This is America’s Turning Point.

We are in a profound struggle for the soul of our nation.

This is not a contest of mere politics or a debate of words, but a spiritual crisis. It is a struggle against a darkness that seeks to silence truth, extinguish faith, and erase the very memory of what made America great.

Yesterday we lost a champion in this struggle. Charlie Kirk was assassinated for the crime of speaking truth to a generation facing systematic indoctrination by godless, anti-American ideologies. He was taken from us in the very arena of this debate, at a Turning Point USA event, while contending for the very principles this nation was founded upon: free speech, faith, and freedom.

He died a martyr.

Not just a martyr for America. Not just a martyr for free speech. But a martyr for the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Throughout history, adversaries of truth have sought to silence God’s messengers. They stoned Stephen. They beheaded Paul. They crucified our Lord. They fed Christians to lions, burned them at the stake, and today, they shoot them on university campuses while the world watches, numb and desensitized by design.

Charlie now stands among that cloud of witnesses. He is in the company of saints who refused to bow, who refused to be silent, who loved truth more than they feared death.

How quickly we forget.

How quickly we forgot the two attempts on President Trump’s life, brushed aside by the media circus as if they were mere political theater, like stains on the American conscience that were washed away by the next trending outrage. How quickly we forgot the horror at Covenant School in Nashville, where pure and innocent Christian children were mowed down by a deranged, hate-filled lunatic. Their small bodies, created in the image of God, were shattered by the very evil our society excuses, medicates, and even celebrates. Those classrooms, once filled with laughter and prayer, were turned into slaughterhouses in a nation that cares more about protecting degeneracy than defending its most vulnerable.

This is not just forgetfulness. It is a spiritual sickness. A willing, cultivated amnesia designed to keep us passive, disoriented, and numb. The machine of modernity wants us moving, consuming, scrolling and never pausing, never reflecting, never allowing righteous anger to crystallize into action. It wants the blood of patriots and the tears of parents to evaporate under the heat of the next distraction.

But no more. The blood cries out from the ground. The memory of the slain demands more than a moment of silence. It demands a lifetime of defiance. It demands that we remember what they wanted us to forget: that there is evil in the world and that the only answer is a fearless, unyielding, Christ-centered resistance. We will not give them the luxury of our forgetfulness. We will engrave these martyrdoms on our hearts and fight like hell to ensure they were not in vain.

This time, we remember.

Charlie and I didn’t see eye to eye on everything. We had theological differences. We had strategic disagreements. But there are two things I know beyond any doubt: he defended free speech even for those he vehemently disagreed with and most importantly He loved Jesus Christ.

Charlie Kirk showed raw, unapologetic courage by walking directly into the heart of enemy territory, our corrupt brainwashed universities, and debating the purveyors of wokeness and cultural decay on their own turf.

In these modern-day reeducation camps, where conservative voices are routinely silenced, shouted down, or vilified, Charlie stood firm, armed with truth and conviction. He didn’t hide behind a screen or preach only to the choir; he stepped onto hostile stages, looked his opponents in the eye, and dismantled their hollow ideologies with reason and resolve. That took guts. The kind of fearless spirit this movement demands and the kind of bravery that ultimately cost him his life.

In the end, that’s what matters. Not your political strategy, not your theological nuances, but whether you stood firm when it counted. Whether you spoke when others stayed silent. Whether you were willing to lay it all down for the truth.

As a father this tragedy utterly breaks me; the weight of such a loss feels almost too heavy to bear, and my heart aches with a sorrow that cuts deeper than any political or ideological division ever could. I cannot help but think of his wife, now a widow carrying a burden no one should ever have to shoulder, and his children, who will grow up with memories of their father’s courage but also with the painful void his absence leaves behind.

In moments like this, words fall painfully short. No sentiment can restore what has been taken, no argument can justify such evil. So I have been praying unceasingly, crying out for the Holy Spirit to wrap them in a comfort that surpasses all understanding, a divine peace that guards their hearts and minds in Christ Jesus when the world offers only emptiness and despair.

Let us not make the mistake of thinking this is simply another act of political violence. It is cosmic. It is theological.

The world does not understand martyrdom because it does not understand sacrifice. It sees only a life ended, a voice silenced, a body broken. But the martyr sees further. The martyr understands that the ultimate victory is not in preserving one’s own life, but in laying it down in witness to a Truth that is eternal. This is the foolishness of the cross, the scandal that confounds the wise and empowers the weak.

When they killed Charlie, they thought they were eliminating an opponent. In reality, they were providing the fuel for a fire they cannot put out. They were writing his name in the book of heroes. They were proving his every point.

His blood now soaks into the soil of this nation, and from that ground, something will grow. Something ancient, something strong, something that remembers what it means to be free, to be faithful, to be unafraid.

We have been sleeping. We have been pacified by comfort, distracted by trivia, and divided by design. We have misunderstood the nature of our enemy. We thought we were fighting against flesh and blood. Against weak, foolish men and women in suits. But we are not. We are fighting against principalities, against powers, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. The gunman is merely a instrument. The ideology is the weapon. The spirit behind it is as old as the serpent in the garden, it is the Synagogue of Satan.

One of the things I always deeply admired about Charlie was his remarkable ability to cite Scripture from memory chapter and verse, on demand, without missing a beat. It wasn’t just recitation; it was weilding the living Word of God like a spiritual weapon in the heat of battle. In debates, interviews, and speeches, he could seamlessly anchor his arguments in timeless truth, pulling from Proverbs on wisdom, Romans on righteousness, or the Gospels on grace with precision and power.

That demonstrated more than just a sharp mind. It revealed a heart that was saturated in Scripture, a man who had hidden God’s Word in his heart so that he might not sin against Him (Psalm 119:11). In an age of spiritual illiteracy and compromise, Charlie stood out as a defender who knew his source of authority wasn’t his own opinion, but the unchanging truth of the Bible. That kind of readiness doesn’t happen by accident. It comes from discipline, devotion, and a love for the Lord that goes deeper than politics. It’s a testament to the man he was, a warrior for Christ, armed and ready until the very end.

Now is not the time to retreat. It’s time to get louder. Bolder. More unapologetic. Put on the full armor of God. Gird your loins with truth. Shield yourself with faith. Wield the sword of the Spirit.

I will remember Charlie Kirk not as a political pundit, not as a strategist, but as he asked to be remembered: as a man of courage. A man of faith. A martyr and my brother in Christ.

May he rest in peace.

May we honor his sacrifice by refusing to back down, by refusing to forget, and by fighting like hell for the soul of this nation until our last breath.

In Jesus’ name.

Andrew Torba
Christ is King