I was at work when my phone rang. The first words out of my son’s mouth were, “Mom, I’m safe.” My heart immediately sank, because I knew something was terribly wrong. He then told me that he had been at the shooting of Charlie Kirk.
My poor son witnessed someone being assassinated. Just writing those words feels unbearable. As a parent, it is heartbreaking to realize we live in a world where no matter how hard we try, we cannot shield our children from violence, fear, and evil. To know he saw such horror shakes me to my core. It’s a sobering reminder that society is deeply broken when shootings occur at all.
In moments like this, grief mixes with anger. Fear wrestles with faith. And questions swirl in the mind—How did we get here? Why does this keep happening? But even as those thoughts rush in, I know that despair cannot be the final word.
The enemy of our souls would love nothing more than for moments like this to silence us—to silence faith, to silence truth, to silence conviction. Yet it is exactly in times like these that we must find the courage to speak, to live, and to love more boldly than before.
The psalmist reminds us:
“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” (Psalm 27:1)
God is still our light. He is still our refuge. And He is still greater than the darkness that surrounds us. When tragedy strikes, we can lean into Him for strength and draw courage to keep standing for what is good and true.
I pray for Charlie Kirk’s family as they mourn the loss of a husband, a father, a friend. Their world has been forever changed. And my prayers are also with every person who was there, including my son, who now carries this memory with him.
But I also pray for something more. I pray that instead of retreating into fear, we will rise with hope. That instead of being silenced, we will find our voices. That we will teach our children—and remind ourselves—that light shines brightest in the darkest night.
Hope is not naïve. Hope is powerful. It is an act of faith. It is the refusal to let evil write the ending of the story. My son’s words—“Mom, I’m safe”—were a reminder to me that God still holds our lives in His hands, and that every new day is a chance to live with purpose, to share truth, and to love with courage.
So today I choose hope. I choose to believe that even in the chaos, God is at work. And I encourage you to do the same: hold fast to your faith, speak boldly of your values, and never underestimate the impact of a single voice that refuses to be silenced.
Because light will always outshine the darkness.
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