The Fake & Fraudulent Prophets Around the President
September 4, 2026 |
Daniel Henderson
We need to talk about Charlie Kirk, especially if you’re a Christian. And what I’ve got to say is probably not what you’re expecting. Because this isn’t about defending him. And it’s not about tearing him down either. It’s about something deeper: what it means to respond like Jesus when someone dies—whether we admired them or thought they were a danger to everything good and holy.
Murder is wrong. Full stop. Jesus taught nonviolence, he modeled nonviolence, and he resisted an oppressive political system with nonviolent resistance. Violence is not the way of Jesus. Gun violence? Even worse. We should be working toward a world where it’s a relic of the past.
So if you’re taking a victory lap when someone you disagree with politically is murdered, you need to check yourself. That is not okay. That response has zero correlation with the teachings of Jesus.
As a pastor, I’ve sat with a lot of families after the death of a loved one. And there’s this one tendency I’ve seen again and again: the moment someone dies, people want to rewrite their story. Suddenly, they were always kind, always wise, always a saint. But let’s be honest—death doesn’t magically transform someone into something they weren’t.
If someone spent their life saying horrifyingly racist things, pushing policies that made violence and discrimination more likely, or working actively against the heart of Jesus’ teachings—death doesn’t erase that. A person who lived much of their life in opposition to the way of Jesus doesn’t suddenly become a hero the moment their heart stops beating.
So if you find yourself sugarcoating someone’s life because they’ve passed, you also need to check yourself. That’s not healthy. That doesn’t honor the truth. And it doesn’t help anyone move forward in an honest way.
Here’s the thing: both of these realities can sit side by side. Murder is wrong, always. It doesn’t suddenly become “justice” just because the victim was someone you disagreed with or even despised. Celebrating someone’s death is never in line with the way of Jesus.
At the same time, death doesn’t rewrite a person’s life. If someone spent their days pushing policies that fueled violence, spreading racism, or loudly preaching ideas that cut against the heart of Jesus’ teachings, their death doesn’t make them a saint. It doesn’t cleanse the record or baptize their choices as holy.
So the faithful response isn’t to fall into one extreme or the other. It’s not cheering for their murder, and it’s not pretending their legacy was somehow Christlike. It’s holding onto the simple truth: murder is wrong, and so is a life spent advocating for harm and injustice.
And this is where empathy really matters. Empathy isn’t some soft optional extra for Christians or a made up new age term — it’s an essential human skill. The ability to empathize with people in difficult situations is a mark of emotional maturity.
If you can’t bring yourself to empathize with people who are grieving — even if the person who died was someone you thought was way off the rails — then you need to pause and ask: what’s going on in me that’s blocking empathy? Because grief is grief. Pain is pain. And part of being human, and certainly part of following Jesus, is learning how to recognize and honor the suffering of others.
Now, here’s just a pro tip from someone who creates online content: if you find yourself leaning into one of the extremes — celebrating someone’s death on one side, or sanctifying them on the other — don’t post. Just don’t. The internet doesn’t need your hot take if it lacks empathy.
And if you already posted something and your comments are filling up with hate, take a hard look at why. If your words ignored people’s grief or landed in an extreme with no compassion, just take it down. It’s not worth the flood of negativity in your life, and it’s certainly not worth misrepresenting the way of Jesus to the world.
