Walz And Frey Should Be Arrested For Inciting 2020 2.0
The corrupt governor and his radical Minneapolis sidekick have long demonized ICE agents. Wednesday's events should come as no surprise.The corrupt governor and his radical Minneapolis sidekick have long demonized ICE agents. Wednesday's events should come as no surprise.Preparedness isn’t paranoia. It’s pattern recognition.
A certain smug comfort belongs to people who have never stood between a riot line and a camera, never smelled accelerant on the wind, never watched their phones lose signal while fire chewed through an entire neighborhood. They talk about “heated rhetoric” and “charged atmospheres” as if danger were theoretical. For women reporters on the ground, it isn’t.
The front line is not a metaphor. It is a place. And it is getting more dangerous by the year.
This is not a gadget story. It is a survival story.
I have covered Antifa riots where the mob knew my name before I reached the sidewalk. I have been screamed at, followed, and threatened by people who publicly denounce violence while privately practicing it. I have watched law enforcement stand down under progressive policies that place the comfort of agitators above the safety of citizens. And I have learned, the hard way, that when cities become unlivable, women pay first.
The left loves to talk about “lived experience.” Here is mine: Democrat governance has made America’s major cities objectively less safe, and being a female independent journalist in them now requires the mindset of a survivalist.
That became brutally clear during the Los Angeles wildfires of 2025.
I was there when the sky turned orange and evacuation orders contradicted one another. Cell towers failed. Emergency lines were overwhelmed. Friends and family lost homes — not hypothetically, not statistically, but completely. In that chaos, the only reason I was able to coordinate help, locate people, and call for assistance was a satellite phone. While 911 systems collapsed, that device worked. No signal dependency. No excuses.
That is not a gadget story. It is a survival story.
The same lesson repeats itself elsewhere. In Washington, D.C., shootings now occur in places that once felt immune — near offices, events, and corridors of power. I was at Butler. I have been steps away from moments that could have gone very differently. Anyone insisting that “these things don’t happen here” is either lying or sheltered by privilege.
When whistleblowers reach out to me, they do not do it over casual cell calls. They use secure satellite communications, because they understand something our leaders prefer not to acknowledge: privacy is safety. Satellite phones are resistant to interception, independent of fragile infrastructure, and immune to spam and shutdowns. When people have something dangerous to say, they choose tools that help keep them alive.
This is not paranoia. It is pattern recognition.
People have died hiking because there was no signal. Boaters have vanished because help could not be reached. Hurricanes do not care about ideology. Fires do not check voter registration. Yet one party consistently opposes disaster preparedness, energy independence, and resilient infrastructure — while demanding blind trust in systems that fail precisely when they are needed most.
Preparedness is not extremism. It is common sense.
Redundancy in communication is not political. Neither are solar-powered backups or hardened devices. Nor is concern about electromagnetic vulnerabilities when our lives run through centralized, fragile networks. Thinking ahead does not make you radical. It makes you female in a country that keeps telling women to be brave while stripping away the tools that make bravery survivable.
And yes, it matters who builds those tools.
If I am calling for help, I want American customer service — American voices, American-owned companies. Safety should not come with a foreign accent and a hold button. Trust is part of security.
This is why satellite phones, solar chargers, emergency kits, and hardened cases are no longer niche products. They are rational responses to an increasingly unstable political and physical environment. They are also meaningful gifts — because nothing says you care like giving someone a way to come home alive.
RELATED: A nation without trust is a nation on borrowed time
Which brings us to 2026.
Around President Trump, TPUSA events, or Republican members of Congress, the threat environment is asymmetric. The left has normalized political violence while denying it exists. Media figures excuse it. Politicians minimize it. Prosecutors decline to prosecute it. And women journalists who refuse to conform are expected to absorb the consequences quietly.
I won’t.
The question voters should ask heading into the midterms is not which party sounds kinder on cable news. It is which party acknowledges reality — and equips Americans, especially women, to survive it.
One side treats chaos as a political tool. The other treats safety as the foundation of freedom.
I know which one kept me connected when the fires closed in. I know which one refuses to pretend riots are “mostly peaceful.” And I know which one understands that strong borders, strong policing, resilient infrastructure, and personal preparedness are not luxuries in dangerous times.
The front line is expanding. It runs through our cities, our forests, our streets, and our inboxes. Women are already on it — whether policymakers realize it or not.
The only question left is whether America will choose leaders who take our safety seriously or continue sacrificing us to ideology.
Because the danger is real. And pretending otherwise is the most reckless policy of all.
