This is the Turning Point

This Is the Turning Point

by Paul Grant Truesdell, J.D., AIF, CLU, ChFC, RFC – Sunday, September 14, 2025

This Is the Turning Point – Part One

I do not think inside the box. I do not think outside the box. I begin by rejecting that the box even exists. That is where I must begin today. Because if we are honest, the limits we place on ourselves—political, cultural, religious—are all boxes that someone else drew and demanded we honor. And if there is any lesson in the life and death of Charlie Kirk, it is that truth demands we reject those false containers.

You see, every generation has its flash in the pan. The one-hit wonders of music, the comedians who deliver one joke, the politicians who make one speech, and then disappear into the dustbin of memory. Luck carries them onto the stage for a moment. They burn brightly, but briefly. Then they vanish.

But there are others. The rare few who are born into what I call the extremely lucky gene pool. They have a gift—God-given, natural, undeniable. And when that gift collides with the right moment, the right people, the right timing, they become more than entertainers, more than commentators, more than even leaders. They become symbols.

Charlie Kirk has now entered that realm. He preached, not in the sense of pounding the pulpit, but in the calm confidence of a man who knew that words matter. He debated without rage, stood his ground without fire, and trusted that reason could light a fire in others. And then, in a single moment, his voice was silenced. But in that silence, something greater has been spoken.

Turning Point. That was the name of his movement. Turning Point USA. But today, in his death, it has become prophecy. This is the turning point. Not just for a movement. Not just for a party. Not just for the young people who filled campus halls and auditoriums to hear him spar with critics. This is a turning point for a generation.

I want you to understand something. Symbols are not built by convenience. They are not manufactured by committees. They are not purchased by donations. Symbols are born in the crucible of sacrifice. When a man is cut down for the simple act of speaking—of standing, of using words—his words take on the weight of scripture. They become more than sound. They become covenant.

Now, I know there will be those who will mock this. Some will call it blasphemy. Some will call it exaggeration. Others will dismiss it as an old man’s rambling. But I have lived long enough to recognize patterns. I have seen movements hijacked. I have seen sparks of reform turned into slogans for sale. And I have also seen those rare, almost supernatural, moments where the ordinary becomes eternal. This is such a moment.

When President Kennedy was assassinated, the nation stopped. We all remember where we were, what we were doing, the exact minute the news reached us. That was not just an event. That was a fracture in time. Charlie Kirk’s death is now such a fracture. Not because he was a president. Not because he held high office. But because he had become a voice to the young, a symbol to the restless, a fire to the weary.

And so, I say again: this is the turning point.

A voice from heaven was given. Now will we listen?

This Is the Turning Point – Part Two

A voice from heaven was given. Now will we listen? That is the question before us.

History does not turn on policy alone. History does not bend simply because a law was passed, a budget was signed, or a treaty was sealed. No—history turns when a life becomes a symbol, when the ordinary flesh and blood of a man or woman is transfigured into something larger than self. That is what makes saints. That is what makes martyrs. That is what makes movements endure.

Now I know that word “saint” is uncomfortable for many. We have been conditioned to think of saints as stained-glass figures frozen in holy poses, their halos painted in gold leaf, their names memorized in catechisms. But sainthood is not about relics and rituals. It is about sacrifice. It is about the mysterious ways in which God uses weakness, suffering, and even tragedy to advance a truth that outlives us all.

Charlie Kirk did not seek sainthood. He was no monk, no mystic, no prophet cloaked in robes. He was a debater, a builder of institutions, a man who trusted that clarity of speech could pierce confusion. Yet in his death, others will call him what he never dared call himself. They will call him chosen. They will call him martyred. They will call him saint.

And here is the truth: the Catholic Church does not own the franchise on sainthood. Neither does the Pope, nor the councils, nor the commissions. Saints arise wherever sacrifice seals the testimony. Saints are not voted into existence. They are revealed when heaven breaks into earth through human frailty.

