Standing Against Evil: Repentance, Rebuke, and the Fear of the Lord (Part 1)
By a Christian who votes for ideals, not idols.
Charlie Kirk is dead.
Sit with that for a minute. Don't scroll past it. Don't reach for a hot take like a sugar packet on a diner table. Breathe. A young husband and father is gone; a movement leader... loved by many, hated by many... was shot while he was doing what he did almost every day: talking to people in public. He was 31. He died after being struck in the neck at an outdoor event at Utah Valley University. Authorities are calling it a targeted attack; a manhunt is underway; a gun was found; federal agencies have released photos of a person of interest. The shooter is still at large.
In the hours since, the nation has been busy doing what we do best... arguing over why. Was it rhetoric? Policy? A culture primed for violence? The media's fever? The algorithm's quiet push? All of it? None of it?
Meanwhile, the details keep landing like stones in the pond: A recovered rifle. A crowd of students who watched in horror. the extremely graphic basically-snuff-video going viral online. Leaders from both parties condemning the act. President Trump says he will award Kirk the Presidential Medal of Freedom posthumously. Whatever else we say, however we divide, a life was taken and the center keeps straining.
If you want a quick verdict, I can't give you one. I don't have one. I have something else: grief, scripture, and a growing conviction that our political speech is discipling us into blasphemy. Not the swear-word kind you use on the golf course, the Mark 3 kind where we label image-bearers as evil itself and call the works of God "unclean." That's not a pundit line. That's a warning flare.
Let's take this slowly.
1) "I Don't Like Trump." Why That Matters—and Isn't the Point.
Cards on the table: I didn't vote for Donald Trump because I liked him. I didn’t. He’s disappointing. I'm a "holy hopeful." But the fact that he claims Christianity is a major issue for me with the way he carries himself. "Christian," properly used, means "little Christ." A mini-icon of the Savior. You and I both know he hasn't carried himself like that. He's proud, combative, retaliatory by instinct. But what really gets me, and where he lost so much of my respect: He has said—on the record—that he doesn't think he needs to ask God for forgiveness. If you missed that saga in 2015–2016, it's documented.
Does that disqualify him from office? That's a different argument. But it does disqualify him from being the poster boy for Christian character. Followers of Jesus confess and repent. Not as a PR move. As oxygen.
And yet, I also refuse to confess to the golden calf of our age: personality politics. I vote for ideals, not idols. For principles, not messiahs-in-makeup. If that sentences you to the political wilderness, welcome to the prophets' diet: locusts, honey, and lots of side-eye.
2) The Grindstone of Words: How We Got Here
We have been catechized by contempt.
For a decade, we've all marinated in a language bath that shapes who we become: nicknames, dunks, "own the libs," "punch a Nazi," "Let's Go Brandon," clip-and-kill outrage cycles. Trump's brand of mockery has been constant—"sleepy," "crazy," "wacko," juvenile and sharp like a middle-school hallway. But something else metastasized alongside it: the Hitler turn. The "literally Hitler" move. The rhetorical exterminator. Once that label lands, you haven't just said "I disagree with you." You've told the world the target's very existence is a moral problem.
And that matters because of what we were all told in social studies class. Remember the late-night college debates? "I'd never kill anyone… okay, maybe Hitler." The time-machine hypotheticals? "If I could go back, I'd kill Hitler before the Holocaust." We learned—implicitly—that there's at least one human life history would be better without.
Now pair that moral reflex with an algorithm that monetizes rage, and you get a culture where someone labeled "Hitler"becomes, in the public imagination, a justified target. Not today, not tomorrow, but eventually, and then suddenly. Add the ambient rise in political violence across the spectrum, and here we are.
When leaders and media figures do this... when they name a living person the avatar of absolute evil... they serve liturgy to the masses: "This one is not a neighbor; this one is an enemy of humanity." From there, innocence erodes, and the will to restraint goes thin. (If you're looking for motive clarity in this particular case: as of now, investigators have not established it; the suspect remains unidentified. That's precisely the point—rhetorical weather doesn't cause every storm, but it does saturate the ground so any spark takes. )
3) The Text That Should Terrify Us (In the Best Way)
Open your Bible to Mark 3.
20 Then he went home, and the crowd gathered again, so that they could not even eat. 21 And when his family heard it, they went out to seize him, for they were saying, “He is out of his mind.”
22 And the scribes who came down from Jerusalem were saying, “He is possessed by Beelzebul,” and “by the prince of demons he casts out the demons.” 23 And he called them to him and said to them in parables, “How can Satan cast out Satan? 24 If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. 25 And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand. 26 And if Satan has risen up against himself and is divided, he cannot stand, but is coming to an end. 27 But no one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his goods, unless he first binds the strong man. Then indeed he may plunder his house.
