The news of Charlie Kirk’s assassination on Wednesday at Utah Valley University is devastating. He left behind a young wife and two small children, who were very clearly the center of his world. While much of the online commentary about him has been respectful and positive, it is hard to escape the online celebrations of his death—gleeful posts blaming the victim because of his political beliefs, excusing the lack of compassion for his family because of his views. Many acknowledge that, of course, it was wrong for the gunman to murder Kirk, but still seem relieved that a person they saw as a threat to their worldview is no longer around.
I am, unfortunately, all too familiar with those feelings, having once lived them myself.
From a young age, I believed the political left held the moral high ground. I knew that there were a few good and smart right-leaning people—my parents and neighbors among them—but I also assumed that they were the exceptions. In my eyes, the vast majority of people on the right were evil, dumb, selfish, or worse. Why else would anyone oppose the party of women’s rights, civil rights, and workers’ rights? It is hard to escape the online celebrations of his death.
But over time, things began to change. I married and had three young children. I wrestled with my faith. I found myself questioning whether issues were as simple as I had once assumed. In 2020, like many people, I spent more time online—and to my surprise, I was exposed to ideas I had once rejected out of hand. Slowly, my moral intuitions shifted. I no longer felt my political home was on the left.
What startled me most was realizing how many people I had dismissed as “bigots” were simply people who thought as I now did. I carried real regret for the way politics had shaped my view of people I knew and loved. At the same time, the world became much lighter, knowing that the country was not divided into good guys and bad guys, but both sides were filled with mostly very good and earnest people, endowed with the light of Christ, trying to make the best for the world we could.
My shift in beliefs did not lead me to see people on the left as I had seen people on the right. Like a growing number of Americans, I am quite politically homeless, perhaps leaning more conservative, but with serious criticisms of the right. I also reject both-sides-ism, where we throw up our hands and say “well, they’re all terrible,” or “the other guys are doing it too.” Each side has its own problems and vices, and those deserve direct criticism and remedy. I also have personal experience seeing the goodness, justice, and mercy present in people on all sides.
Having observed the good and bad in both sides of the political spectrum, I have a few words of unsolicited advice at this sensitive time:
To my liberal friends: The Overton window has shifted very far in the past few years. When almost all normie-conservative opinions are treated as beyond the pale in public discourse, it creates a distorted picture of your neighbors. Your political opponents do not wish you dead, and they are not opposing your very existence. The positions you take may be formed by thoughtfulness, personal experience, compassion, and the very best of intentions, but so are the positions of your political opponents. Half the country are not lunatic rednecks, and reaching that conclusion should invite some serious soul-searching. Spencer Cox, Governor of Utah, said it well: “If anyone, in the sound of my voice, celebrated even a little bit at the news of the shooting, I would beg you to look in the mirror and see if you can find a better angel in there somewhere.” Look for the good in people on the other side of the aisle; you might be surprised by what you find. Moments of violence can either harden our divisions or soften our hearts. The choice is ours.
In scripture, we read many times of darkness, and the message from our Lord is always the same: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid” (John 14:27).
We are responsible for bringing that peace into the world. This does not require us to reject our convictions in favor of niceness. But it does require a soft heart, a willingness to listen, and a commitment to President Nelson’s call for peacemaking “especially when we have differences of opinion.”
Moments of violence can either harden our divisions or soften our hearts. The choice is ours. This week has felt so bleak. Resist the temptation of knee-jerk responses. Refuse to celebrate the suffering of your opponents. Remember that the people you disagree with most are still children of God. If we take seriously the call to be peacemakers, we can honor Charlie Kirk’s memory—not by weaponizing his death, but by living the harder path as peacemakers.
