Eric Metaxas on Faith, Joy, and the Murder of Charlie Kirk: Finding Hope in Tragedy

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Eric Metaxas on Faith, Joy, and the Murder of Charlie Kirk: Finding Hope in Tragedy

Eric Metaxas sits down for a conversation with Marissa Streit about the murder of Charlie Kirk, wrestling with profound questions about faith, death, and God's sovereignty. Metaxas distinguishes between dead religion and authentic faith, arguing that real belief in the God of the Bible brings both sorrow and genuine hope simultaneously. He draws parallels to Dietrich Bonhoeffer and the American Revolution's Joseph Warren, explaining how God uses tragedy to spark revival. Metaxas challenges pastors who remain silent on cultural issues, criticizes the complicity of elite institutions, and discusses the difference between tribal Christian identity and true discipleship. The conversation touches on Charlie's close relationship with the Jewish community, the role of joy in authentic faith, and why God allows the loss of great leaders when victory seems necessary.

September 16, 2025

The Reality of Faith Beyond Religious Platitudes

Eric Metaxas begins by acknowledging the complex emotional landscape following Charlie Kirk's murder. He describes feeling infinitely sad yet simultaneously joyful and hopeful, insisting this isn't manufactured emotion but genuine faith in the living God. Metaxas draws a sharp distinction between what he calls "dead religion" and real faith in the God of the Bible. Dead religion, he explains, offers hollow comfort that feels fake even as it's spoken, like ministers at funerals going through motions everyone knows ring false.

Real faith in the God of the Bible, Metaxas insists, is victorious and glorious. He challenges believers to examine whether they truly believe or merely hope that eternal life is real. This moment, he argues, forces that question into sharp relief. When his own father passed, people offered condolences, but Metaxas wanted them to understand he doesn't hope but knows where his father is—more alive now than before death. This knowing peace, rather than anxious hope, is what God desires for believers.

Metaxas references Romans 8:28, emphasizing that all things work together for good for those who love the Lord and are called according to His purposes. God can perform spiritual jiu-jitsu with evil, weaving even tragedy into His redemptive plan. Charlie's murder, Metaxas believes, will result not just in an explosion of patriotism but in genuine revival, bringing people to seek the God of the Bible and find meaning in their lives.

Every Assignment Has Equal Value in God's Eyes

Drawing parallels to Dietrich Bonhoeffer, killed at 39, Metaxas rejects the notion that premature death represents unfulfilled potential. Bonhoeffer fulfilled his magnificent assignment, and God elevated him through his death in ways that wouldn't have happened had he lived longer. Similarly, Charlie Kirk fulfilled his assignment despite his young age.

Metaxas pushes back against the self-deprecating attitude many people have when comparing themselves to exceptional figures like Charlie Kirk or Bonhoeffer. He calls it a lie when people say "I'm just a nobody." God gives different gifts to different people, but the value isn't in the gift itself but in using whatever God gave you for His purposes. Whether someone is a mother, father, or works an ordinary job, their assignment is equally sacred in God's eyes.

He illustrates this with the story of Susanna Wesley, mother of John and Charles Wesley. As "just a mother" of ten children, she changed the world through her sons, who led the Wesleyan revival in the 18th century. This revival led to William Wilberforce abolishing the slave trade and influenced George Whitefield, whose ministry was instrumental in the emergence of the United States. Remarkably, Susanna Wesley was the 25th of 25 children—had her mother stopped at 18, the world would never have known the Wesley brothers. This, Metaxas argues, is the ultimate pro-life argument: every life is an agent to change the world.

Metaxas shares how a graphic designer named Ed Tuttle led him to faith at 24 by simply sharing scriptures in a humble way. Every book Metaxas has written, every life he's changed, traces back to that faithful graphic designer at Union Carbide in Danbury, Connecticut.

Confronting Evil and Death Without Flinching

Addressing the inevitable question of how anyone can believe in God when a 31-year-old father of two is murdered, Metaxas calls it "the easiest question in the world." He points out that evil has always existed—the Holocaust, endless tragedies throughout history. The death of Charlie Kirk doesn't introduce a new problem; it reminds Americans, who have enjoyed comfortable lives, of the reality that exists everywhere.

