David Clements at the Professor’s Record honors Charlie Kirk. Below is the video and the text of today’s message as Charlie Kirk is remembered in Arizona for his amazing work and love for this country and Jesus Christ. THE NEBRASKA PLAINS STRETCHED WIDE and heavy under a September sky, thick with harvest dust and the weight of unspoken things. I spoke on election integrity in a large metal barn, its rafters solid over the crowd’s heat, and in an old church, where light fell plain on a cross at the front. The people rallied for the unborn, for the cross, for the right to bear arms, their voices clear as a hammer on iron. But when I turned to ballots and machines that hum secrets, the sanctity of one day, one vote, the very things that canceled what they rallied for—some froze. Their resolve faltered, as if a serpent coiled around their hearts, choking the hard questions.Others stirred, awake, restless, sensing a constricting spirit but unable to name it. It was a heaviness, a prayer stifled, a weariness that sapped the will to fight, a fog of half-truths that dulled the spirit’s edge. In the metal barn, surrounded by American flags and campaign literature, and in a quiet corner of the sanctuary, with the smell of old hymnals, the thought struck me.The python spirit.Not the jungle snake, but the one from Acts, the diviner that twists truth to bind souls. The thought came from the podcast, The Deep End, slipping into my feed, Taylor Welch’s brilliant mind, pulling the story of the girl in Philippi from the Good Book.That soothsayer of old trailed Paul and Silas through the city’s dust, her cries sharp as a knife. “These men are servants of the Most High God, who proclaim to you the way of salvation.” Day after day, her words rang true but wrong, her spirit—pneuma pythona—a fortune-teller, fattening her masters’ purses with lies supplied by the demon that controlled her.For three days, Paul walked blind to it, her truth masking the serpent within. Then, weary of the charade, he turned and cast it out in Jesus’ name. The girl fell silent, freed but broken to the world. Her owners dragged the apostles to the magistrates. Lashes fell, stocks clamped, but in the midnight cell, bloodied and bound, Paul and Silas sang.The earth shook, doors burst open. Truth unbound the python’s grip. But the python does not die easy. It coils again, in politics, in churches, on the third rails—election fraud, Israel’s Mossad, free speech—where wisdom cloaks fear, unity masks surrender.In Nebraska, I met the python spirit. The Democrat Party had Jezebel, all confusion and depravity, loud in the streets. But the python moved quiet in the GOP, where voices rang mostly true, policies almost right. It whispered: “Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good.” It said, “Take the 80% win and keep moving,” and “Half a loaf is better than none.” The words sounded wise, but off. The serpent aimed at third rails—issues that could break the world open. It wanted reformers chasing small wins, treading water in deep currents. They would fight, grow tired, drown, and wash away. That was the GOP’s spirit.The politicians, GOP leaders, and supporters of ES&S voting systems were the constricting voice, their words loud but hollow, talking election reform while guarding the machines, the mail-ins, the early voting that blurs the sacred line of choice. They spoke of integrity, but missed the mark, concealing the python in plain sight, just as the girl’s truth hid her curse. Advocates for secure elections, awake to the fraud, stood frustrated, four years of pushing against a wall they couldn’t name. Like Paul, they needed time to see the serpent’s coil—how the GOP’s half-measures, their ballot-chasing and voter turnout chants, danced around the root: machines that whisper vulnerabilities, systems that invite chaos. The awake felt it, but the frozen held sway, their unity a chain.In the church, the python slithered, preaching love and peace while dodging the republic’s fraying edge—Covid’s masks, Israel’s untouchable shadow surrounding a delayed response to an October 7 attack, stolen votes. Pastors called it prudence, not fear, their hymns smooth, veiling the serpent behind the cross. The awake in the pews sensed the lie, restless, while the frozen led on. During Covid, they locked doors in silence; now, with Charlie Kirk gone, they shout free speech, as if his blood bought their courage. I suppose better late than never.Everyone wants a piece of Charlie. Some honor his legacy. Others use it for their own ends.The python spirit sees an opening.And that’s the topic for today.Charlie Kirk’s Fire: Breaking the Python’s GripCharlie Kirk walked a road akin to our church fathers. Young, born in Chicago, he built Turning Point with words that cut deep. His ballot-chasing burned bright, rallying thousands to beat Democrats at their game, embracing early voting as strategy, silent on mail-ins and machines. He was wrong on these, but perhaps, given time, he’d have seen the truth of rigged systems, the ground shifting. On nearly everything else, he was right.His rise to greatness, with millions in funding to stage events, put him in the crosshairs of princes and principalities. Those dollars, they