Words That Kill

 

Justifiable murder

If you could go back in time and murder Adolf Hitler before he became who he became (and did what he did), would you?

The vast majority of us would never entertain murder as morally justifiable but, when thinking about someone who is solely responsible for the death of up to 100 million people, to murder him almost feels like a moral obligation. After all, it would save countless lives, right?

This, it seems, is the logic behind the murder of Charlie Kirk, a Christian, conservative, family man, yet regularly branded as a Neo Nazi, Fascist, a racist, white supremacist, misogynist, xenophobe, islamophobe, homophobe (and all sorts of other "ists" and "phobes") by his political and cultural opponents. Not for what he did, but for what he believed and said.

From right and left, to right and wrong

Anyone who ever thought ill of him probably listened to people talk about him rather than actually listen to him. Any honest analysis of his many debates over the years will easily dismiss those accusations as wildly hyperbolic at best and as outright lies at worst. Irrespective of whether we align ourselves with his views or not, we can all agree that the man never imposed them on anybody - he only challenged those who disagreed with him to prove him wrong. 

And since his opponents could not come up with better arguments, they resorted to a bullet - an increasingly common tactic among those who, quite paradoxically, demonise "offence" in the name of tolerance. All it took was one person with access to a long-range rifle and sufficient training at the shooting range (quite common in the US) to believe the false narrative about Charlie - and its implied moral obligation to murder. As one bullet casing read, "Hey fascist! Catch!" Yet, even though it was only one man who pulled the trigger, the widespread celebration of Charlie's death among a disproportional percentage of his opponents revealed that the same murderous thoughts were shared by far more than most realised. As a jubilant goal scorer takes off his shirt in the euphoria of the moment, the tolerance brigade took off their sheep clothing at the news of Charlie's death. This inhumane jubilance not only revealed the true colours of their rainbow, but shifted public discourse from "right and left" to "right and wrong", and exposed the true unifying agent underneath some of the seemingly illogical alliances gathering ideologically incompatible movements - namely, their mutual hate for Christ and the Christian values upon which the West was built.

Deadly narratives

This isn't the first time that a hyperbolic narrative has been used to inspire political or religious violence. Thinking of the early Christian persecutions, violence against Christians was instigated by accusations of insurrection against Caesar (John 19:15), or of disturbing public order (Acts 16:20), or challenging evil but profitable industries (Acts 19:23-27). Outside of the New Testament's scope, early Christians have been accused of cannibalism (a distortion of Communion) and engaging in underground orgies (a distortion of communal meals or "love feasts"). In fact, it is in response to such blatantly false narratives that apologetics was born - the Christian practice of producing reasonable arguments in defence of the faith yet in a gentle and respectable way. This practice is summarised by the words of Peter when he instructed early believers to "always being prepared to make a defence [Gr. apologeia] to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect" (1Peter 3:15). 

This is exactly what Charlie Kirk dedicated his life to, bringing this practice to campuses across the US and other major debate platforms around the world. Irrespective of what we feel about his position on politics, marriage, gender, DEI policies, the economy, Gaza, abortion, euthanasia and gun control, his views flowed from deeply held Christian beliefs - the same beliefs that Christians have been sharing for two millennia. Just as they were controversial at the time, so they are today. Just as they put Jesus on a cross, so they did his followers. For they do not simply press merely political or cultural nerves, but challenge deeper spiritual currents. To say that Charlie died for his "inflammatory" political views rather than his faith (sowing the wind and reaping the storm) is the equivalent of saying that John the Baptist died not as a martyr but for his hateful, misogynistic rhetoric towards Herod’s wife (Matthew 14:3-4). 

However, violence against the Christian faith, while never justified, should not really surprise us. In rarely quoted words of Jesus: "Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And a person's enemies will be those of his own household. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." (Matthew 10:34-39). Like other religious ideologies and dictatorial systems, Jesus promised to bring a sword to the earth. Yet, unlike those ideologies and systems, he promised this sword would be set against his people - not his adversaries. 

Life that brings death, and death that brings life

Just as narratives can bring death, they can also bring life. Just as they can promote oppression and violence, they can promote freedom and peace. As Proverbs 18:21 states, "Death and life are in the power of the tongue." This is where, I believe, Christians must make a choice. The wrong choice would be to fight fire with fire and respond to violence, threats, and divisive hyperbolism with the same token. The right choice, on the other hand, is to "conquer evil with good" (Romans 12:21), a conquest that is not waged by a physical sword, but by "the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God" (Ephesieans 6:17). For even if it attracts physical swords against us (in the forms of bullets, knives, lawsuits and imprisonment), God's Word will not only bring life, freedom and peace to many, but God will use our death to the self, to the world, to sin and evil, to supercharge the extension of his kingdom. In the words of 2nd century Church Father Tertullian "We are not a new philosophy, but a divine revelation. That’s why you can’t just exterminate us. The more you kill us, the more we are. The blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church." 

Just as this paradoxical dynamic was true in the New Testament Church and throughout the rest of Church history, it is true today - even in the aftermath of Charlie's death. More and more, I am hearing stories of countless people picking up a Bible or going to Church either for the first time or after a long time. Or Christians who have been inspired by Charlie's death to be far more intentional and vocal about their faith. And even those who are drawn to Christ not directly by his light, but by the darkness of the age in which we live. As a young woman recently stated on TikTok concerning her return to Christ following Charlie's murder, "I can't prove to anybody that God exists, but I can prove that evil does. And that, right there, is proof enough for me."

May the Lord raise 1000 more Charlie Kirks.