The crucifixion of Jesus Christ was not the end. It was the beginning. It was the moment when brutality and blood met divine purpose. Now, I am not saying Charlie Kirk was Christ. But I am saying that the same divine pattern is visible. Violence cannot silence truth—it amplifies it. Death cannot erase a message—it engraves it. What was once a man debating in auditoriums is now a symbol echoing across generations.

This is the pattern:

First, they mock.

Then, they slander.

Then, they censor.

Then, they prosecute.

And when all of that fails, they reach for violence.

And what they believe will silence instead multiplies.

Some of you may be thinking, “But Paul, is this not exaggeration? Is this not overreach?” I answer plainly: no. Because I have seen this before. I have seen movements like the Tea Party begin with a spark of righteous anger only to be captured, twisted, and sold by professional opportunists. I have seen September 11 shock the conscience of the world, only for its lessons to be swallowed by politics and bureaucracy. I have seen inventions like the iPhone begin as breakthroughs of human ingenuity only to enslave us in distraction and addiction.

But this feels different. This is not a moment designed by marketers. This is not a slogan purchased by donors. This is not a program that can be rebranded. This is a sacrifice sealed in blood. And that is why it resists capture. That is why it cannot be hijacked. That is why it endures.

And so, the question returns: now will we listen? Will we recognize that we are not standing in the middle of politics as usual, but at the edge of something eternal?

This is the turning point.

This Is the Turning Point – Part Three

I do not think inside the box. I do not think outside the box. I begin by rejecting that the box even exists.

This is where many struggle. We live in a world of compartments—politics in one box, faith in another, economics in another, culture in still another. We are told not to mix them, not to confuse categories, not to disturb the order that others have drawn. But truth has never been tidy. Truth has never respected lines sketched in sand. Truth rejects the box.

Jesus Christ did not stay in the box the Pharisees built for Him. The apostles did not stay in the box the Roman Empire demanded they obey. Reformers did not stay in the box the Church erected when it feared its own people. And now, in our day, young men and women are rejecting the boxes handed to them by a world that says, “Do not think too much, do not speak too loudly, do not challenge too deeply.”

Charlie Kirk rejected those boxes. He stood calmly and simply and said, “Ask me anything.” That was his ministry. That was his pulpit. And in the process, he shattered the neat compartments. He showed that one could be political and faithful, cultural and intellectual, American and universal—all at once. That is what made him dangerous. And that is what makes his absence profound.

You see, every era has its box breakers. Martin Luther nailed his theses. Martin Luther King Jr. marched his dream. Ronald Reagan said, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall.” Each of these moments was a box rejected. And each became a turning point.

Now, I stand before you and I tell you: we are at another.

When Charlie Kirk fell, the easy response was to say, “Another tragedy, another life cut short, another news cycle.” But the deeper truth is this: the box has been split open. The illusion that violence silences has been shattered. For in trying to erase him, the world has amplified him. In trying to cut him off, they have grafted him into history.

Some will say, “Do not make too much of this. Do not exaggerate.” But my answer is simple: look around. From Berlin to Pretoria, from Tokyo to Santiago, voices are rising. Mourning is crossing borders. Anger is turning into resolve. Symbols are multiplying, faster than critics can explain them away. What was once an American student movement has become a global echo. And echoes grow louder the longer they bounce.

The question is not whether Charlie Kirk was perfect. He was not. No man is. The question is whether his death reveals something larger than himself. And the answer is yes. Because now the debate is not about him. The debate is about whether truth can still be spoken, whether faith can still be lived, whether courage can still be displayed without fear of assassination.

Reject the box. See the pattern. Understand the turning point.

Because from this day forward, young men and women will not remember the details of speeches, the policies debated, the votes taken. They will remember the moment a man was silenced—and how that silence spoke louder than words ever could.

This is the turning point.

