The assassination of Charlie Kirk. What Drives Hatred — and What Breaks It

The shooter was not born with murder in his heart. He was drawn into it. The one he loved, caught in the turmoil of identity and burdened by shame, had come to see God only as an enemy. When God is viewed only through the lens of judgment, love itself becomes twisted into hatred. Out of that brokenness, the young man became, in effect, the devil’s assassin — persuaded that silencing Charlie was an act of protection. A hero for his lover.

But the real battle was not between Charlie and them. It was the age-old battle between truth and the lie. Charlie’s voice was carrying Christ into a generation, awakening hearts that had grown numb, indoctrinated by a hate for God, family and Country. And the closer truth came to breaking through, the more desperate the enemy became to snuff it out.

When Charlie Kirk was assassinated, tears fell in some homes — while in others, laughter broke out. How can the same event bring both grief and celebration? That divide reveals something deep about the human heart.

It’s tempting to point at the one who rejoiced and say, “That’s evil.” But if we’re honest, the same seeds lie in all of us. Every lie, every act of pride, every refusal to forgive is a revolt against God. As Scripture says: “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23).

That’s why hatred can feel so natural. Satan takes our wounds, our fears, our hunger to belong — and twists them into contempt. His goal is always the same: to divide us from God, and from each other. For some, that contempt boils over into celebrating death. For others, it hides behind judgment, grudges, or even religious pride that makes us feel superior. In every case, the same hand is at work.

The shooter’s story is a tragic picture of this. He wasn’t just lashing out at a political figure — he was trying, in a warped way, to shield someone he loved from shame. But love twisted by shame leads to destruction; only love purified in Christ leads to life. In a place like Utah, where religious expectation is heavy and many feel pushed to the margins, shame can feel suffocating. And when shame festers without mercy, the devil twists it into anger, and anger into violence.

That’s the tragic irony: Charlie was trying to reach precisely those who hated him. He carried Christ, and he spoke truth. But truth shines into places we’d rather keep hidden. And when we don’t yet know God’s love, that light feels like condemnation. We push it away. Sometimes with mockery. Sometimes with silence. Sometimes, heartbreakingly, with violence.

But here’s the scandal of the Gospel: the killer is loved by God as much as Charlie — loved enough that Christ stretched out His arms on the Cross for both. So is the one who mocked. So am I. So are you. Jesus didn’t die for “the good people.” He died for sinners. For His enemies. For every one of us.

Think of it like this: imagine living for years with a disease, with no cure in sight. Then the doctor walks in and says, “I’ve found the cure.” That is what the Cross is. Every sin, every hatred, every rebellion against God finds its remedy there. Satan must stop it. He must kill it.

The question isn’t, “Who is guilty?” We all are. The question is, “Will we accept the cure?”

And in the end, we must look past the players caught up in this tragedy. Beyond Charlie, beyond the shooter, beyond even those who mocked or mourned — who is really behind it all?

It is the same enemy who once thought he had silenced Christ by nailing Him to the Cross. Satan still rages against every soul, both the so-called “good” and the so-called “bad,” because all are created by God and loved beyond measure.

Who would not want to cure cancer if they could? Who would not want to cure sin if they knew the cure was real? That is what Christ offers at the Cross — the cure for the disease that afflicts us all.

Charlie had the courage to bring that truth, the vaccine into the light, even knowing it would make him a target. Let’s have that same courage. Let’s bring Christ to those most in need — even to the killer and his lover. Pray for them. Pray for all of us. Because the Cross is not the end of truth — it is the beginning of life.

This is America’s turning point.