hope I’m wrong. But tonight feels like some sort of invisible line has been crossed that we didn’t even know was there. … o murder a young father simply for doing debates and mobilising young people to vote for a party that represents half of America? This is something else. "Charlie’s death is a tragedy for his wife, his children and his family. I don’t pray often. I am praying for them tonight. But I fear his murder will be a tragedy for all of us in ways we will only understand as time unfolds. "I hope I’m wrong. I fear I’m not." Kisin is not wrong about lines being crossed, though the Christian must not fear. We must, however, squarely face the sober realities of this moment. Kirk’s murder followed another this week, in Charlotte, of a young woman from Ukraine riding a public train. Iryna Zarutska was stabbed by a man who should have been in prison or at least institutionalized, and she was then left to die by people too engrossed in their screens to notice or too jaded to care. Together, these atrocities reveal realities about our culture and how it has shaped those within it that many will find unthinkable. But we had better think about it anyway. Zarutska’s killer is a terrible example of the mental and social brokenness that permeates modern life. The bystanders who did not come to her defense or to her aid are, like the social media commenters and media personalities who callously commented on Kirk’s assassination, examples of the rabid and pervasive dehumanization that infects the Western world. In a recent Breakpoint commentary, released prior to the atrocities of this week, Abdu Murray argued that this “post-truth world that elevates feelings and preferences above facts and truth has collapsed the distinction between a person’s ideas and their identity. And so, the social erasure of cancel culture has calcified into something darker.” That something darker, he argued, is “assassination culture.” He continued, “Unmoored from that objective standard for human value, we have made gods of ourselves and therefore justify eradicating any who dare to have other gods before us.” This is precisely what Os Guinness warned of in the new film Truth Rising, that the West is squandering a unique heritage. A civilization built upon the ideal of human dignity, with a mixed and troubled history of working out that ideal, has now replaced it with something else. But racialized, sexualized, and politicized conceptions of human dignity only produce victims. George Orwell is often credited as saying, “In a time of deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.” Charlie Kirk was a committed truth teller, with a remarkable gift for exposing and answering deceit. And yet, as he did this, he treated the deceived with the dignity they had as image bearers of their Creator, recognizing that they too were victims of their own bad ideas. There is a cost to telling the truth. Our Lord has told us to count this cost. If Kisin is indeed correct, that cost is higher than we have imagined. This is indeed a civilizational moment. It is to this moment that we have been called as His people. As His people, we know that this moment is not some fatalistic inevitability, nor does it determine or define the Story of which we are part. In a video circulating on social media, Charlie is asked why he went on campuses to talk with and try to persuade those who disagree with him. Charlie responded, “Because when people stop talking, that’s when violence happens.” It was a prophetic moment, but Kirk also demonstrated that we need not accept that. He showed that the conversation can be had; that it must be had. He showed that the truth still wins hearts and minds, and that lies can be opposed. And that it can all be done with a big smile. It takes courage to tell the truth and to, as Paul wrote, “regard no one from a worldly point of view.” As Murray wrote, only the “ancient biblical truth about what it means to be human can heal our contemporary malady.” It can be healed. This is not wishful thinking. This is the hope Christ secured for us all. As the banner on the Turning Point USA website proclaims, Charlie Kirk has been “received into the merciful arms of our loving Savior, who suffered and died for Charlie.” For more resources to live like a Christian in this cultural moment, go to Breakpoint.org. This is reprinted with permission from the Colson Center. Picture by Gage Skidmore and used under a CC BY-SA 2.0 license....

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