What I Cannot Say Out Loud

It has been a week since Charlie Kirk was assassinated, and honestly? I feel no better today than I did the day after. If anything, I feel worse.
My emotions keep circling: calm reassurance that Charlie was a brother in Christ, and that God will use even this loss to draw people to Him. Sadness, because after years of listening to his voice, I feel like I’ve lost someone I knew, someone I would have liked to call a friend. Fear, because there are people who celebrate his death, mocking him for his beliefs, beliefs I largely share. And then anger. Anger that our country and our world have slid to a point where this is not only tolerated, but celebrated. Anger that consequences and common sense have evaporated. Anger that we have turned so far from God, from the principles this nation was built on, that hatred and death are embraced as if they were virtues.
With all of that roiling inside, I still had to plaster on a smile. I have had to return to teaching after Charlie’s assassination, after Iryna Zarutska’s murder, after the Evergreen school shooting, on the anniversary of 9/11, and in the middle of conflict in my own school. And tomorrow, as I ache preparing to send my niece, my best friend, off to college, I will have to smile again.
When students ask how I am doing, I force myself to say, “Today is going to be a great day because I am going to make it one.” When they tell me they openly wept after watching the video of Charlie being shot, I have to keep my response “school appropriate” and “not political or religious.” What I want to say is: it is okay to cry. I have cried, too. A man was assassinated. They should have never been exposed to that. The world is dark, and I cannot promise it will get better soon.
But I can also say, at least here, that I have peace and hope in Christ. Even in the middle of hatred, violence, and uncertainty, I know He has a plan. I cannot hand that same peace to my students because it is not considered professional. So instead, I try to be a light. A sliver of hope. And I pray that somehow, through me, they glimpse the love of God.