A Statement on Charlie Kirk’s Death

My name is Eric Ruth and grit is my religion. Four years ago, I began holding Sunday meetings to study and practice resilience as a sacred entity. Last week I legitimized that work by founding the House of Grit, a church where the altar is resilience and the scripture is brutal truth. This house of worship isn’t for the comfortable, and neither is this article. It’s for men who want to stand firm when the world dives into chaos. Last Sunday we studied Kobe Bryant’s devotion to discipline; this Sunday it’s Marcus Aurelius and the art of temperance. And today, for the first time as a recognized leader of this House, I speak on the death of Charles James Kirk.

I didn’t know Charlie Kirk and before last week I couldn’t have picked him out of a lineup. What I do know is this: some loved him, some hated him, and one murdered him. I now understand he stood up for what he believed in and he never deviated from that path. That’s incredibly rare, wholly respectable, and should be celebrated. But here’s my message to men: don’t do it like Charlie Kirk. He was unwavering in his faith and image, yes. But his own words stripped him of the virtue he claimed to defend.

Here’s my Stoic take on what happened: it was supposed to happen. Every event is the end of countless choices colliding in time and space. In Utah last Thursday, one man unjustifiably took another man’s life. Evil? Yes. Surprising? No. Nature is brutal and unforgiving. And the nature of humans is such that if you perpetually spew vitriol in public in America against a particular class of people, it’s going to inflame someone’s emotions. Combine that with the fact that lots of people in this country have access to lots of weapons. Combined also with the fact that we have lots of emotionally stunted and unstable people. Thus, if you are surprised at Mr. Kirk’s death, that’s a problem for you to reconcile.

But I’m not here to criticize the dead man. I’m here to criticize two groups: the living men who ran to social media, whining and posturing over Kirk’s death like it was their duty, and the men who celebrated his death or thought of the killer as any sort of hero. Those are far from gritty moves. It’s ego dressed as virtue.

Real grit looks different. In 2008, when Wall Street collapsed, some traders killed themselves. Most wallowed in guilt or blame. But the gritty ones showed up the next morning and worked with no guarantees; without complaint. That’s the definition of grit, which is just another word for resilience. It means returning to an unemotional baseline as quickly as possible to resume your intended purpose. Complaining goes against virtue because it isn’t an act, unless you’re filing a formal complaint with an authority who can order change. Yelling online isn’t action.  

If you’re rejoicing in Kirk’s death, you need a new perspective. Two men collided in Utah: one is gone, the other soon will be. Humanity gained nothing. Our duty is to stay alive as long as possible; not for ourselves, but for our communities. That’s what virtue demands: service to family, faith, neighbors, friends, work, learning, and recreation. Fail those communities and you fail all of us. The shooter failed by cutting Kirk off from his service and, by his own hand, he cut himself off as well. There is nothing virtuous about denying others the chance to serve.

Instead, look to men like Kobe. He sinned hard af, but he didn’t hide and he never acted like admitting wrong was beneath him. After the rape charge in 2003, Kobe acknowledged there was a perspective he’d failed to understand. He said the encounter, though he believed consensual, was not viewed that way by the other party. He apologized, took accountability, and then buried himself in work. That’s humility before greatness.

Compare that with Charlie Kirk and the shooter. The shooter, at least, sent apologies in texts afterward. But I’ve found no evidence that Kirk ever admitted wrongdoing in a meaningful way. Like all of us, he was wrong many times — but he never seemed to embrace the humility to own his words. Good men apologize, even when it costs them. Men who believe they’re above apology live in delusions of grandeur. And as a probate lawyer, I’ve watched hundreds face the end of life and the ugliest deaths I witnessed happened to those who thought that way, kicking and screaming to the very last.

The Christianity Kirk trumpeted wasn’t the Jesus Christ I was taught. Kirk and his followers made it seem like Christianity in America is at a crossroads. It’s not. His rhetoric painted a false divide: some people welcomed with open arms, others shunned or condemned because of their sexual orientation. That’s not Christianity; that’s Charlie Kirk’s opinion.

Christ loved all, and above all, he demanded we live according to virtue. Love may mean trying to change someone’s perspective, but it never means demeaning them in the process. And let’s be clear: science shows you cannot change a person’s sexual orientation. Christ didn’t have that knowledge, just as people once didn’t know about dinosaurs. We learn, we adapt, and true faith requires humility — sometimes for others, always for ourselves.

What you can do is encourage every person to grow in virtue, to serve their communities with strength and integrity. That’s the measure that matters. But how difficult is it to accept and love people you disagree with? For Kirk and his followers, it seemed impossible. That is nowhere close to virtue or to Christianity.

Virtue is accepting and loving people as they are while holding them — and yourself — to a higher standard of character. If you call yourself a Christian, live it. Loud and proud if you choose, but you’d better have receipts. Faith is not a bumper sticker. It’s duty, daily virtue, and obligation to others. Wear it like that — or don’t wear it at all. As the Apostle James put it: “Faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead” (James 2:17).

To my gay and trans men: you’re not unnatural, but you are outliers. You deserve dignity and respect as humans, but civilization always organizes around the majority. That reality comes with friction for you. Good. Friction toughens, but only if you're a bit calloused first. Meet unjustified criticism the way Kobe met his setbacks; not with complaint, but with excellence. If they call you evil, prove them wrong with virtue. If they don’t like your choices, ignore them. Thicker skin, sharper character. And remember: this rule applies to every man, no matter if they have balls or boobs: no whining, ever. Take stock of your resources and be proactive in your purpose. The resource here is the lesson that complaining gets you and us nowhere.  

If you want to honor someone’s memory, carry their torch, but stand tall without yelling about it. If Kirk stood for your beliefs, honor him by standing next to reason, not emotion. When you complain with emotion instead of reason and logic, you’ll always look immature and petulant. If you hated his words, ignore him and stand taller on your own path. Either way, the future you promised yourself tomorrow demands hard things you build today. Complaining has never built anything.

Here’s my final charge and challenge to my brothers: Be better. Stop talking about politics. Get involved, but don’t bother just talking. Your virtue requires your actions and talking isn’t action. You must DO good. Marcus Aurelius said it best: “Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one.” 

If you’ve got questions, criticisms, or concerns, come find me online Sunday morning. We’ll figure it out together. If you want help getting away from mindsets that are keeping you stuck, let’s jump on a call asafp.

Have a good one. 

-Eric