In the etiquette world I live and breathe, I steer clear of the conversational landmines: politics and religion. Unless you know you’re on the same team, it’s more gracious to keep the conversation light and let deeper beliefs rest unspoken. But when the assassin’s bullet ended Charlie Kirk’s young life, something in me shifted.
At his memorial, the name Jesus Christ rang out more than I’ve heard outside of Sunday service—no whispers, just faith spoken boldly.
I’m a Christian. I’ve never hidden it, yet I rarely announce it. My faith usually appears in passing remarks: “I can’t make dinner because I have choir practice,” or “Can we meet for brunch after church?” That has felt sufficient. Business conversations? Only if someone asks. It’s the same courtesy that keeps me from prying about someone’s age, children, or politics.
I grew up Protestant, rising early each Sunday for church. I resisted the routine of my youth, but the cadence of worship quietly shaped my beliefs.
I watched Kirk’s funeral from start to finish, three intermissions included. Sunday is a day of rest in our home, and I absorbed it like a long, quiet prayer.
Politics complicates grief. Many online commenters spoke ill of him even in death. But the First Amendment protects every voice—even those I’d rather not hear. To speak ill of the dead dishonors us all. Good behavior is my brand because it is the practice of daily respect and restraint. Civility is not weakness; civility is strength. To me, the very nature of God is without prejudice. To claim otherwise is to misunderstand Him—and that is ignorance.
The week after the assassination, a reporter called for a comment about the harsh words aimed at the dead. My response came easily: true civility begins with forgiving ourselves first—echoing the Lord’s Prayer, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,” a reminder to seek God’s mercy for our own missteps while extending the same forgiveness to others.
This tragedy reminds me that faith is not a footnote. Not even close. Faith shapes how we forgive and how we live. Faith is simple yet profound, calling us to trust in its quiet strength and spirituality.
Charlie Kirk stood firm in his convictions, just as our parents, teachers, and faith leaders have done. Whether we shared his views or not, we can choose to respond with grace, not scorn. The internet’s noise only magnifies confusion, but the true compass is a steady sense of right and wrong. From that place we accept people as they are, agree to disagree, and show compassion even when beliefs differ.
Charlie may have been just a chapter in our lives—one not everyone agreed with—but his faith and conviction left a lasting imprint.
That is the civility America is starving for, and the grace I pray we reclaim.
