The Lamb

“These were the seeds that Charlie had planted into the soil that is our nation. This was the totality of his work, guided by God’s hand, and aided by a team of believers who worked alongside him. This was the beginning of Christ’s new earthly army but, nothing can grow without nourishment and, it was Charlie’s blood that would water the field. Now… watch us grow.”

Washed

I’m writing these words before the sun has risen on an early Fall Sunday morning. My pup is snoring beneath my feet and my wife – ever the homemaker who places everyone’s needs before her own – has crawled out of bed to turn on the coffee pot I neglected as I crept past the kitchen on my way to my office. She’s shuffling back to bed for a few more hours of sleep before our kid wakes and our business phones begin their routinely tumultuous chorus of chronic notifications and ringing. I can’t sleep. Haven’t in days. There’s something burning in my gut and it feels familiar. Not as if it’s a sudden onset but, a recent intensifying of a concurrent symptom. I’m not surprised by it. In fact, I’m positive I can identify it. 

I have no way of knowing if everyone else feels the build up to a nuanced existentiality like I do. The accelerating speed, the growing pressure, and the escalating temperature. I don’t know if anyone else’s toes are dangling off the edge of the precipice but…

Mine are. 

Change is coming. I can feel it and I’m suspicious that you might too. I’ve felt it for a long time but now, it’s like a storm front lingering over the Wyoming Range and its inevitability can be felt in the bitter winds as they push into the Green River basin. It’s coming to our world and nation but, for me, it’s also coming to my door step. It’s been four days since a good man was violently and abruptly ripped from this world, in high definition, for the entirety of God’s sinful masses to witness. It was horrible, and profound… and powerful. It’s been years since the fire in my gut started from self actualized tinder and began burning away at the structure built inside me. A structure that, I see now, was designed to be temporary. The fire has been consuming the walls and trusses for some time and I feel safe in saying that the cold blooded murder of a god-fearing man served to degrade the integrity of the final pillar, and it buckled beneath the weight and heat – bringing the entire structure down. 

Now, upon the solid foundation where a wooden house once stood, a stone temple shall be built.

In this moment of vulnerability, I will admit this past week has been a hard one for me. I don’t expect everyone to understand or empathize with that, and that’s okay. I don’t worry myself with that and I won’t use this space to advocate or argue on behalf of Charlie Kirk. I won’t engage in defending the validity of his movement or the good he did for an ungrateful world. I certainly won’t describe the substantiations this week has provided for all the theoretical, sickly conditions of our nation – for which I have contemplated and shared for years. The time for that may be over; only the coming days will tell.

For those who are rolling their eyes, tuning out, or even going as far as readying an angry reply: I don’t care if you agree with me. I don’t care if you hate me. The Christians have been trying to win (and save) your heart for a very long time, to no avail. I’ve always admired and supported their efforts but, I’ve never shared in their optimism. I don’t believe you can be saved. Charlie did, and a demon who shares your archetype murdered him in cold blood for it. 

I struggle to imagine a more divine tragedy. 

I suppose it’s not my place to. That’s for the Big Dog to sort out. My words aren’t for you and my time is precious. I’m not here to persuade those who have committed to wickedness. Just know that a profound change has come to my world with CK’s murder and that with it will come a reform in how I operate and where I take this publication. What a peculiar thing it is; to redirect an initiative in its infancy. 

His Plan

Though, as the shock wears off and clarity settles in, I wonder if maybe that was always the plan. If you’re like me, it’s difficult to see through the obstructive and reactive but, natural sin of hate, and through the teary opaqueness of sorrow but, I beg you to compose yourself for a moment and witness what has come of it:

• Charlie’s vision for a conservative advocacy group in 2012 has grown into a political force beyond anything I think even Charlie had imagined. On the day he was assassinated there were 3,000 people in attendance and a myriad of live streams in action – his message reaching an immeasurable amount of people. He died before a crowd of brothers and sisters he inspired to walk with Christ, which had grown exponentially from the handful of students who would argue with him in the early days from across a fold out table.
  
• By 2020, TPUSA had 2,500 chapters spread across high schools and college campuses nationwide. By 2022, its national presence had grown to 3,000 chapters with 650,000 student members.
  
• In 2022, AmericaFest drew in 10,000 attendees. The AmericaFest conference in 2023 drew in 13,000 members. In 2022 the High School “National Field Program” drew in 250 people yet, by 2024 that program had rebranded to “Club America” and had reached 695 attendees.
  
• In July of 2025, the Student Action Summit drew 5,000 people. By then, TPUSA represented more than 3,500 schools, facilitated more than 2,000 student groups and more than 800 faith groups. 

