The bullet that silenced Charlie Kirk's voice on September 10, 2025, sent a message to every Christian in America: This is what happens when you speak too boldly.

But what if that's exactly backwards? What if Kirk's assassination reveals not the danger of bold witness, but the deadly consequences of Christian silence?

For too long, we've watched our culture spiral into chaos while we've whispered prayers behind closed doors. We've seen children mutilated in the name of gender ideology, babies slaughtered in the name of choice, and marriage redefined in the name of love—all while we've chosen the safety of our sanctuaries over the mission field of the public square.

Charlie Kirk refused that cowardice. He understood what too many Christians have forgotten: Truth that is not proclaimed publicly is only a borrowed conviction that dies privately.

The Comfortable Christian Delusion

Let's be honest about where most of us really live. We attend church on Sunday, we tithe our required percentage, we send our kids to Christian schools, and we tell ourselves we're being faithful. We've created a parallel Christian universe where we can live our entire lives without ever having to defend a single biblical conviction in hostile territory. And the avoidance of conflict over our understanding of these biblical truths is costing us the crystallizing and cementing of our convictions.

This is not Christianity. This is Christian cosplay.

Jesus didn't die on a cross so we could live a comfortable suburban life insulated from cultural conflict. He died to save us, and his death gives us an example of the path that he intends for us to walk. Jesus uses conflict to form and harden the character of his disciples. True Christianity must have the courage to carry the cross into a world that hates everything it represents.

For example, do we really believe that said that He, “…created mankind in his own image" (Genesis 1:27).  Do we really believe that every human life has divine dignity? Yet 630,000 babies are aborted annually while Christians debate whether it's "too political" to speak up. How about the biblical truth that, "There is no authority except that which God has established" (Romans 13:1). God ordains government for justice—yet we repeatedly say nothing while our fellow citizens vote for governments that enact lawlessness and affirm criminality because we are worried about being "divisive."

The blood of the innocent cries out from the ground, and our response is to turn up the worship music.

The Cost of Our Cowardice

Here's what our silence has cost our neighbors:

In just one generation, we've gone from a culture that at least paid lip service to Christian values to one that openly celebrates their destruction. Children who would have been protected are now prey. Marriages that would have been honored are now mocked. Truth that would have been assumed is now called hate speech.

This didn't happen overnight. It happened while Christians chose comfort over courage.

Charlie Kirk saw this clearly. The public square—whether in politics, media, or community life—has become hostile territory for biblical truth. Secular ideologies don't just dismiss biblical principles as outdated; they brand them as dangerous. Cancel culture doesn't just silence dissent; it destroys lives and murders people. In Europe, conservative parties face outright political disqualification. In Canada, the suppression is subtler but just as effective: social pressure, economic consequences, and the suffocating weight of being labeled a bigot.

And how have we responded? We've retreated. We've whispered. We've hidden our light under the bushel of "being strategic" and "picking our battles."

Meanwhile, the culture burns.

The Biblical Call to Witness

Jesus never promised us a comfortable life. He promised you the exact opposite: "In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world" (John 16:33).

From Genesis to Revelation, God's call is crystal clear: "Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you" (Joshua 1:9). Not "Be strategic and comfortable." Not "Wait for better circumstances." Be strong and courageous.

Jesus promised opposition: "If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first" (John 15:18). Peter warned believers not to be surprised at the "fiery ordeal," but to rejoice in sharing Christ's sufferings (1 Peter 4:12–13).

Notice: He didn't say "avoid the fiery ordeal." He said, "don't be surprised by it" and "rejoice in it."

You are the salt of the earth (Matthew 5:13). But salt that never leaves the shaker preserves nothing. It seasons nothing. Salt that won't touch the world accomplishes nothing. You are the light of the world (Matthew 5:14). But light hidden under a basket—even a very nice, very comfortable, very Christian basket—illuminates nothing for anyone.

The call is not to safety. The call is to engagement.

When Courage Looked Like Death

Church history is written in the blood of believers who understood this calling. They didn't die for their right to worship privately. They died for their refusal to keep their faith private.

Polycarp, the aged bishop of Smyrna, could have lived if he'd just burned a pinch of incense to Caesar. Instead, he chose the flames: "Eighty-six years I have served Christ, and He has done me no wrong. How can I blaspheme my King and Savior?" (https://www.christianitytoday.com/history/people/martyrs/polycarp.html)

Dietrich Bonhoeffer could have stayed safe in America. Instead, he returned to Nazi Germany because he knew he could not participate in the reconstruction of Germany after the war if he had not shared in the trials of his people. The cost? Execution just weeks before Germany's liberation. (https://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/article.php?ModuleId=10007036)

These men understood what we've forgotten: There are things worth dying for, which means there are things worth living boldly for.

What Courage Looks Like Today

Christian courage in 2025 means saying what Charlie Kirk said but saying it with the grace that only Jesus can provide. It means:

Standing for life when your colleagues call you anti-woman. Defending biblical marriage when your neighbors call you a bigot. Protecting children from sexual indoctrination and gender mutilation when the school board calls you a domestic terrorist. Proclaiming God's design for humanity when the culture calls you hateful.

It means showing up to the school board meeting. It means writing the letter to the editor. It means having the conversation at work that everyone else is too scared to have. It means voting your conscience even when it's not popular. It means raising your children to be witnesses, not refugees.

As Paul urged: "Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt" (Colossians 4:6). Grace, yes—but salt that actually salts, salt that preserves, salt that makes a difference.

The Truth About Truth-Telling

Here's what the Karen Attiah incident teaches us: When you speak boldly, you will be attacked. Often unfairly. Sometimes with outright lies.

After Kirk's death, The Washington Post recently fired opinion columnist Karen Attiah for social media posts about gun violence and "racial double standards" following Kirk's death. The Post cited her posts as "gross misconduct" that endangered colleagues' safety, a charge she disputes. One of her posts on Charlie Kirk falsely attributed a statement to Kirk—a misquote that spread rapidly in our social media age of instant outrage. The effect of this was to completely misrepresent the context and even the point of one of Charlie's talks. Ed Morrissey later documented how this distorted narrative took on a life of its own (https://hotair.com/ed-morrissey).

Scripture commands: "You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor" (Exodus 20:16). "A false witness will not go unpunished" (Proverbs 19:5). We must speak boldly, but we must also speak truthfully. Every word matters. Every quote must be accurate. Every claim must be verified.

But here's the crucial point: The possibility of being misquoted, or even outright lied about, is not an excuse for not speaking. The risk of being attacked is not a reason for retreat.

"Do not repay anyone evil for evil... If your enemy is hungry, feed him... Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good" (Romans 12:17–21). We respond to lies with truth, to hatred with love, to violence with grace—but we do not respond to opposition with silence.

Like Daniel in Babylon, we continue to pray with our windows open, knowing full well that the lions' den awaits.

Your Moment of Decision

"The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?" (Hebrews 13:6).

Charlie Kirk's death clarifies the moment we're living in. The comfortable Christianity of the past 50 years is dead. The world is not going to leave you alone in your suburban sanctuary. They're coming for your children in the schools, your business in the marketplace, your church in the courtroom.

Kirk's legacy is not political; it's spiritual. He reminds us that God calls His people to courage, not comfort. To engagement, not retreat. To public witness, not private piety. May God bless Charlie Kirk's legacy, and use it to inspire us all.

The time for whispering is over. The time for bold witness is now.