Countering a Misguided Roadmap
In his article [*“*From Grief to Grit: A Christian Roadmap After Kirk’s Assassination*,”*](https://truthscript.com/culture/from-grief-to-grit-a-christian-roadmap-after-kirks-assassination/) Jon Harris lays out what he believes Christian men should do in response to Charlie Kirk’s murder: pursue virtue, pray imprecatorily, and seek righteous influence. These are strong words, but they deserve scrutiny. Christians have always debated each other in public—Augustine against Pelagius, Luther against Erasmus—not to score points, but to guard the gospel. It’s in that spirit that I write.
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### Pursuing Virtue: Agreement and Disagreement
Harris begins with a call to pursue virtue. On this point, I find little to which to object. Scripture itself calls us to it. Paul urges the Philippians to think on “whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable” (Philippians 4:8). Peter tells us to “make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge” (2 Peter 1:5). The call to holiness is central to Christian life.
But almost immediately, Harris muddies the waters. In the same breath that he warns about the dangers of online media, he pivots to claim that DEI policies “threaten the physical lives of [our] children,” citing an obscure incident in Charlotte. This is a sleight of hand—an unproven political talking point dressed up as a spiritual warning. Where is the evidence? At best, I have seen speculation that DEI might indirectly lead to lax discipline in schools. But speculation is not evidence, and propaganda is not Scripture. To import such rhetoric into a discussion of Christian virtue is to poison the well.
Even Harris’s treatment of the “cardinal virtues” reveals confusion. He names them as bravery, wisdom, courage, and self-control. This is neither the Christian tradition nor the biblical witness. In Christian tradition, the four cardinal virtues are prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance. Paul, writing to the Galatians, speaks not of courage or bravery, but of the fruit of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control” (Galatians 5:22–23). Notice the order. Love stands first, as it does in 1 Corinthians 13:13: “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”
Love—not fear, not political rhetoric—is the measure of Christian virtue. To misname courage as the essence of virtue while sidelining love is not a small error. It distorts the gospel.
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### Praying Imprecatorily: A Misuse of the Psalms
Harris’s second exhortation is that Christians should recover the practice of imprecatory prayer—invoking the Psalms that call down curses on enemies. He cites Pastor Sean McGowan’s book *Psalms that Curse* and reminds us that Jesus himself spoke of judgment on Jerusalem. His conclusion: Christians ought to regularly pray these kinds of psalms, even in public worship, to align themselves with God’s vengeance.
Here is where his argument grows not only weak, but dangerous.
The Psalms of lament and imprecation are indeed part of Scripture. They give voice to the pain of God’s people and name the reality of injustice. But to treat them as marching orders for Christians today is a fundamental misreading of their place in the canon. The Psalms point forward; they are fulfilled in Christ. And Christ himself, when faced with enemies, did not pray for their destruction—he prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34).
Yes, Jesus spoke words of judgment. But he also told his disciples to love their enemies and pray for those who persecute them (Matthew 5:44). Paul reinforces the same: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:21). Harris quotes Romans 12, but he misses its heart. The whole thrust of the passage is that vengeance belongs to God alone—not to be sanctified as the background music of Christian piety.
Praying curses against our political enemies is not “biblical faithfulness.” It is an attempt to baptize rage. It is a way of letting partisan fury masquerade as prayer. This is not the Spirit of Christ. The fruit of the Spirit is not bitterness and wrath—it is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, and the rest (Galatians 5:22–23).
The imprecatory Psalms are Scripture, but they must be read through the cross. At the cross, God’s justice and mercy meet. At the cross, vengeance is poured out—but on Christ himself, who bears the curse so that even his enemies might be reconciled. That is the lens through which Christians must pray. Anything less is a distortion of the gospel.
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### Seeking Righteous Influence: The Temptation of the Sword
Harris’s final charge is that Christian men ought to “seek righteous influence.” At first glance, this sounds harmless—who would object to Christians living out their faith in the world? But Harris makes clear what he really means. He praises those who wield the sword of government and law enforcement, and he suggests that professors and cultural voices on the Left harbor “treasonous sentiments” that the government ought to clamp down on. His vision of “influence” quickly becomes indistinguishable from political domination.
This is not the way of Christ.
It is true that God ordains governing authorities (Romans 13). But Harris overlooks the critical fact: Paul calls rulers to reward good and restrain evil, not to enforce sectarian agendas or silence dissenting voices. The idea that the government should brand professors as traitors or suppress ideological opponents reeks more of authoritarianism than of Christian witness. It is Caesar dressed up in church clothes.
The New Testament paints a very different picture of influence. The church’s power does not lie in the sword, but in the Spirit. Paul boasted in weakness, not in worldly might (2 Corinthians 12:9–10). The early church spread not by seizing political control but by embodying radical love, care for the poor, and a countercultural way of life that made Rome take notice. Even in Revelation, where Christ comes as a conquering King, the saints conquer “by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death” (Revelation 12:11). In other words: they conquer by faithfulness, not by force.
To urge Christians today to pursue political power as the pinnacle of faithfulness is to forget that the kingdom of God is not of this world (John 18:36). Influence, rightly understood, is not about silencing opponents or wielding the sword of the state. It is about bearing witness to a better kingdom—the one that comes through service, sacrifice, and love.
If we forget this, we risk becoming the very thing we fear: not a people set apart for God, but just another faction scrambling for power.
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### Conclusion: Another Roadmap
Jon Harris offers his readers a roadmap of grief turned into grit. But his directions are flawed. He names virtue but dilutes it with propaganda. He calls for prayer but mistakes curses for Christlike intercession. He seeks influence but confuses gospel witness with political power.
The truth is simpler, and harder. The roadmap for Christians has already been drawn—not by Harris, not by Kirk, not by any culture warrior, but by Jesus himself. “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:21). “The greatest of these is love” (1 Corinthians 13:13).
That is the path. That is the virtue. That is the influence.
The temptation to baptize rage as prayer, or domination as faithfulness, will always be with us. But the church’s task is to resist that temptation. Our calling is not to sharpen our swords, but to take up our cross. Not to crush opponents, but to serve neighbors. Not to curse, but to bless.
If Harris’s roadmap leads us deeper into fear and polarization, Christ’s leads us to the strange power of love. That is the way I choose to walk.