An Open Letter to Pastors Regarding Charlie Kirk…From a Man

Charlie Kirk was a brilliant mind. When it came to reading, retaining, and recalling information, he was remarkable. Yet, like many in the early church, he was not formally educated in seminary—or even in college. (In that sense, he was much like a fisherman from Galilee.) His ability to absorb knowledge and defend it with conviction might have been inherited, but the courage to display it publicly before hostile audiences surely was not. His grasp of Scripture, history, and politics—combined with his willingness to defend them in the public arena—remains admirable, especially to men like me.

If the impact of a person’s life can be measured by the fruit of their passing, then Charlie Kirk must serve as an example. Given the Christ-centered nature of his memorial service, I would estimate that thousands of people gave their lives to Jesus in response to the clear proclamation of the gospel. While it be can’t be proven, that number could have reached into the tens of thousands considering his international influence, particularly in the United Kingdom and South Korea.

In light of this astonishing reality, Christian leaders should ask themselves: how many people came to faith at the deaths of Christian apologist Ravi Zacharias, Bible teacher R.C. Sproul, or even the world-renowned evangelist Billy Graham? Granted, these men were not young and were not murdered in the open—but they were public figures, deeply educated in theology and evangelism. Yet, in the wake of Charlie’s assassination, young and old alike are turning to God and to civic engagement, rejecting the polite but misguided notion that politics and faith should never mix.

So why has the most-watched martyrdom of a non-ordained minister and political strategist inspired so many to take their Christian faith more seriously—to boldly live and speak their beliefs, including their cultural and political implications? It’s because, unlike many pastors and professional theologians who avoid political issues from the pulpit, Charlie gave hands and feet to core Christian doctrines. He lived them out in the arena of public policy instead of keeping them comfortably confined within church walls.

And as a man, that was one of the main reasons I admired Charlie Kirk. He wasn’t soft. He showed men—especially those who feel stifled in or even by the church—what it looks like to confront evil with both courage and respect. Still, Charlie believed most pastors were cowards. He often suggested that if we were living in Germany during the 1930s, most church leaders would have been content to “just preach the Word” while singing loud enough to drown out the sound of the trains.

Was Charlie wrong?

Men are action-oriented. We can only sit in men’s groups for so long before wondering, “Why are we here?” and “What are we doing?” Some men may enjoy that environment for a time, but many are weary of passivity—of singing songs and listening to sermons once a week with little call to action. Men can choose to be more involved, yes—but are pastors giving them an example like Charlie did? Are pastors showing men what it means to be knowledgeable, bold, and steady—encouraging theological conviction not only to shape their home life but civic policy?

Pastors cannot be content to merely teach doctrine without demonstrating how to live it out in a postmodern, masculine, Christian world. 1

For instance, we affirm the uniquely Christian doctrine of Imago Dei—that God created men and women in His image. So what? What’s the real impact of that belief? How do we live it out in a culture that teaches life sprang spontaneously from a single cell? How can we tolerate laws that allow the murder of innocent life under the guise of “reproductive health,” while eagle eggs are more protected by law than any unborn child in America?

Imago Dei means that all life comes from God and is therefore sacred. The implications are vast. This truth compels us to care for the homeless, the addicted, the elderly, those with special needs—and yes, especially for babies in the womb. All of these ministries are good and necessary. But if Imago Dei means anything at all, it must mean that pastors disciple their congregations to reject, clearly and unequivocally, any notion resembling “My body, my choice.” Such thinking is not Christian and cannot be tolerated in the church—any more than the sin of a “Christian” man sleeping with his mother-in-law.

Many churches faithfully serve their communities through schools, recovery programs, and special needs ministries—important works that embody Imago Dei and are not surprisingly applauded by polite society. Yet few address the elephant in the room: the moral and political realities shaping laws that impact millions of unborn children. Clearly, this political expression of Imago Dei doesn’t sit well with some in the church, let alone the world, but it is essential to the gospel’s witness.

Pastors must have the honesty and courage to tell their congregations that one of the most tangible ways to live out Imago Dei for the most vulnerable among us is to enter the messy, dangerous arena of politics. Instead of ignoring politics like most pastors seem to do for whatever reason, Charlie pressed into it. Rob McCoy, Charlie’s pastor in Phoenix, explained it this way: “Charlie saw politics as an on-ramp to Jesus. He believed that if he could get people rowing together in the streams of liberty, they would eventually find their way to its source—and that source is the Lord.”

I’ll end with a quote by Theodore Roosevelt—words that could be said of Charlie Kirk and, I believe, should be said of every pastor who desires to lead bravely:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles... The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena... who errs, who comes short again and again... but who does actually strive to do the deeds... so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

Since the assassination of Charlie Kirk, my prayer for myself and for pastors across America is that we would not be critics—cold and timid souls content with safety and silence. May pastors and church leaders have the faith and courage to do what is hard and necessary, placing their personal faith in Christ on public—and even political—display.

Because if the doctrine of Imago Dei and others similar to it remain theoretical, confined to the walls of the church, we will suffer ruin—and allow brave souls like Charlie Kirk to take the bullets that were probably meant for us.

The truth is, the Bible doesn’t reject “politics” (the life of the city); it redefines it. History is filled with so-called “Christian” voices who used Scripture to defend slavery, while only a few Spirit-filled believers used it to defeat it. In other words, our first citizenship must shape our second, or our second will corrupt our first. Charlie’s heavenly citizenship was always foremost in his life and work—and because he lived and died for that conviction, many men like myself long to follow his example. Charlie set a modern precedent for that kind of courage. But we need more examples like his from within the church—and from the pulpit.

Your co-laborer in the Gospel,


Micah Coate
, President and Host, Salvation and Stuff

Footnotes:

1. It’s interesting to note that the late John MacArthur once believed Christians should not engage in politics. In his book Why Government Can’t Save You: An Alternative to Political Activism (2000), he took the same default stance held by many Christians today: “The church’s job is not to change the culture, but to preach the saving gospel of Jesus Christ so that God can change hearts.” — John MacArthur, Why Government Can’t Save You

   
   

   But, not surprisingly, when the spirit of the age knocked on his church door during the COVID lockdown of 2020, his views quickly changed. MacArthur and his elders’ understanding of Romans 13 evolved, and they chose to defy the state mandate. Grace Community Church filed suit against the State of California and Los Angeles County, arguing that the restrictions on in-person worship violated their constitutional right to the free exercise of religion. In the end, the state and county paid Grace Community Church approximately $800,000 to resolve the litigation.

   
   

   The lesson is predictable: it’s easy to stay out of politics when the state leaves you alone. But how any minister today can think the state or the culture is not being intrusive—when it actively dictates what your congregants may or may not do through policy regarding abortion, homosexuality, transgenderism, DEI, and others—is beyond me.

   
   

   Though I have severe doctrinal differences with John MacArthur, I became an admirer of his courage in defying the state. His example should serve as a challenge and inspiration to other pastors today.