Riot, repeat: How America’s unrest became a bad rerun
History doesn’t just move forward — it echoes. Karl Marx once said history repeats itself, “first as tragedy, second as farce.” He meant it as a jab at 19th-century France, where Napoleon’s nephew attempted to replicate his uncle’s revolutionary drama not on the battlefield but rather through bureaucratic spectacle. Nevertheless, Marx’s insight fits modern America. Our cycles of unrest and outrage have become predictable theater — each act beginning with moral panic and ending in absurdity.
The summer of 2020 was a national trauma. The killing of George Floyd was a tragedy that radicals turned into revolution. Riots swept through more than 2,000 cities, torching businesses, destroying neighborhoods, and leaving dozens dead. Egged on by the race-baiting activists at Black Lives Matter, mobs looted stores, assaulted police, and terrorized communities.
The line between tragedy and farce is thinner than ever — and this time, we can’t afford to play the fool.
Media outlets downplayed the carnage as “fiery but mostly peaceful.” Political leaders joined the chorus, afraid to confront the mob. Corporate America rushed to signal its virtue by taking the knee, pouring billions into “racial equity” schemes that enriched activists but divided the country.
The real tragedy wasn’t just the damage — it was the betrayal. Spineless mayors and governors surrendered their cities. Police were handcuffed, budgets gutted, and criminals emboldened. The riots hollowed out public trust, replacing civic order with cultural resentment. America’s guardians became scapegoats, and justice itself became negotiable.
From riot to parody
Five years on, the rebellion has devolved into a pathetic sideshow. Antifa’s latest “resistance” — a handful of masked agitators harassing Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents as they carry out long-overdue deportations — feels less like revolution and more like performance art.
Their vandalism is designed for TikTok, not for change: laser pointers at officers, graffiti on walls, choreographed scuffles for social media. It’s a boutique insurgency — staged in deep-blue enclaves, broadcast for dopamine hits, and forgotten the next day.
The chaos of 2020 burned cities. The tantrums of 2025 barely dent a precinct wall. The tragedy has become farce.
Still, both movements spring from the same poisoned root: a left-wing ideology that despises America’s foundations. BLM targeted police as enforcers of “white supremacy.” Antifa brands border agents as fascists for upholding immigration law.
Both rely on the same tactics — decentralized mobs, anonymous online organizing, and emotional manipulation amplified by social media. Both seek power through grievance, not through persuasion. And both reveal how progressive rage, unmoored from reality, becomes self-parody.
In 2020, rioters burned precincts and seized city blocks. They demanded “defund the police” and got it — along with record crime rates and broken neighborhoods. In 2025, their heirs spray-paint slogans and livestream tantrums. Their only victory is visibility.
The digital theater of rage
Social media turned riots into content. In 2020, doctored clips of “police brutality” fueled nationwide hysteria, empowered anti-cop lunatics, and enriched grifters. Today, the same algorithms push Antifa’s posturing, turning vandalism into viral spectacle.
These platforms profit from outrage. They amplify emotion, suppress context, and reward hysteria. The result is a feedback loop of performative politics — activism as cosplay.
After years of indulgence, government crackdowns have finally returned. ICE operates under firm executive backing. Local police departments no longer hesitate to enforce the law. The radicals, once protected, now find themselves exposed and outmatched.
But even as law enforcement regains its footing, the left’s playbook remains unchanged. The grievances are repackaged, the slogans recycled, the media coverage predictable. It’s cultural Marxism with a TikTok filter — ideology as entertainment.
Farce doesn’t mean harmless. Every protest turned stunt still corrodes civic life. Each viral act of defiance feeds distrust in law, borders, and the rule of order itself.
The radicals thrive on illusion: fake oppression, fake urgency, fake rebellion. Meanwhile, real Americans bear the cost — higher crime, divided communities, and institutions too timid to defend themselves.
RELATED: The left’s costume party: Virtue signaling as performance art
The lesson we refuse to learn
The tragedy of 2020 proved that surrendering to the mob invites ruin. The farce of 2025 shows that ridicule alone isn’t enough to defeat it. Both demand resolve — the courage to confront lies, restore order, and defend the institutions that safeguard freedom.
History doesn’t stop repeating itself; it stops being repeated. Whether America ends this cycle depends on whether its citizens choose firmness over fear, enforcement over appeasement, and truth over spectacle.
Enough with the doctored outrage porn. The burning question is whether we’ll tolerate this clown show recycling into catastrophe or crush it with resolve that honors real American values.
