I wish they had nothing to do with each other.

Today marks one year since Charlie Kirk was shot dead on a college campus in Utah. He was sitting under a tent, doing what Charlie did — taking questions, arguing his case, trying to persuade people who frequently didn’t agree with him.

Then a bullet ended the conversation.

Tomorrow is September 11.

I still don’t know how that’s possible.

Nearly 3,000 people went to work, boarded airplanes, reported for duty, dropped kids at school, kissed spouses goodbye, and started an ordinary Tuesday morning.

Nineteen terrorists decided they wouldn’t get to finish it.

Then, less than a month from now, October 7.

Families asleep in their homes. Young people at a music festival. Children. Grandparents. Entire families.

Hamas came across the border and slaughtered them.

Different circumstances.

Hatred eventually wants blood.

That’s the thing I can’t get away from as these three dates arrive almost on top of one another.

For 25 years, America and its allies have tried to defeat this kind of evil with armies, intelligence agencies, drones, special operators, sanctions, prisons, and an astonishing amount of money.

We’ve gotten very good at killing terrorists.

We have not figured out how to kill terrorism.

There’s a difference.

And now Charlie’s death adds something uncomfortable to this month of remembrance.

Because the longer Charlie lived, the more plainly he talked about Jesus Christ.

Not Christianity as a voting bloc.

Not faith as a clever way to win an argument.

Charlie believed the answer to what was eating away at young people was ultimately spiritual.

I’m increasingly convinced he was........

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