I watched a ten-second clip in which a man was killed. Charlie Kirk opened his mouth to speak; the side of his neck exploded outwards; he fell to the ground. Some time later, he died, despite all efforts to save him. The weight of that moment is palpable on me. I warrant it rests heavily on you, too, even if you didn’t watch the video itself. A man was killed for trying to speak. More specifically, a man was killed for declaring God’s justice to this nation. How do we respond?
We could respond with anger. I do not doubt that this bullet was a political statement, whether as an excuse or as a creed. Next to grief, anger is the easiest response: anger at the shooter, anger at those who glory in a good man’s death, anger at those who have slavered after violence for years now. The media, the establishment political class, the intelligentsia, the lazy, the elite, all of them are appealing targets. I don’t know who said it first, but history may indeed name the round that hit Kirk’s chest as ‘The bullet that killed the moderate right.’
Set aside the anger for a moment. We will return to it.
We could call him a martyr and try to make brilliance from his death. This response has its justice, but Charlie Kirk was a man, a husband, and a father. To make his death merely a symbol is to forget this – to ultimately diminish even the symbol. His death may become a rallying cry, but we must never forget that his death was a horrific evil, another scar upon the world, another hiss of sin’s poison upon the earth. His family, his friends, even thousands of strangers, will be mourning him, the man. If he is to be a symbol, therefore, he must be a man first.
All death has a weight to it. Every death of a man or woman or child made in God’s image is a horror, an unnatural violation wrought by sin upon His creation. All men must die, but it is not good that any man dies. All men must die, for all men sin; it is right that a man die for his sins. Yet in death we see the vileness and terror and darkness of sin, for death is sin’s full bloom (Rom. 6:23). When a man dies, we must remember that sin has desecrated His image, desecrated the life of one beloved by God (Eph. 5:1), and that the sins we sin reiterate the desecration.
Every death of a brother in Christ, as I believe Kirk was, calls for a second, more joyous response, though one perhaps still solemn. He shall not die, but he shall live (Ps. 118:17; Matt. 22:32). Indeed, in his flesh (for we shall stand in flesh once more (1 Cor. 15:51-57) he shall “see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another” (Job 19:26-27). A blessing is given also to his family, to his children: “The children of Your servants shall dwell secure; their offspring shall be established before You” (Ps. 102:28). The death of the righteous must at once be to us a tragedy and a strength, a desolation and a reminder of life eternal. Christ mourned for Lazarus and raised Lazarus from the dead (John 11); these are not inimical realities.
The death of the righteous, however, cries for the blood of his murderer. It has been so since the death of Abel, when God said to Cain, “The voice of your brother’s blood is crying to Me from the ground” (Gen. 4:10). How, then, can I title this piece, “Always Forgive”? Are not such deeds beyond forgiveness? Dare we forgive and forget and let the wicked man be rewarded for his wickedness?
By no means! The forgiveness I speak of is not the world’s forgiveness, which consists in substituting amnesia for justice. The forgiveness of a Christian is to declare, “I do not hold against you any animus born of my own injuries.” When I forgive, I set aside myself. I do not forget the evil deed; I do not deny its evil; I do not deny that it must receive justice. I simply declare that I do not take vengeance, that I do not seek retribution for my own sake, that the justice of God will be done. Knowing the surety of His justice and the perfection of His wrath, I know that I need not retain my own pique and hurt; He will set all things right.
Without forgiveness, we cannot properly honor the righteous man who has died. While I refuse to forgive, my heart is set upon the effect this death or sin had on me, on my life, on how I feel. Refusing forgiveness is a selfish thing, a statement that I do not trust God’s justice, that I must make justice for myself. To forgive is to turn to God and trust His righteous hand. Is it not our Lord of whom the psalm says, “Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of His saints” (Ps. 116:5)? Yes, and “Not one of them will fall to the ground apart from [our] Father.”
“Always Forgive,” I said, but also, “Never Forget.” What does this mean?
