The contrast couldn’t be more severe: Two martyrs, two causes. One died for the religion of social justice, the other for the Gospel of Jesus Christ. America now stands at a crossroads. Which path will we choose: The broad path that leads to chaos and destruction, or the narrow path that leads to peace and life?
On one side, you have the death of George Floyd. Within 24 hours of the video going viral, nationwide protests erupted. Students walked out of classrooms. Crowds poured into the streets. City blocks went up in flames. Businesses were ransacked. Stores looted. Police officers, in many cases, stood down and watched as precincts were burned to the ground.
And Floyd wasn’t the only flashpoint. In Ferguson, Missouri, the death of Michael Brown sparked weeks of violent rioting, leaving entire neighborhoods scorched. In Kenosha, Wisconsin, the police shooting of Jacob Blake ignited nights of arson and looting, culminating in chaos that left the city smoldering.
In each case, Americans were told to understand the destruction as “the voice of the oppressed.” Politicians bent over backward to excuse the lawlessness, even pledging to bail out masked agitators who turned cities into war zones. Lives were lost in the name of “justice.”
And when the flames weren’t enough, activists decided to go further. They declared entire neighborhoods “autonomous zones” — police-free utopias where oppression was supposed to vanish and a new society would flourish.
The same voices behind the riots called for defunding the police. And what did that bring? More chaos. More crime. More death. Neighborhoods left vulnerable. Families abandoned. Chaos parading as justice.
The death of a true martyr
Now set that against what followed the assassination of Charlie Kirk.
He was murdered for daring to give the biggest microphone not to his friends but to those who opposed him. He welcomed debate. He confronted hostile ideas head-on. He refused to be silenced by intimidation. And for that, he paid with his life.
But look at the fruit that followed his death.
No buildings burned. No businesses looted. No cities reduced to ash.
Instead, only candles burned — vigil candles, lifted high in memory of a man who gave his life for truth. People gathered in churches. Prayers rose instead of Molotov cocktails. Instead of mobs demanding blood, thousands made decisions to follow Christ. Politicians who would never publicly declare the name of Jesus suddenly spoke openly about the need for the Gospel. Instead of excuses for lawlessness, there were testimonies of salvation.
And yet — after Charlie’s death — all of the cowards found their courage. The very people who shrank from confronting him in debate while he lived now slander him when he cannot answer. They spit on his memory because they could not withstand his arguments. They malign his character because they could not overcome his convictions. Their attacks reveal not strength, but weakness. Not courage, but cowardice.
It is difficult not to see the parallel with Stephen, the first Christian martyr. In Acts 6 and 7, Stephen stood before the religious leaders of his day — and make no mistake, progressivism is a worldly religion — and he proclaimed the truth with boldness. Scripture records that “they could not withstand the wisdom and the Spirit with which he was speaking” (Acts 6:10, ESV). And when they could not defeat his arguments, they killed him.
So it is with Charlie. When the world could not overcome his courage, when they could not silence his voice in life, they silenced him in death. But like Stephen, his testimony will outlive his assassins. His words will echo longer than their slander. His life will bear fruit that their hatred cannot erase.
Two different spirits
What explains this radical difference?
On one hand, you have a spirit of rage. A spirit that justifies destruction as expression. A spirit that sees justice as vengeance. That spirit has turned too many American cities into ruins.
On the other hand, you have the Spirit of God. A Spirit that produces repentance instead of riots. Worship instead of war. Candles instead of chaos. When the world lost Charlie Kirk, a true martyr, the response revealed something deeper — something eternal.
The battle lines of our culture are not political but spiritual. The evidence could not be more clear.
The Apostle Paul reminds us that “we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness” (Ephesians 6:12, ESV). What we are seeing is not merely two different sets of political responses, but two different kingdoms on display.
One kingdom demands chaos and calls it justice.
The other Kingdom meets tragedy with truth, grace, and hope in Christ.
Which one will define the future of this nation?
History teaches us that rage consumes itself. Cities burned in Ferguson and Kenosha are still rebuilding years later. Families who lost businesses in Minneapolis never recovered. Violence devours its own.
But the fruits of the Spirit endure. Out of Charlie Kirk’s death, lives are being changed forever. The Gospel is advancing. The Church is awakening.
The call to Christians
The contrast forces every Christian to make a choice.
Will we be swept into the mob’s logic — that vengeance and destruction are the only way forward? Or will we align ourselves with the way of the cross — the way of sacrifice, prayer, and truth proclaimed without fear?
The stakes are high. What America witnessed in the days after George Floyd’s death and the days after Charlie Kirk’s assassination is the clash of worldviews, the collision of kingdoms.
One worldview justifies destruction in the name of oppression. The other proclaims that true freedom is found only in Christ.
One kingdom burns buildings. The other lights candles.
Conclusion: Riots or revival?
The Charlie Kirk Memorial last Sunday was not just a gathering. It was a glimpse into the kind of nation we could be if truth, courage, and the Gospel were once again at the center of public life. It was a reminder that even in death, the witness of one faithful man can ignite a movement more powerful than any protest.
The flames of rage consume cities. The flames of faith light the world.
The choice is clear: Riots or revival? Chaos or christ?
And for those who haven’t seen the Charlie Kirk Memorial, hear this from someone who was there in person: No video could capture the palpable power in that room. Politician after politician rose — not to promote themselves but to proclaim Christ’s Gospel.
Testimonies poured out of the life Charlie lived, giving himself to students across this country, loving his wife and children faithfully, and modeling what it means to live for something greater than yourself, what it means to truly submit and boldly follow Christ Jesus our Lord.
The video screens could show faces but not the depth of what we felt inside that hall. The sheer number of people. The dignitaries. The everyday Americans. All united as we sang, listened, cried, mourned, and celebrated our friend Charlie Kirk.
I cannot remember a time when I was more inspired to tell the truth, to oppose the lies, and to stand for Christ more boldly — and I am now wasting no time in doing so.
We’ve all got work to do. We’ve got a civilization to save. We have a King to proclaim, Jesus Christ.
So Charlie, rest in Heaven … we’ll take it from here.
Originally published at the Standing for Freedom Center.
Virgil L. Walker is the Executive Director of Operations for G3 Ministries, an author, and a conference speaker. He is the co-host of the Just Thinking Podcast. Virgil is passionate about teaching, disciple-making, and sharing the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Virgil and his wife Tomeka have been married for 26 years and have three children. Listen to his podcast here.
