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I was laid up on the seventh floor of the recovery wing at the Virginia Commonwealth University hospital in Richmond, Virginia when the memorial service for Charlie Kirk began in Glendale, Arizona on Sunday afternoon. It had been at least two decades since I visited a doctor and yet there I was, in an ill-fitting nightgown, being poked and prodded by a team of doctors after my tongue swelled to the size of a baseball in the days after Charlie Kirk was assassinated at Utah Valley University in Orem, Utah.
The doctors still don’t exactly know what happened to me. A seizure in my sleep, perhaps. However, MRI testing found no lesions on my brain and my blood work came back as clean as it could for a 38-year-old who enjoys a stiff drink and an unhealthy amount of tobacco. Whatever the cause, my tongue was so lacerated that I was struggling to breathe and was later forced to undergo emergency surgery to save my tongue, my throat, and my life. As my own health lay in the balance, and as I eased in and out of consciousness beneath a battery of drugs in the rained-out interior of sunken Richmond, my mind couldn’t help but wander across the Blue Ridge and Great Plains, to the far stretches of America where the Sonoran Desert reigns supreme.
I was thinking of Charlie Kirk, of course. It had only been a week since Kirk, one of the great organizers of the modern American conservative movement, was gunned down by a dejected, villainous, evil cretin who thought violence could solve a difference of opinions. How wrong the gunman was. In the days since Kirk met his maker, the late activist’s message has spread like a new gospel not only across the United States but also along the wide reaches of the collective West. Wherever English is spoken, and democracy is practiced, and God is worshipped, and free debate is celebrated, there has been Kirk’s message as millions attempt to find solace in the words and deeds of a man who believed, more than anything, in the grace of God and the excellence of our America.
I do not pretend to have been Kirk’s biggest fan. I’ve never been to a Turning Point USA event nor have I spent more than five minutes of the last decade watching one of Kirk’s infamous “Prove Me Wrong” videos. But I was well familiar with Kirk’s work and understood, implicitly, the crater-sized impact he held with MAGA, with President Donald Trump, with millions of young American men and women, and with the country we love so dearly. Those oblivious to Kirk’s influence could no longer escape it this weekend as remembrances poured in from across the nation in the days after a fated bullet struck down Illinois’ native son.
On Sunday, nearly 100,000 people gathered at the State Farm Stadium in Glendale to mourn and pay their respects to Charlie. Everyone was there. Kirk’s friends and family. The entire Trump administration. Tens of thousands of everyday people who had been inspired to take up the Christian faith and the tenets of American conservatism, in many cases after hearing the words and witnessing the actions of Mr. Kirk.
His lasting effect on our country and its conservative movement was evident in the words spoken on Sunday. All the speeches were fantastic. President Donald Trump provided the sort of levity that only he can. White House Deputy Chief of Staff Stephen Miller, who is not particularly my cup of tea, lit the proverbial torch and had me ready to run through a brick wall. Vice President J.D. Vance, who has struggled at times to find his footing this summer, had not sounded this strong and confident since his appearance at the Munich Security Conference on Valentine’s Day nearly 9 months ago. Even Little Marco, long the heel of this administration’s easiest jokes, spoke with the sort of candor and inspiration I have rarely, if ever, heard from his lips.
But of all the speeches recorded Sunday, it was Charlie Kirk’s wife Erika who had me lying awake in a hospital bed considering how the next stage of my own life can make up for the mistakes of my past. In a 30-minute haymaker that oscillated from grief and humor to grace and inspiration, Erika spoke with a clarity and passion that would’ve made any fallen husband proud. Recounting the sincere love they shared, Erika noted how Charlie never wandered from his commitment to her, first and foremost.
“Our little secret, it was love notes,” Erika revealed. “Every Saturday, Charlie wrote one for me and he never missed a Saturday. And in every single one of them he’d tell me what his highlight was for the week, how grateful he was for me and our babies, and always at the end, he’d always end it by asking the most beautiful question. He’d always end it by asking, ‘Please let me know how I can better serve you as a husband.’ Charlie perfectly understood God’s role for a Christian husband: A man who leads so that they can serve.”
