When the news broke on Wednesday that Charlie Kirk—activist, speaker, founder of Turning Point USA—was shot while speaking at Utah Valley University, I was heartbroken and devastated. I had followed him for years and admired his faith, tenacity and strength. And when I heard he had passed away, I couldn’t hold back the tears. He was only 31 and left behind a wife, two precious little children, a platform many admired, some resisted, and a voice that now echoes louder in his absence than it ever did in life.

Whether you were a fan of him or not, please stick with me here for a minute.

I posted on social media to pray for him and his family immediately upon hearing about this horrific tragedy. Shortly after, someone close to me sent me a text message suggesting I remove that post because “what if some people didn’t agree with his views?” or “it could offend someone or make them mad,” or “people might unfollow you on social media.”

But I did not remove it, and some people did unfollow me. And honestly, that’s okay. You know why?

Because even though many of us, including me, didn’t always fully agree with every single thing Charlie said, he was a good, innocent man persecuted for his Christian beliefs. He deserved to be prayed for and honored for literally dying for his faith, just like all those men and women in the Bible that we all study about, read about and admire. None of them were perfect or without flaw, and many people disagreed with their views and beliefs – yet they stood firm in their faith, no matter what.

Whether we wear red or blue, or align ourselves ‘left’ or ‘right’, doesn’t matter. Whether we agreed with all of his opinions or not is actually irrelevant. All that matters is that he was a fellow human being, Christian and patriotic American, and God created each of us with space in our hearts for human decency, love and compassion – even for those we don’t agree with.  And as believers, we are held to an even higher expectation to show love, and hatred has no place in our hearts.

But through this horrific tragedy, I feel a light is emerging. A new spark has been lit in my heart, and clearly in the hearts of countless others, to stand up for what we believe and think about the legacies we want to leave.

You may have seen this as well, but I watched an interview done with Charlie just a few months ago and he was asked what he most wanted to be remembered for when he died. His answer was simple: “I want to be remembered for courage, for my faith … the most important thing in my life is my faith.”

He wanted courage and his unwavering, bold faith to define him. And although the world will never agree fully on some of the things he felt strongly about and stood firm in, his death is not only tragic, but serves as a reminder of how fragile life is, how fleeting moments are, and how quickly we can be forced out of the arena.

But would you agree that it’s also a wake-up call?  For all of us to consider what we are willing to stand for—even when standing costs something—and if we’re willing to step outside of our comfort zones and live in the moment. For all of us to consider what we want to be most remembered for.

Faith isn’t meant to be comfortable. It’s meant to be courageous. We live in an era where it’s easier to hold opinions quietly than to speak them boldly. To conform rather than challenge. To stay safe rather than stand up. To keep quiet, rather than tell our stories of God’s goodness.  Yet there’s something holy in refusing to shrink and lean into the hard. Something sacred in letting our beliefs breathe audibly, not just privately, especially when it comes to the salvation of others.

So what does it look like to live in the moment—with boldness, with faith, with urgency?

First, tell your story. Your testimony, your journey, your bruised places, your moments of doubt—these are not weaknesses. They are your power. They are the living proof that God is alive and working in today’s broken world.

Second, obey your calling—whatever form that takes. Maybe you’re called to write a book. Maybe to speak. Or to love your neighbor, to teach, to serve, to advocate. Obedience isn’t always loud. It isn’t always public. But it changes everything. It builds legacy, and we never know how much time we have to build the legacy we want to be remembered for.

Charlie Kirk died speaking to thousands—bringing his message, stirring hearts, young and old. Whether you agreed with him or not, whether you saw his every word as gold or as a flashpoint, his life is a reminder that time runs out. That platform, opportunity, voice—it’s all temporary.

So don’t wait for “someday.” Don’t wait for perfect confidence or the perfect audience. You don’t have to be celebrated by all. You only need to be true to what God has placed in you.

Charlie’s voice for Christ might have been silenced, but as long we have breath, our voices can be used to help others know the Truth.