These were the seeds that Charlie had planted into the soil that is our nation. This was the totality of his work, guided by God’s hand, and aided by a team of believers who worked alongside him. This was the beginning of Christ’s new earthly army but, nothing can grow without nourishment and, it was Charlie’s blood that would water the field. Now… watch us grow. 

• In the first 48 hours since his death, TPUSA had received 32,000 inquiries to start new chapters across the nation.
  
• Erika Kirk’s battle cry was heard across the world and has lit a fire in the belly of hundreds of thousands of new, young Christians. It’s far too early for metrics and analytical data however, on an anecdotal scale, open any social media app of your choosing and witness for yourself what this movement is swiftly growing into.
  
• A database has been established to track the horrible and vile things wicked people have been posting online and as a result, 33 people have been fired from their place of employment. Many were public servants and educators. The database has received more than 40,000 submissions as of this writing and I’m confident the weeding out of these abhorrent people from our tax funded institutions will continue.
  
• Vice President Vance hosted the ‘Charlie Kirk Show’ in honor of his longtime friend and political ally. He was joined by Tucker Carlson, RFK, Stephen Miller, Andrew Kolvet, Kaelan Dorr, Taylor Budowich, Susie Wiles and Karoline Leavitt. The huge outpour of support for the Kirk family is reaching from all corners of our society, and from all levels.
  
• Across the nation and even, around the world, candlelight vigils and other showings of support are turning out thousands upon thousands of people. In England, a support rally attracted a huge crowd of proud, conservative patriots waving British flags and walking a picture of the late Kirk through the streets in parade-like fashion. In Australia, a large showing of support from Brisbane came in on the tune of “Fortunate Son” by Creedence Clearwater Revival and a parade of conservative, flag-waving Kirk followers. In Long Island, New York thousands of supporters showed up to a candlelight vigil chanting “WE ARE CHARLIE!” At the Bristol Motor Speedway, NASCAR paid tribute to Kirk by placing his picture on the jumbo screen during an acrobatic flyover, as thousands of fans cheered. At Coldplay’s final concert at Wembley, Chris Martin spoke of sending love out into the world to his 80,000 fans and included Charlie’s family in his sentiments.
  

I’ve seen and heard a lot of confusion, pushback, and denial surrounding the reasoning for Charlie’s murder. My heart breaks when I hear the pain in Erika Kirk’s voice. The world is hurting at the loss of a beautiful human and, I can’t help but wonder how any of this could be God’s plan. Then, I step back and take in the response. The incredible, veracious fire that has been sparked; witnessed through the examples I listed above and many, many more. I see people coming together, cooling their tongues, softening their hearts and, putting forth genuine effort to find relatable ground. I see more and more people of the center, who have not reached a pivotal fork in their journey as of yet, who are wandering more right – towards the path that leads to light and away from darkness. 

What if Charlie fulfilled his purpose? What if he was always meant to remind a drifting society of where their home truly was and, what if in doing so, he saved hundreds of thousands of our souls just in time for judgement? 

What if he was the lamb…

My Plan

My take?

I know there’s a reason for all this, though I don’t fully understand it. I’m not sure I ever will. 

What I will do however is recommit myself. I will answer the nagging call that has been ringing in the back of my mind for years, and I will constitute a more aggressive modus in the way I advocate for the good things in our world. 

My prioritizations have always been directly linked to my convictions and they haven’t altered. The paramountly righteous attributes of the human condition include love, strength, honor, loyalty and, faith. I believe more now than ever before that those virtues are the foundation and cornerstones of the nuclear family unit, a nation’s substantial and well supported working class, a profound cultural sense of patriotism and, an unwavering loyalty to God. 

I don’t go forth without noticing the seemingly convenient timing of it all and, I don’t suspect I’m alone. I assume there is a vast myriad of believers who are now fiercely motivated to respond to the call that’s been pushing their directive to purpose. For many of them, I imagine they have been idling that drive, as I have but, are now activated further in their assurances of divine intervention. 

I am them. 

Anyone who knows me, knows I’m a talker. I criticize myself often for it. In my opinion, I talk far too much. In fact, I regularly reflect on advice a mentor once gave me and feel shame for my inability to abide. “Never miss an opportunity to shut the fuck up.” You might read that and assume he wasn’t much of a talker. You’d assume incorrectly. He was far better at metering his words contingent on the audience however, when in his element, he had much to say. I never adapted such a discipline but, since becoming a fulltime guide that burden, by windfall, has begun to bear fruit. 

Anyone who has fished on my boat has experienced it for themselves. I have a tendency to engage my anglers and try to see them on a deeper level than the superficial mask we all have a tendency to wear in public. I thrive on the conditions that inspire comfort in conversation and I so rarely get to do it in other aspects of life. It’s difficult to truly see someone in short interactions. It’s impossible to do it in passing. But when you’re alone on a boat, in the vast and secluded riverscape of Western Wyoming, you’re afforded the time to speak with people on a plane of meaning.

