On July 13, I was sitting near a stage in Butler Pennsylvania when an assassin’s rifle rang out, and a bullet nearly took our president’s life. After being evacuated from the venue, still unaware of the President’s condition, my phone rang. It was Charlie Kirk. Because of course it was.
I doubt I was his first call – he had many friends on that stage, but he called me, nonetheless. After assuring him that I was fine, he asked if I would appear on his show. I replied, “Of course, Charlie. It would be an honor.” I figured my scheduler would call his scheduler and we’d find a time and I’d do his show in the next few days.
Instead, he replied, “Great! We’re live now.” And so, shortly after the shooting, I found myself on one of the biggest shows in the world, quite literally from the back of my campaign bus, able to tell my story and with the opportunity to reassure America in the immediate aftermath of that horrific event.
And now, as I turn from telling this small story about Charlie to finding words to describe who he was, what he meant, and the light he shown on our world, I find my words failing me. I loved Charlie. And Charlie loved us all.
His light will never be extinguished – not by an assassin, not by the forces of evil in a fallen world, not by the passage of time – because the love in Charlie’s heart for our Lord and for all of us is bigger and brighter than any force aligned against it.
Goodbye, my friend. Godspeed to your final glory.