The line between tragedy and farce is thinner than ever — and this time, we can’t afford to play the fool.
Democrats once undermined the Army. Now they undermine the nation.
America again stands on the edge of betrayal, watching mobs assault federal officers while judges call it “restraint.”
This is not new. Between 1876 and 1878, the same script played out as those sworn to uphold the law were branded as tyrants and those undermining it claimed the mantle of freedom. When the federal government lost the will to enforce its own laws, violence filled the vacuum.
How the first ‘Redemption’ worked
After the Civil War, Republican coalitions in the South — freedmen, poor whites, and Northern reformers — were crushed by white Democrats who called themselves “Redeemers.” They promised “home rule” but delivered a racial caste system enforced by terror and political exclusion.
The Redeemers invoked ‘home rule’ to dismantle Reconstruction. Today’s Democratic left invokes ‘human rights’ to paralyze national defense.
The last obstacle to that counterrevolution was federal protection of black voters. During the disputed 1876 election, President Ulysses S. Grant stationed troops at polling sites across the South to deter fraud and Ku Klux Klan violence. Democrats in South Carolina vowed to “wade in blood knee-deep” if necessary to reclaim power.
Those troops were the only shield between freedmen and their former masters. But in the Compromise of 1877, federal forces were withdrawn to buy political peace. Reconstruction governments collapsed, schools for freedmen closed, and voting rights vanished. As W.E.B. Du Bois wrote, “The slave went free; stood a brief moment in the sun; then moved back again toward slavery.”
Southern Democrats soon made that withdrawal permanent. Wrapping themselves in the rhetoric of liberty and “local control,” they pushed the Posse Comitatus Act of 1878, criminalizing use of the Army for domestic law enforcement except when Congress expressly authorized it.
The narrative was set: Federal troops at the polls meant “tyranny”; “home rule” meant “harmony.” In truth, the act cemented the collapse of Reconstruction and led to the birth of Jim Crow, which paralyzed federal defense of civil rights for nearly a century.
RELATED: Stop pretending Posse Comitatus neuters the president
The rhetoric of reversal
Debates over the Posse Comitatus Act dripped with moral inversion. Southern Democrats like Rep. John Atkins of Tennessee and William Kimmel of Maryland denounced President Rutherford B. Hayes as a “monarch” who preferred bullets to ballots. Federal soldiers protecting black voters were smeared as bloodthirsty brutes and “tools of despotism.”
In that twisted language, enforcing the law became tyranny, while mob rule became freedom.
It was early information warfare: delegitimize the protectors, vindicate the aggressors, and freeze lawful authority into submission.
The new paralysis
A century and a half later, the pattern repeats. Democrats, left-wing activists, and their media allies now use essentially the same language to delegitimize immigration enforcement. ICE and Border Patrol agents, upholding laws passed by Congress, are branded as “fascists.” Federal defense of government facilities is denounced as “militarization.”
Judges cite the Posse Comitatus Act to block National Guard deployments meant to protect ICE offices from violent assaults. In Illinois, U.S. District Judge April Perry ruled that deploying the Guard could “add fuel to the fire that they started,” claiming no evidence of impending “rebellion.” The ruling came days before No Kings Day demonstrations.
The Department of Homeland Security had extended fencing around its Broadview facility after earlier attacks — rioters hurling fireworks, bottles, and tear gas while local officials looked away. When the DHS finally reinforced its defenses, the courts ordered them torn down.
Since June, ICE and Border Patrol have endured shootings, arson attempts, and coordinated ambushes. In Dallas, a sniper targeted an ICE field office. In suburban Chicago, federal agents were rammed and pinned by cartel-linked drivers before returning fire. Local police en route to assist were told to stand down.
Within hours, left-wing outlets and activist networks declared the clash proof of “authoritarianism.” The strategy is deliberate: manufacture chaos, provoke a lawful response, then cite that response as evidence of tyranny.
This is a textbook reflexive control operation — using perception to paralyze power. The Redeemers of 1878 called federal troops “despots” and “usurpers.” Their descendants call federal agents “fascists.” The aim is identical: Erode public trust in lawful authority and make enforcement politically impossible.
Citizenship as the battlefield
Then, as now, the real fight centers on citizenship itself.
In the 19th century, freed black Americans embodied the principle that allegiance and equality before the law, not race or birth, define membership in the republic. That ideal shattered the old Southern order, so Redeemers destroyed it.
