The Martyr Who Lit the Fire: Remembering Charlie Kirk a Turning Point in History

My fellow conservatives in Colorado, the backbone of this state's resilient spirit, I come to you today with a heart that's broken, a soul that's furious, and words that feel both urgent and inadequate. Over these past few days, our world has shifted dramatically, and I am still struggling with the surreal reality of it all, like a cruel nightmare from which I desperately wish to wake. Charlie Kirk is gone. Assassinated. And the void he leaves behind is enormous, a deep wound in the conservative movement. I'm not here to analyze the details of that horrible act. Today, I want to talk about Charlie Kirk: the man, the legend, the irreplaceable force who influenced me and all of us. And yes, where we must move forward from here, because giving up isn't an option.

I never had the chance to shake Charlie's hand. Last year, my wife Pam and I were supposed to join his huge gathering in Phoenix, and we even had those coveted VIP passes. But fate intervened in the cruelest way: I fell seriously ill, shuttling between emergency rooms and home for two agonizing weeks. I couldn't attend. That missed opportunity haunts me now, a regret that weighs like a black hole on my chest. If only I had pushed through, if only I had met the man whose voice echoed in my ears from his podcasts. Charlie wasn't just a conservative influencer; he was an anchor for many of us, including myself, grounding our convictions in truth and fire.

What made Charlie so extraordinary, so utterly rare in this fierce world we call politics, was his humility amid greatness. In a realm filled with egos, Charlie thrived by elevating others. He would highlight their successes, offer genuine praise, and step back to let them shine. This wasn't a tactic; it was at the heart of his character, a testament to authentic virtue. Charlie was a titan: towering in his achievements, unmatched in his talents, and deeply rooted in his integrity. He built an empire, organized armies of like-minded supporters, and fought with a fierce resolve few could match. Our conservative movement is filled with charismatic speakers who dominate the stage, captivating audiences with wit and wisdom. Then there are the strategists, the quiet architects who rally these voices into something unstoppable. That was Charlie. He was both a unique genius and a once-in-a-generation talent, whom many of us, including myself, believed was destined for the White House. I would have proudly voted for him; we would’ve campaigned, knocked doors, and bled for that campaign. He had that kind of loyalty. I know tens of millions shared that belief.

His bravery was legendary. Charlie entered into any arena, debated anyone, in any setting, on hostile campuses, biased panels, you name it. He relied on his razor-sharp memory, the undeniable truth of his values and principles, and above all, his unwavering faith in God. That divine guidance was clear in every debate he dominated with almost otherworldly skill. God had anointed him for this fight, blessing his words and guiding his path repeatedly. And Charlie was a patriot through and through, loving this nation with a fiery passion. He didn't just spout slogans; "Make America Great Again" was his life's mission, his relentless crusade. He poured everything into it, accomplishing more for our country's revival than most could ever imagine. He fought for America every single day, and in the end, he gave his life for her.

But beyond his role as a conservative warrior, Charlie was first and foremost a devoted husband and father. His love for his family shone through every word he spoke and every action he took. You could feel it without ever meeting him: he was a man who built his world around them and would sacrifice anything to ensure a brighter future for his loved ones. And tragically, he did.

Now he's been ripped from us, gunned down on stage amid what he did best: fostering open, civil discourse. Charlie never stooped to smears or shouting matches. He invited challenges and welcomed opponents to the table to test ideas fairly. For that, for being a beacon of reason and strength, they silenced him forever. He was too effective, too beloved, especially by the rising generations who flocked to his message. So they struck him down.

In this raw moment, I won't sugarcoat my emotions: I'm grief-stricken, my heart broken, and fury courses through me like wildfire. If you're seeking some squishy plea for unity, look elsewhere. I've watched the same vultures who fanned the flames of hatred against conservatives like Charlie himself, now preach about "lowering the temperature" and "starting dialogues." Hypocrites. Charlie extended olive branches, sought those very conversations, and your response was murder. You've targeted us in our churches, attempted to assassinate our president not once but twice, and now stolen one of our brightest lights. For years, you've fueled and glorified violence through the plagues like Antifa and BLM, well-oiled machines of anarchy. You've glorified killers like Luigi Mangione and even now revel in Charlie's death. The time for cooling off passed long ago. This isn't about handholding; it's about justice. It's time for righteousness to rise and crush the evil that's festered too long, for our nation, our families, our children, and for Charlie.

We've all seen the vile torrent of glee from the left: posts, videos, outright celebrations from these soulless POS’s. We tell ourselves they're outliers, but that's a lie. This rot runs deep, even into the halls of Congress, where Democrats mocked and disrupted Lauren Boebert's call for a moment of silence in Charlie's honor directly after his passing. That's not fringe; that's the core of who they are. It all starts from the top and flows down. Yet, in a twisted way, their jubilation is the ultimate accolade for Charlie. Sure, he had legions of friends and admirers who cherished him, that speaks volumes to his goodness. But as a true leader in the culture wars, the hatred of his enemies underscores his impact. Let us all aspire to that: to be so formidable, so disruptive to their agenda, that our passing brings them joy. May we strike such blows that they see no other way but to target us. If they dance on my grave as they do on Charlie's, I'll know I lived rightly. Our foes should rejoice at our exit, if not, we didn't hit hard enough. Charlie struck like lightning, but always with grace, through words alone, non-violently. And now they think they've won by erasing him. Clowns. They've only amplified his power.

A living hero inspires; a martyr ignites revolutions. In life, Charlie armored us with faith and urged us to stand firm. In death, his call echoes louder. Let me be crystal clear: we will not retreat. We won't cower or mute our voices. We'll rise taller, speak bolder, fight fiercer than ever before. History proves: killing the messengers never kills the message. Slay a man, spill his blood before the world, but you can't extinguish a cause rooted in love of God, country, and family. That's an eternal truth, unkillable no matter the body count.

Just a day before his murder, Charlie shared an image of Irina, the innocent young lady who was murdered on Charlotte’s light rail, captioning it simply: "America will never be the same." How foretelling. America won't be the same, but because of you, it'll be stronger, forged in the fire of your legacy. There's work ahead, battles to wage, but we'll carry the torch. As 2 Timothy 4:7 declares: "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." You've run your leg, Charlie. Now we take the baton, unyielding until victory.

Sleep in peace, knowing we'll see it through. Godspeed.