kristin shutt @kshutt_up - Twitter Profile

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kristin shutt @kshutt_up

almost 6 years ago

Me waiting for my mom to like my tweets

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kshutt_up retweeted

Chad Prather

@WatchChad

12 months ago

Good morning. The reason you feel Charlie’s death so deeply is because grief doesn’t measure itself by proximity. It measures itself by meaning. You didn’t have to know him personally to feel the sting of his absence, because when a voice like his goes silent, something in the atmosphere shifts. The reason it feels heavier than so many other tragedies is because your spirit recognizes that this is not just about a man, it is about a battle. Scripture says eternity is written on our hearts, and when someone who carried truth with boldness is suddenly gone, eternity aches within us. It’s like our souls know instinctively that the darkness celebrated, and that strikes us at the core. The reason you can’t shake it is because psychologically, we don’t only attach ourselves to people…we attach ourselves to symbols. Charlie became a symbol of conviction in a time of compromise, courage in a time of fear. And when a symbol is struck down, it rattles something primal and eternal inside us. That’s why even those who never met him feel it. There is a strange thread pulling at us, and it is not imagined. It is real. We are bound together by shared purpose, by shared longing for truth, by the Spirit of God Himself weaving us into a fabric that cannot be torn apart. This loss pulled at that fabric, and every one of us felt the tug. So if you’ve wondered why this hits so hard, it’s because your soul knows. This is bigger than news. This is bigger than politics. This is about eternity, about truth, and about the weight of a man whose life carried both. Love y’all.

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kshutt_up retweeted

Pastor Rich Bitterman

@w_bitterman

about 1 year ago

The Cross Still Offends The bullet tore the air in half. A folding chair rattled. A Bible dropped. A young man slumped sideways beneath a white event tent, eyes wide with the weight of eternity. It was supposed to be a conversation. A “prove me wrong” segment. But this time, rebuttal came not with words, but with a rifle. Charlie Kirk didn’t get to finish his sentence. I got the news just before prayer meeting. I contemplated this death as I prepared to lead the saints in prayer. But I didn’t feel like praying. Not tonight. My hands were still. My mouth was ready. But my soul was pacing. Angry. Grieving. Tempted. Tempted to grow quiet. Tempted to sit this one out. Tempted to wonder if any of this, faith, boldness, public gospel witness, is still worth it. Because hatred in this country isn’t simmering anymore. It is boiling. Europe is trembling. Israel is burning. Rockets lit the sky over Gaza again. And now, here on American soil, the blood of a Christian apologist paints the pavement of a university quad. What do you do with that? What do you say when courage gets gunned down in daylight? Charlie Kirk was no perfect man. None of us are. But he had backbone where most of us don’t anymore. He was a believer. Unashamed. Unafraid. He understood that real conversations only happen when truth is welcome at the table. And the truth he carried most was Christ. He brought the gospel into public space on purpose. Because the gospel isn’t supposed to stay in church basements and private Bible studies. It is meant to confront. It is supposed to offend. It was not made for safety. The Word became flesh and they nailed Him to a tree. So of course they came for Charlie. Of course they reached for a gun. This is what evil does when it runs out of arguments. It doesn’t reason. It kills. That’s the part that catches in my throat. Not just the sadness, but the strategy of hell behind it. The Enemy wants us afraid. He wants us to see what happened to Charlie and backpedal. He wants the rest of us to whisper, to soften the message, to believe the lie that faith should stay private. But Christ never whispered. He preached in temples, on hillsides, in courtrooms, at dinner tables. And when they told Him to be quiet, He picked up His cross. Not a symbolic one. A real one. Heavy. Bloody. Splintered. When Jesus said, “Follow Me,” He didn’t hand out maps. He handed out crosses. That’s what I remembered tonight. I sat in our prayer space, surrounded by saints who had brought prayer lists and worn Bibles. And I realized I didn’t want to lead them in mourning. I didn’t want to lead them in mourning. I wanted to lead them into battle. Not with banners or fists, but with open Bibles and tear-stained prayers. The kind of war that kneels in gravel beside the wounded, hands them living water, and refuses to leave. The kind that speaks both mercy and judgment without flinching. The kind Charlie died for. This world is not a friend to grace. But grace isn’t fragile. “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?” Paul didn’t leave that question unanswered. “Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?” —Romans 8:35 He piles up every fear you and I carry and then sets them on fire. “No. In all these things we are more than conquerors.” That means bullets don’t win. Slander doesn’t win. Prison bars don’t win. Death doesn’t win. You can lose everything in this world and still walk into glory with your head lifted high. Because the love of God in Christ Jesus isn’t suspended by headlines or gunfire. There are two worlds unfolding right now. The one you see. And the one you don’t. One is filled with chaos. The other is filled with crowns. I believe that when Charlie Kirk’s body slumped to the concrete, his soul stood upright in heaven. Not limping. Not silenced. Not stunned. But crowned. He didn’t fall. He crossed. The great cloud of witnesses gained another voice. And I wonder if Stephen met him there. The first martyr. The man who got stoned for preaching what the crowd didn’t want to hear. The man who, in his final breath, saw the heavens open. The only time in all of Scripture we see Jesus standing at the right hand of God, rising to receive one of His own. I like to believe He stood again. Are you afraid? Do you feel the tremble in your spirit? Do you wonder if it’s still worth it to speak boldly, to carry your Bible, to preach the gospel in a world that doesn’t just disagree but wants you gone? You’re not alone. You’re not weak for feeling that. But you are called to something stronger than silence. Don’t let fear become your theology. The cost is high. But the reward? The reward is Christ. And He’s not a concept. He’s a King. Heaven is not empty. It is filled with scarred saints who refused to bow to fear. Men who were stoned. Women who were burned. Children who sang while the flames climbed. And every last one of them arrived. There is no difficulty that can cancel the promise of God. There is no persecution that can derail your destination. There is no sniper’s bullet that can separate a soul from Christ. Your life is not measured by how long you live on earth, but by how much of it was spent pointing to heaven. Paul said, “I have fought the good fight… I have kept the faith.” Then he looked toward the reward. Not a monument. Not a mention in history books. But a crown. Handed to him by the One with nail marks still in His hands. So let me say this clearly. We do not mourn like the world mourns. We do not write eulogies dripping with sentiment. We sing songs of resurrection. We carry the banner of a Kingdom that does not tremble. Charlie Kirk did not die for nothing. He died carrying the same message you and I must now carry forward. The cross stands tall. The tomb is still empty. And the gospel has not lost one ounce of power. So pick up your cross. Wipe your eyes. And keep going. The crown is worth it. The King is coming. And there’s still time to speak. Even if they shoot. Lord, give us courage. And if not safety, give us joy. For we carry not just the message, but the marks. And You are worth every bruise.