People lose children every day. Metaxas's own grandfather was killed at 31, leaving his mother fatherless at 10. In America, there's an assumption of deserving a long, healthy life, but Metaxas insists we deserve nothing. Life itself is a gift from God that should inspire rejoicing, not entitlement.

He references the recent murder of two children by a transgender individual while they were praying. Secular voices mocked the ineffectiveness of prayer, but Metaxas argues this fundamentally misunderstands prayer. Prayer isn't about getting what you want; it's communion with the God who created the universe. Jesus Himself prayed while being murdered on the cross, as have countless martyrs throughout history. If prayer is reduced to "give me what I want or I won't believe in you," it becomes petulant and childish.

Metaxas emphasizes that Christians should be repulsed by death because God is the God of life. Death wasn't supposed to exist; humans were created for eternity. The passage of time itself feels wrong because we're created for existence outside time and space. This natural repulsion toward death is correct, yet faith transforms how we see it. Bonhoeffer wrote that death is the most horrible thing unless we see it through faith, which completely transforms it. Anyone who glimpses the kingdom of heaven becomes homesick for it from that moment forward.

The Question of Losing Great Leaders

When asked how God can allow the loss of so many significant figures—James Dobson, John MacArthur, with Dennis Prager sidelined and Charlie Kirk murdered—Metaxas challenges the assumption behind the question. He suggests people put themselves ahead of God, thinking they understand the situation better. God knows infinitely more and asks for trust even when His decisions seem counterintuitive.

Metaxas draws from his research on the American Revolution, discussing Joseph Warren, the leading patriot figure in Boston whom most people today don't even remember. Warren was killed at the Battle of Bunker Hill at the very beginning of the Revolution. Patriots like John Adams, Paul Revere, and Samuel Adams were devastated, unable to imagine continuing without their leader. Yet God was in charge of history and brought beautiful things from that loss.

God doesn't run a democracy, Metaxas states bluntly. He knows the bigger picture and calls believers to trust Him no matter what, to praise His name regardless of circumstances. This is challenging and supernatural, but it's what genuine faith requires.

The Lies About Heated Rhetoric on Both Sides

Metaxas unleashes particular fury at media claims that "heated rhetoric exists on both sides." He calls this a vile, despicable lie. There isn't murder on both sides. The left-wing media perpetuates this false equivalency, and Metaxas insists it must be called out forcefully.

He shares an anecdote about sitting next to a brilliant 75-year-old lawyer on a plane who voted for Kamala Harris. This encounter reminded Metaxas that amazing, intelligent people can buy into false narratives because those narratives are pushed by institutions they've trusted for decades—the New York Times, major television networks, the Wall Street Journal, and especially universities.

Metaxas attended Yale University in the 1980s as a working-class kid whose parents came from war-torn Europe. He describes Yale as utterly useless even then, a place of immediate indoctrination with anti-American, anti-good propaganda. Without the knowledge to push back, he absorbed these lies, thinking that's what smart people believed. Only when he came to faith at 25 did everything change, allowing him to recognize the lies he'd accepted and understand how people who believe those lies think.

Many in mainstream media genuinely believe Trump is Hitler, Metaxas argues. While some are simply evil, others are willfully dumb and obtuse but sincere in their delusion. This requires both forceful pushback and an understanding that they need to be reached one by one with truth, just as Charlie Kirk was doing.

The lunacy of recent years—the stolen election that couldn't be questioned, vaccine mandates accompanied by vicious attacks on skeptics, trans ideology imposed without discussion—has awakened many people. Most Americans know basic truths: roosters can't lay eggs, men and women exist. Only the utterly out-of-touch elites in universities, Manhattan, and Hollywood bubbles believe otherwise because they're comfortable enough to embrace lunacy.

Trump's reelection happened because enough people finally woke up. Americans are generally too nice, going along to avoid offense, but the secular left went too far—especially when targeting six-year-olds with inappropriate content. This crossed a line that finally awakened people, and Charlie Kirk's murder represents another dramatic moment in that awakening.

