A church under investigation — or political siege?

Billed as bipartisan gatherings for spiritual reflection and fellowship, national prayer breakfasts are seldom limited to prayer alone. They often serve as platforms where religion becomes a stage for politics dressed in its Sunday best.

And when Armenia hosts its first national prayer breakfast Friday and Saturday (November 14-15), it comes amid one of the most potent confrontations between church and state in the country’s modern history.

In recent months, tensions between the government and the Armenian Apostolic Church (AAC), its independent national church, have escalated sharply. Authorities arrested top clergy accused of taking part in a plot to overthrow Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan’s government earlier this year.

Pashinyan, who will deliver the keynote address at the prayer breakfast, has cast the event as part of his broader effort to “renew Armenia’s spiritual foundations” after years of political turbulence and conflict. The organizers invited American Christian leaders like Franklin Graham and former pastor Jim Garlow to the gathering, while rumors surfaced that they also invited Donald Trump Jr. Charlie Kirk had agreed to speak at the event before his assassination, according to Dede Laugensen, president and CEO of Save the Persecuted Christians.

But critics see the breakfast—said to be organized by a group called the Individual Believers Club—as an attempt to give religious legitimacy to a government that is persecuting the church as part of a broader effort to weaken challenges to its authority. Meanwhile, others say AAC is doing the bidding of Moscow due to its close ties with the Russian Orthodox Church, support for the Kremlin’s “traditional values,” and opposition to Armenia’s pursuit of a more democratic, European-oriented path.

In my latest for Christianity Today, I speak to pastors, leaders and politicians about what it means for the South Caucasus country going forward.

Religion & Political Violence

On a hot and humid September afternoon in Glendale, Arizona, mourners streamed into State Farm Stadium for the memorial of conservative activist Charlie Kirk. Banners of the cross hung beside American flags, and gospel anthems mixed with political slogans from the stage. What some saw as a service of remembrance was also something else: a rallying cry where grief and faith were harnessed to a political narrative, casting Kirk as a martyr and his death as proof of values under siege.

Religion has always been woven into American politics, but that mix has turned sharper in recent years. With faith language cropping up at campaign rallies, on protest signs and at crime scenes, the U.S. is facing a new era where religious identification, political loyalty and violence often overlap.

In this edition of ReligionLink, we provide background, tips, stories, sources and other resources for reporters to better cover the confluence of religion and political violence in the months and years ahead. 

Making Mortals into Martyrs

Charlie Kirk, the 31‑year‑old activist, pundit, and founder of Turning Point USA was one of the most visible voices blending evangelical Christian identity politics with right‑wing populism in the United States. When he was fatally shot while speaking at Utah Valley University on September 10, more than merely “a divisive figure in right‑wing circles” was killed. Kirk was a polarizing public persona across the U.S., known for his provocative rhetoric on religion, race and gender (among other things). His voice carried both influence and animus, drawing fervent support and fierce criticism. 

And following his death, he became a martyr. 

In the immediate aftermath of his killing, many Kirk supporters—new and old—framed it as spiritual warfare, portraying the shooting as an attack on faith and moral order. His widow, Erika Kirk, declared that his death and legacy would echo “like a battle cry,” and that he “will stand at his savior’s side … wearing the glorious crown of a martyr.” 

Pastors, evangelical leaders and everyday Christiansechoed these themes online, saying “martyr blood has reached the throne” and calling for “Gods army”  to rise and for followers to “carry on his mission,” warning that the forces opposed to Kirk were spiritual adversaries. Some invoked the words of early Christian apologist Tertullian, who wrote that “the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church,” by saying the death of “Saint Charline Kirk’s martyrdom” would spark a revival.

Alongside spiritual rhetoric came calls for reprisal and retribution: social media quickly filled with posts from far‑right activists suggesting Kirk’s death demanded vengeance and that the political left bore responsibility, implicitly or explicitly. Some posts framed it in apocalyptic terms, speaking of an impending “civil war” to “restore moral clarity.”

The move to make Kirk into a martyr is not unique. It’s a pattern repeated across time and place: when a public figure with religious and political identity dies violently, their death can be transformed into a symbol, merging grief with grievance, spiritual meaning with political mobilization and martyrdom with Other-ing and calls for retaliation. 

Martyrs are hailed as heroes, canonized in murals and at vigils. And through hashtags and hushed prayers, their deaths serve as focal points for collective identification, belonging and action.

What do we have to learn from how Charlie Kirk was made into the latest Christian martyr?