
“There are no great men of God, never has been, never will be. There are only small, tiny, weak, faithless men of a great and merciful God.”
– Paul Washer
I suppose, as a young man, I am writing this to myself as much as to anyone else. I will not accomplish great things when compared to my heroes—men like Dwight D. Eisenhower, Pappy Gunn, R.G. LeTourneau, James H. Doolittle, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, David, Jonathan, Paul, Stephen, Joshua, Martin Luther, Jim Elliot, Jonathan Edwards, Thomas Watson, William Tyndale, Thomas Cranmer, C.S. Lewis, John MacArthur, Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Chad Robichaux, Paul Washer, and yes…Charlie Kirk.
That may look like a strange list—admittedly, it does to me as well. A random collection of men who have impacted me in some way, shaped my worldview, taught me lessons, and become my friends, even though I have never met a single one. Each of these men is very different from the others. They had different theological convictions, different sins, and different successes. Some died at a ripe old age; some died as martyrs; some still live, declaring the Gospel. The last died in front of our collective eyes—an image burned into my mind, and I’m sure into yours as well.
Even now, volumes are being written about the Charlie Kirk assassination—about how we, “the Western world,” got here, and about who is to blame. There will be many who will try to pick up (as Ben Shapiro said) “the bloody microphone.” The conservative right will unite for a while; petty arguments will be laid aside. There will be much pontification about the battle we are in. Words like “never again” will echo. Brilliant minds—far more brilliant than mine—will offer solutions and calls to action; some with anger, some with eloquence, many with genuine humility. I believe a generation of young men and women will collectively raise their voices, saying: “I WANT TO BE LIKE CHARLIE.
This is a good thing. It will change our society for the better. But I want to remind myself, and maybe you as well, of something important: if we want to be like Charlie, we must know the Man Charlie sought to imitate. That Man is Jesus Christ.
A Strange Chapter for Strange Times
Exodus chapter four may feel like a strange place to turn after this past week, but we are living in strange times. The chapter begins with God giving Moses miraculous signs that he will use to convince Pharaoh to let Israel go, but before it closes, we read a sobering reminder of the seriousness of obedience to God, even in things that may seem trivial in the midst of great tasks.
Then Moses answered, “But behold, they will not believe me or listen to my voice, for they will say, ‘The LORD did not appear to you.’” The LORD said to him, “What is that in your hand?” He said, “A staff.” And he said, “Throw it on the ground.” So he threw it on the ground, and it became a serpent, and Moses ran from it. But the LORD said to Moses, “Put out your hand and catch it by the tail”—so he put out his hand and caught it, and it became a staff in his hand—“that they may believe that the LORD, the God of their fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has appeared to you.” Again, the LORD said to him, “Put your hand inside your cloak.” And he put his hand inside his cloak, and when he took it out, behold, his hand was leprous like snow. Then God said, “Put your hand back inside your cloak.” So he put his hand back inside his cloak, and when he took it out, behold, it was restored like the rest of his flesh. “If they will not believe you,” God said, “or listen to the first sign, they may believe the latter sign. If they will not believe even these two signs or listen to your voice, you shall take some water from the Nile and pour it on the dry ground, and the water that you shall take from the Nile will become blood on the dry ground.” (Exod 4:1–9)
Even with these miraculous signs, Moses wavered:
But Moses said to the LORD, “Oh, my Lord, I am not eloquent, either in the past or since you have spoken to your servant, but I am slow of speech and of tongue.” Then the LORD said to him, “Who has made man’s mouth? Who makes him mute, or deaf, or seeing, or blind? Is it not I, the LORD? Now therefore go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall speak.” (Exod 4:10–12)
Still, Moses pleaded for God to send someone else, and God relented by appointing Aaron as Moses’ “mouth.” Then, as they set out for Egypt, something even more extraordinary happens—something that seems almost out of place. The very man God had called through signs and wonders, the very man God had saved as a baby from the butchery of Pharaoh—in a moment, God sought to put this man, Moses, to death.
At a lodging place on the way the LORD met him and sought to put him to death. Then Zipporah took a flint and cut off her son’s foreskin and touched Moses’ feet with it and said, “Surely you are a bridegroom of blood to me!” So he let him alone. It was then that she said, “A bridegroom of blood,” because of the circumcision. (Exod 4:24–26)
God had saved Moses to do something incredible, to lead his chosen people out of slavery. Yet here, in this one moment, God shows he does not need Moses at all. These verses show the seriousness of leadership and obedience. By neglecting to circumcise his son, Moses had disobeyed the covenant. God, in his righteousness, would not overlook this sin, even though he had saved Moses for something great.
Just Men, Not Great Men
How is this passage applicable? Because Charlie Kirk—like each of the men I listed above—is just that: a man. We are all just men. Until we are willing to submit ourselves to the Word, so God can circumcise our hearts by His Spirit, we cannot expect to be useful, and we should not expect to be used.
See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ. For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, and you have been filled in him, who is the head of all rule and authority. In him also you were circumcised with a circumcision made without hands, by putting off the body of the flesh, by the circumcision of Christ, having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the powerful working of God, who raised him from the dead. (Col 2:8–12)
The reason Charlie Kirk was effective or great, the reason he was assassinated, was not because of Charlie, Trump, or MAGA. It was despite those things. His voice grew because the Holy Spirit was alive within him; his voice echoes because he spoke the living Word of God. If we want God to use us, we must make ourselves usable. That means fleeing immorality, separating ourselves from idolatry, loving our wives, teaching our kids, serving Christ’s Church, and in all of this, saturating ourselves with the living Word of God.
Here’s something terrifying to chew on: apart from the saving grace of God, you and I are more like Tyler Robinson (the man charged with Charlie's murder) than any of our Christian heroes. “But for the grace of God, there go I.” If you want to be like Charlie, you must recognize that he was always pointing to someone else. His life, his values, his answers, his convictions—all pointed to his Saviour, Jesus Christ.
If you want to be like Charlie—and you should—then pick up your Bible and read it cover to cover, again and again. Memorize its words. Sing its Psalms. Pray its prayers. Write its wisdom on the tablet of your heart. Learn what God hates and run from it. Learn what God loves and do those things. Make it so much a part of your life that, to quote Paul Washer again, “When they cut you, you bleed the Bible.” Charlie Kirk bled the Bible.
Many will seek to pick up the microphone. There is already debate about who that can or cannot be—it is irrelevant. The microphone was not Charlie’s to begin with, and it is not eloquence or talent that will make the next voice ring.
You want to be like Charlie? Then become like Christ. Do not become distracted pursuing titles or followers, clicks or retweets. If you want to be like Charlie, set your hands to the work in front of you, to the people God has surrounded you with, not some hypothetical audience you may or may not have.
The great men of old were great because they served Yahweh. The great men of today are great because they serve Yahweh—who, in His love for us, sent His perfect Son to come and live on earth in human form, to be the greatest man who ever lived, to die sinless with the sin of the world upon Him, and on the third day to rise again, defeating death forever.
As Jesus said, “Whoever would be great among you must be your servant” (Mark 10:43). We must seek to serve Christ as our heroes did, remembering above all else: Soli Deo Gloria—for the glory of God alone.