I hate him.

I can and should hate this malevolence.

All decent, loving, compassionate people should.

Every person claiming to care about what Jesus cared about should hate it.

Good people should unapologetically hate atrocities against humanity.

Christians should be fighting it instead of cultivating it.

* John Pavlovitz

I hear it a lot lately.

A Christian I follow and greatly admire just posted about why we should hate him. Smart people. Good people. People whose wisdom I’ve trusted for years—all saying the same thing. The title of the post this quote is from, “You’re right to hate him. Good people do.”

Always the contrarian, I disagree. Sorry, John.

Here’s why I can’t get on board with hate, even when it feels righteous.

No One Knowingly Does Evil

People always feel justified in what they do. Always.

The person you despise? They have a story they’re telling themselves. A narrative where they’re the hero, or at least where their actions make sense. They’ve constructed a worldview—however twisted—that validates every choice.

This doesn’t excuse anything. But understanding it matters.

Because when we reduce someone to “evil,” we stop trying to understand how we got here. We stop asking the hard questions about systems, about trauma, about the conditions that create cruelty.

People Aren’t Evil—They Do Evil

Evil isn’t a person. It’s the absence of good. The absence of Love.

A friend introduced me to this concept many years ago. I resisted. I looked for exceptions. I fought it until it won me over.

People are deluded. Living in shadow. Unskilled in compassion. Ignorant of their own wounding and how it spills onto others. But the person themselves? Not evil. Capable of evil, yes. Currently doing evil, yep. But not fundamentally, irredeemably evil.

You might think I’m playing semantic games. But if you’ve read me for any time, you know how much I value precision in language.

There’s a vast difference between “I hate him” and “I hate what he does.” While I agree with John’s point about hating the malevolence and fighting it. I disagree with his giving us permission to hate the person, even calling us to it.

Between “He is evil” and “He does evil.”

We Are All Made in the Image of the Creator

This is where it gets uncomfortable.

If we’re all One—if we’re all expressions of the same Source—then hating another person is hating a part of yourself.

It’s like a cell in the body attacking another cell. The whole organism suffers.

I’m not asking you to like him. I’m not asking you to excuse what he does or to “understand both sides” in some false equivalence.

I detest what he does. I cannot wait until the day he can no longer do it.

But I will not stoop to hating him or thinking him evil.

See Clearly. Call Evil Evil.

Let me be crystal clear: I’m not soft on evil.

I call evil what it is. Cruelty is cruelty. Exploitation is exploitation. Harm is harm.

Seeing someone as fundamentally human doesn’t mean pretending their actions aren’t causing real damage. It means looking directly at what they’re doing with steely-eyed clarity and naming it.

No spiritual bypassing. No toxic positivity. No, “it’s all love and light.”

Evil actions must be seen, named, and opposed.

Love Always Wins (But It Might Take a While)

Here’s what I hold onto: Love always wins. Always.

Not in some Pollyanna way. Not because I’m naive about how dark things can get.

But because Love is the fundamental nature of reality. It’s what we’re made of. It’s where we’re going.

The question isn’t whether Love wins. It’s whether we’ll align ourselves with it while we’re here.

And yes—it might take a while. Longer than we’d like. Longer than feels fair.

But that waiting, that apparent delay? It doesn’t change the outcome.

What Would Love Do?

So with clear eyes that see evil for what it is, and with faith that Love ultimately prevails, I ask myself the only question that matters:

What would Love do?

Not “what feels good” or “what makes me look enlightened” or “what’s easiest.”

What would Love do in response to this specific harm, in this specific moment?

Sometimes Love opposes fiercely. Sometimes Love protects boundaries. Sometimes Love says no with absolute conviction.

Love isn’t weak. Love isn’t passive. Love doesn’t tolerate abuse.

But Love also doesn’t hate the person while fighting their actions.

Love sees the humanity even while stopping the harm.

The Real Challenge: Loving Beyond the Easy Ones

Some people are easy to love. Your kids. Your partner. Your friends. The neighbor who waves every morning.

But Jesus pointed out that even tax collectors and pagans love those who love them back. What’s remarkable about that?

His challenge was harder: “Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you.”

Not because your enemies deserve it. Not because what they’re doing is okay.

But because that’s the only love that actually transforms anything.

Loving people who are easy to love doesn’t stretch you. It doesn’t grow you. It doesn’t challenge the parts of you that want to divide the world into “us” and “them,” “good people” and “evil people.”

Loving your enemy—seeing their humanity while opposing their harm—that’s the spiritual work that actually changes things.

It’s also the hardest damn thing you’ll ever do.

The Trap of Hate

Here’s what hate does: It binds you to the very thing you despise.

It keeps you in reaction mode. It clouds your judgment. It makes you more like the thing you oppose because now you’re operating from the same energy—division, contempt, dehumanization.

And strategically? Hate makes you less effective.

You can’t dismantle what you don’t understand. You can’t protect what you’re too angry to think clearly about.

I choose discernment over hate. Fierce opposition over contempt. Strategic action over reactive rage.

I choose to remember that everyone—everyone—is doing the best they can with the consciousness they currently have.

That doesn’t mean I roll over. It doesn’t mean I stop fighting for what’s right.

It means I fight with clarity. With strategy. With an open heart that refuses to close even when closing feels safer.

What about you? When you hold these three truths together—seeing evil clearly, trusting Love’s victory, and asking what Love would do—how does it change your response to harm?

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

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