At Mesa County rally, Anthony Watson challenges crowd to trade outrage for obedience

By Jen Schumann | Rocky Mountain Voice

No bulls, no broncs—the arena lights belonged to a different crowd. Sun broke in strips across a clouded sky after a full day of rain. Over 500 filled the grandstands for a different kind of roundup with local pastors, community leaders and a two-time Olympian. Bookcliff led off with the Star-Spangled Banner and closed beneath candlelight with God Bless America.

Photos by Jen Schumann

In between, voices from across western Colorado pressed a plain charge. Obedience. Courage. And everyday faith.

Commissioner Bobbie Daniel was among the first to speak, representing Mesa County’s role as a sponsor of the event. “The foundation of America is not government, but people, families, community, churches, and everyday citizens who choose courage over comfort and conviction over convenience,” she said. “We believe in hard work and faith and family and freedom. We believe the truth matters—and courage still counts.” Her words set the tone for what followed—a program less about politics than the strength of conviction.

A realist’s wake-up call

Before he challenged the crowd, Anthony Watson reminded them why he was standing there. A two-time Olympian, he’d been canceled in 2019 for calling the Black Lives Matter movement “stupid”—a comment that cost him sponsors but led him to Turning Point USA and a friendship with Charlie Kirk. 

“When Charlie wasn’t on stage or on TV, you’d find him in two places—the gym, or with a book in his hand,” Watson said. “He didn’t waste words. Every time we talked, he’d say the same thing—‘I’m proud of you. Thanks for standing with me in this.’”

But Watson pivoted. “I’m a realist—and some of you might not like what I’m about to say.”

He made good on that promise—pressing the audience to trade cultural outrage for personal obedience. “Conservatism is your lifestyle—the values, the standards you hold every single day,” he said. “The left isn’t our biggest threat. What stops our progress are the lazy people on our side that refuse to do anything.”

He reminded listeners that Kirk’s message had already outgrown the United States. “His impact isn’t just here in Colorado—it’s in Japan, Korea, the U.K., Ireland, Sweden, even Italy,” Watson said. “Because one person decided it was time to stop talking and start doing.”

“Your public effectiveness is only rooted and successful through your private devotion,” he added, his tone turning solemn. “Stop following the rabbit holes—the conspiracy theories—none of those things are gonna bring Charlie back.”

“Every choice you make in life has a consequence that’s eternally bound to it,” he warned. “The battlefield is only eighteen inches—from your heart to your mind.”

What is a man

That idea of personal responsibility had been building throughout the night. Earlier, Pastor Joe Tennyson of Fellowship Christian Church issued a challenge directly to men: “Real men reject passivity… they meet the challenges of life head on.”

“The world needs real godly men,” Tennyson said. “Men of consequence and courage. Men of strength, not savagery. Men who choose action over passivity—who do hard things, hard things like live for Jesus.”

“Men, we are protectors, not predators,” he continued. “We care more about our soul count in heaven than our body count in a bedroom.” Tennyson’s closing line landed like an echo of the entire evening: “How is this nation going to turn around? It’s going to take one father at a time, raising up men of consequence, men of godliness.”

A participatory civics lesson

Former school principal turned award-winning real estate agent Cindi Ficklin brought her old classroom energy to the stage, turning her segment into a participatory rally of its own. “I need you to come back at me after everything I say,” she grinned. “You’re either gonna say ‘yay’ or ‘boo’ or ‘whoa!’”

The crowd laughed, then joined in as she fired off her list. “This is the generation that saw gender ideology permeate the schools,” she said, drawing a loud “boo.” “That was told boys could invade girls’ private spaces.” Another “boo.” Then she flipped the script. “But because of all that, this is also the school-choice generation—the homeschool generation—the skilled-trades generation.” The audience erupted with cheers and “yays.”

Ficklin told the crowd she hadn’t been involved with Turning Point USA until recently—July, when she flew to Tampa for the Student Action Summit. What she saw there caught her off guard: thousands of teenagers in suits, cheering for faith and freedom. “That moment,” she said, “changed how I see the next generation.”

“That’s when it hit me,” Ficklin said. “It’s our kids who are going to save this country.”

The evening’s youngest voice came from James Ruehmann, the new president of Turning Point USA at CMU. He said taking over the chapter this fall wasn’t something he expected—but after Kirk’s death, it felt like a calling.

“I realized that in that moment I had to do this,” Ruehmann said. “It’s not just one guy. It’s not just Charlie Kirk. He built a movement—and it takes all of us to keep it going.”

Voter guides and everyday courage

One by one, the night’s speakers drove home variations of the same message. Dominique Jones reminded the crowd, “Comfort isn’t the goal. Obedience is.” Bernie Lake from Truth & Liberty followed with a call for civic courage: “Fewer than fifteen percent of Christians vote in school board elections.” Pastor Dan Baker added, “We are not called upon to keep our mouths shut about Christ—go and make disciples.”

Before the final music began, Mathias Mulumba, a missionary from Uganda, reminded the crowd that faith, not politics, was what unites. “Money will not save you,” he said. “Only one who can save us—his name is Jesus Christ… Love is what makes a difference, and love is what God gave you and me.” He closed simply: “Let us love our country, America, and let us love God with all our being.”

A quiet vow under candlelight

The Bookcliff Barbershop Quartet returned for God Bless America while volunteers passed candles down each row. People leaned in to share their flame, and the grandstands slowly lit up—hundreds of small lights flickering across the pavilion as voices blended into the song.

Then Pastor Bob Babcox stepped forward for a closing prayer. “Lord, help us be lights in a dark world,” he said. “Let our faith not end when we walk out these doors, but begin again in what we do tomorrow.”