We must not forget the words, the ideas, the hate, the sin, the sinners who sought Charlie Kirk’s death. Who praised that sin? Who spoke words which encouraged its like? Whose hands were set to this deed’s doing?[1] Do not forget. That sin and that desire for sin must remain a part of our understanding of the media, the left, all the rest of God’s foes in America. Some bear a great weight of it; some bear only a part. It’s not a zero-sum game, mind you; more than one can bear the full guilt. The excuses and encouragements which our nation has given to man’s sin, by commission in part and by omission as a whole, these works are works of evil, of God’s foes, and therefore of our foes. They must be rooted in us, root, trunk, branch, leaf, and seed.[2]
So no, do not forget. When engaging with the culture, remember who desires the death of God’s people. Remember who has brought it about here. When acting in politics, remember.
Remember, and act upon that memory. Make an unrelenting assault on the principalities that work wickedness. Be never quieted in the struggle “against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Eph. 6:12). Numbers 35:18 gives us no room to retreat or deviate: “The murderer shall be put to death.” Do not take this as a call to violence. Justice is not achieved by vengeance, and murder is not the proper remedy for murder. I call you to justice: those who participate in murder must never be free of the stain and the weight of that sin, save they repent. We must order our society, its government, its culture, and its art, to deliver justice in proportion, according to His command and by His grace (Is. 1:26).
The Lord Himself will be the avenger of blood (Num. 35:19; Rom. 12:19), and His hand will not be averted. Do not succumb to vengeance, which is a man usurping God’s justice. Simply do this: strive against the world. Where you are and where God calls you, live righteously. Where you have authority, do justice- in a relationship, over a family, over a business, over a nation. This justice is distinguished from vengeance only when it is undertaken in submission to Him by a man ordained according to His law for that justice, to have that authority. So the civil government wields the sword, and it ought to execute the man who killed Charlie Kirk. So a father wields his authority and an elder his authority, and each in his realm has a responsibility to teach and administer justice.
Not all justice is meted out in this world. Much justice meted out in this world comes quietly, where men do not see. God does work justice on this earth, however, and often His people are the instruments of His justice. “The Lord is a man of war,” Moses sang (Ex. 15:3), and we march behind him in conquest over the world. The lives of some end in blood and of some in sleep, but for those with eyes to see, each man who falls rises again eternally. This death, the death of a righteous man, is a grief and an agony and a fury and a glory to us, but always it must be seen and spoken in God’s light, not our own.
We who wage His war must use only those weapons He gives us to wield. The sword to inflict violence is the civil government’s to wield, not given to a private actor. Even that sword is limited; it may not righteously strike except where God gives His permission. We would be not only foolish but wicked to use the sword beyond the limits He sets, such as in reciprocal political violence. Do not think this statement a retreat or a cowardice: “When justice is done, it is a joy to the righteous but terror to evildoers” (Prov. 21:15).
Anger is proper here, but not worldly anger. The anger of the Lord is “against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men” (Rom. 1:18), and this anger we may justly hold. Righteous anger is not turned against His image or to defend the self or to preserve my own desires. Righteous anger is a reviling of sin and a fury towards it, to scour it from myself, to expose it to the eyes of the world, and to declare its nature to the world so that all may repent. Righteous anger longs for the destruction of His judgment to rise, but also for the salvation of all men. This nation badly needs such anger. We need an apprehension of judgment which leads to repentance.
In the end, it is the Lord who “put on righteousness as a breastplate, and a helmet of salvation on His head,” who “put on garments of vengeance for clothing, and wrapped Himself in zeal as a cloak” (Is. 59:17). Then He promised aloud, “According to their deeds, so will He repay, wrath to His adversaries, repayment to His enemies” (v18). He still bears those grand armaments. Thus He says, “Vengeance is mine, and recompense, for the time when their foot shall slip; for the day of their calamity is at hand, and their doom comes swiftly” (Deut. 32:35).
Why need we fear? “The Lord of hosts, He is the King of glory!” (Ps. 24:10).