Then Erika spoke of Charlie’s legacy as a peacemaker. Despite loud protestations from certain elements of the polity who characterize Charlie’s work as spiteful and divisive, Kirk’s assassination did not inspire in his own fans and supporters a desire to commit similar acts of evil. Quite the opposite, in fact. “After Charlie’s assassination, we didn’t see violence,” Erika noted. “We didn’t see rioting. We didn’t see revolution. Instead, we saw what my husband always prayed we would see in this country: We saw revival.”
That revival was on display Sunday as more than 100,000 people gathered at Kirk’s memorial service, making it one of the largest public turnouts for a private citizen in the history of the United States. Thousands raised their hands to the sky and sang, in one voice, “Hallelujah.” It was the sort of response that Charlie would have loved. Americans. Joined at the hip. Peacefully. In song. In spirit. In unison. Together. In the days since, TPUSA has received more than 120,000 inquiries to start new chapters nationwide. In death, as in his life, Charlie inspired our nation’s sons and daughters toward something greater than themselves alone.
But perhaps Charlie’s greatest accomplishment, and the one that shone brightest during Erika’s fabulous speech on Sunday, was his ability to inspire people of all ages and backgrounds toward the soft light of the Lord. At his very foundation, Charlie was a deep believer, a man of God, and his organization always centered ideas of faith and family at the core of its mission. As much as he inspired the next generation of conservatives, Charlie’s most telling success was that he inspired the next generation of Christians.
“He wanted to save young men, just like the one who took his life,” said Erika as she courageously held back the free flow of tears. And then Mrs. Kirk did something that no one could have expected from her: She put aside anger and pain and sadness to find within herself a degree of forgiveness that still seems unimaginable.
“That man, that young man—I forgive him,” Erika stated. “I forgive him because it’s what Christ did and it’s what Charlie would do. The answer to hate is not hate. The answer we know from the Gospel is love and always love. Love for our enemies and love for those who persecute us.”
The man who murdered Charlie Kirk, who I will not name here, lost. He lost in every way imaginable. He failed to silence Charlie and he failed to silence the men and women who will follow Charlie’s words and deeds for generations to come. The killer only amplified Kirk. He lionized Charlie in a way that only lead can: the way of the immortal. As Vance so eloquently stated in his speech, “It is better to face a gunman than to live your life afraid to speak the truth.”
Erika finished her speech by emphasizing Charlie’s relationship with Christ and calling on those watching to adopt a similar posture. “Charlie’s life was a turning point for this country,” said Erika. “It was a miracle. Let that miracle that was Charlie's life be your turning point as well. Choose prayer. Choose courage. Choose beauty. Choose adventure. Choose family. Choose a life of faith. Most importantly, choose Christ.”
As the widow Kirk walked off stage to a standing ovation I noticed the pillow on my hospital bed was wet from tears. I had been crying. In my heart, I knew Erika was speaking directly to men like me. I, by my own account, who is among the wretched of this Earth. I, who is seeking. Desperately seeking. Grace and goodness and light. I, the sort of man who has seen, quite clearly, the true light, but time and time again, struggled to walk through it. For sin is the very nature of what makes each of us human and I am no more alien than my neighbor. In this world, the dark is always pooling.
There, on the cold, marble floor at VCU Medical Center, I dropped to my knees and clenched my hands together in prayer. It had been months. Too many months. But there, among the trauma, the wounded, the lost, the hopeless, the dead, and still living, I was able to find some small measure of faith again. It was a speech for the ages. It was a life for the ages. The whole thing shook me to my core. Erika could’ve chosen vengeance. She could’ve chosen malice. Instead, she chose forgiveness and in doing so motivated a nation’s people toward greatness. Thank you, Erika.
And Charlie? Rest in peace, brother. We will miss you but we will never forget your mission.