When I first heard about Charlie Kirk’s death, I was confused and incredibly sad. I’ve followed him for a while, and everything I saw and heard, showed him to be bold, yes — but always respectful.

My mama heart ached for his wife and babies. I also have a little one, and I could not imagine being in her shoes, suddenly left to carry on without her husband and the father of her babies.

Then came the fear — fear that a man could be killed for standing on the very truths that I believe in.

Fear that my daughter is growing up in a culture where speaking the name of Jesus out loud can make you a target.

Part of why Charlie stood out so much is because he refused to be lukewarm. He spoke truth boldly, even knowing it could cancel him.

And maybe that’s why it shook people so deeply: if Christians stood firm in their beliefs, boldness wouldn’t shock the culture.

It would be the norm.

But because so many stay quiet, the few who speak up stand out — and sometimes, they pay the price.

If Charlie could be targeted for his faith, then what does that mean for the rest of us?

For my daughter?

For families like mine who refuse to bow to culture?

Now what?

Here’s the truth: the shooter cannot silence us all.

If anything, his attempt to silence truth only makes me more determined to speak it. Because if this tragedy shows us anything, it’s that our children cannot afford a lukewarm faith.

They need to be rooted, grounded, and equipped to walk boldly with Christ, even when the world turns against them. That means we need to get comfortable with being uncomfortable.

Lukewarm Christianity Has a Cost

Last year, I walked away from both my career in education and the church I had been part of for eight years.

I left education because I could no longer stand by and be okay with the agenda being pushed on our kids. Transgender ideology in elementary schools, the bullying, parents who didn’t parent sending kids who were downright cruel, and a system that refused to hold anyone accountable. I just couldn’t do it anymore.

People told me I was “sheltering” Luci.

That eventually she would have to go out into the world and would be culture shocked. That I was harming her by keeping her home.

But I disagree.

I call it giving her her childhood — something I was never given.

I’m allowing her to be an innocent kid for as long as possible.

Because once you see the world’s evil, it changes you.

And you never get that innocence back.

I have already lived that life and I refuse for my daughter to live it too.

When I started speaking up about these concerns —

even to church friends — I became hated.

I was told I was being unloving.

I was accused of teaching my daughter to be hateful.

And that’s when it hit me: the church I was part of wasn’t willing to be bold about truth.

Our pastor never spoke on cultural or political issues, and it created an environment where Christians tolerated everything but discerned nothing.

People confused “love” with silence.

They confused “kindness” with compromise.

That’s when I knew I had to leave.

Leaving wasn’t easy.

I begged God to make it clear, to make it so uncomfortable that I had no other choice. Just like He did with my career.

And it felt like a terrible breakup.

I was so emotionally invested in this church.

I begged God for become a Mama there. I served faithfully in Kids Ministry there. I was baptized there. I found out I was pregnant while serving. I grew up from a baby Christian within those walls.

Walking away was heartbreaking — but obedience left me no other choice.

I’ve paid a price for my obedience.

I have lost friends, family, and more social media followers than I can count because of the way I live and the things I believe.

It makes people uncomfortable.

It forces them to question their own decisions.

To get honest about the lies they have believed to be truth.

And honestly, going against culture is scary — sometimes I question if I’m making the right choices too.

Some days I catch myself hesitating — wondering if a Jesus shirt at the grocery store is a statement I can afford.

When I was an educator, I wasn’t allowed to speak about my faith.

Now, as a mom, the cultural eye feels heavier: choices that should be celebrated — loving my husband, choosing to be home, homeschooling, making Christ the center — are often criticized.

But when God convicts you, and you begin to see the world for what it really is, you realize you have no other option.

Jesus never promised His followers popularity; He promised we would be different.

And when the church and culture stop preparing us for that difference, parents like me are left to choose radical obedience over convenience.

But here’s the truth: disagreeing with cultural norms is not hate.

Setting boundaries for what we allow in our homes and in our children’s lives is not hate. It’s called wisdom.

It’s called protection.

The Bible tells us how to live.

When culture tries to blur or rewrite that truth, we have every right — and responsibility — to say, “Not for my child.”

That’s not rejection of people.

That’s obedience to God.

And obedience will always offend someone.

Charlie Kirk once said, “Just because you are offended doesn’t mean you are right.” 

No matter what we do — whether we stay silent, speak truth, or love boldly —

someone will take offense.

But the goal was never to keep everyone happy.

Paul said it best: “Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.” (Galatians 1:10).

