A Time For . . . Reckoning with Kirk's Assassination

“What time is it?”

Although the setting is usually mundane, the question is always tied to a moment of self-awareness. It’s often tied to a surge of anxiety, as we worry that we’ve misjudged something about our circumstances. In this way, there are events that also lead us to reassess our cultural moment. We’re shaken out of our routines, and we are often beset by anxiety about the future as we try to take stock of what exactly this moment means.

Many of the moments that push us to this question are later memorialized by another question: “Where were you when…?” I distinctly remember sitting in my grandmother’s living room watching OJ drive down the freeway. I remember watching a second plane strike the towers on 9/11. I remember the meeting where it was announced that we were sending students home over Covid-19. We often use these sorts of moments to divide and define time into “pre” and “post” events.

As I write this article, yesterday was one of those cultural moments. Students stopped me in between classes to ask whether I had heard that conservative pundit Charlie Kirk had been shot. I watched over a student’s shoulder as we viewed the live video of the shooting and its gruesome aftermath.

It wasn’t long before I saw people trying to make sense of our cultural moment. Many conservative friends followed Donald Trump in laying blame squarely at the feet of progressive rhetoric. Some of my progressive friends gleefully noted the irony of a second amendment advocate who said he was willing to tolerate gun violence becoming a victim of it himself. Of course, most responded with condolences, prayers, and condemnations of violence, but I have heard many versions of the question, “What next?”

In these moments of acute crisis, there are always more questions than answers. That is the very nature of these events, and I don’t pretend to know the future. However, as we grasp for ways to frame our situation, there are important considerations that should help guide our path forward.

“And when you hear of wars and rumors of war…”

We preach the dangers of rumors to our children. In some of the courses I teach, we regularly review the shocking inaccuracy of many early reports. It’s normal that rumors run wild while people seek to make sense of a shocking situation. At the same time, it’s also important to pay attention to the narrative that starts to take shape. Some extreme statements just reflect the strong emotion of the speaker and give little indication of future action. Other times, words reflect a shifting posture that is moving toward action, and these are particularly important to note. This situation is no exception.

First, we must take note of the sort of rhetoric that has a posture of self-defense. Even many of the most gentle among us would be moved to violent action if it was taken in defense of the lives of our loved ones. In the last few days, I have noted an increase in this language on both sides. I’ve heard progressives say that their families are not safe around people who agree with Charlie Kirk’s politics. I’ve heard conservatives lament, asking how long the Right will keep on serving as the constant victim of Leftist violence. Some of you may have shared these sentiments yourselves. By itself, a posture of fear or victimization is not necessarily a precursor to any particular action.

However, there is another important thread in the breakdown of our national dialog, and this is the furtherance of our already considerable polarization. A concerning development that I saw flaring up in this moment is the conservative rejection of solidarity with progressives who condemn violence. To hear many speak, the assassination of political figures is actually the purpose of the Left, and Democrats who condemn violence are lying. Virginia Representative Nick Freitas probably said it most clearly in a post on X that rejected solidarity across the aisle, “We are two very different peoples. We may occupy the same piece of geography, but that is where the similarities seem to abruptly end…It’s not a civil dispute among fellow countrymen. It’s a war between diametrically opposed worldviews which cannot peacefully coexist with one another. One side will win, and one side will lose.”

I should be clear that Freitas was explicit in later comments that he is not calling for violence, even though he thinks vengeance feels justified. At the same time, the stark rejection of the notion that we might come together as a nation in a time of tragedy reflects a concerning turn in our national dialog. It is one thing to fear or resent “them,” but when it becomes “them or us,” the call to action is much starker.

It has become increasingly common for Americans on both sides to suggest that a civil war is coming. Both sides are increasingly sure that the other is out to eradicate them. That is, we’re no longer just imagining a culture war, where worldviews battle in the forum of public opinion. I see more and more people sure that literal war (or at least violent unrest) is coming. In this environment, what is meant in a more metaphorical sense runs the constant risk of being taken more literally.

“…See that you are not alarmed, for this must take place, but the end is not yet.”

So what are we to do? In framing the situation, I think there are several important cues that we can take from the historical example we find in Abraham Kuyper, and I think this leads us to find some comfort in a path for effective action.

