I deleted my social media last week—and I can already see what it was doing to me.

It’s been about a year in the making. In fact, this blog and my email list only began a year ago as the first step of my exit out of social media. Last week I finally made the cut. And even though it’s only been seven days, the difference has been profound.

And then yesterday, Charlie Kirk was tragically assassinated.

What stunned me most wasn’t only the death, but the reactions—people celebrating, others indifferent—simply because they didn’t like his politics or faith-based values.

What pierced me today was the photo of Charlie with his wife and their two little ones. As a husband and father myself, I can only imagine the unbearable weight his family is now carrying.

What kind of world have we built when death feels justified—simply because they held different views?

Death leaves a silence no sentence can fill. And I sat in that tension today—between knowing God redeems all things, while staring at the brutal reality of another shooting, another life stolen. It’s so wrong. So unjust. All of it.

I’m convinced the media and social platforms have played a massive role.

I saw it firsthand during New Zealand’s Freedom Village protests. I was there. The media didn’t just report what happened—they rewrote it. And when we’re addicted to those platforms, those narratives don’t just fill our feeds—they form our hearts.

They create caricatures of people we’ve never met, planting seeds of hate that bear ugly fruit. Divide, deceive, and turn people against each other.

This isn’t left vs right, red vs blue, them vs us.

This is light vs darkness.

Celebrating the death of a 31-year-old man, son, husband, and father—just because you disagreed with him—is evidence of poisoned minds and hardened hearts.

Social media is like a drip IV into your soul. If you don’t guard what’s in the bag, poison gets into your bloodstream.

And if I were the enemy, this is exactly how I’d fight: not with bombs, but with narratives. Not with guns, but with division. Turn neighbor against neighbor until we celebrate the very thing Jesus came to destroy—death itself.

The cross tells us that what looks like the end is never the end. The same Jesus who wept at a tomb also called life out of it.

And He calls us to a way the world will never understand: “But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” (Matthew 5:44)

What does that look like in real life?

• Refusing to join the crowd when everyone is mocking someone online

• Praying for leaders you disagree with instead of demonizing them

• Speaking words of blessing instead of throwing stones of insult

• Remembering the person on the other side of the screen is still someone Jesus died for

Even nailed to a cross, Jesus prayed for His executioners: “Father, forgive them.”

If that isn’t the way of life, what is?

What if loving our enemies is what first changes us—and then changes society? What if that’s the answer to today’s chaos?

Or is that too weak?

Did Jesus miss it here?

Or have we?

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” — Martin Luther King Jr.

When we love like this, we begin to see what the world hides—that underneath it all, we’re far more alike than we are different. We all bleed. We all fear. We all long to be seen, loved, and valued.

The world says: divide, label, hate.

Jesus says: love, forgive, restore.

D.L. Moody once said: “Death may be the king of terrors, but Jesus is the King of kings.”

Celebrating death is always darkness. But loving your enemies—that’s light the darkness can’t overcome.

Exiting social media has made me see this more clearly than ever. I’m not saying everyone should delete their accounts. But I am saying this: unless we learn how to guard our hearts and use these tools carefully, they will use us.

For now, I’m here with you through these blogs, YouTube and emails.

And maybe that’s enough—because truth spreads best heart to heart, not feed to feed.

Father, thank You that You are near to the brokenhearted. Comfort Charlie’s family, strengthen his wife, surround his children with Your love. Be with my friends in America and all who are grieving the chaos and loss of this hour. Protect our hearts from hate, heal our wounds with Your love, and teach us again to walk in the light of Jesus.

May His light overcome every shadow in us, and may His love teach us again how to be human.

Jesus is King.

Bless you,

Lee