The Complicity of Silent Churches

Metaxas reserves his harshest criticism for churches and pastors who remain silent on cultural issues. Speaking as a Christian, he places primary blame for cultural degradation at the feet of churches. Many Christians think they're holier than Jesus, who said it would be better for a millstone to be hung around the neck of anyone who causes children to stumble and for them to be cast into the sea. Yet these Christians have a different, softer version and consider themselves more compassionate.

Churches that avoid "political issues" and claim they "just want to talk about Jesus" operate from broken theology and, in many cases, pure cowardice. They don't truly believe what they claim. Others genuinely misunderstand the big picture, thinking their job is to do a "little religious thing" disconnected from everything else.

If faith isn't connected to everything and affecting everything, it's not biblical faith. Metaxas's faith informs his opposition to slavery, antisemitism, racism—everything. Faith should shape how believers see the entire world. German pastors in the 1930s who refused to speak against Nazis either acted from cowardice or from this same misunderstanding, believing their role was confined to narrow religious activity.

The degradation of American culture, pornography being pushed at children, and every wicked development results from good people doing nothing. If pastors lack courage, how can anyone else be expected to have it? Yet many churches present courage as "extra credit" rather than essential, telling congregants to live sweet lives and attend on Sundays.

Metaxas wrote "Letter to the American Church," which was made into a documentary film with Charlie Kirk as a major partner and figure. They offered it free to any church wanting to screen it. Many did, but far more churches said it was "too much," that what Charlie Kirk and Metaxas discuss is "too harsh" for their "nice little church with Sunday school."

Metaxas directly addresses those pastors: "You are complicit with evil. Your little fake religious church, thinking you can avoid talking about what Charlie talked about, what I talk about, what Dennis talks about—you are complicit with evil." Now, because of Charlie's murder, those pastors should be squirming, knowing their silence allowed people like Charlie to be demonized as radical and ultimately murdered. If they had all spoken on the same issues, Charlie wouldn't have stood out or needed to do half of what he did.

Pastors who avoided trouble are no different from German pastors who thought Hitler would pass and the pendulum would swing back. That attitude enabled the Holocaust. That same attitude got Charlie Kirk murdered. Everyone needs to be in the fight. Everyone needs to be a combatant, as Dr. Phil told Metaxas the day before Charlie's murder: if you're not a combatant, you're complicit with evil.

Charlie Kirk's Special Relationship With the Jewish Community

Charlie Kirk had a particularly close relationship with the Jewish community, especially with Dennis Prager and others. His next book, which he brought in manuscript form to Dennis during one of his hospital visits, is about the Sabbath—a profound topic reflecting his deep connection to Jewish friends and traditions.

Following Charlie's murder, lies spread using his name and memory. Metaxas addresses the broader context of Christian-Jewish relations, noting that when he came to faith in 1988, one of the first things he understood was that loving Jesus means loving Israel. He didn't question it; his entire worldview had been wrong, so he accepted what Scripture taught: serious faith in God means standing up for the unborn and loving the people of Israel.

Metaxas has been stunned by people claiming to be Christian while harboring animus against Israel or Jews. This is central to his Bonhoeffer book: many people who say they're Christians are not Christians—they're Gentiles. There's a difference. Being non-Jewish (Gentile) doesn't automatically make someone Christian. A Christian is someone who lives in utter love and obedience to the God of the Bible, reading Scripture and conforming their life to it.

Throughout history, many Jews have hated "Christians" because Gentiles who called themselves Christians but didn't represent the God of the Bible or Jesus (who was Jewish) committed atrocities. These weren't true Christians. The secularizing movement to pull Christian faith away from its Jewish roots is theological nonsense—actually demonic.

People like Nick Fuentes, a prominent antisemite, claim to be Christian, but Metaxas flatly states he is not. People use Christian faith as a cudgel, employing tribal identity. Even the phrase "Christ is King," which should be beautiful, can be spoken with a spirit that feels like "f you"—triumphalist, sneering, prideful, and antithetical to biblical faith.

Christians should have confidence but not triumphalism. Apart from God's grace, any believer would be in the opposite camp believing foolish things. Scripture teaches that Christians are "grafted into" the tree of faith, grafted into Israel. Jesus, Mary, Matthew, Luke, Paul, Peter—all Jews. Jesus was a rabbi living out the fulfillment of Jewish faith. Christianity isn't a new religion separate from Judaism; it's the fulfillment. Christians who don't understand this have a tribal identity problem, thinking "I'm Christian and those are Jews" without grasping what being Christian actually means.

