We should have a special law that if a judge lets a violent offender off with a slap on the wrist and they offend again within a year, the judge must serve a mandatory 5 year prison sentence.
We are saddened to inform friends that our dear brother, Voddie Baucham, Jr., has left the land of the dying and entered the land of the living. Earlier today, after suffering an emergency medical incident, he entered into his rest and the immediate presence of the Savior whom he loved, trusted, and served since he was converted as a college student. Please pray for Bridget, their children, and grandchildren.
Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints. – Psalm 116:15
https://t.co/Fxd8q6JjC9
So, what now?
You can feel it though, can’t you? Something is stirring. It is bigger than one man, bigger than one moment, bigger than politics or headlines.
When thousands of believers gather in grief and instead of despair they lift up the name of Jesus, that is not ordinary. That is the Spirit of God pressing against the seams of a nation that has been asleep too long.
Revival is never announced with confetti or firecrackers. It starts when hearts break, when tears fall, when people decide they are done playing church and they want the real thing. That is what we are watching right now. This ache in our souls is not just grief, it is hunger. This trembling we feel is not fear, it is expectancy.
God always moves in the cracks. He always shows up when the world says the story is over. Jesus was crucified, buried, sealed behind stone, and then the Spirit of God shook the ground and rolled the stone away. See the pattern? Out of death comes life. Out of shaking comes awakening. Out of silence comes a roar.
We press in now, not by waiting for the next big event, not by hoping someone else will carry the torch. We press in by bending low before the Lord in repentance and rising up in holy boldness. This is not about personalities. This is about Jesus. This is about whether we as a people will return to our first love.
Revival is not a tent meeting. It is a heart set on fire. It is parents praying over children at the breakfast table. It is teenagers deciding purity is more powerful than compromise. It is business leaders choosing integrity over greed. It is ordinary Christians refusing to be silent when the name of Jesus is mocked.
The Spirit of God is not politely knocking on America’s door, He is rattling it. He is saying, “Wake up, my people. The time is short. The harvest is ready. Will we be the generation that says yes?”
Do not miss this. Do not let this pass by and say, “Wasn’t that powerful back then?” The Spirit is not a memory, He is a fire. Fan it. Feed it. Live it.
Because revival is not coming. Revival is HERE. It is not waiting for someone else to carry it. It is waiting for you.
Come, Lord Jesus.
My dear American friends,
We British Christians would get excited when, once a year, Queen Elizabeth would make a mild but sincere reference to the love of Jesus Christ in her Christmas address.
In Charlie Kirks' Memorial service, watched by tens of millions, I just heard:
- Multiple clear presentations of the gospel from men like @robmccoyus and @DrFrankTurek with clear calls to repentance and faith
- Worship songs full of Scripture sung by tens of thousands live and millions at home
- Personal testimonies of lives transformed by the work of Christ and the witness of believers
- Demonstration and explanation of the value of marriage, child-rearing and family
- Calls to Romans 13 for the government to bear the sword for the protection of good and punishment of the wicked
- Declarations of spiritual warfare on the forces of evil and promises to endure no matter the cost
- Calls to be prophets and call the nation to repent
- More Scripture references and Bible readings than I can count
- And a widow publicly forgiving her husband's killer because Christ forgave his killers on the cross.
All of it done before, and by, the most powerful people in your nation and the world.
You guys should be on your knees thanking God for your country. It is a light to the world.
Never stop fighting for it.
In loving memory of Charlie Kirk, a fearless patriot & man of unwavering faith who dedicated his life to America.
"It's bigger than you, I want you to remember that... It's bigger than me - you are here to make somebody else's life better, the pursuit of liberty & freedom."❤️
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.
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.
I can’t stop posting about Charlie today and it’s largely because I can’t stop thinking about Charlie. And one thought that strikes me is that he did the exact opposite of what the big evangelical machine tells us to do and modeled in terms of changing minds. And that is, soften our convictions when talking about them in public. Use rhetoric that obfuscates what we really believe so as not to offend.
He did none of that.
He was straightforward and unapologetically clear. And because of this, he managed to change hearts and minds in a way that those who always had an eye on their reputations and respectability never have.
Millions upon millions of young people came to have a Christian worldview because he’s so unashamedly preached one.
My friend shared that she looked at her mom teary eyed after yesterdays events asking her how do I raise a child in this broken world? Her moms response was something I want to share: "There is no reason to have fear because the Lord purposed you & your children to be on this planet at this time in history and He will give you the mercy & He will give you the wisdom & protection that you need to raise your children in this season. You were meant to be here during this moment." I hope this helps some of you. It helped me.
Charlie Kirk was a courageous conservative, and most importantly, a good husband, father, and American. He inspired countless young people to get involved in politics and passionately believed in the right to free speech.
His legacy will live on through every freedom-loving American who watched his show, listened to his speeches, or attended one of Turning Point USA’s events.
Charlie’s senseless death makes me sick.
“For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” - Ephesians 6:12
Christians, we fight our enemies on our knees.
My friend Charlie Kirk was the best of America. A self-made man, a young husband and father, and a patriot, he was relentlessly positive about the future. He dedicated his life to making a difference with young people, drawing huge crowds everywhere he went. He was open to ideas and willing to debate anyone. That good-natured openness is what got him killed by an intolerant lunatic. Charlie was winning the debate, and for that, he had to be silenced, permanently. Our thoughts and prayers are with his wife Erika and his family.
My heart is broken. Devastated beyond belief, not for Charlie, for he is with God. His race is finished, his faith kept, his crown received (2 Timothy 4:7–8).
I grieve for his family, for his wife, his children, and every person whose life he touched. They are the ones who feel this loss most deeply, and our prayers must cover them.
But even in our grief, we cannot despair. We cannot succumb to darkness. For Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die” (John 11:25). And again, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).
So we must be the light. We must carry forward the truth Charlie lived for, the faith that gave him courage, and the hope that cannot die. As Paul wrote, “Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:58).
Grieve, yes. Be heartbroken, yes. But do not despair. Stand firm. Be unafraid. And never surrender to the darkness.
Of all possible targets, they chose Charlie Kirk, a man who, despite holding strong views, was among the few political influencers who always made the effort to engage civilly and in good faith with people who disagreed with him. Perhaps this is why he was feared.