Today, citizenship threatens a different order — the globalist one. Citizenship implies borders, duties, and distinctions. So progressives seek to redefine it as exclusionary or immoral. Illegal aliens become “newcomers.” Enforcing the law becomes oppression. The federal obligation to protect citizens morphs into a liability.
What began as Redeemer propaganda has evolved into a post-national orthodoxy: Sovereignty is shameful, and the citizen must yield to the “world citizen.” The result is the same — federal paralysis, selective law enforcement, and mobs empowered by moral cover.
RELATED: A president’s job is to stop the burning if governors won’t
Lessons from the first betrayal
The parallels are precise. The Redeemers invoked “home rule” to dismantle Reconstruction; today’s left invokes “human rights” and “de-militarization” to paralyze national defense.
The Posse Comitatus Act was never a sacred constitutional barrier — it was a political tool of retreat. Then it left freedmen defenseless; now it hinders protection of federal agents, citizens, and borders. By turning law into spectacle and restraint into virtue, it leaves our republic unguarded.
History teaches a blunt lesson: Retreat invites terror. When the state retreats, mobs rule. When courts mistake optics for justice, defenders become defendants. The same moral inversion that once enslaved men through “home rule” now threatens to enslave the republic through lawfare.
To survive, America must recover what it lost in 1877 — the courage to act as a nation. Withdrawal is not peace. Compromise, in this instance, is not order. The freedman of this century is the American citizen himself — and the question, once again, is whether the nation that freed him will defend him.
Trump’s National Guard gambit misses the mark
Crime is bad. Violent crime is worse. That’s obvious. It’s not a partisan point. Most Democrats — I happen to be one of them — don’t cheer lawlessness. In fact, 68% of us say crime is a major problem in big cities. A few progressives have attacked police, but they sit far outside the mainstream. Most Democratic voters hold a higher opinion of law enforcement than of traditional liberal pillars like organized labor or public schools.
So if everyone agrees crime is bad, the real argument isn’t over morality — it’s over solutions.
We all agree crime is bad. The question is whether we fight it with empty theatrics or serious, sustained policing.
That’s where President Trump’s anti-crime efforts collapse. Talking tough doesn’t make streets safer. His approach wastes money, strains resources, and distracts from the hard work of policing.
The problem with militarizing cities
Trump’s main crime-fighting move has been deploying the National Guard to large cities like Washington, D.C., and Los Angeles. Chicago, Portland, and San Francisco are also on the president’s list. The images look dramatic, but they don’t reduce crime.
The Posse Comitatus Act bars the president from using the military as a domestic police force, which makes it unclear whether Guardsmen can legally arrest suspects or patrol neighborhoods. Most Guardsmen don’t want to cross that line — and they aren’t trained to. In Washington, the Guard’s own report lists its activities: clearing trash, spreading mulch, and painting fences. Good work, yes — but not policing.
These deployments also carry a hefty price tag. The Los Angeles mission, involving 4,000 guardsmen and 700 Marines for less than two months, cost about $118 million. Washington’s ongoing deployment could exceed that. Long-term operations in cities like Memphis, Portland, and Chicago would drive the bills even higher.
And those aren’t the only costs. The Guard is already stretched thin. Disaster relief missions during brutal wildfire and hurricane seasons have drained manpower and equipment. Overseas deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan reduced recruitment and retention. If the president keeps sending Guardsmen into American cities, they may not be ready when the country faces a real disaster — or, heaven forbid, a war.
Ignoring what works
Instead of chasing headlines, Trump could invest in what actually reduces crime. His One Big Beautiful Bill Act offered funding only for local agencies that cooperate with federal immigration enforcement. It provided nothing to hire or retain more police or prosecutors — the people who actually solve crimes and clear backlogged cases.
The solution is straightforward: Redirect the hundreds of millions spent on National Guard deployments into state and local law enforcement. Departments nationwide face critical shortages. Chicago alone needs about 1,300 more officers.
RELATED: The city that chose crime and chaos over courage
History proves this works. Between the late 1960s and early 1990s, violent crime surged 371%. By 1991, the U.S. murder rate hit a historic peak. Then came the bipartisan 1994 Violent Crime and Law Enforcement Act. The law funded new prisons, domestic violence prevention programs, and — most importantly — about 84,000 additional police officers.
The result? Crime fell sharply. Violent crime has dropped roughly 50% since then. The law had flaws — cutting inmate access to higher education was one — but safer streets remain its chief legacy.
The way to fight crime
If President Trump truly wants to make America safer, he should stop staging photo ops and start funding proven methods. Deploying the National Guard is costly, risky, and legally questionable. Hiring cops, prosecutors, and judges works — and has worked for decades.
