“But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep.”
— 1 Thessalonians 4:13–14 (ESV)

On September 10th, 2025, our nation was shaken by the assassination of Charlie Kirk. Regardless of where one stood on his political or cultural views, the tragic reality is that a husband, father, and leader was taken far too soon. His wife, children, and extended family now carry the heavy burden of grief, and beyond them, churches, communities, and a nation wrestle with the weight of such a loss.

For me personally, this loss has been deeply felt. While I know many did not agree with him, I admired Charlie for his gift of productive discourse, his ability to engage hard conversations without shrinking back, and his refusal to compromise truth for popularity. I respected his courage to stand firmly in his convictions of faith, even when it meant facing intense opposition. But above all, I was drawn to his unwavering commitment to Jesus, the church, and his family.

In many ways, his life served as a reminder that leadership is not about applause—it’s about faithfulness. And though the sound of his voice has been silenced on earth, the testimony of his life still speaks.

In this moment, we are called not only to reflect, but also to pray. Paul urges us in 1 Timothy 2:1–2 to lift up “supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings… for kings and all who are in high positions.” That command stretches beyond leaders in office—it includes interceding for their families, for the grieving, and for all who are touched by tragedy. Let us pray for Charlie’s family as they walk through this valley, and for our communities and nation as we seek God’s wisdom and healing in uncertain times.

Moments like this force us to wrestle with grief and loss. Yet, as followers of Christ, we cannot stop at sorrow alone. Scripture reminds us: “We do not grieve as others do who have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Even in tragedy, God’s kingdom is not shaken. Hate may wound, but it cannot cancel the light of Christ that continues to shine through His people.

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Hope That Cannot Be Silenced

Paul’s words to the Thessalonian church were written into a context of raw grief. These were young believers, many of them first-generation Christians, who were shaken by the loss of loved ones and unsure of how to reconcile that loss with their newfound faith. They expected Christ’s return in their lifetime, and when death touched their community, it raised deep questions: What happens to those who die before He comes back? Have they missed His promise?

Into that uncertainty, Paul spoke with pastoral tenderness. He did not minimize their sorrow or tell them not to grieve. Instead, he reframed their grief within the unshakable hope of the resurrection: “Since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep” (1 Thessalonians 4:14). The phrase “fallen asleep” is a common biblical metaphor for the death of believers, emphasizing that death is temporary in light of the resurrection. And Paul goes on to clarify in vv.15–18 that at Christ’s return, the dead in Christ will rise first, and then those who are alive will be caught up together with them to meet the Lord. Notice Paul’s logic—our hope is not built on sentiment, but on the historical reality of Christ’s death and resurrection. Because He rose, we too will rise. Death is not the end; it has been swallowed up in victory.

This message is profoundly relevant for our moment. Violence and hatred still attempt to silence voices and disrupt communities. The assassination of a public leader is not only the loss of a man—it is a wound to families, churches, and a nation. Scripture reminds us of two unchanging truths in the face of such evil:

• God alone establishes authority and holds rulers accountable (Romans 13:1–4; 1 Peter 2:13–17). To take the life of a leader is not only an attack on that individual but an assault on the God-given order of justice. Assassination tries to usurp God’s sovereign rule, but it cannot overturn His authority.
• Every life bears the image of God (Genesis 1:27). To take a life in hatred is to strike at the very dignity of the Creator Himself. Jesus warned that the seed of murder is found in hatred festering within the heart (Matthew 5:21–22), and John declared that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him (1 John 3:15).

And yet, while Scripture takes the weight of violence with utmost seriousness, it never leaves us in despair. Grief does not get the final word. Resurrection hope lifts our eyes above the ashes of brokenness to Christ’s victory over death: “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:54–55).

This is why Charlie’s life and testimony still speak today. His voice may be silenced on earth, but the hope he carried was never rooted in earthly applause—it was anchored in eternal truth. He was outspoken in his convictions, unwavering in his faith, and devoted to his family. These qualities point us back to eternal realities that cannot be assassinated. Hatred may wound, but it cannot cancel the light of Christ that continues to shine through His people.

