Forgiveness By Hanging (Death Penalty): A Bible Student’s Response to the Assassination of Charlie Kirk to a Confused Public
An Open Letter to a Nation Asking, “Where is the Forgiveness?”
My name is Cedric Yengo. I am NOT a famous pastor, a televangelist, or a polished theologian. I am, quite simply, a Bible student. I am also the author of a book called When Life Makes No Sense, which is a search for meaning in the very kind of emptiness and chaos we all feel today. My days are spent in the quiet corners of libraries and the peaceful silence of prayer, wrestling with the text of Scripture, trying to understand the profound and often paradoxical ways of God.
Like everyone else, I was shaken to my core by the assassination of Charlie Kirk. The violence was horrific, the loss is immense, and the questions it has raised are echoing through our communities. Many of my friends, both inside and outside the church, have come to me with the same confused and aching question: “Charlie was a Christian evangelist who preached forgiveness. Why are his supporters, why is the Christian community, talking about punishment and justice for Tyler Robinson? Where is the forgiveness?”
This letter is my humble attempt, as a fellow struggler and student, to answer that question from the framework of the Bible itself. I am not sharing my personal opinion, but rather underlining what I believe the Scriptures clearly teach. My goal is not to be novel, but to be faithful, much like a humble signpost pointing to a truth much greater than itself.
Two Kingdoms, Two Purposes: Why We Need Both the Sword and the Cross
The confusion, I believe, stems from a blending of two realms that God Himself has established to work together, but never to be blended into one entity: the Church and the State.
The Apostle Paul writes in Romans 13 that governing authorities are “servants of God.” They are placed by God with a specific, solemn job: to uphold justice and order in a fallen world. They are given the “sword” not for nothing, but as an instrument of God’s justice. This includes the authority to enact capital punishment—to preserve society and affirm the sacred value of the life that was wrongly taken.
This is not bloodthirsty revenge. It is a public declaration that life is sacred, moral order exists, and evil actions have terrible consequences. The state, in pursuing justice for what Tyler Robinson, a 22-year-old man, did, is demonstrating a facet of God’s character: His perfect justice. To ask the state not to pursue justice is to ask it to abandon its God-given role.
The Church, however, has a different calling. We are also “servants of God,” but our primary weapon is not the sword; it is the cross. Our mission is not primarily to administer justice, but to demonstrate mercy. Our message is one of redemption, reconciliation, and forgiveness. We are the ones who are commanded to “not repay evil with evil” and to “overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:17, 21).
The state’s job is to punish the criminal to preserve society.
The Church’s job is to pray for the sinner to save his soul.
These two must go together, hand-in-hand, but they must never be blended. We respect and pray for our governing authorities as they fulfill their role of justice. And we, the Church, must simultaneously fulfill our role of mercy. This is the beautiful, God-ordained separation that allows for both a safe society and a saving gospel.
The Hardest Command: Loving the Tyler Robinsons in Our Lives
This brings us to the most difficult part. Jesus didn’t give us suggestions; He gave us commands. He said, “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:43-44). He then asked the piercing question: “If you only love those who love you, what reward will you get? Aren’t even the tax collectors doing that?” (Matthew 5:46).
If we, as Christians, only love our friends and only seek vengeance for our enemies, we are morally indistinguishable from the rest of the world. Our light does not shine. Our salt loses its saltiness. Our response to this evil must be categorically different.
This means we must pray for Tyler Robinson.
We pray not that he would escape the earthly consequences of his actions—the state’s justice must be served. We pray for something infinitely more important: the salvation of his eternal soul. We must remember that Jesus Christ died for Tyler just as He died for Charlie and just as He died for me. The same blood that covers our sins was shed for his.
Like the thief on the cross who acknowledged his guilt and turned to Jesus in his final moments, Tyler, at 22 years old, has a chance now to make it right with God. Our fervent prayer should be that he would face his crime, confess his profound sin, and cry out to the Savior for mercy. We can even dare to hope that one day, he and Charlie might stand together, reconciled not by politics, but by the blood of Jesus, to rejoice and enjoy life happily ever after in the presence of Christ.
This is not a sign of weakness. It is the ultimate sign of strength. It is radical obedience.
Where is Charlie Now? The Foundation of Our Hope
We can have this strength because of our certain hope. Charlie Kirk was not a perfect man. In the context of sin, like every single one of us—you, me, Tyler—he was not innocent. We are all criminals before a holy God, deserving a brutal spiritual death.
But Charlie is in heaven today not because he was a good person or a great speaker, but because he had accepted the free gift of salvation through Jesus Christ. He may not have been saved from the evil of this world, but he has most definitely been saved from his future. He is now with the One who loves him most. He is more alive than he has ever been.
And God’s promises are true. The devil meant this act for evil, but God, in His mysterious providence, can use it for good. God is now the father to Charlie’s children and a husband to his wife in a way that provides a comfort and presence no human ever could. He promises to be “a defender of widows and a father to the fatherless” (Psalm 68:5). Our job is to rally around them as the hands and feet of Christ, trusting in this promise.
The Mirror of Forgiveness: We Are All Tyler Robinson
Forgiveness is not easy. It is a brutal struggle of will. It means looking at the person who has destroyed something precious and, by an act of faith, releasing our right to personal revenge and handing the gavel over to God.
We can only even begin to do this when we first recognize our own state. We are not innocent bystanders. We are all guilty. We have all trespassed against God and against others. Jesus Himself warned us, “For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins” (Matthew 6:14-15).
This is why we must start by praying for God to break and soften our own hearts. To remind us of the immense debt of sin from which we have been forgiven. When we truly grasp the grace we have been given, it becomes possible, though never easy, to extend a sliver of that grace to others.
It’s not that God is “unfair” for offering eternity to Tyler Robinson; it’s that God is “too fair.” His offer of forgiveness is so generous, so scandalously free, that it is available to anyone who will repent and believe. The tragic reality is that the majority of humanity will reject this free offer.
A Final Plea
So, to a confused public, my answer is this: We believe in forgiveness and justice. We support the state as it does its job of administering justice by the sword. And we commit to doing our job as the Church by taking up the cross: to pray for our enemies, to love the unlovable, to care for the widowed and orphaned, and to proclaim a hope that extends beyond the grave—even to the Tyler Robinsons of the world.
We grieve, but not as those without hope. We seek justice, but not with vengeful hearts. We choose forgiveness, not because it feels good, but because we follow a Savior who, while hanging on a cross, looked at His executioners and said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”
Let us pray without ceasing for Charlie’s family—for their comfort, provision, and peace.
And let us pray, with trembling hope, for Tyler Robinson—that this young man would find the forgiveness of Jesus Christ before he faces the justice of the state.
This is the way of the cross. It is foolishness to the world, but to us, it is the power of God.
Respectfully and Humbly Yours in Christ,
Cedric Yengo
A Bible Student,
Author of When Life Makes No Sense: The Search for Meaning When Everything Feels Empty
