Glenn Beck (29:23)
You're listening to the Best of the Glenn Beck podcast. Hear more of this interview and others with the full show podcast available wherever you get podcasts. Do you know how we change the world? We don't change it through big moments. The world changes because of big moments. But if we want to change the world ourselves, we have to change ourselves first. And we have to be great examples. You know, I am. I've been struck all week because I've been listening to my friends and their podcasts and I've talked to my friends on their podcasts and, and off the air. And I've had so many conversations this week with the people that you listen to all the time and we're all in the same place and we're all saddened, deeply saddened, some are very worried. And we all have done shows and said things on and off the air that I don't know if the left would do. They, they. I've been listening to people on the air and I've taken calls today and nobody is screaming for blood. And I am so proud of us. It gives me such profound Hope. Because the tone would be extraordinarily different if it was happening the other way around, and you know it. But let me take it. Let me take you to an uncomfortable place. Let me tell you a story that we just don't even think of. We have the. We have the shooter in custody now. And by all accounts, he was a good kid and went to college and then just was all screwed up. And I want you to think about that family for a minute. We've been thinking about Charlie's family. We've been thinking about his children, as is right and we must, and we. We have a duty to take care of them. But I want you to think about the family of the one that pulled the trigger. I want you to pause for a second and imagine for a minute a mom, just like you were a mom, you know, holding her baby boy and whispering prayers over the crib, just like you did. A dad who worked long days believing if you just keep food on the table and discipline in the home and you try to do the right thing, your son is going to grow up as strong and he's going to do good. Brothers, sisters, cousins, all of them now watching in horror as the name that they all share is now cursed as their mailbox fills not with condolence, but with hatred. Imagine being that family in a few days, going to the grocery store. How afraid you would be, just not even that somebody would do something, but just going through the gauntlet of stairs, the people that are questioning you. And you imagine how alone you would feel at that moment. You would just want to crawl into a hole. You would be questioning and tearing yourself apart. What did I do wrong as a parent, that my kid did this? What did I do wrong? You'd already have that. And then you'd have no one. No one outside of the family that would be with you. The neighbors across the street that you've known forever and have known you, friends that fall silent. You're no longer a friend. Maybe the church pew that you go to, it's the one next to you sits empty now. Nobody's sitting next to you. What would it mean? What would it do for them to see just one neighbor? Maybe somebody they barely even know. Maybe somebody they don't even know. They're in the grocery store and they're expecting all of these glares, and they pass somebody that offers them not a glare, but just a glance of kindness, not approval, not excuse, but just a small recognition that the tragedy has claimed their family as well. I don't know if I could have done this if I hadn't have raised my children and made so many mistakes that I have made. You know, I. I'm learning some ugly truths about myself this last year and things that I have a lot of work to do. And, you know, when I got into radio when I was 13 years old and this, this is my best friend, this has never rejected me. I can tell it anything. And my kids have noticed that I spend so much time with you when I go out in public. I love talking to you. And I've realized recently, to my shame, that my relationship with you may be the only relationship I'm good at. I don't know how to do other relationships. And I tried to be a good dad. And I've tried to do just like you have. We all have. We all have. But raising a kid is the hardest calling on earth. If you are a parent, you know it, especially today, you don't have any idea what you're doing. You have no idea. Everything has changed. Nothing with our kids is like it was. I can't even relate to it. I feel horrible for the kids of today because I don't know how to help them. And we can pour ourselves out. We can be there. I really have tried to be there for my kids every step of the way. We've tried to teach them the scriptures, we tried to pray without ceasing. You can sacrifice as a parent until there's nothing left to sacrifice, and still you can lose them because the world is waiting. Bad friends, social media, dark influences, the illness of the body or the mind, or frankly, the poisonous philosophies at the schools and universities that now train our young men and women not in the light of God and good and yearn to be better, but in grievance and shadow. And any one of those influences can reach out and grab and snatch one of our children that we have loved beyond measure. We can do everything right and they can still be snatched. And then we're left saying, lord, what did I miss? What did I fail to do? What could I have done different? I urge all of us to see this family of the shooter. We're not seeing monsters. We are not. We are seeing what any one of us could have become. Should fate or frailty just twist the lives of those we love? What sets us apart is the commandment from Christ to love our enemies. You know, character doesn't count when you're not under pressure. It doesn't count. You can be the nicest person in the world, but when you're under Extreme pressure. That true character comes out on who you really are. We are under extreme pressure. So who are we really? Are we like those we stand against? Are we like or do we love our enemies? Do we actually put that into practice? Do we pray for those who persecute and hate us? You know, when Jesus said all this stuff, he wasn't naive. He, more than anybody else, knew the pain of betrayal and the sting of an unjust death. And yet, while they drove nails into his hands and wrists, into his feet, while they pushed a crown of thorns deep into his head, he offered mercy to the thief on the cross, forgiveness to those who were driving nails. Last couple of days, we've done everything we can to honor Charlie's life. And in the coming days, we need to honor Charlie's life again by picking up the torch and picking it up where he left off to defend freedom and civil rights. But more than anything else, the reason why Charlie Kirk was a true civil rights leader is because he was a Christian first. He was a God fearing man first. He could love his enemies. He could speak to his enemies with a civility that is beyond most of us. If we want to honor his memory truly, then that's the torch we should pick up. To be a better disciple of Christ, to be so much better as individuals than the world would expect us to be, because that's what will change everything. When we are so much better than what the world would expect us to be, that it's almost breathtaking. The Amish. The Amish, when they forgave the mother and comforted the mother before they even had all of the bodies out of the school where the shooter had killed their children, they worried about the mother of that shooter and went to comfort her. And they went to her home and surrounded her. She was terrified when she saw out her window that there are all these Amish people. And she knew her son had just killed all their children. You should hear her testimony. She was terrified to open the door. She opened the door and they started to weep. And they said, sister, you're not alone. We lost a child and you lost a child. And they made her promise, you will never move from our community. You are now one of us. You are not an outsider. You are one of us. We grieve together. That's breathtaking. That's hard. Showing rage is so much easier. Being mad is so much easier. But saying kind thoughts, doing, showing compassion is so hard. To lift our gaze above the abyss of vengeance and instead see this one broken family who, like us, only wanted to raise a child to the light. This is what I mean by what I've been saying lately. Think small. Dream big. I want to heal the world. I don't know how to do that. But if I think small, I realize the greatest act of civil courage is not shouted in the streets. It's whispered in each of our hearts, Lord, heal them too. Let me be more compassionate, more empathetic. Let me be more like you.