Vince Byfield is a political commentator and manages TheChristians.com, which publishes the 12-volume history book series The Christians: Their First Two Thousand Years.Yesterday afternoon, three events impacted our household — none of them planned, none of them coordinated — but together they left an unmistakable impression on me and my wife Grace. Each one touched something different: our minds, our hearts, and our spirit.The first came from our eldest daughter Mercia as she exclaimed, “Charlie Kirk has been shot!” She had seen a video online — the real thing. Graphic. Unmistakable.We didn’t yet know if he had survived. Immediately, my wife and I stopped everything and began to pray. We prayed for Charlie’s life — that God would spare him, heal him, uphold him. There was still hope. There had to be..EDITORIAL: The assassination of Charlie Kirk: The Left’s war on dissent.It was only later that we heard from President Trump himself that Charlie had passed away.And it hit.The weight of it wasn’t just about a man dying. It was about what he represented — the courage to speak plainly, the willingness to stand firm, the clarity of purpose. That kind of voice is rare. And now it was gone..The feeling is hard to describe. My wife and I sat in silence, and what settled over us wasn’t just sorrow — it was something deeper. It reminded me of how people must have felt when they heard the news that Martin Luther King Jr. had been assassinated. Or RFK Jr.'s father Robert Kennedy. That sudden rupture. That sense that the world had just shifted, and not for the better. A voice of purpose — silenced. A leader of conviction — gone. There was a heaviness in the room, not just between the two of us, but around us. It felt as though the ground had tilted, as if a line had been crossed from which there was no easy return.Still feeling the grief and gravity of the moment, our younger son casually mentioned that Prime Minister Mark Carney had visited his class that afternoon. Not virtually — in person. He had come into their social studies class and spoken to them directly for about ten minutes.That’s no small thing..HANNAFORD: When politics becomes murder.But my reaction wasn’t what it should have been. Something that would normally be the topic of conversation that night at the family dinner table wasn't. I brushed it off without thinking of the consequences of that with our son.Not because I was busy. Not because I didn’t hear him. But because I don’t care for the man. I don’t agree with his politics. I believe his actions and ideology are doing serious damage to Canada..So instead of seizing the moment to engage with my son, to ask what Carney had said, to hear what my son had taken away from it, I let it pass. Coldly. Dismissively.And to make matters worse, we were already in a bit of a struggle that day, trying to encourage Pax to get ready for cadets — something we know will help form his character. He didn’t want to go. We didn’t force him. But the tension was there, and I didn’t handle that moment well either..BARCLAY: The purge of right-wing politics in Canada.Looking back on it, it’s clear to me now that my response to my son wasn’t shaped by the example of Christ. It was shaped by pride. And by politics.That evening, my wife and I attended a Bible study put on through Focus on the Family and friends from our church.It was there that the Shema came up..I had always known it as something Jesus taught — the greatest commandment: to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength. But what I hadn’t realized, until that night, was how deeply rooted it is in Scripture. That it comes directly from the Old Testament — from Deuteronomy 6 and Leviticus 19. That it was something devout Jews would recite every morning and evening — a cornerstone of their daily life and identity. That night we recited the Shema and then appended Jesus' all-important clarification — sometimes referred to as the Law of Love — that to truly love God we must therefore love our neighbour as much as ourselves.One of the men in the group, Paul, spoke up and said that perhaps we, too, should consider starting our days by reciting the Shema — to remind ourselves, first thing, what our priorities ought to be.I added something then that had just begun to dawn on me..EDITORIAL: A pipeline-free future? Carney’s major projects list ignores Smith’s demands.In moments when we feel our temper rising — when the world provokes us, when someone says something we don’t want to hear, or when our children do something that frustrates us — we’re often told to “count to ten.” But maybe a better path would be to take a deep breath and recite the Shema.Not as ritual. But as re-alignment.A reminder of who we are. And whose we are..Because in brushing off my son that afternoon — and in my coldness toward Mark Carney, a man I may strongly disagree with but who is still a human soul — I was not acting in accordance with the Shema. And I certainly wasn’t living in the spirit of Christ, who further clarified in the Gospels this to the greatest commandment.“Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.”I don’t think of Mark Carney as an “enemy.” But I would be lying if I said I love him. And that, according to the One I follow, is not acceptable.So in the space of a few hours I was reminded..That life is fragile, and some voices are lost too soon.That fatherhood is lived out one moment at a time.That faith is not merely confessed — it must be practiced, especially when it’s difficult..EDITORIAL: Alberta teachers union selfishly puts itself before students.And that perhaps, before I react next time — before I brush someone off, or give way to judgment — I should pause … and — as peacefully as we can muster — recite this beautiful variant of the Shema taught to us by our Saviour:“Hear O Israel! The Lord is our God — the Lord alone. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might, and love your neighbor as yourself. Amen.”Vince Byfield is a political commentator and manages TheChristians.com, which publishes the 12-volume history book series The Christians: Their First Two Thousand Years.