This Is the Turning Point – Part Four

Violence has always been the language of the fearful. When words cannot win, when reason cannot persuade, when reputation cannot be destroyed, those who serve darkness reach for brutality. It is the oldest tactic known to man. Cain lifted his hand against Abel not because Abel mocked him, not because Abel threatened him, but because Abel’s very existence was testimony. His sacrifice was accepted. Cain’s was not. And envy turned to rage.

The crucifixion of Christ was not about theft or crime. It was about silencing a voice that unsettled the powers. The assassination of leaders throughout history—Lincoln, Kennedy, and so many unnamed prophets and reformers—has always carried the same pattern. The voice that calls for truth becomes unbearable to the ears that live by lies. And when slander fails, violence follows.

Charlie Kirk now stands in that lineage. He did not call for revolution in the streets. He did not demand violence. He stood in lecture halls and gymnasiums, calmly answering questions. Yet even that became intolerable. Because in an age of noise, calm clarity is the most dangerous weapon of all.

But here is the paradox: every act of violence meant to silence has instead amplified. The blood of martyrs is the seed of movements. The executioner swings the blade, the tyrant fires the bullet, the assassin pulls the trigger, and in that moment what was fragile becomes unbreakable. Death steals the body, but it cannot steal the meaning.

And so we face the reality: this struggle will not stop. It never has, and it never will. Light will always be opposed by darkness. Truth will always be mocked by lies. Goodness will always be threatened by evil. That is the story of human history. But it is also the promise of divine providence—that every time darkness makes its move, light breaks through brighter still.

The question, then, is not whether the struggle continues. The question is whether we will see clearly that we are living in it now. This is not politics as usual. This is not another campus protest. This is not another skirmish in the endless chatter of social media. This is the battle of the ages playing out in our time, before our eyes, in ways too plain to ignore.

And so I say to you: do not dismiss this moment. Do not shrug it off as just another headline. For when the history of this generation is written, when our children and grandchildren ask what we saw and how we responded, we will remember this moment.

This is the turning point.

This Is the Turning Point – Part Five

We stand at a crossroads. And I say again, this is not politics as usual. This is not simply left against right, or blue against red, or young against old. This is a confrontation between courage and cowardice, between speech and silence, between light and darkness.

What, then, shall we do?

The first thing is simple but hard: we must not look away. Our natural instinct when confronted with violence is to retreat, to shield our eyes, to pretend it did not happen. But moments like this demand that we see clearly. We must see the brutality, the loss, the grief—and still declare that truth is stronger than terror.

The second is even harder: we must not answer violence with violence. The easy path, the natural path, is to strike back. But that is the path of Cain, not of Christ. That is the way of tyrants, not the way of those who believe in truth. If we take up the weapons of our enemies, then we become what they wanted us to be: bitter, vengeful, consumed by rage. The true act of defiance is to keep speaking, to keep building, to keep living as though fear has no dominion.

The third is the most profound: we must raise a generation that understands what has happened here. A generation that looks not at the surface but at the meaning. Young men and women today must come to see that courage is not always dramatic, not always cinematic, not always dressed in hero’s armor. Sometimes courage looks like standing at a microphone, calmly answering questions, refusing to bow to ridicule or rage. That is the courage that builds civilizations. That is the courage that preserves freedom.

And let me say this to the young: do not believe for one moment that your life is too small, your voice too weak, your place too insignificant. History is always moved forward by the young, because the young have not yet been broken by cynicism. They see clearly what is wrong and have not yet been taught to accept it as normal. That is why movements like Turning Point began with the young, and that is why the death of its founder will now echo most powerfully among them.

This is your inheritance. This is your call. Not to idolize a man, but to take up the mission that outlives him. Not to live in fear of death, but to live in reverence for truth.

A voice from heaven was given. Now will we listen? Will we carry it forward?

Because history will not wait. Time will not pause. And what was once a campus event has become a generational test.

This is the turning point.