We all agree crime is bad. The question is whether we fight it with empty theatrics or serious, sustained policing. The answer should be as clear as the problem itself.
NOT ON OUR WATCH: Patriots stand up to Antifa in Portland
The city of Portland, Oregon, is allegedly being taken over again by blue-haired Antifa leftists — but of course, officials are claiming that everything is fine.
“Portland is not war-ravaged. There’s no insurrection. There’s no threat to national security, and there’s no need for military troops. Military service members should be dedicated to real emergencies,” Oregon Governor Tina Kotek (D) said in a promotional video.
“It’s like, this is the meme,” BlazeTV host Sara Gonzales jokes. “This is literally the ‘everything is fine’ meme. We’re seeing the fire, the fireworks, the Molotov cocktails, the tear gas dispersed, and governor of Oregon says, ‘Everything’s fine.’”
Meanwhile, Antifa has been leading the state through months of unrest — and tax-paying American citizens have had enough of the gaslighting from their local government.
“When you see that Democrat-run cities will not actually handle things, will not actually address things, patriots in this country decided, you know what, we’re going to show up instead,” Gonzales explains, referring to a clip of young men who tried to drown out Antifa by chanting “USA.”
“And you’ve got even more patriots showing up saying, ‘You know what? We’re going to challenge the city of Portland, but we’re going to do it in a respectful, constitutional way. You want to allow Antifa to take over the sidewalks with their medic tents? What happens when we do the same thing?’” she continues.
The host of the “Speak the Truth” podcast, Matt Tardio, is among the patriots standing up to the Oregon government — and he recorded a clip of himself pointing out the “medic tents” that Antifa has set up all over the streets.
“Here’s what we’re going to do, because the Portland police, I don’t think it matters if you want to walk down the street. Antifa is allowed to own this side of the street over here. These are alleged medic tents. So, this is what we’re going to do tomorrow,” Tardio said in the clip.
“This side of the street is going to belong to us because apparently you can just claim sidewalks in Portland as your own and prevent anybody from moving down them. So, my curiosity is simply whether or not we are going to be held to the same standard as Antifa,” he continued.
“Obviously, this should never happen in an American city,” Gonzales comments. “Unfortunately, that is Portland, Oregon, in 2025.”
Want more from Sara Gonzales?
To enjoy more of Sara's no-holds-barred takes on news and culture, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution, and live the American dream.
Charlie Kirk's death revealed the kingdoms colliding in America
The contrast couldn’t be more severe: two martyrs, two causes. One died for the religion of social justice, the other for the gospel of Jesus Christ.
America now stands at a crossroads. Which path will we choose: the broad path that leads to chaos and destruction, or the narrow path that leads to peace and life?
Out of Charlie Kirk’s death, lives are being changed forever. The gospel is advancing. The church is awakening.
On one side, you have the death of George Floyd. Within 24 hours of the video going viral, nationwide protests erupted. Students walked out of classrooms. Crowds poured into the streets. City blocks went up in flames. Businesses were ransacked. Stores looted. Police officers, in many cases, stood down and watched as precincts were burned to the ground.
And Floyd wasn’t the only flashpoint. In Ferguson, Missouri, the death of Michael Brown sparked weeks of violent rioting, leaving entire neighborhoods scorched. In Kenosha, Wisconsin, the police shooting of Jacob Blake ignited nights of arson and looting, culminating in chaos that left the city smoldering.
In each case, Americans were told to understand the destruction as “the voice of the oppressed.” Politicians bent over backward to excuse the lawlessness, even pledging to bail out masked agitators who turned cities into war zones. Lives were lost in the name of “justice.”
And when the flames weren’t enough, activists decided to go further. They declared entire neighborhoods “autonomous zones” — police-free utopias where oppression was supposed to vanish and a new society would flourish.
The same voices behind the riots called for defunding the police. And what did that bring? More chaos. More crime. More death. Neighborhoods left vulnerable. Families abandoned. Chaos parading as justice.
The death of a true martyr
Now, set that against what followed the assassination of Charlie Kirk.
He was murdered for daring to give the biggest microphone not to his friends but to those who opposed him. He welcomed debate. He confronted hostile ideas head on. He refused to be silenced by intimidation. And for that, he paid with his life.
But look at the fruit that followed his death.
No buildings burned. No businesses looted. No cities reduced to ash.
