Words will never be able to convey how devastated we are that Charlie Kirk was taken from us far too soon.
I had the honor and privilege of not just knowing Charlie professionally as a fellow warrior in the conservative movement, but as a close friend and my most influential mentor for the past eight years.
All of you know Charlie for what you saw on social media and television — a fierce fighter with strong convictions who deeply loved our country and fearlessly advocated for his vision for a stronger future. I spent a lot of time with this Charlie — speaking on college campuses and facing the crowds of protesters with a smile on our faces, staying up into all hours of the night live-streaming election coverage, and breaking the news of the day on The Charlie Kirk Show.
What most of you never saw, what God blessed me with the opportunity to witness, was the Charlie who lived off-screen. The young man who lived for a Chicago Cubs game and watched them in green rooms before speeches all over the country. The person who recorded silly videos with my siblings at the endless political conferences we attended over the years. The guy who would spar with me over TikTok’s necessity to save the country as I pleaded with him to finally make an account (and thank God he did). The friend who personally wrote my recommendation letter for my job application for a position at the White House. The husband who inspired me to get serious about the type of man I wanted to marry. The father who’d sing with his beautiful wife and children on FaceTime while traveling away from home, promising that daddy would be home soon. The enthusiastic big-brother-figure who spent an hour ignoring his fans at Mar-a-Lago while dressed to the nines to rattle off parenting advice to my husband and me as we joyfully shared the news of our pregnancy last winter. The servant leader who sought wisdom from God above all else, and deeply yearned for the closest relationship to Christ he could foster.
Today, we are all shocked, devastated, angry, and deeply filled with sorrow — but I unexpectedly also find a glimmer of joy after spending the day with Charlie last week, sharing the stage at a church in central California.
We’d been briefed a few days before that there’d be some protesters outside, so extra security was called in, and we laughed about how this felt like old times when I was a student at Colorado State and he came to campus, making quite a buzz in the process. We dined with the organizers of the event, and Charlie graciously gestured for me to join him in a Q&A with a smaller group of donors before the main speeches, who, fascinatingly, above all else, had questions about the true battle of good and evil waging in our time and the role people of faith must take to continue spreading the light of the gospel.
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We get these questions a lot, but something felt different about this event. Charlie (as always) spoke with such powerful moral clarity, but I found myself locked in on every word he said as if I was hearing it for the first time. He radiated wisdom from the Holy Spirit in a way that I had never witnessed, publicly or privately, and it was inspiring to behold.
Moments later, we were whisked into separate green rooms before the actual event began on stage with a crowd of about 2,500 people. I poked my head in to wave to Charlie and his team, and he immediately waved me over to sit down and hang out for about an hour before we delivered our speeches.
Normally, we’d talk about politics and what’s happening in the media, but Charlie only wanted to talk about God and the Church. For about an hour, we jovially debated on matters of theology and spoke about, of all things, heaven. Again, I was so touched by his zeal for his faith that was always pervasive in his life, but seemed especially ignited on this particular day.
I left to give my speech, and Charlie said, “Turn the volume up on that monitor! I want to hear the great Isabel speak!!” To which I giggled, and he told me to break a leg.
After I spoke for about 20 minutes, Charlie took the stage, and again captivated the audience in a way I’ve perhaps never seen. He spoke not just about the importance of fighting for our country, but for humanity to once and for all defeat evil. For us to show up and fight in the spiritual warfare we don’t see with our own two eyes, but is waging on constantly all around us. For several minutes, he spoke to our calling from Christ to be “Salt and Light:” a calling misunderstood by many, but boils down to one action — to transform its surroundings.
He pleaded with the audience, humbly and earnestly, that none of us can be in this fight alone. Nor can we expect someone else to do the fighting for us. Instead, we have to show up, on offense, ready to transform culture and society to be rooted in what is good and true and beautiful. We have to be salt and light.
You could hear a pin drop in the room, and the thunderous applause after he was done speaking was deafening.
To me, Charlie Kirk will always be the perfect embodiment of salt and light. Charlie always remembered his friends — not just when it was convenient for him, but he constantly went out of his way to serve others in the small ways you’ll never hear about in the media. He was a fierce friend and a trusted confidant to all who knew him, humbly putting others before himself whenever he could. But he was also a shining beacon. He inspired a nation and an entire generation to seek and speak the truth, consequences be damned. He knew it was his vocation to inspire others with hope to keep fighting for goodness and for God in a society demanding we sit down and shut up and lose that hope.
He transformed the world. And we will never be the same without him.
It’s not an exaggeration to say I owe everything to Charlie. I owe my career to him, I owe my family to him — it was because of Charlie I met my husband at a TPUSA conference, and my daughter wouldn’t exist otherwise. And, in many ways, I owe my faith to him as I sat in a front row seat, marveling at this extraordinary young man’s quest for the Truth of God day in and day out for nearly a decade of my life.
Thinking back to last week, I am so moved by the fact that Charlie spent so much of his quiet free time in the green room with me, talking about faith and heaven. As people of faith, we know that death is a devastating loss, especially when someone so pure was robbed of life so violently and prematurely. But I rejoice in prayer today, even through tears, knowing that today Charlie is more alive than we are in the fullness of eternal life with his Savior and his anchor in heaven. My heart today is with his beautiful wife and children, and I ask that you pray for them earnestly.
Our hearts are shattered, but we promise to keep showing up tomorrow to be salt and light. We love you, Charlie. Pray for us while we wait and yearn to join you in eternal life.
“If you believe in something, you need to have the courage to fight for those ideas – not run away from them or try and silence them.” — @charliekirk11
