Remembering the Legacy of Charlie Kirk

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.” – 2 Timothy 4:7-8

I never met Charlie Kirk. As a mother of three young boys, the time never allowed it, though it was one of my top personal goals.

'Someday.' That's what I said. That's what we always say, isn't it?

I listened to Charlie on a daily basis for the past six years. I never met him, but I felt like he was my older brother. His influence honed so many of my own opinions, and his contagious courage and faithfulness to his calling inspired me. Charlie started his organization, TPUSA, at only 18 years old with nothing but passion and conviction, and a single donor who entrusted $25,000 to him. He walked fearlessly into environments that, by all rights, he shouldn't have been in. He never went to college, yet he spent ten years evangelizing on campuses around the United States, despite the vitriol and hatred he received. He was told again and again, 'this is pointless. You cannot change the landscape of the youth.'

He didn't listen to man. He listened to God. He stayed true to the Holy Spirit's mission, and in the end, we are witnessing a generation return to church on a level unlike we have seen in fifty+ years. Why? Because one 18-year-old said, 'Send me.'

In large part, Charlie inspired the Majesty Project - a fact I had planned to tell him next month. I was so excited to share our passion for goodness, truth, and beauty - a passion I know was close to his heart, though his primary drive was found in politics and evangelism. I knew how he, too, longed to see Christ returned to the center of our culture on a visual level.

And I planned to reach out to him in October. I thought I had time, as we all do.

On September 10th, I spent the afternoon weeping and praying. And like many of us, when the news broke that he was gone, I felt as if I had lost a member of my family. And yet somehow, that evening, God gave me this vision: Charlie, kneeling before our Savior Jesus Christ, and receiving the crown of life. That very night we bought a canvas, and I began painting.

I only intended the painting to be an outlet for my own grief. I worked on it for seven days, when I heard that a candlelight vigil was being held in our hometown of Harrisonville, MO. I reached out to the coordinators two days before the event and asked if they would allow me to bring the piece, as a memorial in his honor. They graciously agreed.

I cannot explain how humbled and blessed I felt, seeing the painting stand beside the flag as the members of my community - whom I had never met - cried and placed flowers at its feet, took pictures beside it, prayed around it. I realized in that moment that God had given me this vision to help them find closure, and to say goodbye.

I also had the unexpected privilege of being introduced to one of Charlie's personal friends at the event, who pastors a church mere miles from my house. He did me the unprompted honor of sending a photo of my painting to several people close to Charlie, another blessing I couldn't have dreamed God would provide.

So as I reflect on this week, I feel what many of us feel - a renewed commitment to the calling God has placed on my heart. I may not have met Charlie here on earth, but I know I will in eternity one day. And in the meantime, I will do my best to follow in his footsteps, living out my faith for Christ boldly and refusing to cower in the face of opposition. I will wear it as a badge of honor when I am reviled and persecuted - when Majesty Project is slandered, mischaracterized, targeted - knowing that the world hated Christ first. As Charlie always said, salt and light change their environment. If our lives as Christians aren't changing the world around us, we are not living up to God's calling.

Along with a million fellow Christians this week, I will simply say this to Charlie:

Well done, good and faithful servant. We will take it from here.

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