28 “Truly, I say to you, all sins will be forgiven the children of man, and whatever blasphemies they utter, 29 but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit never has forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin”— 30 for they were saying, “He has an unclean spirit.”
Mark 3:20-30
Jesus is teaching. Crowds press in. Family thinks He's out of His mind. The scribes arrive with a verdict: He's possessed."By the prince of demons he casts out demons."
Jesus answers with logic first—"How can Satan cast out Satan?"—and then with a warning that ought to stop our thumbs mid-scroll:
"If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand.
If a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand." (Mark 3:24–25)
Finally, the sentence too many of us treat like a theology trivia question:
"Whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit never has forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin." (Mark 3:29)
Why that warning? Mark tells you plainly: "for they were saying, 'He has an unclean spirit.'"
They were staring at the Son, watching the Spirit's work, and calling it the devil's. That's the shape of the sin.
Now, hear me carefully: I am not saying every Hitler comparison equals blasphemy of the Spirit. I am saying this: when Christians make a habit of labeling flesh-and-blood image-bearers as evil itself, when we collapse a person into a caricature and call it moral clarity, we are rehearsing the scribes' move. We're training our tongues (and our feeds) to call what God is doing in people's lives "unclean." That is soul-danger. That is house-dividing kindling.
If you want the Spirit's power, you cannot keep slandering the Spirit's project—redeeming broken people made in God's image (Gen. 1:26–27; 2 Cor. 5:16–17; James 3:9).
4) What Charlie's Death Reveals (and What It Doesn't)
What it reveals:
Violence wants a permission structure. It collects justifications like a prepper collects canned beans. The longer we play with dehumanizing language, the more we stock the shelf.
Words make worlds. Twitter/X isn't the kingdom of God. But the kingdom of man is discipled there—hourly.
Our systems are strained. The number of politically motivated incidents has been climbing, punctuated by high-profile attempts and attacks against figures on all sides. Even if the trend line bends month-to-month in different datasets, the atmosphere is not imaginary. Investigators, journalists, and analysts have been warning of escalation.
The Church is not immune. We have baptized contempt in theological language and called it "prophetic." We have swapped the fruit of the Spirit for the fruit of the feed: outrage, sarcasm, cynicism, clout. Don't get me wrong... Let your heart break, and be angry. but, Galatians 6:1.
What it doesn't reveal (not yet):
The shooter's motive. As of this writing, law enforcement has not publicly established it. Utah's governor called it a "political assassination"; the FBI has asked for the public's help; the suspect remains unidentified. Beware the impulse to narrate the gaps. Christians are called to truth, not conjecture.
One more note of fact: in the wake of the killing, President Trump announced he would award Kirk the Presidential Medal of Freedom. That's not a theological detail, but it is a sign of how instantly events get braided into larger narratives, whether that is good or bad. martyrdom, honor, love, hate, campaigns, power. Be discerning.
5) The Mirror Nobody Wants: Trump, Repentance, and Us
Let's come back to the part that stings: Donald Trump's allergy to apology. He's said out loud that he doesn't like to ask God for forgiveness; that if he messes up, he just "tries to do better." That posture—pride in the place where contrition belongs—has bled into the body politic.
Leaders catechize cultures. If the king never bows, the court forgets how.
But here's the mirror: it's not just him. It's us. We don't repent. We perform repentance. We craft "notes" and "statements,"we apologize if you were offended, we explain our intent, and we hit post. We keep our pride and launder it with PR, either pretending to care or doubling down in a way that causes unnecessary offense.
Biblically, repentance is to turn around. It's changing course. Metanoia—a changed mind, a turned life. It looks like Luke 18's tax collector beating his chest. It sounds like Psalm 51's "Against you, you only, have I sinned." It moves like Zacchaeus paying back fourfold. It tastes like tears.
If we want America to cool, the Church must get hot—white-hot with confession.
6) Theology of the Tongue: A Short, Sharp Catechism
Words are seeds. "Death and life are in the power of the tongue." (Prov. 18:21) Sow death, reap death. Sow life, reap life.
Insults are easy; intercession is costly. Jesus told us to love enemies, bless those who curse us, pray for persecutors (Matt. 5:43–48). Sarcasm won't substitute on Judgment Day.
Truth without love is a weapon and Love without truth is a lie. We need Ephesians 4:15, not Ephesians 4:15-ish.
You don't fix a demon with dehumanization. Even if there are dark powers at work (Eph. 6:12), the person in front of you is not your devil. Treat them like a neighbor, because they are. We are fighting principalities, not people.
The image of God does not run through a political filter. It rests on human beings before they vote, not after.
