Why I Keep the Light On

A single light is strong enough to push away the dark

I write to make sense of the world—and myself. Whether it's through novels, blog posts, screenplays, or the occasional poem, my hope is simple: that someone out there will see themselves in the struggle, the lesson, or the flicker of hope I’m wrestling with.

But lately, that hope’s been harder to hold.

Everywhere I look, there’s another eruption—violence, hatred, war, or the looming threat of one. And now, an assassination. Not of a general or a despot, but of a man whose “crime” was speaking his mind and engaging in debate.

I didn’t see this exact moment coming, but I saw this coming.

After two decades of identity politics, gender ideology, Marxist revivalism—each pushed deeper into classrooms, even into preschools—those who resist are met with dehumanization. Doxxed. Debanked. Fired. Branded as ‘deplorables,’ ‘fascists,’ ‘existential threats.’ All for asking questions, or offering a counterpoint.

But escalation hasn’t only come from the left. We’ve seen white-supremacist manifestos, Islamic calls for holy war, and conspiracy theories like QAnon radicalize thousands. These forces, too, have contributed to the mess.

It was only a matter of time before violence escalated. Now we've witnessed assassination attempts against a Presidential candidate, the killing of a Minnesota state legislator, a healthcare CEO... and most recently, Charlie Kirk.

I didn’t know him personally. But he felt familiar—just a guy who wanted to debate. A conservative who went into liberal strongholds—college campuses—and said, “Let’s talk.” That took guts. And now, he’s gone.

What’s worse? The reaction.

Cheering. Celebration. Graffiti telling others to “kill more.” Threats to his wife. Calls for the 'return' of political assassination. Warnings on churches and campuses: “Kill all the Charlie Kirks.”

And now the cycle spins faster. Others want revenge. Lists are being made. Doxxing isn’t fringe anymore—it’s standard. Left hardliners want revolution. The Right a “national divorce." Others say we're already in a civil war.

There’s a verse in Ecclesiastes: “For everything there is a season… A time to be silent and a time to speak. A time for peace, and a time for war.”

If peace is a season, we are deep into its late autumn. Each act of violence strips another leaf from the tree. Each cheer for death accelerates the decay. Soon, snow will fall, mingled with blood, and we keep going, if we keep escalating, civilization will become something we study—behind glass, under guard, through bars.

But we aren’t out of choices.

We can still choose to keep one room lit. A room where ideas can be tested without bloodshed. Where disagreement doesn’t equal destruction. I’m keeping that lamp on. And if you want the light, come on in.

Because I’ve learned one thing, through everything:

Light drives out darkness. And the darkness cannot overcome it.