Scott's Sheet

We’ve Got It From Here: The Biblical Weight of a Final Farewell

Written by Scott K. James

At Charlie Kirk’s memorial, “We’ve got it from here” wasn’t sentiment – it was covenant. A vow to carry the mission forward.

When I heard speaker after speaker, including Vice President Vance, at Charlie’s memorial say, “We’ve got it from here,” it landed like more than comfort. It sounded like assignment. I wondered if it was just a turn of phrase or something older – so I did what everyone does in the twenty-first century: I googled it. What I found made the words feel heavier, sturdier, almost liturgical.

Across military and first-responder communities, “we’ve got it from here” is part of the vocabulary of honor. It’s used in final radio calls and at funerals, a way comrades signal that a fallen brother or sister’s watch has ended. The meaning is simple and solemn: you carried your duty faithfully; you can rest now; we will stand post. No theatrics, no grandstanding – just a pledge stated plainly, the way people who work nights and carry weight tend to talk. Hearing that same phrasing at Charlie’s memorial – yes, even from the Vice President – told me those on the stage understood that this wasn’t performance. It was transfer.

Scripture threads the same theme from start to finish. Paul’s “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race” isn’t a boast; it’s a benediction over a life poured out. Hebrews paints the picture of a stadium full of witnesses, urging us to run our lap with endurance. Elijah passes a mantle to Elisha; the master commends a faithful servant with “well done.” Each scene ends with the same implication: one role closes, the mission goes on, and someone steps forward to carry it.

So when they said “we’ve got it from here” on that stage, it wasn’t a bumper sticker for grief. It was a relay handoff. It meant Charlie’s fight – for faith that isn’t embarrassed of itself, for truth that doesn’t need focus-group permission, for liberty sturdy enough for ordinary families to build on – doesn’t end because his voice fell silent. It meant those of us who loved him, learned from him, or were simply sharpened by him intend to keep moving the ball downfield.

And “from here” matters. “From here” is the unglamorous part. It’s early mornings and late nights, prayers whispered in kitchens, showing up at school boards and precinct meetings, mentoring the kid who reminds you of your younger self, supporting the ministries and organizations doing the daily grind. It’s reading before reacting, giving before grumbling, persuading face-to-face instead of performing for strangers online. It’s teaching our children why truth is not a mood and why freedom is a stewardship. In other words, it’s the kind of conservative work that builds rather than just complains.

I didn’t come away from my quick search with a new slogan; I came away with a clearer sense of duty. “We’ve got it from here” is a promise we make to the departed and to each other. It says we will not let cynicism have the last word. It says we will carry the banner of faith, family, and freedom through the ordinary days where culture is actually shaped homes, churches, classrooms, small businesses, statehouses – one faithful choice at a time.

Charlie ran his lap. Ours is underway. May we be found as steady as those who taught us, and as brave as the moment requires. Rest easy, brother. We’ve got it from here.

About the author

Scott K. James

A 4th generation Northern Colorado native, Scott K. James is a veteran broadcaster, professional communicator, and principled leader. Widely recognized for his thoughtful, common-sense approach to addressing issues that affect families, businesses, and communities, Scott, his wife, Julie, and son, Jack, call Johnstown, Colorado, home. A former mayor of Johnstown, James is a staunch defender of the Constitution and the rule of law, the free market, and the power of the individual. Scott has delighted in a lifetime of public service and continues that service as a Weld County Commissioner representing District 2.