Reflections on Charlie Kirk

During the summer of 2020, while I was entrenched in thoughts at my makeshift Wall Street Law office, the atmosphere in New York City was charged. It was my first time discussing the “Charlie Kirk Show,” where Charlie lit up university campuses with robust arguments by day and mingled with global leaders by night.

Andrew Kolvet, Charlie’s producer, reached out for one of those pre-show check-ins. “Hey, man. Charlie asked about your New York church. How many are you drawing these days, hundreds?”

I hesitated—“Yeah… about that,” I admitted, not wanting to reveal that the King’s Church NYC had dwindled to just a few dozen people due to Covid lockdowns.

I’m a pastor and a lawyer. An odd mix, I know. Andrew directed me to log into Zoom to join Charlie shortly.

Nervous thoughts swarmed: Don’t forget to express gratitude, don’t skip mentioning Erica, and definitely don’t overlook Descartes. When Charlie appeared on my screen, he was sharp, intense. We dove into an engaging stream of ideas and stories; it was over before I knew it.

Then my phone buzzed. It was Charlie himself: “That was amazing, man, thanks. Want to join me on the road?” I assumed it was just politeness, but he was serious.

The following year took me across the country with him, a whirlwind of trips that solidified our friendship.

Charlie’s initial doubts weren’t born from harshness but strategy. He had an eye for talent and resources. I met his wife, Erica, who, in 2019, was a real estate broker in Manhattan.

In 2020, Erica, persistent as she was, managed to sway Charlie into considering me—someone, frankly, without much clout. His skepticism was palpable when I first appeared on camera.

When describing Charlie, I often liken him to the finest NFL coach imaginable; he understood the game, recognized talent, and fought for each cause. He was meticulous and adept.

Yet behind that sharp edge lay genuine kindness. A bellman once remarked about Charlie’s warmth. And in a local vitamin shop, Charlie’s down-to-earth nature endeared him, particularly with the elderly. He even playfully teased about my son’s future employment.

On long flights together, we’d engage in deep conversations about life, faith, and personal challenges. There was even that one time he invited me to work out. I regretted that quickly; he dominated every exercise. He was not just strong, but kind-hearted and engaging.

Faith wasn’t a mere accessory for Charlie—it was foundational. He prayed at meals, flights, and meetings. His beliefs ran deep, setting him apart from many influencers I’ve met.

In times of tragedy, he believed the good would eventually emerge. His life and untimely death, I like to think, would inspire many young Americans to embrace a strong moral compass, unlike any previous generation.

Reflecting on Charlie’s legacy, it sparks a vision of a new wave of principled voices rising across the nation, fostering change in profound ways.

And that’s my prayer: may it come to fruition.