It is easier to be a great man than to be a good man.
To be a great man very often just means you have an impact on the world, that you change people’s lives, that you create structures that make the world a better place.
But to be a good man requires you to put yourself last, and your family first. To believe in the promises of the Bible and its values, to believe that there is a good and there is a bad.
That is who Charlie Kirk was. A good man.
I believe that as he got older, Charlie focused more and more on being a good man. He got married, had two adorable children.
As a father of four, including very small children, I cannot even imagine the feelings of his wife Erika today, or the children that she will have to raise without their father there.
And all the words that we tell ourselves — that Charlie died for something meaningful, which is obviously true — are not going to replace Charlie in the lives of his wife and children.
It isn’t going to fill that hole because nothing can.
On July 27, Charlie tweeted, “Get married, have kids, and stop partying into oblivion. Leave a legacy, be courageous. Happy Sunday. God Bless all the parents out there.”
That is who Charlie was at the end of the day. Yes, obviously a public figure; yes, a hugely important public figure; and yes, a transformative public figure, particularly for young people, transformative in allowing them to open their minds about politics and consider things from a different point of view.
But what he really was could be seen in the video of Charlie with his three-year-old daughter on “Fox & Friends,” when she ran to her daddy to give him a hug.
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I watched Charlie grow from a boy into a man. I watched that happen. I watched him go from 18 to 31. We were all privileged to know Charlie, to watch Charlie work, to watch him build. He was a builder. He was a lion of a human being.
He was engaged in a tremendously difficult business, the pragmatic growth of coalition politics. People aren’t going to agree with every decision he made along the way, with every view he expressed, but what they are going to remember Charlie for is what he died doing, expressing truth in public places through open and honest debate with people who disagree.
That is what they will build statues of Charlie Kirk for.
And they should.
It’s unbelievable that we have to talk about Charlie using the past tense. It’s unbelievable and horrifying in every possible way.
On Wednesday, I read Psalm 23 for Charlie on the podcast. It states:
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Charlie will be dwelling in the House of the Lord forever.
He was a good man who leaves behind a beautiful family. When people you know enter the pages of history, something happens: The brightest part of them shines through everything else.
That’s what you’re seeing today; the brightest part of Charlie, the part of him that was about faith and family and community and Biblical values and God and country and American patriotism and, yes, free speech and debate and discussion and the vibrant, bustling democracy that is America.
Charlie spent his entire life fighting for all of that to shine through.
And every time you see a picture of Charlie, you can see it in his face. The joy with which he engaged the world, the willingness to go to battle on behalf of the country, the willingness to say things, and the willingness to go to places where people disagreed.
He was what made America great and will continue to make America great going forward, because we’re going to have to pick up that baton.
I will end with a prayer that we recite at Jewish funerals. It states:
Oh God, full of compassion, thou who dwells on high ground, perfect rest beneath the sheltering wings of thy presence among the holy and pure, who shine as the brightness on the heavens unto the soul of Charlie, the son of Robert, who has gone unto eternity, and in whose memory charity is offered. May his repose be in Paradise. May the Lord of mercy bring him under the cover of his wings forever. May his soul be bound up in the bond of eternal life. May the Lord be his possession, and may he rest in peace.
May Charlie rest in peace.

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