Your Restless Heart Could Lead You Home
What is this moment?
JFK: I remember exactly where I was when I heard President Kennedy had been shot. November 22, 1963. Third grade. Lincoln Elementary in Nogales. Mrs. Waddell came in mid-morning. She was a big woman with an even bigger hug. She said something about the President. I didn’t really understand. Who could at eight years old? All I knew was that parents were coming to pick us up. My teacher had been crying. That scared me more than anything.
9/11: I remember where I was on 9/11, too. I was on my way to breakfast with a couple at the Intercontinental in Dallas. We were about to launch another capital campaign at Christ Church, and this was one of those “major gift” breakfasts. I had the pitch ready.
On the radio, I caught the report of the first plane hitting the Trade Center. I walked in, sat down, and started talking about the campaign. The husband kept looking over my shoulder at the commotion around the bar. The TVs were on and tuned to cable news. Businessmen and women were packed around it. The second plane hit while we sat there. America was at war.
And now, September 10th, 2025. I was at my desk in my study. I just heard it from the other room. The TV was on. The early afternoon news shows were tracking a story.
A shooting.
At a Utah rally.
Charlie Kirk. Hit.
Live feed.
At first, I thought, No, this has to be a mistake. Then I thought, surely he’ll pull through. Then the on-air host read a statement from President Trump. Charlie Kirk had been assassinated. He was dead.
Three Moments. Overblown?
Three moments. Three markers in the American story. In ’63, we couldn’t imagine what the sixties would become. In 2001, we couldn’t imagine the decades that were to follow. And now, here we are again. Who knows what comes next?
Some might think any comparison of Kirk’s murder to JFK or 9-11 is overblown. I hope it is—I hope I am wrong about what a watershed moment this is and how it could portend hard things for our future. But I resonate with what Spencer Cox, the governor of Utah, said at his press conference a few days ago, that the murder of Charlie Kirk is:
“much bigger than an attack on an individual. It is an attack on all of us. It is an attack on the American experiment. It is an attack on our ideals.”
Are we at war with ourselves?
Going Back to Church?
But I’ve noticed something else, too. People are looking for light. For hope. One woman posted,
I’m going back to church. God is the only thing that is going to make this better. Haven’t been in 30 years.
That line got me. It was honest. Humble.
And then a few more posts came across my screen. One woman said something along the lines of, “I’ve seen too much evil in the world lately. I’m going to walk back into that church down the street and see if they have anything to say about it.”
Not her exact words, but close enough.
Then these came too. Read these slowly. Carefully. They are amazing.
These are actual quotes:
This is exactly how I feel. I’m agnostic too but I’ve been thinking of going back to church lately and can’t put my finger on why. I think I’ll go this Sunday, too.
This evil piece of s*%& just unwoke a sleeping giant in all Republicans and Christians, more people are going to be going to churches all over America, and I haven’t been to church in about 10 years, and I’m definitely thinking about going back soon.
I’ve been gone for a while. But I’m going back to church on Sunday I can’t handle the weight of this world on my own, I need more of Jesus, I need to be in a room where everyone comes as they are, you can feel the emotions in the room, hands up praising, people crying,
I still can’t sleep. l’ve been up since 4:45am. This gut feeling I have is so weird. I can’t figure out what it means or why I’m feeling it but I can’t shake it either. Something has shifted & my soul is uncomfortable. The atmosphere even feels different. I’m probably just being weird but something is off.
You’re Not Wrong
These posts all have something in common. People are unsettled. They feel the world tilting, the atmosphere shifting, something is pressing in.
When you look at them together, there’s a clear thread running through all of them:
A sense of disorientation and disturbance: People are shaken. They can’t sleep, they feel unsettled, and they admit they can’t quite put into words what’s wrong. “Something is off.” The assassination didn’t just touch politics—it touched nerves deep inside.
A turn toward faith as a response: Over and over, people mention church.
“I think I’ll go this Sunday.”
“I haven’t been in 10 years, but I’m thinking about going back.”
“I need more of Jesus.”
They may not even fully know why—but in the middle of grief and fear, they instinctively turn toward God, worship, and community.
A longing for strength and hope beyond themselves: They admit: “I can’t handle the weight of this world on my own.” That’s confession language, even if they wouldn’t call it that. There’s a hunger for something bigger, steadier, and more eternal than politics or culture wars.
The sense of a cultural/spiritual shift: “These events have ‘unwoken a sleeping giant’” … “something has shifted.” People feel that this isn’t just one man’s death, but a turning point. It has cracked something open in the American soul, and they are wondering what comes next.
They are restless.
They are reaching for God,
for church,
for prayer,
for a place to lay down what they can’t carry on their own.
That restlessness is not new. Augustine named it sixteen hundred years ago: “Our heart is restless until it rests in Thee.”
Read it all in The Anglican