Where There’s Blayze

Yesterday’s shooting of Charlie Kirk has left me compelled to write, not as a political statement, but as a Christian wrestling with grief, anger, and sorrow for our world.

I never agreed with Charlie on everything. Few of us ever agree with anyone completely. But I respected him. I respected his courage to sit across from those who opposed him, to welcome dialogue instead of fear it, and to do so with respect. I admired his unapologetic declarations of faith. When asked about his convictions, Charlie once said:

“I believe in the Bible, and I believe that Christ rose from the dead on the third day. This is the foundation of my faith and guides my actions.”

That is not the confession of a mere political pundit. That is the confession of a brother in Christ. And whatever differences I may have had with him, I rejoiced to see someone so boldly proclaim the resurrection of our Lord.

So when the news alert came across my phone, Charlie Kirk shot while taking questions at a campus event, my heart sank. He had gone where many would not dare to go: opening himself up to any and every questioner, offering honest dialogue. And yet someone, unwilling to reason, chose violence.

This is what chilled me: not only that Charlie was gunned down, but what it reveals about our society. We have forgotten how to disagree without dehumanising. We have abandoned dialogue for destruction. Cancel culture has morphed from ridicule and exclusion into something darker, the silencing of a man not with words, but with a weapon.

Rowan Atkinson once said: “If we want a robust society, we need more robust dialogue and that must include the right to insult or to offend. Because, as someone once said, the freedom to be inoffensive is no freedom at all.”

He was right. Free societies require tough conversations, not bullets.

I thought of Charlie’s family. His wife. His children, so close in age to my own. I prayed they were shielded from the horror of that moment, yet I know they now bear a wound no family should ever endure.

And then came the videos. Circulating on social media within minutes, clips of his death, blood, collapse, shared like entertainment. I felt physically sick. What does it say of us that we treat a man’s final moments as meme fodder? That his widow and children might stumble upon those images while scrolling? Even teenagers reported such videos appearing unbidden in their feeds. What a sickness.

As the night wore on, grief turned to despair. My timeline filled not with lament, but with mockery. Memes ridiculing his death. Comments saying he “deserved it.” Even within Christian spaces, denominational facebook groups, no less, I read cold words dismissing his life and faith. Brothers and sisters, have we so lost our bearings? Paul writes in Romans 12:15, “Mourn with those who mourn.” And yet some among us laughed.

Would you laugh in front of his wife? Would you sneer before his children? If not, then why do it online, where cruelty costs you nothing but corrodes your soul?

This is not just about Charlie Kirk. It is about who we are becoming. Robert F. Kennedy once said in the wake of Dr. King’s assassination: “What we need in the United States is not division … but love, and wisdom, and compassion toward one another.” Instead, politicians shout blame across the aisle, “This is your fault!”, while others sharpen their knives for vengeance. But vengeance does not heal. It multiplies the graveyards.

When asked recently what he wanted to be remembered for, Charlie answered simply:

“I wanna be remembered for courage, for my faith. That would be the most important thing. The most important thing is my faith.”

Whatever else you thought of him, remember this: his anchor was Christ. And that is no small thing.

Friends, our response must not be more hate. It must not be mockery. It must not be vengeance. It must be prayer. Prayer for his family. Prayer for America. Prayer for our enemies. Prayer that we would learn again what it means to live as salt and light in a decaying world.

The prophet Isaiah gives us God’s words of comfort:

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10)

So let us grieve. Let us pray. And let us not be conformed to this world of rage, mockery, and death, but be transformed by Christ, who alone can break the cycle of hate.

Because in the end, Charlie Kirk is not remembered for his politics, his platform, or his controversies. He is remembered as a man who, in his own words, wanted his life marked by faith. And that should challenge us all: when our time comes, what will we be remembered for?