Enraged

The assassination of Charlie Kirk has left me shaken in ways I can hardly put into words. I don’t want to draw comparisons that don’t belong, but the words of Anne Wilson’s song echo in my mind: “Who changed the world when His blood was spilled? Who takes His own cross up a hill?”

In so many ways, I believe the world will be changed by Charlie’s blood being spilled. He bore his cross with courage and conviction, carrying it faithfully and wholeheartedly in the name of Christ. He was hated for his beliefs, mocked for his boldness, and yet he never wavered. For that, he paid the ultimate price. Charlie was martyred.

And yet, what deepens the wound is not just the loss of his life, but the cultural numbness that followed. To see people sharing the graphic video of his attack—carelessly, thoughtlessly, as if it were nothing more than shock-value content—is an act of cruelty in itself. One day, Charlie’s children may stumble across that video. That thought makes my stomach turn.

This is not just brutality. This is sickness. This is a world so desensitized that we cannot even recognize the sacredness of life. And it enrages me.