Count the Cost

Why Charlie Kirk’s Death Reminds Us Faith Will Cost Everything

I’ve tried to articulate my thoughts since the moment I saw the graphic footage of what happen so if this feels like a rambling mess, hopefully we can continue to process this together . . .

Since becoming a father, I’ve had an even realer sense of the fleeting nature of this life. Most times I leave my house and hug my wife and kids, there’s a part of me that thinks:

“what if this is it?”

I’ll even go as far as to tell my son when I’m walking out the door, something like, “Alright, I’m leaving and you know what that means: you’re the man of the house while I’m gone. Take care of your mom and sister.”

The problem with that thought is that it carries the weight to paralyze us from walking out our purpose if we let it.

When Jesus says in the Bible, “pick up your cross and follow Me,” at face value in our day-to-day it doesn’t seem like a big deal. But then you hear of or with our current state of connectedness, see in 4K, something like the deliberate attack and assassination of a public figure who stood boldly in his faith.

When I saw the footage of what happened to Charlie Kirk it shook me, like few other similar events have. It had me wanting to step into the fear, and to shut down and stop speaking up about my faith or create content around my beliefs. I didn’t follow him and honestly didn’t know much about him other than he was very open and outspoken about his faith in Jesus. That he challenged people to think and created spaces to do so.

Then shortly after it happened, I saw the keyboard warriors coming out online where some people were downright diabolical about it saying “live by the sword die by the sword.” and others were saying comments like “just imagine what it was like to witness *fill in the blank* mass shooting” or “imagine growing up in the hood.”

This is a photo of some of the spiritual warfare we are seeing in the wake of this tragedy.

I’m no stranger to seeing violence. When I was young, I lived between two rival gangs. One night while I was playing Nintendo 64, I heard a loud bang outside my window. A crowd was gathered in the church parking lot next door. Later I found out someone’s mom had been shot (not fatally thankfully).

Another night, after coming home from a football game, cars crept slowly down our street with bass beating down the block. I remember feeling the fear that it was about to be a drive-by.

And in 7th grade, I was woken up by the sound of gunfire. People were running through our yard and the neighbors’ yards, shooting at each other. By morning, the police had our street barricaded off with evidence markers scattered in front of my house. Someone had been killed.

Why do I share this? Because violence wasn’t new to me. And according to studies neither is it to you. By age 18, the average American has seen over 200,000 violent acts and shows that repeated exposure flattens natural empathy. We grow numb.

So why did Charlie’s death feel different?

Because this wasn’t just another statistic. This was a believer cut down for his faith—in real time, in front of us all. He died a martyr for truth.

And it left me with this thought:

“Count the cost.”

Count the cost of truly following Jesus. Count the cost of living the opposite of the Hamilton quote:

“Talk less, smile more. Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.”

No!

Now more than ever we must not shrink back.

Now more than ever we must speak up.

Now more than ever we must stand for truth.

Now more than ever we must stare fear in the face and say:

I’m not just willing to die for this—I’m willing to live for it.

That starts in how we raise our kids.

It starts in how we love our spouse.

It starts in how we treat those who can do nothing for us.

We hold the tension of being tough for and tender with.

We wrestle with the need to be both lion and lamb.

Count the cost and see that this life with Christ will most definitely cost us everything. And even when we have nothing left but God—we will, in fact, have all that we need.

After I’ve continued to process, the state of the world doesn’t drive me to fear but it drives me deeper into wisdom and truth.

To accurately articulate your faith with clarity is no longer optional… it’s essential. You must know how to answer:

• Who am I?

• What do I believe—and why?

• What was I created for?

And we must hold the space to wrestle with the hard questions, have the courageous conversations. Not with furious fists raised, but with open hands and hearts surrendered because unity, restoration, and peace only flow from the Prince of Peace Himself.

The world doesn’t need more passive peacekeepers.
It needs peacemakers!
Those willing to bleed in the tension of truth and tenderness.
Hold the line.
Hold the space.
And watch healing happen.