w_bitterman's tweet photo. The Cross Still Offends

The bullet tore the air in half.

A folding chair rattled. A Bible dropped. A young man slumped sideways beneath a white event tent, eyes wide with the weight of eternity.

It was supposed to be a conversation. A “prove me wrong” segment. But this time, rebuttal came not with words, but with a rifle.

Charlie Kirk didn’t get to finish his sentence.

I got the news just before prayer meeting. I contemplated this death as I prepared to lead the saints in prayer. But I didn’t feel like praying. Not tonight. My hands were still. My mouth was ready. But my soul was pacing. Angry. Grieving. Tempted.

Tempted to grow quiet.
Tempted to sit this one out.
Tempted to wonder if any of this, faith, boldness, public gospel witness, is still worth it.

Because hatred in this country isn’t simmering anymore. It is boiling.

Europe is trembling. Israel is burning. Rockets lit the sky over Gaza again. And now, here on American soil, the blood of a Christian apologist paints the pavement of a university quad.

What do you do with that?

What do you say when courage gets gunned down in daylight?

Charlie Kirk was no perfect man. None of us are.

But he had backbone where most of us don’t anymore. He was a believer. Unashamed. Unafraid. He understood that real conversations only happen when truth is welcome at the table. And the truth he carried most was Christ.

He brought the gospel into public space on purpose. Because the gospel isn’t supposed to stay in church basements and private Bible studies. It is meant to confront. It is supposed to offend. It was not made for safety.

The Word became flesh and they nailed Him to a tree.

So of course they came for Charlie.

Of course they reached for a gun.

This is what evil does when it runs out of arguments. It doesn’t reason. It kills.

That’s the part that catches in my throat. Not just the sadness, but the strategy of hell behind it.

The Enemy wants us afraid.

He wants us to see what happened to Charlie and backpedal.

He wants the rest of us to whisper, to soften the message, to believe the lie that faith should stay private.

But Christ never whispered.

He preached in temples, on hillsides, in courtrooms, at dinner tables.

And when they told Him to be quiet, He picked up His cross.

