Why We Championed Charlie Kirk but Forgot David Wilkerson

When news broke on that fateful September day in 2025 that Charlie Kirk had been assassinated, the world—and specifically the American church—stopped. Social media feeds were flooded with black squares, eulogies, and fiery demands for justice. He was hailed as a martyr, a general in the culture war, and a voice for a generation. It was a deafening roar of mourning.

Contrast this with a quiet afternoon in April 2011. An elderly man, driving down a Texas highway, collided with a tractor-trailer and passed into eternity. That man was David Wilkerson. Outside of a few back-page obituaries in local papers and a faint vestige of sadness through the Charismatic underground, the world largely kept turning, not noticing that a true modern-day saint was gone.

Yet, if we strip away the cable news chyrons and look at the raw tally of souls touched, the disparity in our mourning reveals a sickness in our spirit and gives evidence of a major declension in the church world. I submit to you that David Wilkerson did at least as much, if not far more, for the Kingdom of God than Charlie Kirk ever did. So why was one championed as a hero of the faith while the other died in relative obscurity?

The answer lies in the seduction of power. It has been said that politics is the wine of the church’s fornication. We have become drunk on it.

David Wilkerson walked the streets of New York City armed only with a Bible and a burden for the “least of these.” He looked into the eyes of gang leaders and heroin addicts—people society wanted to flush away—and saw the image of God. He founded Teen Challenge, an organization that has arguably snatched more souls from the jaws of hell and addiction than any political PAC ever could. His legacy is written in restored families, broken chains, and the global explosion of the Pentecostal faith. He was a prophet who refused to bow to the idols of comfort or popularity.

Then there is Charlie Kirk. His name, ironically, comes from the Scottish word for “Church.” It feels like a prophetic statement we missed: Kirk’s populist notoriety became an expression, a reflection of the church of the modern age. But instead of a gospel of repentance, this “Church” preached a gospel of political mobilization. He rallied the faithful not to the altar, but to the ballot box. Surely he was certainly a godly man, but in his public persona – what people made of him – he was a product of the people of God merging the cross with the flag until they are indistinguishable. Am I questioning Kirk’s sincerity? Never. But he wasn’t infallible. What people have done with his legacy is questionable. Can you accept that? We never allow others to question the source of our idolatry, do we?

We championed Kirk because he promised us what the ancient Jews wanted: a political Messiah. Do you remember what happened to Herod the Great? To King Saul of old? We crave a leader who stands head and shoulders above the rest, who will slay our cultural enemies, lower our taxes, and validate our anger. We celebrate worldly leaders and political firebrands just as the ancients celebrated Herod—awed by their power, their buildings, and their influence.

Meanwhile, the faithful prophets—the Wilkersons who tell us to pick up our cross, deny ourselves, and love our enemies—die in obscurity. They are inconvenient. They don’t help us “win” the culture. They remind us that our Kingdom is not of this world, and frankly, we hate that reminder. We want this world. We want to rule it. 

David Wilkerson’s life was a testament to the power of the Holy Spirit to change the human heart. That we wailed for the political organizer and barely whispered for the prophet is an indictment of our age. We have traded our birthright for a bowl of political pottage. We have forgotten that while Rome burns, it is not the Caesars who save us, but the saints who walk into the fire to pull the burning ones out.

Here are several quotes from Wilkerson, including a 1987 prophecy that accurately predicted the pandemic. These fiery truths speak for themselves:

• “Revival won’t come through politics or programs—it comes through surrendered hearts on their knees before God.”

• “The problem is not in Washington. It’s not in the schools. The problem lies with God’s people.”

• “Our nation is being led astray by ungodly judges, mayors and governors, who are given to change, defying the Constitution and substituting their own wicked agendas.”

• He challenged the idea of the church engaging in earthly dominion through politics, stating, “Will the last army of God consist of precinct workers getting out the vote? Will the soul winners be replaced with petitioners going into the highways and hedges seeking signatures for some social cause?”

• He believed in God’s ultimate sovereignty over nations: “But we also must be confident that God is still in control of all the nations.”

• In a 1986 prophecy, he connected national events to spiritual matters: “I see a plague coming on the world, and the bars, churches and government will shut down. The plague will hit New York City and shake it like it has never been shaken… and out of it will come a third Great Awakening that will sweep America and the world.”