In a time when disagreement often leads to division, Charlie Kirk stood out—not just for his boldness, but for his commitment to respectful engagement. His banner, “Prove me wrong,” wasn’t just a challenge; it was an invitation. He worked hard to show respect to those who disagreed with him, engaging ideas with clarity, conviction, and love.
His recent passing shook many of us—not just because of the loss of a young man with a promising future, but because of what he represented. For those of us who have taken biblical stances and felt the sting of rejection, his story hits close to home. I’ve lost people I deeply loved over disagreements, and maybe you have too. In today’s culture, disagreement can quickly escalate into being labeled an “evil idiot.” That’s not just sad—it’s dangerous.
At Rock Church, we’ve long embraced a different approach. Long before Charlie Kirk stepped onto college campuses, we were living out a culture of love and belonging. “You can belong before you believe” isn’t just a slogan—it’s a conviction. Whether you’re awakened, atheist, or somewhere in between, you’re welcome here. That’s our core. That’s our heart.
So when I saw the backlash against Charlie—even before the news of his death was confirmed—it was deeply unsettling. Commentators blamed him, calling his rhetoric hateful, without acknowledging the grace and respect he consistently showed. If you actually watched him, you’d see a man who engaged radically different ideas with boldness and love. That’s what drew me to him. That’s what inspired me.
We’re living in a fascinating moment in history. Politics and religion are colliding in ways that make many of us uncomfortable. The culture is shifting rapidly. Some voices—especially those who claim there is no God—have gone to extremes. And now, even everyday people are beginning to see that.
Charlie’s death at 31 feels like a loss of potential—a voice that could have brought reason, education, and moral clarity to a generation. But as I prepared for today, I was reminded of something deeper. Jesus died with a small group of disciples. Three hundred years later, Rome was Christian. One life, lived with purpose, can change everything.
So today isn’t a funeral. It’s a reflection. It’s a call to love in the face of hate, to engage with respect, and to remember that even in loss, there’s hope. Maybe we can be part of something bigger. Maybe we already are.