This Is the Turning Point – Part Six

What began as one man’s mission, what seemed like one nation’s debate, has now crossed borders and oceans. His voice, silenced in one place, has been amplified in many. And now, the world is watching.

From Europe to Africa, from Asia to South America, tributes have risen. Young people have gathered not only to mourn, but to declare that the struggle for truth is not confined to one country. They recognize the pattern because they live it. They see the opposition, because they face it. They understand the sacrifice, because they know the cost of speaking when speech is dangerous.

It is tempting to believe that America is the center of everything. But what we are witnessing now is bigger than one land, bigger than one movement, bigger even than one name. It is the awakening of a global recognition—that truth, when spoken with clarity, attracts both enemies and disciples, both persecution and passion.

And I tell you this: the pattern is not new. Christianity itself began in a small corner of the Roman Empire. A handful of voices carried the message across borders, through persecution, through ridicule, through violence. The empire believed it could stamp it out. Yet the very attempt to crush it ensured its survival.

So too today. The attempt to silence has become the reason for amplification. The attempt to cut down has become the root of expansion. The attempt to erase has instead etched his name into stone.

This is why we must see clearly: the story of Charlie Kirk is not the story of an activist in America. It is the story of a symbol that now belongs to a wider human struggle—the struggle for freedom of speech, freedom of belief, freedom to stand without being destroyed.

And let us not underestimate the power of symbols. Symbols cross languages. Symbols outlast regimes. Symbols inspire generations not yet born. And when blood seals the symbol, it cannot be erased.

Now, nations are aligning. Movements are crystallizing. A common language is emerging. And though critics will sneer and opponents will mock, the truth remains: this is no longer just about America. This is about the human longing for freedom itself.

A voice from heaven was given. Now will we listen? Not just here, not just now, but everywhere, for years, for decades, for centuries to come.

This is the turning point.

This Is the Turning Point – Part Seven

Every great movement is born in purity, but every great movement faces the danger of corruption. The fire that begins as holy can be captured, marketed, distorted, and sold until it no longer resembles what first burned.

I have seen it before. The Tea Party began as a cry of frustration—“Taxed Enough Already.” It was small. It was local. It was authentic. But in time it was hijacked by the loud, the opportunistic, the professional personalities who turned it into a brand. And what began as fire became smoke. What began as conviction became commerce.

The same risk exists now. There will be those who try to take this moment and twist it into their own slogans, their own platforms, their own profit. There will be voices who claim the mantle but miss the meaning. And the danger is that what was pure in sacrifice becomes polluted in ambition.

That is why we must be vigilant. That is why we must guard the memory, the message, the meaning. Because when something is sealed in blood, it is not to be trivialized. It is not to be sold. It is not to be cheapened by opportunists who see dollar signs where others see destiny.

Let us remember: the death of Charlie Kirk is not about political marketing. It is not about building bigger followings, raising more funds, or printing more slogans. It is about the eternal question: will truth be silenced by fear? Will light be extinguished by darkness? Will courage be mocked into oblivion, or will it be lived into eternity?

If this movement is to endure, it must reject the temptation of hijackers. It must reject the voices that would sell out the symbol for their own gain. It must remain focused on the meaning of sacrifice, the dignity of courage, and the mission of truth.

Because the world is watching. The young are watching. And history is writing its record.

A voice from heaven was given. Now will we listen?

Or will we let this moment—this turning point—become another slogan, another brand, another lost opportunity?

The choice is ours.

This is the turning point.

This Is the Turning Point – Part Eight

A movement cannot live on memory alone. It must be carried in flesh and blood, in daily choices, in the way we live. The challenge before us is not merely to mourn. The challenge is to embody.

If this is truly a turning point, then it must turn us—not only in how we think, but in how we act.

In our homes, it must mean raising children who know courage is more than bravado. Courage is telling the truth when lies are more convenient. Courage is standing for what is right when the cost is heavy. Courage is not violence, but endurance.