say, came with strings—what he could say, what he couldn’t. Just as Trump’s near assassination left us with far more questions than answers, it’s hard to believe a lone gunman devised either Kirk’s or Trump’s attack without help. Voices like Matt Gaetz, Tucker, and Marjorie Taylor Greene have begun sharing the pressure Kirk was under to tow the line. Was he killed for planning to cut those strings, to speak freer, truer? I don’t know.What I do know is what Charlie said. And we do him a disservice in ignoring something he clearly struggled with before his life was held forfeit.On August 6, 2025, Charlie Kirk said on The Megyn Kelly Show “I have less ability… to criticize the Israeli government than actual Israelis do. And that’s really, really weird,” his voice steady as he named the pressure from donors and lobby groups binding his tongue.And on Patrick Bet-David’s PBD Podcast on October 12, 2023, he probed the cracks in the October 7 attack against Israel, the IDF’s delay, the political shadows. He asked, “Was there a stand-down order? I’m not saying it’s an inside job, but some questions need to be asked.”His unabashed love of Israel gave weight to these questions.What’s more, his ascent made him a cherished voice to the closest thing we have to a king. President Trump gave heed to Kirk’s uncanny knack to feel the pulse of America’s youngest generation.Kirk advised in rooms where nation-states battle. And where the fate of the world is decided, you can believe that ancient powers—princes and principalities—disguised themselves among those within earshot of Trump.The python coiled tighter.It was September 10, under Utah’s hard sun, at Valley University. The “American Comeback Tour,” three thousand strong, hats off, questions ready in a tent of hope. A shot rang out, from a rooftop shadow—Tyler Robinson, a boy unmoored, driven by demons or design. The bullet took Kirk’s neck, clean and final. Thirty-one years old, a wife left, a movement orphaned. The manhunt dragged on, FBI’s bounty at a hundred thousand, but the deed was done. Vigils lit Orem’s streets, flags dipped low, Trump promising a medal, Netanyahu delivered a message from afar. RFK Jr. called him the voice of the age, scarred by his own kin’s graves. Yet the python stirred. Hollywood ignored it at the Emmys, their host calling it an “escape.” Teachers, nurses, pilots toasted the kill, fired in shame. Ex-Mormons on Reddit danced, then fell silent under moderators’ hands. Don Lemon slandered the dead, spitting lies about hate for blacks, for women—Erika Kirk vows to fight him in court.And the questions: Why no Psalm 91 shield, like Trump’s in Butler, bullets turned by angels? Did Kirk break a deep state pact with donors nervous about his newfound curiosity, planting seeds the enemy reaped? Did God call him home, his destiny done, or was it the serpent’s squeeze for daring too much? Was it a combination of both?Whatever the answer, his death hit me hard, a real pain, a grief I didn’t expect. I cried when I heard. My wife cried, her tears falling quiet in our kitchen. I hadn’t realized how deep Kirk’s mark was on me, even where his mission wasn’t mine. He stood down Marxists with a fire that burned clean, his devotion to Jesus a light that never dimmed. In the grand scheme, those battles—against the lies that choke a generation—make him a hero, worthy of honor.When my kids ask, “Who was Charlie Kirk?” I won’t speak of machines or early voting, the things I disagreed on. I’ll say he was a great American, a man who fought for truth when it was hard, who woke the sleeping to the republic’s fraying edge.The girl in Philippi walks with our nation in moments like these. Her truth was a lie, her prophecy a chain. So, it is now. I predict the establishment—a brood of pythons that has tried to constrict true election security—will exploit Kirk’s fire, his ballot-chasing, his early-voting zeal, as if questioning it dishonors his grave.They will call it unity, wisdom, but it is the python’s grip, binding advocates to safe stories, silencing the prophets among us. Kirk was wrong on elections, but he was close—closer than most—to the truth of machines, of fraud, of October’s dark secrets.Paul waited three days to name the serpent; we’ve waited four years. The awake must act. The python can survive the tepid heat of churches and statehouses, cloaked in half-measures, but it cannot withstand Jesus. Kirk spoke His name on a thousand campuses, a beacon in the dark. The enemy meant his death for evil, but God turns it to good. Turning Point chapters are exploding, vigils burn in England, churches fill, and voters flee the Democratic Party, drawn to Kirk’s light.The powers will weave tales from his blood—martyr, villain, or both. But at universities and churches, before the cross, we will sing of Jesus Christ, name the serpent, and cast it out. Like Paul and Silas, chained for truth, we feel America’s foundations shake. Our python prison about to break. Charlie Kirk exposed the python on a thousand campuses. Jesus, breaker of every coil, will perfect his work into eternity.Listen to the Professor’s message below:The post David Clements at the Professor’s Record Honors Charlie Kirk appeared first on The Gateway Pundit.