Not a symbolic one.
A real one.
Heavy. Bloody. Splintered.

When Jesus said, “Follow Me,” He didn’t hand out maps. He handed out crosses.

That’s what I remembered tonight.

I sat in our prayer space, surrounded by saints who had brought prayer lists and worn Bibles. And I realized I didn’t want to lead them in mourning. I didn’t want to lead them in mourning. I wanted to lead them into battle. Not with banners or fists, but with open Bibles and tear-stained prayers.

The kind of war that kneels in gravel beside the wounded, hands them living water, and refuses to leave. The kind that speaks both mercy and judgment without flinching. The kind Charlie died for.

This world is not a friend to grace. But grace isn’t fragile.

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?”

Paul didn’t leave that question unanswered.

“Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?”
—Romans 8:35

He piles up every fear you and I carry and then sets them on fire.

“No. In all these things we are more than conquerors.”

That means bullets don’t win. Slander doesn’t win. Prison bars don’t win. Death doesn’t win.

You can lose everything in this world and still walk into glory with your head lifted high. Because the love of God in Christ Jesus isn’t suspended by headlines or gunfire.

There are two worlds unfolding right now.

The one you see.
And the one you don’t.
One is filled with chaos. The other is filled with crowns.

I believe that when Charlie Kirk’s body slumped to the concrete, his soul stood upright in heaven. Not limping. Not silenced. Not stunned. But crowned.
He didn’t fall.
He crossed.

The great cloud of witnesses gained another voice.
And I wonder if Stephen met him there.

The first martyr.

The man who got stoned for preaching what the crowd didn’t want to hear.

The man who, in his final breath, saw the heavens open.
The only time in all of Scripture we see Jesus standing at the right hand of God, rising to receive one of His own.

I like to believe He stood again.

Are you afraid?

Do you feel the tremble in your spirit?

Do you wonder if it’s still worth it to speak boldly, to carry your Bible, to preach the gospel in a world that doesn’t just disagree but wants you gone?

You’re not alone.
You’re not weak for feeling that.
But you are called to something stronger than silence.

Don’t let fear become your theology.

The cost is high. But the reward?

The reward is Christ. And He’s not a concept. He’s a King.
Heaven is not empty.

It is filled with scarred saints who refused to bow to fear.
Men who were stoned.
Women who were burned.
Children who sang while the flames climbed.

And every last one of them arrived.

There is no difficulty that can cancel the promise of God.

There is no persecution that can derail your destination.
There is no sniper’s bullet that can separate a soul from Christ.

Your life is not measured by how long you live on earth, but by how much of it was spent pointing to heaven.

Paul said, “I have fought the good fight… I have kept the faith.”

Then he looked toward the reward.
Not a monument. Not a mention in history books.
But a crown.
Handed to him by the One with nail marks still in His hands.

So let me say this clearly.
We do not mourn like the world mourns.
We do not write eulogies dripping with sentiment.
We sing songs of resurrection.
We carry the banner of a Kingdom that does not tremble.

Charlie Kirk did not die for nothing.

He died carrying the same message you and I must now carry forward.

The cross stands tall.
The tomb is still empty.
And the gospel has not lost one ounce of power.

So pick up your cross.
Wipe your eyes.
And keep going.

The crown is worth it.
The King is coming.
And there’s still time to speak.

Even if they shoot.

Lord, give us courage.
And if not safety, give us joy.
For we carry not just the message, but the marks.
And You are worth every bruise.

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kshutt_up retweeted

Matt Walsh

@MattWalshBlog

about 1 year ago

The entire Right has to band together. Enough of this in-fighting bullshit. We are up against demonic forces from the pit of Hell. They’re killing us in our churches. They tried to kill our president. They killed Charlie, one of our greatest advocates. Put the personal squabbles aside. Now’s not the time. This is existential. A fight for our own existence and the existence of our country.

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Who to follow

Samm🐻

@Samantha_A5

• either gaming or playing ball •

Justin Wevers

@justinwevers

playin the background

kshutt_up retweeted

Elon Musk

@elonmusk

over 1 year ago

He’s not wrong

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kshutt_up retweeted

Candace Owens

@RealCandaceO

over 1 year ago

Yeah this is absolutely wild. I’m thinking I might need to release the MMR episode of my Shot in Dark series for free so parents understand this is not a safe vaccine at all. The combination vaccines are the worse. Ironically, I learned this from RFK Jr.

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