by Rev. Mark Creech
Return America
The recent murder of a young Ukrainian woman on a commuter train in Charlotte is more than another tragic headline. It is a grim reminder that evil is not a theory but a terrible reality prowling our cities. When evil takes on flesh and blood, whether in a commuter train car or in the shocking assassination of Charlie Kirk, society has not only the right but the responsibility to restrain it with the full force of justice.
In North Carolina, the death penalty remains on the books, but for nearly two decades it has lain dormant. Legal wrangling, endless appeals, and political timidity in the legislature have rendered it ineffective. Yet the blood of innocents continues to cry out from the ground (Gen. 4:10). And the Word of God still speaks: “Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed, for God made man in his own image” (Gen. 9:6).
This mandate came directly after the universal flood God sent to cleanse the earth of its violence. It was His first command to human government after judging the world, showing that even before the Mosaic Law, capital punishment was universal and binding for all nations. It is not barbarism. It is divine retribution — rooted in the sacredness of human life.
Critics insist the death penalty does not deter crime. But even if one accepts their statistics – and many reputable scholars argue otherwise – the execution of a murderer remains the ultimate safeguard: he will never kill again. A society that refuses to carry out such a penalty gambles not only with future victims but with the safety and stability of the entire community.
Moreover, the death penalty has a moral dimension that transcends numbers. It declares with clarity what our culture has grown foggy about: human life is so valuable, so sacred, that to take it unlawfully demands the highest price. To forfeit capital punishment is to whisper, however unintentionally, that life is cheap.
Dr. William H. Baker, in Worthy of Death, wrote: “Retribution is properly a satisfactory or, according to the ancient figure of justice and her scales, a restoration of a disturbed equilibrium. As such, it is a proper, legitimate, and moral concept.”
In September of 2015, a group of North Carolina conservatives, calling themselves NC Conservatives Concerned About the Death Penalty, held a press conference urging repeal. A well-known Raleigh lawyer in the group, once a supporter of capital punishment, declared that he could no longer endorse it after prayer and reflection. He said, “We do not have the right to take away a person’s life if there’s any chance that God can redeem them. Mine is a matter of faith. I feel that as a Christian, I cannot support the death penalty anymore…I still consider myself a very strong law and order person.”
Yes, God can redeem the vilest sinner, but redemption in Christ does not eliminate the necessity of a proper punitive measure. On the Cross of Christ, mercy kissed justice: Jesus bore the penalty for our sins, satisfying the demands of God’s righteous order while extending grace to the guilty. If God Himself exacted the ultimate penalty for sin through the death of His beloved Son, why should the state be denied its solemn duty to exact righteous retribution on those who take innocent life?
Execution does not block redemption. The thief on the cross found salvation in his final moments (Luke 23:39–43), yet the punishment of death remained. Many death-row inmates have turned to Christ precisely because the certainty of death focused their hearts on eternity. Execution may be, and has been, the circumstance that drives the guilty to Christ in repentance and faith.
The church is called to proclaim grace and reconciliation. The state is called to wield the sword. Romans 13:4 reminds us civil authorities are, “The minister of God…[they] beareth not the sword in vain.” They are “a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil.” The two roles shouldn’t be confused. Sparing a murderer may seem merciful and good, but it is cruel to the victims, their families, and society itself. Proverbs 17:15 warns: “He that justifieth the wicked, and he that condemneth the just, even they both are abomination to the LORD.” Compassion that cancels the penalty owed to victims and their families for the atrocity of murder is not biblical. It is a perversion of righteousness – a moral failure masquerading as virtue. A faithful Christian may simultaneously believe that God can save a murderer’s soul and that the state must exact justice by taking his life.
Consider the death of Charlie Kirk, gunned down in an act of ideological hatred. Whatever one thought of his politics, his murder was a direct assault on free speech, faith, and the very principles that undergird our Republic. Worst still, it was a brutal and bloody assault on the image of Almighty God. Would his assassin have acted so brazenly if he knew with certainty that the sword of justice awaited him and would be swift? Perhaps. Perhaps not. But a culture that tolerates murder and doesn’t meet it with the proper consequences invites more of the same, leaving society increasingly exposed.
The young woman on the Charlotte commuter train and a public figure assassinated for his convictions are not unrelated tragedies. They are warnings — loud warnings! A society that shrinks from enforcing the death penalty invites the normalizing of violence and desensitizes itself to evil. When the state refuses this solemn duty, it abandons its divine mandate, leaving the people as prey.
North Carolina needs to awaken from its paralysis. America needs to awaken to this universal truth. The death penalty is not a relic of a crueler age — it is the sober recognition of a holy God and a fallen world. If we will not enforce it, then let us at least admit the inevitable costs — costs that we are paying now: more senseless and gross violence, more victims, more families shattered, more blood demanding recompense.
It is time for lawmakers, judges, and citizens alike to remember that mercy to the murderer often becomes cruelty to the innocent. Justice delayed has become justice denied. A state that refuses to wield the sword in righteousness bleeds under the blade of lawlessness.
