The news broke like a thunderclap: Charlie Kirk, the founder of Turning Point USA, assassinated. The reaction was swift and predictable. Before any facts could settle, before motive or perpetrator could be clarified, the blame was hurled in one direction—the left. Progressives. Liberals. Queer folks. Anyone and everyone who had ever dared to question the political gospel of the New Right.

And once again, people like me—people who have spent the better part of the last decade arguing for nothing but nonviolence—find ourselves lumped into accusations of bloodshed.

Let’s pause here. Let’s actually think about what’s being said. For nearly ten years, I and others like me been denounced as a “heretics” for insisting that God is nonviolent, that Jesus reveals a God who would rather die than kill, that even punishment itself can be nonviolent. I have been told, repeatedly and with fervor, that for this conviction I will “burn in hell forever.” I leaned into those condemnations and put them right on the covers of my books Heretic! and Heretic, Too! as ironic endorsements.

The message from my critics was clear: to deny that God is violent was to deny God altogether. To preach nonviolence was to spit in God’s face.

And now, fast forward a decade, and here we are: Charlie Kirk is dead, and I am suddenly, somehow, the violent one.

The Irony of It All

I have long argued, beginning with From the Blood of Abel in 2016, that God is to be understood as wholly nonviolent. Jesus’ entire ministry points us in that direction—his refusal to call down legions of angels, his command to love enemies, his beatitude for peacemakers, his rebuke of the sword in Gethsemane. The earliest Christians saw this, too. They refused military service, refused to kill, refused to worship a Caesar who demanded blood.

For this theology, I have faced some of the harshest condemnation imaginable. Not only disagreement but vitriol, mockery, “excommunication,” and literal veiled and not-so-veiled threats. I have been told my faith is worthless, my salvation is void, my soul is damned.

Why? Because I said God doesn’t kill people.

So, when a political operative like Charlie Kirk is assassinated and fingers are immediately pointed at “progressives,” forgive me if I can’t help but notice the irony. Those of us who have said again and again, “violence is not of God,” are now accused of being the violent ones.

It makes no sense. Unless, of course, sense isn’t what’s being sought.

Cake, Eaten Too

This is the problem with a theology that sanctifies violence: it creates a no-win scenario. If God is violent, then violence is godly. And if violence is godly, who are you to be upset when one of your own is struck down? But if you are upset—and I am not mocking the grief that accompanies death, because death is always tragic—then why do you rage so fiercely against those of us who say God is not violent? Why mock us? Why threaten us? Why call us heretics?

It seems to me you want to have your cake and eat it too. You want to proclaim a God who slaughters, but then you recoil when slaughter touches “your side.” You want to sanctify the gun when it protects your tribe, but demonize it when it turns against you. You want a world where enemies are vanquished, but you never want to consider that you may be someone else’s enemy.

This is not solid, Christ-centered theology. This is projection. This is scapegoating. And most of all, this is hate masquerading as righteousness.

My Own History with “Violence”

I’ll put this plainly: I am decidedly nonviolent. That is not a boast, it’s a commitment. I believe Jesus reveals a God who is nonviolent. I believe humans are called to embody that nonviolence in every way possible. And yet, I have been called more violent names than I can count. “Heretic.” “Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing.” “Apostate.” “One with the Devil.” And, of course, the ever-classic: “Professor of Word Vomit.”

For what crime? For saying God doesn’t burn people in hell forever and that the death of Jesus was nothing more than a state-sponsored lynching?

I don’t take these words lightly. I have, at times, been deeply wounded by them. When I released Heretic! and later Heretic, Too!, I plastered those condemnations right on the covers as a way to take ownership, to transform vitriol into satire. But make no mistake: those condemnations still came at a cost.

And so, when I see myself and others like me lumped into the narrative that “the left” killed Charlie Kirk, it feels like an extension of that same twisted logic. You don’t actually care about consistency. You don’t actually care about truth. You care about having an enemy. You care about having someone to hate.

The Violence We Ignore

Let’s also be clear: Charlie Kirk did not emerge in a vacuum. He built a career amplifying conspiracy theories, vilifying marginalized people, and cheering on a culture of guns, walls, and authoritarianism. That doesn’t mean he deserved to die—no one deserves assassination—but it does mean we can’t pretend that his rhetoric wasn’t also violent.

