Of Bullhorn Bob & The Church’s Charlie Silence

"I tried to make sense of why so many churches, pastors, and Christians didn’t even mention Charlie Kirk’s name the Sunday following his martyrdom. Why did they not even mention his name? Was he a Bullhorn Bob? "

There he was again.

As we hastened to our gate, we dodged and weaved through a sea of orange, zig-zagging towards our seats for a Clemson football game the Saturday before Thanksgiving. The energy was electric. But then, we all saw him. Right in front of us, moving completely and intentionally against the flow of football fans, was Bullhorn Bob. I recognized him immediately. He was speaking into a bullhorn he held in his left hand, balancing the base of a 6-foot pole with his right. Atop his man-sized wooden stake, he had stapled three placards. One said, “You must be born again”, another said, “Flee the wrath to come,” and one more read, “homosexuality is a sin.”

When I saw Bullhorn Bob, I felt a mixture of humiliation and disgust. I had a brief condescending thought about how much more gospel-centered and gracious I was than Bullhorn Bob. I had pity for him, too. Most of the fans were either ignoring him altogether or simply amused by him as though he was some sort of sidewalk act.

Once we entered the stadium, I forgot about Bullhorn Bob. Finally, we were with our people. When you are surrounded by 80,000+ fans who are all dressed like you and are cheering for the same team you all love, you feel an amazing sense of solidarity and unity. We cheered with one voice, jeered with one voice, and complained about penalties called against our team with one voice.

For full transparency, some of “our people” spoke with vulgarity. A fellow behind us dropped more “F-Bombs” than points scored by both teams, combined! And, there were these two friends in front of us, and to our left, who were sozzled by alcohol that they nearly fell off the grandstands. And, I should mention this one fan who got kicked out of the stadium for punching another fan from the other team. But hey, we cheer for the same team.

On the way home, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I actually had more in common with Bullhorn Bob, on the things that really matter (like the gospel), than most of those 81,000 fans I had felt so much camaraderie with earlier.

I recalled this story this past week as I tried to make sense of why so many churches, pastors, and Christians didn’t even mention Charlie Kirk’s name the Sunday following his martyrdom. Why did they not even mention his name? Was he a Bullhorn Bob?

Family is Different

The video was horrific. May 25, 2020. Most of the world watched in disbelief as a former Minneapolis police officer pressed his knee into George Floyd’s neck for over nine minutes during an arrest. George Floyd died during the arrest. And, don’t forget the world was already on fire. We were two months into the craziness of COVID-19, and the USA was six months away from a Presidential election. I remember seeking the Lord and talking with other pastor friends about how to best speak into the moment. The video appeared, at the time, to build a case for systemic police brutality, racial injustice, and perhaps even racism. I prepared my remarks prayerfully and carefully. I don’t remember all that I said. But, I think it was like let’s listen, lament, and learn. I honestly don’t think my comments were all that helpful. And, I give loads of grace to other pastors and ministry leaders who were trying to be faithful to the Word and to the Lord during an intense, pressure-cooker season. None of us batted a thousand. I wish I could have a do-over.

The fact is, we all said something. And, we should have.

That is precisely why I’ve been so shocked and disappointed that so many of the same churches and pastor friends said nothing this past Sunday about the murder of Charlie Kirk, a brother in Christ, an evangelist, and an apologist. How can that be?

Where is the family favoritism? When we place our faith in Jesus Christ, we are not only reconciled to God, but we are reconciled to other believers, and we become brothers and sisters in a forever family with God as our Father, and Jesus as our Brother. We begin calling each other “brother” and “sister.” The Apostle Paul extended that familial love beyond the borders of membership in a local church. He ended most of his letters with warm greetings to Christians in house churches throughout the Roman Empire.

He emphasized the “especially” love we should show to other Christians over unbelievers in general, saying, “So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith.” The 30 “one another” commands in the New Testament were intended to be served to other believers.

All that to say, our love, honor, care, and respect for other Christians should excel the love that we show to unbelievers. In fact, it should be so special that unbelievers know instinctively that we are disciples of Jesus.

Not to mourn Charlie’s death last Sunday…

Not to mention the tragic injustice of his death last Sunday…

Not to honor his bold witness for Jesus Christ last Sunday…

Not to even speak his name last Sunday…

So many of those same churches and pastors spent multiple Sundays lamenting the death of George Floyd, starting small groups to discuss systemic racism and injustice, and preaching entire sermon series about white privilege. But this past Sunday, September 14th, they said nothing about a fellow brother, an evangelist, an apologist who was martyred for the gospel of Jesus Christ four days earlier.

Why?

Some were silent because of policy and philosophy. That's what they said.

Some were silent due to fear of fallout.

But most were silent because they saw conservative Christians like Charlie Kirk as barriers to the inclusivity, tolerance, and social justice they so highly prized. It mattered little that Charlie Kirk agreed with them on the things that mattered, the "things of first importance," the gospel (1 Corinthians 15:3-5). For them, Charlie Kirk was, well, Bullhorn Bob.

Meanwhile, Bullhorn Bob was martyred on Wednesday, September 10th. And even though he preached the gospel more boldly and courageously than most of us, many of his brothers and sisters were embarrassed and ashamed of his approach and politics.

I’ve repented. Bullhorn Bob was preaching the gospel, but I wasn’t. I plan to encourage him the next time I attend a game, even though I am uncomfortable with his approach.

At least he has one. And, he is my brother.