Christians need to stop qualifying their comments about the life, work, and tragic murder of Charlie Kirk.

I didn’t know Charlie Kirk. I never met him. Nor was he someone I followed closely. My wife didn’t know who he was when I broke the news to her. He was one of many Christian political voices on my feed, whom I would occasionally watch.

But I cried the day he died.

I’m a pastor and a street preacher. I’ve spent hundreds of hours engaging in street evangelism with dozens of different friends and fellow church members. I’ve read Romans 1 out loud and as loudly as possible, surrounded by thousands of sexual deviants. But I didn’t start with confidence.

In the old days, I sat on a smoking bench and watched my pastor engage with students over and over again, week after week, before I finally summoned the courage to speak. One conversation led to two, two to four, and so on. I was often putting my foot in my mouth, or dumbfounded, not knowing what to say; often on the verge of speaking, choking, and letting the person walk away. This still happens, but having done this a lot by now, it is rare.

As my confidence grew, something else began to happen. I would bring friends with me to evangelize or exhort women not to murder their children, and as they engaged, I would cringe.

“I wouldn’t say it like that. That’s not going to land well. When you say that, people hear this.“

Sometimes I’d jump in to “save the day.”

One day on the walking bridge connecting Kentucky to Indiana, I heard my friend Austin engaging with someone, and I was mid-cringe when I realized that I had no idea who that someone was. I didn’t know how they thought, who raised them, or what words God might use to save them. Neither did Austin. But God didn’t send me to that person. He sent Austin. He gave Austin the words to speak, not me.

Apparently, God was happy to send one man to use words that another man would never speak, to reach a person neither of us knew. At that point, I was determined to shut down any cringe I felt when I heard street preachers, so long as they spoke the truth.

Why? Because I wanted to be more like Jesus. “John said to him, ‘Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.’ But Jesus said, ‘Do not stop him, for no one who does a mighty work in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. For the one who is not against us is for us. For truly, I say to you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you belong to Christ will by no means lose his reward'” (Mark 9:38-41).

Why do I share all of that? To say this: To the church-going Christians who feel any need to qualify their feelings about Charlie’s rhetoric before giving tribute, be free. There is no street preacher in the world, no good friend or pastor of mine, who has ever said things precisely the way that I would say them, or that you would say them.

That’s on purpose. God didn’t send all of those people you’ve seen in Charlie’s videos to you. God sent them to Charlie Kirk. And by the millions. He did this because He loved them, and sent them to a man filled with His Spirit so that they would hear what He wanted them to hear. 

Charlie knew he was risking his life. He wasn’t an idiot. He heard death threats all the time. Death threats get under the skin. He knew the risk. No doubt he felt his stomach rising into his throat, telling his brain to take it easy this time, and shoved it back where it belonged. No doubt he kicked himself for fumbling the conversation from time to time. No doubt he certainly prayed to God for protection, because he couldn’t stand to think of his kids growing up fatherless.

Despite this, he grabbed the mic anyway. And God used this, God used him, to shape our nation. Charlie became a force to be reckoned with, which is why someone felt the need to grab a sniper rifle and silence him.

Those who knew Charlie speak highly of his character and kindness. If you have ever found Charlie’s rhetoric off-putting, consider giving it another chance and recalibrating.

Jesus Christ says that Charlie Kirk was for us. For Jesus Christ. For you. Psalm 116:15 says, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” Charlie’s life and death were precious to the Lord. Our Lord. His Lord. And it should be precious to us as well.

Hebrews 11 tells us that the world is “not worthy” of those who were put to death by faith. Charlie Kirk gave you more than a cup of water, dear Christian. He gave his life. And He will have his reward.

Part of that reward ought to be honor given to him by the saints who remain. You should be one of them. No caveats required.