In our communities, it must mean refusing to live as strangers. Too many are isolated, divided, disconnected. Yet this moment teaches us that the silencing of one voice ripples across many lives. If we are to resist darkness, we must resist it together. Fellowship is not optional. Unity is not luxury. They are survival.

In our churches, synagogues, and assemblies, it must mean remembering that faith is not private comfort but public testimony. The life of Charlie Kirk, and the symbol his death has become, testify to this: when belief is spoken aloud, it will meet opposition. That opposition must not scare us into silence. It must drive us deeper into conviction.

In our politics, it must mean rising above pettiness. This is not about left or right, conservative or progressive, American or foreign. This is about truth and courage. If we reduce it to party slogans, then we betray the meaning of the sacrifice. But if we elevate it to principle, then we honor it.

And in our personal lives, it must mean rejecting the temptation to live small. Too many are content to drift, to scroll, to consume. But this is not the time for passivity. This is the time for resolve. Each of us has a voice. Each of us has a sphere. Each of us has a calling. And now, more than ever, each of us has a responsibility.

This is not about one man. This is not about one organization. This is about you, me, us—all of us deciding whether we will let fear dictate the terms of our lives, or whether we will live as if truth still matters.

A voice from heaven was given. Now will we listen?

This is the turning point.

This Is the Turning Point – Part Nine

Since the beginning of time, mankind has lived in the tension between light and darkness. Eden taught us that temptation whispers at the edges of every blessing. Cain taught us that envy can strike down innocence. Rome taught us that empires rise on power but tremble before truth. And history has never changed that pattern.

We are not the first generation to face this struggle, and we will not be the last. But every generation must decide whether to sleep through its turning point or to stand awake in it.

The crucifixion of Christ was not just a Roman execution. It was the unveiling of divine providence—that death itself can be defeated, that truth cannot be buried, that sacrifice can ignite eternity. And while no man can equal that, every man who stands for truth walks in that same pattern.

Charlie Kirk’s death is now folded into this eternal story. It is not just about one campus, one country, or one moment. It is about the revelation that truth always demands a price, and those willing to pay it—even unwillingly—become part of the great witness.

Providence works this way. A farmer plants seeds he never sees sprout. A builder lays stones for a cathedral he will never enter. A messenger speaks words that echo long after he is gone. And we—whether we know it or not—are carried along by the sacrifices of those who came before us. Now, in our time, the torch is being passed again.

This is why I reject the idea of the box. The box says, “Keep it in politics.” The box says, “Keep it in religion.” The box says, “Keep it in the past.” But the truth is larger than the box. The truth is that life, death, courage, faith, and freedom are woven together. They cannot be separated. They cannot be compartmentalized. They cannot be ignored.

And so, we must understand: what happened here is not an interruption. It is not a detour. It is destiny unfolding. A man lived, spoke, stood, and fell. And in falling, he has become more than himself. His sacrifice has entered the bloodstream of a movement, of a nation, of a generation.

A voice from heaven was given. Now will we listen?

This is the turning point.

This Is the Turning Point – Part Ten

We have walked through the meaning of this moment. We have seen how death does not silence, how sacrifice sanctifies, how symbols endure. Now we stand at the close of this turning point message, and the choice lies before us.

I will leave you with this truth:

“I do not think inside the box. I do not think outside the box. I begin by rejecting that the box even exists. Because truth is larger than compartments, courage is stronger than fear, and sacrifice is greater than death.”

“A voice from heaven was given. Now will we listen? Or will we let cynicism and cowardice choke out what could be the moment that shapes generations?”

“The blood of martyrs has always been the seed of movements. The attempt to silence is always the reason for amplification. And what the world means for erasure, God transforms into remembrance.”

“This is the turning point. Not just his. Not just theirs. Ours. Today, tomorrow, and for all who will inherit the world we leave behind.”

Amen.