In doing so, I’ve come to understand the critically imperative philosophical roots of some of the most common western sociological convictions, and how they prosper in certain environments or head-spaces. Consequently, I’ve come to see there are two paths before every man who comes up in an affluent society and in an ironic condition of unfortunate intrinsicality and serendipity, there is little anyone can do to prevent the inevitable end in which each path eventuates. One path defines the people who are holding candlelight vigils and peacefully mourning today. The other leads to those who are dancing in the streets, enunciating “we got Charlie in the neck!” through manic cackles and demonic celebrations. 

At the end of the path, there is no turning back for either. Those who are lost to these deprived extents of wickedness are lost forever and, those who are solidified in their principles and convictions which fortify their relentless pursuit to be a force for good can never be redirected. They have achieved a point of totality in their resolve. Charlie had reached that point, as did the monster who took him. They are rare however and, they exemplify something I have spoken of for years; that most of us are neither good nor evil. That both of these traits are uncommon and the antipode of each other. They exist in an antithetical spectrum. More likely, the person you are standing next to in line or in the grocery aisle well, they reside philosophically in a realm somewhere between the two extreme monikers. They are “nice.” They haven’t been conditioned and directed down either path yet but, they will be. It is an absolute. It can’t be avoided and it certainly can’t be negated. Every one of us will reach a point in our journey when we must choose. 

I intend to make sure I am there, at the fork in the road, advocating for the right path at that pivotal moment, as often as I possibly can be. At one point in my life, I too was lost down the left path, unaware that what I thought was an aimless wandering, was actually a deliberate push to guide me towards a horrible end. I thank God everyday for sending the angels he did, who would eventually bring me back, and correct my course. I hope he will use me to do the same for others. 

I hope he’ll steel my resolve, help me stay the course, and continue to speak of virtue in a manner that resonates without preaching. The path to good is a habitual one. Habits don’t form from extremes; they develop slowly and methodically over time. One small good deed compounding on another, until the heart has grown large enough to host Christ. 

Pushing Off

So, here I go. My oars are in the water and, I’m coming to lend any aid I can. In the coming weeks, if you are a fan of this publication, you will notice change. I hope you’re as excited about it as I am. I am motivated by the encouragement of the wonderful people around me. When I consider that, I can’t help but feel confident and, I recall a recent example: 

A client of mine sent me a screenshot of a conversation he had via iMessage a few days ago. The fly fishing community is relatively small so, it’s rarely a surprise when two of my clients meet outside of my introducing them. In this instance, my pal had met another client of mine in a digital fly fishing forum. They recognized each other’s location, contemplated fishing together sometime and, noticed they were both fans of the WFC. 

Naturally, that led them to discussing guides and subsequently, I was brought up in the conversation. I won’t share the kind words they spoke of me amongst themselves but, I will say that I am eternally grateful to have them both as friends. 

Below the screenshots he sent, he wrote a simple sentence that reminds me to stay the course. 

“Brother, you are making a difference and bringing positive experiences to people, through your writing and otherwise.” 

This is my plan. This is how I will honor Charlie and execute my purpose. I intend to continue having deep conversations. I intend to contemplate the ideas that perpetuate action, materialize philosophical stances and, dictate behavior. I will decide, with the Big Dog’s guidance, which path those ideas drive towards in inevitability and I will advocate for or against them accordingly. I’ll amplify my efforts to help who I can, when I can and hope to be a better person tomorrow than I was today. I’ll fight for what’s right and good in the world, without wavering or backing down, and insist on making those things prominent in how we set the course for our country. I’ll put every effort I have into becoming a force for good.

I’ll do these things and pray that one day, like Charlie, the demons will rejoice when I die.

Author’s Note:

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story and all the content associated with it. As an avid sportsman, I hope that this tale inspires you to get outside to enjoy the wild with the ones you love most. I write these stories as a supplement to my lifestyle as a sportsman and guide, and with them comes a certain accountability. The details of my stories are purely based on my recollection alone and in no particular way do they reflect a chronologically factual, indisputable timeline of events. They are in no way intended for official use or as a reference for official purposes. These are simply tall tales meant to entertain the tired mind; best served with a clear evening, a warm fire and, a strong whiskey.

All the photos and content featured in my tall tales are my own, unless expressly cited otherwise, and the unauthorized use or reproduction of them is strictly prohibited. That’s all for now, my friends. If you enjoyed this content and would like to see more like it, I can be found on Instagram by searching “Authentically Wild Out West” and on YouTube by searching the same phrase. Until the next campfire, stay safe out there and look after each other.

On another quick note: I’ve launched a new publication on Substack, specifically to showcase my serialized fiction and poetry! 

I hope you’ll join me there! Follow THIS LINK to have a look. 

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