Tyler Robinson, Charlie Kirk

In moments of national crisis, the collective response often gravitates toward swift attribution of blame and an urgent demand for resolution. Following the assassination of Charlie Kirk, this impulse has been particularly pronounced. The subsequent arrest of Tyler Robinson has provided both a focal point for public outrage and a figure upon whom broader anxieties are projected. His demeanor during Tuesday’s hearing, perceived by many as dismissive or unrepentant, has further intensified sentiment, leading to a widespread presumption of guilt before the judicial process has fully unfolded.

But if we claim to stand for truth, we must pause.

A Nation of Narratives

What has poisoned our political climate is not simply violence, but the narratives surrounding it. For years, the left has smeared anyone who resists their ideology as hateful, racist, or unworthy of even basic dignity. Charlie Kirk was not killed because he carried a weapon or called for violence. He was killed because he spoke, because he debated, because he believed in free speech, even for those who despised him.

And how did many respond? With laughter. With mockery. With justifications. Some even celebrated his death as though an assassination were a victory for justice. This is not politics. This is hatred parading as righteousness.

But here is the truth: if Tyler Robinson is guilty, he is not the only one with blood on his hands. Every lie repeated, every label weaponized, every dehumanizing slur hurled at those who dared to disagree, paved the way. Hatred is never an isolated act; it is a culture cultivated one accusation, one slander, one smirk at a time.

Justice, Not Vengeance

Still, we must guard ourselves. There is a danger in rushing to judgment. The image of Robinson sneering in court may tempt us to declare guilt before the trial is over. But justice cannot survive if it is based on appearances and assumptions. Justice requires truth, evidence, and patience. Otherwise, we are no better than those who condemned Charlie with lies.

This moment is about more than Robinson. It is about who we are becoming. Will we be a people who demand blood at the first sign of guilt? Or will we be a people strong enough to wait for justice, even when our anger cries out for vengeance?

We Are Charlie

To honor Charlie Kirk rightly is not to sharpen knives of division. It is to take up his mantle to debate fiercely, but peacefully. To defend speech, not suppress it. To live as though words still matter more than bullets.

That is why the cry of this hour must not be revenge. It must be: “We Are Charlie.”

That cry is not political. It is spiritual. It means that we will not be bullied into silence. It means that we will not become what we hate. It means that, while others cheer violence, we will kneel in prayer, light candles in the dark, and speak truth with grace.

Fighting Hate With Love

We must remember something deeper still. Hate cannot be destroyed by hate; it only multiplies. Jesus said, “Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.” That is not a weakness. That is the strength, the kind of strength that topples empires and breaks chains.

If Tyler Robinson is guilty, justice will take its course. But justice will not heal America. Only love can. Only the refusal to mirror the bitterness of our enemies can. Only the courage to stand in the light of Christ, unashamed and unafraid, can.

Charlie Kirk’s death must not become another excuse for America to tear itself apart. It must become a wake-up call.

The left may mock, the world may sneer, but the truth remains: hate is weak. Love endures.

And so we declare: We are Charlie. And we will not bow to hate.