7) A Wesleyan Word on Method (Because Method Matters)
Wesley wouldn't be shocked by our moment. He watched mobs. He knew pamphlet wars. He also knew sanctification isn't a vibe; it's method. Scripture, tradition, reason, experience, all held together under the Spirit's light. So let's "method" our way out of this ditch:
Scripture – Mark 3's warning; Matthew 5's love; James 3's bridle for the tongue; Proverbs 29:18's vision that prevents perishing. (And yes, "vision" in context is about revelation—God's word—not corporate goals.)
Tradition – The Church at her best refuses to dehumanize even persecutors. Think Tertullian's prayers for emperors. Think MLK's nonviolent love in a violent age.
Reason – Dehumanization predictably justifies violence. Even pagans can do that math.
Experience – We've all seen how quickly a thread of mockery becomes a rope.
Method is mercy with a backbone.
8) Practical Repentance: A Field Guide for Christians in a Violent Age
If you're waiting for "the world" to change its tone, you'll be waiting till the trumpet sounds. The Church must move first. Here's a serious, doable rule-of-life for the next 90 days:
A. A fast of the mouth.
Pick three phrases you will not use about political opponents. Write them down. Replace them with prayers. Every time you're tempted to post, pray one Psalm out loud for that person (try Psalm 23, 27, or 67).
B. A rule of reading.
For every political article you read, read equal minutes of Gospel text. (Mark moves fast; you can keep up.) Let Jesus pace your pulse.
C. The table test.
If you cannot imagine inviting your "enemy" to your dinner table for two hours and serving them your best, you are not yet free of contempt. (Romans 12:20 isn't a metaphor.)
D. A public litany of repentance.
Pastors: include this in worship for four Sundays:
Lord, we confess that we have used our words to wound.
We have called evil what we did not understand.
We have replaced your call to holiness with our own agendas.
We have denied Your image in those You made.
Forgive us. Heal our house.
Make our tongues instruments of holy peace. Amen.
E. Cross-aisle coffees.
Schedule three 1:1s this month with people you disagree with politically. No debating for 60 minutes. Ask questions. Then, and only then, share your convictions. (If you don't have three friends you disagree with politically, then you're living in an echo chamber and you need to get out more.)
F. Commit to a "no Hitler" rule.
Retire the comparison. It is intellectually lazy and morally incendiary. Even if you're certain your opponent's policies are destructive, argue like a Christian: with facts, charity, and a refusal to dehumanize.
G. Preach repentance like it's good news.
Because it is. Jesus' first sermon was "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Not "perform," not "post," not "brand"—repent. (Matt. 4:17)
9) Grief Before Strategy
Grief first, always. Before the analysis, before the blame game, before the strategic pivot, the Christian response is lament. Put Psalm 13 in your throat: "How long, O LORD?" Pray for Erika and the children. Pray for the students and the millions of people who watched a man die, either in person or online. Pray for the person who pulled the trigger, that he would turn himself in and face truth. And pray for a softening—a national thawing—before more blood hits the ground. (If you're tempted to weaponize the Medal of Freedom announcement into a fresh narrative battle, pause. Let grief breathe.)
10) What If We Actually Believed Jesus?
Just imagine it. We take Him at His word.
We put down the rhetorical flamethrowers.
We stop calling "unclean" what the Spirit can still cleanse.
We refuse to unnecessarily divide the house with our tongues.
We don't flinch on truth, but we carry it like a physician, not a gladiator.
We fight principalities, not people.
We shepherd our children into courage and kindness.
We vote for ideals without anointing idols.
Would the world mock us? Some would. Would some call it weakness? Sure. But the kingdom has a habit of calling weakness strength. The cross still scandalizes. And resurrection still surprises.
Repent.
Without repentance, we will keep writing eulogies for young men who should be alive, for children who should be in mass, and for women who should feel safe on subways.
With repentance, we might just write a different kind of story. One where enemies become neighbors, where debates end with handshakes, where the Church's mouth tastes like blessing again. Honest Contraversy.
If we do not repent as a nation, I fear what is to come.
Already, I see Christians posting memes of hate and revenge. I see posts celebrating Kirk's death. I also see men online quoting The Patriot, saying, “I’m all in.” I see bloodlust brewing under the surface. And if the Church does not step in now—if we do not call this nation back to the table of repentance and conversation—then the vision for a shared future will vanish.
And where there is no vision, the people perish (Proverbs 29:18).
Lord Jesus, teach us to repent. Heal our land.
Amen.
This is one of the best responses I've read all week about Kirk's assassination. Well done, Roscoe. You've given us all a lot to think about. Thank you. ❤️
Thank you Ross.