The legacies we leave
This essay was first published on The Daily BS on 09/19/2025.
What a hot mess of a week it’s been. The shot that killed Charlie Kirk still echoes around the world. Its sound is loud and undiminished. If anything, it continues to grow and spread. Across this country and in numerous others around the globe, memorials are being held in his honor. From college students to heads of state, people are in mourning.
In our home, a brand-new college student is now listening to Charlie. He is spending his freshman year at a state university, and Charlie is quickly becoming his favorite de facto professor. He was unaware of Charlie and his work until his life was taken. He is learning to know him now.
The outpouring of grief and love for this 31-year-old man is astonishing. How could one person, so very young, have made such an impact on the world?
Conversely, the outpouring of hatred and glee for this 31-year-old man is shocking. How could one person, so very young, have made such an impact? Rather, what could he have done to generate such vitriol?
Put simply, Charlie Kirk spoke. Everywhere he went, he spoke about his faith, his beliefs, and what he knew to be the truth. His words challenged societal norms and popular philosophies. They skewered sacred cows. In verbalizing his thoughts and ideas, he held up mirrors; not everyone loved what they saw in those reflections.
In life, he was a formidable foe of the enemies and ideas which he believed to be destroying the country. He was a force who championed life, marriage, family, faith, and the goodness of America. He fought for his beliefs.
They should never have killed Charlie. Death has only expanded his influence and reach, and that exponentially. Charlie’s words live on, and that’s the thing. They cannot kill or erase his words and ideas. They are preserved for all time, and now hundreds of thousands, if not millions more people are listening. In death, Charlie’s impact continues to grow, thanks to those who tried to stop him.
As we await Charlie’s sendoff, it is good to pause for a moment of self-reflection. His legacy is plain to see. The fruit of his life is readily apparent. But, my friend, what of our own? What legacy will we leave, and what kind of fruit? These are appropriate and helpful questions to consider. This is a good time to ask them.
When you die, what will you leave behind? A different way to frame it is, how will people feel when they hear that you’re gone? Will there be great sorrow and devastation, or will there be relief?
The reactions to Charlie’s death have been instructive, for there were both. Some loved him. Others hated him. Some grieved deeply, and some rejoiced. His skill, intelligence, and compassion for his fellowman were not enough to convince or win them all. Thousands rejected who he was and what he believed, but it didn’t stop him, for the opinions of others were not his north star. His eyes were, first, on God.
Had Charlie lived to please everyone, he might be alive today. If he had only softened the truth, toned it down, and refused to articulate anything seemingly harsh or contrary, he may have been well liked. That is possible, but his effectiveness would have been diminished. He didn’t do that; so, as many of us believe, there are thousands of souls now in heaven because of Charlie’s courage.
Courage was part of his legacy. Courage to live in the Light. Courage to keep speaking. Courage to be true to his convictions. This kind of courage is grounded in two things: love for truth and love for other people. It’s the only way a soul can press forward in the face of fierce opposition, undaunted in its mission. It’s the only way to have a powerful, effective life that bears great fruit.
No matter what we are called to do while we’re alive, we can choose to be courageous. We may not be called to a public stage, but we should live with courage where we are. In being true to our own beliefs and convictions, refusing to be bound to the opinions of others, our lives will be effective and powerful, bearing fruit.
We don’t have to be universally liked. We don’t have to be universally loved. If our courage is grounded in love for (remember this?) truth and other people, it is amazing how Love will find us. We will always reap whatever we sow, and sowing courage is sowing love.
The wonderful thing about courage is that it can be borrowed and loaned. Seeing others who are unafraid helps us to be unafraid. It is contagious.
So is fear. When others are cringing, intimidated by screaming bullies, it’s tempting to join them. Fear, like Ebola, can spread. Here, too, we have a choice. We can stand in courage, i.e., love, or we can bow the knee to fear.
Fear and love, both contagious.
Which one will you choose? What legacy will you leave? I wonder.