Instead, only candles burned — vigil candles, lifted high in memory of a man who gave his life for truth. People gathered in churches. Prayers rose instead of Molotov cocktails. Instead of mobs demanding blood, thousands made decisions to follow Christ. Politicians who would never publicly declare the name of Jesus suddenly spoke openly about the need for the gospel. Instead of excuses for lawlessness, there were testimonies of salvation.
RELATED: Charlie Kirk showed us the lie at the heart of progressive culture
And yet — after Charlie’s death — all of the cowards found their courage. The very people who shrank from confronting him in debate while he lived now slander him when he cannot answer. They spit on his memory because they could not withstand his arguments. They malign his character because they could not overcome his convictions. Their attacks reveal not strength but weakness. Not courage but cowardice.
It is difficult not to see the parallel with Stephen, the first Christian martyr. In Acts 6–7, Stephen stood before the religious leaders of his day — and make no mistake, progressivism is a worldly religion — and he proclaimed the truth with boldness. Scripture records that “they could not withstand the wisdom and the Spirit with which he was speaking” (Acts 6:10). And when they could not defeat his arguments, they killed him.
So it is with Charlie. When the world could not overcome his courage, when they could not silence his voice in life, they silenced him in death. But like Stephen, his testimony will outlive his assassins. His words will echo longer than their slander. His life will bear fruit that their hatred cannot erase.
Two different spirits
What explains this radical difference?
On one hand, you have a spirit of rage. A spirit that justifies destruction as expression. A spirit that sees justice as vengeance. That spirit has turned too many American cities into ruins.
On the other hand, you have the Spirit of God. A Spirit that produces repentance instead of riots. Worship instead of war. Candles instead of chaos. When the world lost Charlie Kirk, a true martyr, the response revealed something deeper — something eternal.
The battle lines of our culture are not political but spiritual. The evidence could not be more clear.
The apostle Paul reminds us that “we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness” (Ephesians 6:12). What we are seeing is not merely two different sets of political responses but two different kingdoms on display.
One kingdom demands chaos and calls it justice.
The other kingdom meets tragedy with truth, grace, and hope in Christ.
Which one will define the future of this nation?
History teaches us that rage consumes itself. Cities burned in Ferguson and Kenosha are still rebuilding years later. Families who lost businesses in Minneapolis never recovered. Violence devours its own.
But the fruits of the Spirit endure. Out of Charlie Kirk’s death, lives are being changed forever. The gospel is advancing. The church is awakening.
The call to Christians
The contrast forces every Christian to make a choice.
Will we be swept into the mob’s logic — that vengeance and destruction are the only way forward? Or will we align ourselves with the way of the cross — the way of sacrifice, prayer, and truth proclaimed without fear?
The stakes are high. What America witnessed in the days after George Floyd’s death and the days after Charlie Kirk’s assassination is the clash of worldviews, the collision of kingdoms.
One worldview justifies destruction in the name of oppression. The other proclaims that true freedom is found only in Christ.
One kingdom burns buildings. The other lights candles.
Riots or revival?
The Charlie Kirk Memorial last month was not just a gathering. It was a glimpse into the kind of nation we could be if truth, courage, and the gospel were once again at the center of public life. It was a reminder that even in death, the witness of one faithful man can ignite a movement more powerful than any protest.
The flames of rage consume cities. The flames of faith light the world.
The choice is clear: Riots or revival? Chaos or Christ?
RELATED: Charlie Kirk's legacy exposes a corrosive lie — and now it's time to choose
And for those who haven’t seen the Charlie Kirk Memorial, hear this from someone who was there in person: No video could capture the palpable power in that room. Politician after politician rose — not to promote themselves but to proclaim Christ’s gospel.
Testimonies poured out of the life Charlie lived, giving himself to students across this country, loving his wife and children faithfully, and modeling what it means to live for something greater than yourself, what it means to truly submit and boldly follow Christ Jesus our Lord.
The video screens could show faces but not the depth of what we felt inside that hall. The sheer numbers of people. The dignitaries. The everyday Americans. All united as we sang, listened, cried, mourned, and celebrated our friend Charlie Kirk.
I cannot remember a time when I was more inspired to tell the truth, to oppose the lies, and to stand for Christ more boldly — and I am now wasting no time in doing so.
We’ve all got work to do. We’ve got a civilization to save. We have a King to proclaim, Jesus Christ.
So Charlie, rest in heaven — we’ll take it from here.
This article is adapted from an essay originally published at Liberty University's Standing for Freedom Center.
Today's top stories
www.theblaze.com