Like millions of others, I watched in tearful awe as Erika Kirk publicly forgave her husband’s killer. It was a breathtaking moment where pain surrendered to grace at the foot of the cross, sowing seeds of hope for a watching world.
Erika could have easily stepped into the arena as a tear-stained warrior-widow, rallying the crowd with a battle cry of rage. Many would have called it “righteous anger” and cheered her on. But instead, she chose the whisper of the Gospel over the roar of revenge.
How different this is from what we so often see on social media—even from Christians.
Yes, 22-year-old Tyler James Robinson, under the spell of sinful delusion, committed a horrible, hate-filled crime. His actions were heinous. But I winced when I heard some of our leaders and others refer to him as a “monster.” Not because his deeds weren’t monstrous, but because he was fearfully made in God’s image…and he is someone’s precious son.
Once, a mother held him close while he gazed up at her with love. She cheered when he took his first steps, cried when he brought her flowers from the backyard. He was someone’s joy—someone’s whole world. And now he is the source of their unspeakable agony.
Today, it’s likely Tyler’s parents grieve in shamed silence. Their sorrow isn’t a clean wound; it’s tangled in despair, blame, self-doubt, and public anger. Instead of sympathetic mourners to support them, they likely feel surrounded by guilt, accusation, and hostility.
When we dehumanize others, we give ourselves unholy permission to hate—even to kill. But every person, even those in bondage to sin and delusion, bears the image of God. To forget this is to see through the crosshairs of the Enemy, instead of through the eyes of Christ.
“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). And if Christ loved us while we were still sinners (Romans 5:8), how can we as Christians join the angry mob and strip others of their humanity?
Tyler James Robinson isn’t the only one bearing the painful weight of justice. His family is, too. And so is Christ. Though the consequence of his sin is right and necessary, it isn’t a cause for celebration—it should be a cause for sober reflection, and a call to wake us up.
I’ve seen many people repeating the words, “I am Charlie.” But in truth, it may be more honest to say, “I am Tyler.” Not because we share the same sin of murder, but because, apart from God’s grace, and given the same history and life circumstances, none of us knows what we might be capable of (1 Corinthians 10:12).
A few years ago, before being deceived and radicalized, I doubt Tyler would have dreamed he was capable of such an atrocity.
Unless we plant and water the seeds of grace, compassion, and forgiveness (like Erika Kirk did), we will never learn to walk in humility or uproot the “us vs. them” mentality that keeps raising up so many “little Tylers.”
Because we won’t win the lost with arrogant sarcasm or shame – truth and grace have a whole different vibe. That’s what Jesus taught. And I believe that’s what Charlie was after, too.