To be Christian is to love the people of God. Bonhoeffer felt obliged to stand up for Jews not because he didn't care whether they believed Jesus was Messiah (he did care), but because he recognized God declared them His people, the people through whom Messiah would come to bring all nations to worship the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Christians are obliged to love Jews and Israel just as parents love their children even—especially—when they don't go the way desired.

People who claim Israel is just a nation created in 1948 with no special significance miss something profound. How can anyone not see God's hand in bringing His chosen people back to their land after 2,000 years? Even without understanding exactly what it means or agreeing with every Netanyahu policy, the historical reality should be recognizable as God's work. To think Israel is no different from Liechtenstein is absurd.

The Centrality of Joy in Authentic Faith

Metaxas emphasizes that one of God's unique gifts to humanity is the ability to enjoy things only humans can appreciate, like music and laughter. Music has to be a gift from God because it serves no evolutionary purpose. The same is true of laughter.

Despite having perhaps their most serious conversation ever, the interviewer notes she's never seen Metaxas stop giggling around Charlie Kirk or Dennis Prager. The two of them together were particularly hilarious. Metaxas admits he has to work to be serious around Dennis because the natural inclination is to brutally make fun of each other in the way only men do—an ultimate love language between male friends.

This was the joy of his friendship with Charlie. As Charlie became more important, Metaxas had less contact because he didn't want to bother him, just as he doesn't want to bother President Trump. But that hilarity and joy is essential, not peripheral.

At the heart of truth, there is joy. If joy is absent, something is missing. Many pious people talk about God constantly, but without evident joy, they're missing the best of God. Joy is no less important than peace, hope, or love. It's the natural expression of knowing God—the bubbling over that comes from believing what God says is true.

When people see pious, self-important religious individuals without joy, they're repulsed, and rightly so. If that's what faith offers, it's not the truth. Metaxas's best friends of faith constantly joke with joy—it's vital and real, not a weird quirk. Scripture says "rejoice in the Lord always"—not just "take God seriously," but rejoice. Those who don't rejoice in God are missing something essential.

This is one reason Metaxas loves President Trump. Nobody makes him laugh harder. Trump's humor is unbelievable, better than Don Rickles. At the Religious Liberty Commission event, Trump went down the line acknowledging people, and when he reached Metaxas, he said he watches Metaxas's show all the time, then added, "I tell him this all the time, he doesn't believe me. Eric, you really need to have more confidence." Trump was mocking him in front of Fox News cameras, unable to repress his humor.

During that interaction, Metaxas shared his idea about calling the 250th anniversary the "Super Centennial." He grew up during the Bicentennial and remembers the excitement, but there's no good term for the 250th (the actual term, "semi-quincentennial," is unusable). Metaxas believes God gave him this Trumpian idea. To test whether it was truly from God, he needed the opportunity to share it with the president, and the president needed to like it.

Amazingly, he was able to share the idea less than a week before this conversation. Trump said he liked it, but Metaxas thought he was just being gracious. Twenty minutes later, while teasing Metaxas during his speech, Trump blurted out, "Eric wants to call the 250th the Super Centennial. I agree with that. Let's change that," and told his staff to make it happen. An idea Metaxas believed was from God for the president and the nation suddenly became reality through Trump's embrace of it.

There's something joyful in President Trump, something Americans should share. We get to live in the United States of America, the best country and greatest nation in the history of the world. Charlie Kirk understood that better than anyone. Courage, faith, and serving as God's messengers of truth in this world—all of this is part of the joy of walking with God while we're here.

Universities as the Most Dangerous Places in America

Metaxas notes that Charlie Kirk and Dennis Prager both recognized that universities had become the least free places in America. That's what motivated Turning Point USA and PragerU—the understanding that American educational institutions were radicalizing young people. Many shooters have been radicalized by these institutions.

When asked what to tell parents about where to send their kids, Metaxas responds with particular passion. Living in Manhattan among cultural elites, he hears people proudly announcing their children are going to Harvard. He wants to horse-laugh in their faces—didn't they get the memo that these places have gone to the dark side?