In moments like this, we must ask: how do we move forward in a way that honors both the life that was lost and the Lord we serve? Paul’s answer to the Thessalonians gives us the same direction today: live as people marked by faith, courage, and love—because we know that Christ has the final word.

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Living Out a Hope That Cannot Be Silenced

If Paul’s words to the Thessalonians remind us of anything, it’s this: resurrection hope is not abstract—it shapes the way we live in the here and now. For Paul, the resurrection was never meant to be a distant doctrine reserved for funerals; it was a present reality meant to anchor believers in courage, holiness, and endurance. The Thessalonian church needed this reminder because their grief had blurred their vision of the future. By pointing them back to Christ’s resurrection, Paul was showing them how hope in eternity transforms faithfulness in the present.

The same is true for us. When we are confronted with tragedy—whether the loss of a public figure, a family member, or a friend—our temptation is to let grief or fear dictate our choices. But resurrection hope calls us higher. It reshapes how we handle opposition, how we steward influence, and how we love the people entrusted to us.

Charlie’s testimony points us in this direction. His life was not without flaws—none of ours are—but it was marked by convictions that pointed beyond himself. He reminded us that truth is worth defending, that family is worth investing in, and that faith is worth living out in public, even when it costs you. These are not truths that can be silenced by violence or erased by hatred. They are eternal, and they still speak.

To honor both his legacy and, more importantly, the Lord he served, we must choose to walk in that same resurrection-shaped way of life. Here are three ways we can move forward:

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1. Live with eternal perspective

Paul told the Thessalonians not to grieve “as others do who have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Notice—he didn’t tell them not to grieve, but to grieve differently. The difference is eternity. Our culture is consumed with the temporary: chasing wealth, clinging to comfort, obsessing over influence. But resurrection hope reminds us that this life is not the end.

Paul said it this way: “So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Corinthians 4:16–17). The resurrection reframes both our suffering and our priorities.

Living with eternal perspective means measuring today’s choices against forever’s outcome. It changes how we handle everything from daily frustrations to major life decisions:

• When you face loss—whether it’s the death of someone you love, the loss of a job, or the disappointment of a dream that didn’t materialize—you can remind yourself that what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. You don’t grieve as if all is lost, because in Christ nothing eternal can ever be taken away.
• When you think about success—the world says build your platform, secure your wealth, and make your mark. But eternal perspective asks: will this matter ten thousand years from now? Am I investing more energy in building my name or Christ’s kingdom?
• When you spend your time—eternity sharpens our focus. Are you pouring hours into distractions that will fade, or into relationships, discipleship, and service that ripple into forever?

This is one of the reasons I admired Charlie Kirk. While many knew him for his public debates and political commentary, what stood out most was his ability to keep his eyes fixed on what lasts. His boldness in the public square wasn’t about personal fame—it flowed from a conviction that truth matters for eternity. His devotion to his wife and children wasn’t simply about family values—it was about stewarding a God-given legacy that would outlive him. His service to the church was never about platform-building—it was about pointing people to Jesus.

Charlie modeled Paul’s reminder to the Thessalonians: don’t live like those who have no hope. His life reflected the reality that our choices today echo into eternity. To honor that legacy, and more importantly to honor the Lord, we too must choose to live with eternity in view.

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2. Stand with courage in the face of opposition

Hope in the resurrection does not produce passivity; it produces courage. Because death has been defeated, there is nothing left for the believer to fear. That’s why Paul could boldly write: “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21). If Christ holds our eternity secure, then no opposition—whether cultural, political, or personal—can silence the truth we carry.