I think Kuyper is particularly instructive in this arena because he had to walk a balance that resonates with many today. On the one hand, Kuyper was not shy about calling out the serious conflict of worldviews that he saw in the Netherlands of the early 20^th Century. He recognized that there was an antithesis between the principles that should animate Christian concern and those that drove the secular spirit. No one could accuse him of playing the “both sides” game or shrinking from cultural engagement.

At the same time, Kuyper and his contemporaries were deeply formed by their horror at the legacy of violence stemming from the French Revolution. In articulating their call to political action, Kuyper’s Anti-Revolutionary Party set out a stark distinction between the spirit of reform, which they advocated, and the spirit of revolution, which they saw as rooted in godlessness. They recognized the importance of the fact that society is something that we both receive and shape, and they were appalled by the notion that we should just “burn it all down.”

For those who favor the notion of war, metaphorical or otherwise, the historical record on successfully tearing society apart and rebuilding it in our image is bleak. The escalating violence of the French Revolution ended with Napoleon. The Russian Revolution ended with Stalin in power. Latin America saw most of its revolutions end in the rule of generals and dictators. When society descends into disorder, the pattern that typically follows is authoritarianism. As much as words like “Nazi” and “fascist” get thrown around these days, the reality is that this rhetoric is used because Americans love freedom, not oppression.

If the frame of war ends up being more profoundly lose-lose than we might expect, where even winning likely means tyranny, are there better ways to think of our cultural moment? Again, I think Kuyper is helpful here.

Kuyper argued that each nation is an organism. That is, society is a dynamic, living thing that we find ourselves coming to as stewards, rather than creators. We don’t get to choose who our neighbors are, but we are called to figure out how to live with them and seek the welfare of the city that we’ve both been placed in.

In using this frame, Kuyper reminds us that the call for unity is not a call for uniformity. At some level, society will only hold together if we can stand shoulder-to-shoulder around some things. Condemning violence is an easy start, but I think there’s much more. If I look around my local community, I find that I, a conservative, can live and work alongside progressives in many areas. I know there are Democrats I work with. Some live peacefully in my neighborhood. I serve on civic committees with them. It turns out they love their kids, too, and they want our town to run well and our businesses to be successful. Yes, there may be sharp policy disagreements, especially at the national level, but in my day-to-day life, I find I value the push and pull of working alongside others who are attuned to different concerns. A body is healthy when it has forces that balance one another. I could force everyone to think and act as I do, but a body made up of all eyes or hands would be a monster.

This is Kuyper’s vision for society that is called structural pluralism. He argued that we need space in society for worldviews to develop and flourish in parallel with one another. The antithesis remains there, and there will always be social conflict as a result, but this can be lively, rather than life-threatening. If we are not two peoples, but one, we can acknowledge that we are sick, but we are navigating a solution together. Trumpism has succeeded as a political movement for reasons that must be accounted for in thinking about where America is headed as a nation. The rise of a more progressive Left represents concerns that must likewise be addressed. Christians can support the well-being of Babylon without needing to turn it into Jerusalem because our ultimate hope is not in this age.

This is the last bit we can draw from Kuyper. His emphasis on life flourishing in a range of different spheres was an encouragement for people to invest deeply in their local institutions. We can’t control the winds of national policy, but we can help shape our local churches and schools. I can’t solve all of the brokenness flowing from dysfunctional families around the nation, but I can love my wife and children fiercely. In Matthew 24:6, which I’ve used as my headings in this article, the call for Christians is not to be alarmed, even when it seems like the end is nigh.

In the end, the reason to reject a war framing of the situation is that now isn’t the time for radical new action. It’s the time to stand firm. For Christians, engagement with culture is about a long-slow obedience in the same direction. It’s a deep investment in the communities where the Lord has placed us. Through this, we foster the sort of stability that provides a well of resilience in times when the sky seems to be falling. We can forego the torches and pitchforks because we’re not looking to join the revolution. The work of reform is built in the good work of our ordinary lives, and we can find remarkable peace there.

Since his tragic death has caused us to ask what time it is, I’ll close by letting Charlie Kirk give his own answer, “When things are moving very fast and people are losing their minds, it’s important to stay grounded. Turn off your phone, read scripture, spend time with friends, and remember internet fury is not real life. It’s going to be ok."