The Ordinariness of Charlie Kirk & the Providence of God in my Trip to Brazil
Charlie was brilliant, yet ordinary. It's the legacy of ordinariness that will be carried on. He has stirred something that will not soon fade. It's the ordinary we must r
The profound influence of Charlie Kirk on the modern discourse is hard to overstate. Millions upon millions of people have expressed their grief. The death of TPUSA's founder led to immediate mourning across North America, with vigils and prayers held by leaders and citizens alike. The grief soon spread to Europe and Asia, where political figures and nations he had recently visited expressed their sorrow and respect. Tributes also arose in Africa, Oceania, and South America, making his death a moment of global reflection and solidarity.
Last night, I attended a vigil for Charlie here in Pensacola, FL. There were over 500 people present. People from different Christian traditions gathered to say words of consolation and encouragement. There was a spirit of grief, but also profound gratitude. Our church is holding a day of fast and prayer this Wednesday, concluding with Psalms and Hymns of lament and grief.
To put it simply, the outpouring of tributes has been remarkable. I cannot think in my lifetime of a death that has caused more stir worldwide. Not the death of a pope. Not the death of a celebrity. Not the death of a pastor. And certainly not the death of a politician.
And this entire stir has occurred over the death of a young man in his early 30s. Charlie did not have a college degree. He did not write any magnum opus. He did not come from royal descent. Charlie was a Christian man who saw his mission to build coalitions around the cause of preserving the good. He was a Christian man with an evangelical zeal to proclaim Christ and him crucified. He was a Christian man who loved his wife, his children, and his country. He was a Christian man who engaged in discourse with those with whom he disagreed. He was a Christian man who went to a local church. He was a Christian man whose faith did not hide but shone.
Charlie was ordinary. Yes, he was brilliant. But he was ordinary. It's the legacy of ordinariness that will be carried on. He has stirred something that will not soon fade. It's the ordinary we must remember, and the ordinary we are called to live.
Nuntium
This entire preparation for Brazil was an exercise in Calvinism. Too often, I reverted to my Arminian days, functioning as if God were only partially sovereign. As many of my readers recall, I prayed fervently for my daughter to get her visa. I prayed and had 300 warriors spread throughout Sparta, also praying for her. God answered our prayers one day before our departure. Were father/daughter emotional at the news? Perhaps a lot.
Little did I know that the visa would be only the first of many toils and snares. God was clear that to arrive at my destination, I’d have to fight against flesh and blood, and crazy Uber drivers.
The entangling alliances American Airlines made with foreign powers are quite astounding. Even the most ardent Neo-Con would feel timid amid such perturbances of the force. If ever I imagined AA had some form of connection with the air mafia, I have now confirmed my suspicions.
Let’s just say that an 18-hour trip to my final destination turned into a 44-hour journey, which led us from D.C. to New York, then from New York to Miami, and from Miami to São Paulo, and finally from São Paulo to Porto Alegre. Mind you, the initial connections were pretty simple. I should have arrived six hours before the first evening lecture. After all the mix-ups and love affairs between AA and dangerous hotels, and random rebookings at 4 am, I finally threw my hands up in the air and conceded to the sovereign God.
Ailrines may live and move and have their being in chaos, but I will dwell in the clarity of God’s providence. Once my frustrations subsided, I decided to close my eyes and let my Uber driver guide me, who, in this case, was a fairly cranky Chinese person who yelled at us for not having change for a tip. We found out our trip had changed dramatically, and got out of bed in five minutes and made our way down to the hotel area for the Uber. By that time, I was so confused about the time zone and whether we were in Sinatra’s New York or the Gants of New York, that I gladly took the yelling if it meant I would land at JFK for my next flight.
The flights landed in Porto Alegre, and the organizers were glad to rearrange the lectures. I went straight to the hotel, put on my suit, and was picked up. I arrived at the venue and delivered my first talk shortly after my arrival. My Portuguese was broken, but Calvinism was intact.
Thanks be to God!