Even the Jewish community, particularly after October 7th, continues to worship Ivy League schools. Speaking as a Gentile and lover of Jews and Israel, Metaxas attributes this to addiction to assimilation. Immigrants, including his own parents, worshiped Harvard and Yale as temples of higher learning, seeing them as pathways to assimilation and success.

But when these places went to the dark side—which happened decades ago, not just on October 7th—people like billionaire Bill Ackman finally woke up. Metaxas's response: "You've been funding this. I'm glad you finally woke up. Can you tell your billionaire friends to stop this evil? You've been funding this evil."

Metaxas saw this when he became serious about his faith in 1988. He suddenly realized that Yale alumni giving money to the university had no clue what they were funding—the enemy pointing guns at their children's heads. The irony of donors saying "we just funded the building, not what's inside" is absurd. It's like funding the PLO but calling it humanitarian aid—insane complicity with evil.

Yale was leftist garbage until 2016, when it became evil propaganda, crossing a definitive line. Many elite institutions crossed that same line in 2016, becoming unhinged. This happened the same way the German nation was taken over by demonic figures—everyone going along a little bit at a time.

The Path to Revival

Metaxas firmly believes Charlie's death will spark revival. People wondering or on the fence will seek out and find the God of the Bible, discovering meaning in their lives. He's felt revival coming without knowing how it would arrive, and he believes Charlie's murder is a huge piece of that catalyst.

There will be an explosion of faith in this nation. People around the world look to America for leadership regarding liberty, freedom, and faith. This is a sacred moment. Charlie would be overjoyed knowing so many people are now talking about God, Jesus, the Sabbath, and Scripture. He texted Scripture to friends regularly. To honor Charlie, talking about God is exactly what he hoped for.

Metaxas reminds everyone that we're all going to die, urging people to stop pretending otherwise. We don't deserve 88 healthy years or any particular lifespan. Life itself is a gift from God deserving rejoicing. God is the author of life who decides when to take someone, and taking them can elevate their impact in ways that wouldn't happen if they lived longer.

Despite the horror, Charlie's murder is going to result in tremendous things. People worldwide are waking up to think about things they hadn't considered. Tradition without heart, religious garb used to speak lies—nothing is more satanic or evil. Many people are skeptical about faith because they've seen that phoniness. If that's what faith is about, they're understandably uninterested.

Real faith is like spring flowers and a sky so blue it pierces your heart. That's who God is, not feigned pieties. People are interested in the real thing but often don't know it exists based on what they've seen. This moment challenges everyone: What do you actually believe? Do you have a crazy idea that you'll live forever but not here? You will live forever, but you're not supposed to be here forever. It's God's will that you do His will here while you're here.

This is a clarifying moment where people face choices. The horror of this murder forces examination of actual beliefs versus pious hopes. God calls believers to supernatural trust, to praise His name no matter what, to live in peace now rather than hoping to achieve peace. The interviewer shares her personal experience: after Charlie was murdered, her fear disappeared. She realized Charlie lived only 31 years but lived the biggest life she'd ever seen—like 100 years. He returned every text, was everywhere, yet still spent time with his wife Erika and family.

This realization removes fear: we're not here in human numbers of years. We have the choice to stretch our days and years further. Understanding this eliminates fear because Christians must believe what they claim to believe. Jesus defeated death on the cross—actually, not metaphorically. If someone kills a believer, that believer doesn't die. Period.

God created humans to be His agents of glorious goodness in the midst of spiritual war. Many people don't want anything to do with that, but they're missing the reason they exist. God calls believers to that battle and wants them to know nothing can defeat Him. If He lives inside someone by faith, no one can stop them. When they're killed, they don't die. Absolutely, truly, Charlie is still alive. When believers are killed, they can't die.

There will be a day when none of us is here, but we will not be dead. In this American reality, people are spoiled, imagining death happens elsewhere to others. But everyone is here for a little while. The Lord wants believers to praise, love, and rejoice in Him in the midst of this life, not anxiously asking how much time is left. Living in lack of faith grieves God's heart. As our heavenly parent, He wants us to rejoice in Him and be at peace, not hoping to achieve peace but living in it now.

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