The victory after Charlie Kirk’s killing

OPINION:

C.S. Lewis retold the myth of Psyche in one of his greatest works, “Till We Have Faces”: “I have always — at least, ever since I can remember — had a kind of longing for death. … The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing — to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from.”

The majority of us go to great lengths to avoid death, even conceptually. Accordingly, it was first dark and strange and then oddly bright and beautiful when I came across this particular quote last week on my way to Charlie Kirk’s Medal of Freedom Service in the White House.

Mr. Lewis’ phrase, with its dark focus on death, stood out because my friend was murdered in front of the nation, in perhaps the most immediately and widely seen public slayings in history. I was in Italy for my 20th wedding anniversary when the text came in from our Turning Point USA chief operating officer that read: “EMERGENCY.”

It was around 10 p.m. in Rome; the streets were dark, and I felt the darkness in my very bones. In the coming days, however, something profound happened: Churches began filling, Bibles were selling out, and numerous streams of testimony turned into a river of hearts returning to Christ. The sun began to rise higher in this dawning of a golden age.

Back in the U.S. on Monday, Oct. 13, Washington was dark and wet, a wash of urban gloom canopied by a steel jungle. Tuesday was Charlie’s birthday. The weather was slated to be a repeat of Monday’s. On my way out of the hotel room to the White House, I thought, “Should I bring sunglasses?” At the last moment, I swiped them off the dresser. I didn’t know whether I would need them, but incredibly, as my wife and I were escorted into the newly paved Rose Garden, there was a break in the clouds. Rivulets of blue sky began to peak around the dreary clouds; rods and shafts of light pushed through the gloom, and heaven sparkled down.

An oddly silly playlist was running in the background — “Dancing Queen,” among others. We later heard that it was the leader of the free world himself deejaying from the West Wing. Soft laughter could be heard occasionally, tickling the air. There was a warm conversation with Tucker Carlson, the comically Elvisian sideburns of Argentine President Javier Milei. God was smiling, and so was Charlie.

There were, of course, tears shared between us and Charlie’s widow, Erica Kirk. Yet underneath, something was stirring: a deep sense of hope and a recognition of the bond forged through the faithful fight. Walking back, the city felt lighter; the sun was setting, but the day was ending with a new hope. What a paradox.

The primary atheistic “gotcha” has always been to point at pain, suffering and heartache, and say, “How can you declare the existence of a good God when evil is so nakedly abundant?” We Christians fire our greatest cannons of testimonial defense for God in the face of this painful query, but the cannonballs are never heavy enough because, in the moment, pain can be overwhelming. In time and in Christ, however, death can be a victory.

Charlie would count his death a victory in two senses. First and most obviously, it is a victory seen in the incredible and momentous wave of people turned toward faith in Jesus Christ, proving that Charlie’s Christ-centered life meant something profound. Perhaps that something could be realized only by his loss, for while men seek heroes, rarely do they find them among the living. We have too much pride for that. The momentum is not simply one of faith but also of meaning, purpose and hope. Not merely the abstraction of God but also its substance: faith with works.

In the second sense, the grand victory is for Charlie. He was one of the most inquisitive minds I have ever known. His depth of knowledge was objectively astounding. He loved deep conversations on truth, beauty and virtue. Now he can see the place where all the beauty came from, and more than the place, the person. To quote the Gospel of John, “For God so loved the world that he sent his only begotten son that whosoever would believe in him shall not perish but have everlasting life.” Yes, heaven is real. The thousands of near-death experiences and centuries of testimony attest to it, as the Scriptures declare it.

The opposite is also true. Hell is real, and so is its eternal darkness. Most men do not want to reckon with death because they deeply fear reckoning with God. As we learn in Lewis’ retelling of the Greek story, there is a profound and masterful plan in which we are each called to actively participate. At times, it seems paradoxical, but the sun can break through the grayest heavens, sometimes even to the backing track of “Dancing Queen.”

• David Engelhardt is a lawyer in New York City, lead pastor of Kings’ Church NYC and a board member of Turning Point USA. He is the founding lawyer of Engelhardt Law, where he handles business litigation, entertainment law and civil litigation. He is also the author of “Good Kills: God, Good, and the Sword,” a book exploring biblical justice, morality and culture.