Paul urged Timothy to “fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called” (1 Timothy 6:12). Notice that Paul’s imagery is active. Faith is not something to be passively admired—it is a fight to be courageously lived out. This fight doesn’t mean aggression or hostility; it means standing firm when others want you to sit down, speaking truth when silence is easier, and choosing faithfulness when compromise would win applause. And as we do, Scripture reminds us that courage must always be carried with truth spoken in love (Ephesians 4:15) and with words “gracious, seasoned with salt” (Colossians 4:6). Courage without grace distorts the Gospel; courage with grace magnifies it.

Practically, this kind of courage looks like:

• At work or school—refusing to bend on integrity, even if it costs you popularity or opportunity.
• In your neighborhood or family—lovingly standing for biblical truth, even if it invites misunderstanding.
• In your personal life—choosing obedience to Christ in private, even when no one else sees.

Charlie modeled this courage. Whether speaking on college campuses where opposition was fierce, or engaging in conversations that others avoided, he didn’t shy away from holding convictions publicly. He stood on the foundation of his faith, not because it was easy, but because he believed eternity was worth it. His example reminds us that courage is not about volume or anger—it’s about conviction rooted in truth, seasoned with love, and anchored in the Gospel.

When we stand with courage in our own spheres of influence, we carry forward that same legacy. We testify to the world that our hope is not in avoiding conflict but in clinging to Christ. Courage is not optional for the believer—it’s the natural outflow of resurrection hope.

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3. Invest in your family and faith community

Resurrection hope not only reshapes how we see eternity—it reshapes how we see relationships. If Christ is risen and eternity is real, then the most lasting investments we can make are not in possessions or platforms, but in people. That’s why Paul so often described the church in family terms—brothers, sisters, spiritual children. For him, ministry was never just about messages preached; it was about lives formed.

Joshua’s declaration still rings true today: “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Joshua 24:15). And Paul reminded the Galatians, “So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith” (Galatians 6:10). Scripture is clear: the legacy that matters most is built in the quiet, consistent rhythms of faithfulness to our families and our church communities.

Practically, this kind of investment looks like:

• In your home—reading Scripture with your children, praying with your spouse, and shaping conversations around eternal truths instead of just temporary concerns.
• In your church—serving where there is need, encouraging weary leaders, mentoring younger believers, and being present even when it’s inconvenient.
• In your community—living out the love of Christ in tangible ways—caring for neighbors, showing hospitality, and pointing others toward the hope of the Gospel.

Charlie embodied this priority. For all his public work and national platform, those who knew him best testified that his first devotion was to his wife, his children, and his local church. He understood that if he gained the whole world but neglected his family, he would have missed the greater calling. His legacy is not just in speeches or debates—it’s in the discipleship of his household and his investment in the body of Christ.

To live with resurrection hope means we take seriously the people God has entrusted to us. We recognize that the way we love and lead our families, and the way we serve our church, will echo far longer than any earthly accomplishment. This is where legacy is built—at the dinner table, in the pew, and in the everyday moments of faithfulness that no spotlight ever sees.

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A Call Beyond Legacy

The tragedy of last week has reminded us how fragile life is, but also how powerful a faithful life can be. Charlie Kirk is no longer with us, but the testimony of his convictions, his courage, and his devotion to Christ and his family continues to echo. Yet if our reflection stops with admiration, we will have missed the greater point.

The legacy we honor is not ultimately Charlie’s—it is Christ’s. The same Lord who conquered death is calling us to live as resurrection-shaped people in a broken world. We cannot allow hatred, fear, or despair to write the story of our generation. Instead, we must step into our callings with eternal perspective, with courage to stand firm, and with a commitment to invest in what lasts forever.

Every conversation you have, every act of love you show, every stand you take for truth—these are seeds planted for eternity. And while the world may try to silence voices of faith, the light of Christ cannot be extinguished.

So let us not merely remember a man, but respond to the Savior he followed. Let us live our days in such a way that when our time on earth is done, others can say of us what Paul declared with confidence: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:7).

The greatest way to honor Charlie’s life is not by carrying his name forward, but by carrying Christ’s name faithfully in our own lives—for our families, our communities, and for the glory of God’s Kingdom.