In fact, one of the strangest features of American Christianity is its selective outrage. A gay teenager dies by suicide after being told they are abominable, and silence reigns. A Black man is killed by police, and we’re told to “respect law and order.” A mass shooting erupts in a school, and suddenly “thoughts and prayers” are all that’s on offer.

But when one of their own is gunned down, then suddenly violence is the ultimate evil. Then suddenly everyone must be held accountable, even those of us who have spent years insisting that violence is never God’s way.

Forgive me if I don’t take that moral outrage too seriously.

What We Mean by Nonviolence

At this point, it might be worth clarifying: when I say God is nonviolent, I do not mean God is passive. Nonviolence is not weakness. Nonviolence is not apathy. Nonviolence is the most powerful force in the universe.

It is the love that absorbs hatred without replicating it. It is the forgiveness that breaks the cycle of revenge. It is the justice that restores rather than destroys.

And it is this force—this Christlike, cruciform love—that I have been arguing for in book after book. From the Blood of Abel. Heretic! Heretic, Too! Blog posts. Podcasts. Articles. Again and again, the same refrain: God does not kill. God does not destroy. God does not condemn.

That has been my message. That has been my heartbeat. And for that, I and those who take the same posture as me have been labeled the dangerous ones.

Now, in the wake of Kirk’s assassination, I am told that my camp—progressive Christians, deconstructionists, peacemakers—are the ones with blood on our hands.

Friends, the absurdity speaks for itself.

The Real Heresy

If there is a heresy here, it’s not mine. It’s not those of us who argue for divine nonviolence. Rather, it’s those who insist that God is violent and then act shocked when violence fills their world.

The real heresy is sanctifying bloodshed and then scapegoating your enemies for its inevitable consequences.

The real heresy is refusing to see that every gun, every bomb, every justification of “holy war” flows downstream from your picture of God. If God is violent, then humans will be violent in God’s name. If God demands sacrifice, then humans will demand sacrifice in God’s name. It’s a tale as old as time.

This is the theology that has fueled crusades, inquisitions, colonization, slavery, apartheid, and, yes, American nationalism. And it is this theology that killed Jesus.

Not me. Not progressive Christians. Not “the left.”

Grief Without Scapegoating

I want to say this clearly so that no one misunderstands me (though I’m sure the Right will try): Charlie Kirk’s assassination is tragic by the very definition of the term. It is a human life cut short. His family is grieving. His friends are mourning. His followers are shaken. That matters, and it should! Violence is always a loss.

But grief does not give you license to scapegoat. Mourning does not give you license to demonize. If you are truly against violence, then join us—those of us who have been preaching divine nonviolence all along. Stop calling us heretics. Stop telling us we’ll burn in hell. Stop mocking the very theology that offers you a way out of this cycle of bloodshed.

Where Do We Go from Here?

So, when it is all said and done, do we really want peace, or do we just want the never-ending cycle of revenge?

If you are furious that Charlie Kirk was murdered, then you already know violence is evil. You already know it is not of God. So why resist the conclusion? Why not follow that thread all the way through and see that the God revealed in Jesus Christ is love, and love is nonviolent?

You can’t have it both ways. You can’t exalt a violent God and then decry violence when it strikes close to home. You can’t condemn us for preaching nonviolence and then accuse us of violence when tragedy occurs. The way forward is clear. It has always been clear. Lay down your swords. Stop scapegoating your enemies. Embrace the nonviolent God revealed in Christ.

That’s the gospel. That’s the good news. And until that message is heard, we will keep spinning in this endless cycle of blood and blame, violence and vengeance, death and denial.

If this resource spoke to you—if it made you feel seen, challenged, or just a little less alone in a world slipping further into authoritarianism—please consider becoming a paid subscriber to The Quollective. We’re not backed by billionaires or corporate sponsors. We’re funded by people like you. People who believe in truth-telling, justice, and the power of art and intellect to fight back.

Your monthly or yearly subscription helps us amplify the voices that white Christian nationalism wants to silence—historians, journalists, queer and Black creators, poets, satirists, and ex-theologians who know this beast from the inside.

If you believe in what we’re doing, don’t just read. Stand with us. [Subscribe now.]