And here’s the thing: if churches would boldly speak up and preach the fullness of Scripture, Christians would know how to walk in today’s culture.

The Bible already tells us how to live — how to discern, how to love, how to stand firm without compromise.

This is why lukewarm Christianity is so dangerous —

it leaves believers unprepared to stand firm.

Revelation 3:16 warns us that lukewarm faith makes God sick.

Jesus Himself modeled true love — He ate with tax collectors and prostitutes (Matthew 9:10–13), but He never joined in their sin.

To the woman caught in adultery He said, “Go and sin no more” (John 8:11).

Paul reminds us, “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” (Romans 12:2).

And Ephesians 5:11 says, “Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.”

That is love: to sit with the broken without becoming broken by their sin.

To speak truth with grace.

To shine light in dark places — not dim the light so the darkness feels comfortable.

Sometimes I look at our nation and wonder:

How did we get here? 

How did we go from a country rooted in Christ — where faith was part of daily life — to a culture where loving Jesus makes you the minority, labeled intolerant or hateful?

It hasn’t been overnight.

It’s been a slow drift: comfort over conviction, quiet over courage.

And too often, faith was taught as rules instead of relationship.

Parents thought they were doing the right thing, but many used religion to control their kids instead of introducing them to Jesus.

And the result?

Adults who walked away from church, thinking God was nothing more than a list of “don’ts.”

But that’s not who Jesus is.

He’s not some angry man in the sky waiting to punish us for being human.

He’s personal.

He’s close.

He’s the one who meets us in our kitchen while we’re making dinner and reminds us we’re not alone.

He’s the one who holds us when the world feels too heavy and whispers, “I’ve got you.”

That’s what I want my daughter to see.

Not a list of rules, but a real relationship. Not faith that’s about keeping people happy, but faith that’s about walking with the One who never leaves.

Following Jesus isn’t about being afraid of what will happen if we don’t.

It’s about choosing Him because He loves us, and because we’ve seen for ourselves that life is empty without Him.

So the question becomes: if this is where we are as a culture, how do we raise kids who are bold enough to live differently?

Living boldly in today’s world doesn’t always look flashy — most of the time it looks like the everyday, ordinary choices we make in our homes.

• Love your husband. Even when marriage feels rocky, keep showing up. Show your kids that covenant love endures struggles. Love is a verb. Keep doing it.

• Love your babies. Slow down. Put the phone down. Get on the floor and play. Let them know without a doubt that they are deeply loved.

• Be present. Bold living means choosing your family over the endless distractions pulling at you. Look your kids in the eyes. Listen. Delight in them.

• Guard your home. Monitor what comes in — from social media to music to TV shows. Don’t hand culture the keys to your kids’ hearts. You are the gatekeeper, and it is your God-given role to protect their innocence.

• Cover your family in prayer. Pray before school, before bedtime, before hard conversations. Whisper prayers while folding laundry or driving in the car. Those prayers matter.

• Be a living example of faith. Let your kids see you pray out loud, repent when you mess up, and open your Bible in the middle of a messy day. Show them what it looks like to walk firmly in faith while loving people well.

• Teach boundaries. Boldness isn’t just about saying “yes” to Jesus — it’s also about saying “no” to what harms the heart. Teach your kids that it’s okay to have boundaries, to stand firm in who God says they are, and to protect their hearts. Show them that boundaries apply not only to culture, but also to family, friends, and others who live differently. We can love people and have boundaries at the same time. Loving someone doesn’t mean tolerating hurt.

This is bold living. Not perfection, not popularity, not applause — but everyday faithfulness inside our homes that prepares our children to stand strong outside of them.

You are not alone. Every bedtime prayer, every Bible opened, every choice to live boldly but lovingly — it all matters.

These ordinary moments are the legacy you are building. One day, your children will look back and remember how you loved Jesus out loud in your home, how you prayed with them in the car, how you guarded their hearts and celebrated their innocence.

The culture may call it old-fashioned.

The world may call it unnecessary.

But your children will call it love. 

They will carry it into their own motherhood and fatherhood.

They will build their families on the foundation you are laying right now.

This is the legacy of motherhood: not perfection, not popularity, but a living faith passed down from one generation to the next. You are raising warriors for a Kingdom that cannot be shaken, and your children’s children will one day rise up and call you blessed (Proverbs 31:28).

Lord, give us courage. Help us raise children rooted in Your Word and bold in love. Protect their hearts, steady their steps, and help us parent with wisdom and grace. May we not shrink back, but raise warriors who shine Your light.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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