When Darkness Falls, Raise the Banner

The assassination of Charlie Kirk has shaken many of us. It’s tempting, in moments like these, to curse the darkness—to grieve, rage, and retreat. And yes, we should pray for justice. Justice matters to God. But if we stop there, we miss the deeper reality: we are in a spiritual war.

Paul reminds us in Ephesians 6:12 that our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against spiritual forces of evil. The battle is not against the person who pulled the trigger. The battle is over that person’s soul—one held captive by the lies of Satan. This is not just political violence. It is spiritual warfare.

In every war, when the flag bearer falls, another rises to carry the banner forward. Then another. And another. Charlie carried the flag of Christ boldly, especially on college campuses where truth is often mocked and silenced.

Now, I don’t agree with everything Charlie stood for politically. His rhetoric and affiliations often stirred controversy, and I’ve wrestled with some of his public stances. But this post isn’t about politics. It’s about the spiritual battle he stepped into—the boldness he showed in challenging deceptive ideologies and presenting the gospel in places where it’s often unwelcome. That kind of courage matters. And it’s worth honoring, even if we don’t align on every issue.

I believe Charlie could say, like the Apostle Paul, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race” (2 Timothy 4:7). He contended earnestly for the faith. And now, having laid down his life in obedience to Christ, he bears witness to the cost—and the glory—of true discipleship.

Some will say Charlie Kirk died because of his politics. And yes, his public stance provoked strong opposition. But beneath the political hostility lies a deeper reality: this is a spiritual war. The hatred that led to his assassination did not begin with policy disagreements—it began with a rejection of truth, a rebellion against God’s authority, and a culture increasingly captive to deception.

Charlie’s courage wasn’t merely political—it was gospel-driven. He didn’t speak out just to defend conservative ideas; he spoke to awaken hearts. His mission wasn’t to win elections, but to win souls. The true work ahead is not to reclaim ground for ideology, but to proclaim Christ with clarity, compassion, and conviction.

So let us not confuse the battlefield. Politics may have been the surface, but the war is for the soul. And the only weapon strong enough to rescue is the gospel.

We do not pray against people. We pray for their redemption. We pray that others will rise to the challenge and continue the work. Paul’s imprisonment stirred courage in others to “speak the word fearlessly” (Philippians 1:14). That same courage is needed now.

In Acts 4, when the apostles faced threats and opposition, they didn’t ask for safety. They asked for boldness. They quoted Psalm 2, recognizing that the nations rage against Christ. And then they prayed: “Lord… grant to your servants to speak your word with all boldness” (Acts 4:29).

That is our prayer today.

The battle is real, and the souls of the next generation hang in the balance. Will you rise? Will you pray for boldness—not safety—and speak the truth with courage? Take up the banner. The fight is not against people, but for them. Let your life contend for the faith.

Ask God for boldness. Not comfort. Not protection. Boldness.