9/29/2025

It seems to be the disposition of most people to judge others according to how well they make them feel and whether they conform to communal norms. A “good person,” in the eyes of many, is often simply one who is agreeable, compliant, and validating of the other’s beliefs. They are nice. They are generally happy. They give everyone they meet warm fuzzies inside. This kind of goodness is not necessarily moral but social—it reinforces the illusion of harmony. When individuals step outside of these expectations, they risk being redefined as “bad” people, even when their actions spring from courage, conscience, and sacrifice.

An excellent example of this was Charlie Kirk. Thousands loved him. On the other hand, thousands also hated him. Many thought he was a kind and valiant disciple of Christ, as well as a devoted family man. He was renowned as an effective champion of Christian conservative values. On the other hand, many others thought he was a hateful, horrible person because he disagreed with them on many religious, political, and social issues.

“Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!

“Woe unto them that are wise in their own eyes, and prudent in their own sight!

“Woe unto them that are mighty to drink wine, and men of strength to mingle strong drink:

“Which justifies the wicked for reward, and takes away the righteousness of the righteous from him!

“Therefore, as the fire devours the stubble, and the flame consumes the chaff, so their root shall be as rottenness, and their blossom shall go up as dust: because they have cast away the law of the Lord of hosts, and despised the word of the Holy One of Israel.”[1]

I have experienced this tension firsthand. I’ve been told multiple times that I was a much better person when I was a fully active, card-carrying member of the LDS Church, when I conformed to institutional thought and outward appearances of religiosity. Back then, I did all the right things and said all the right things, while now I regularly challenge the status quo. What they valued was not necessarily virtue itself but my conformity to the cultural image of a believer. In their eyes, my willingness to question, to speak truthfully, and to resist the weight of institutionalized error was evidence of a fall from goodness. Yet from my perspective, I had finally begun to live with authenticity and integrity.

What most people crave above all is validation—the assurance that they are seen as good, decent people here and now. When that affirmation is withheld, they may interpret it as hostility, even recasting you in their minds as an adversary or “the enemy.” Or they may feel that you somehow perceive them as an enemy. In this way, the situation tends to become adversarial.

When people of conscience decide to make a stand for truth and righteousness as they see it, others often feel accused, convicted, and demonized. And so their typical defense mechanism is to reciprocate in kind by labeling you as a bad person.

The road of conscience is not without pain. In striving to speak truth—even when it runs contrary to family, friends, or the broader community—I have (multiple times) endured accusations that I am evil or even possessed by dark influences. Such charges are not new. Prophets of old were similarly accused, branded as enemies, blasphemers, or agents of the devil. Christ Himself was maligned as one who “hath a devil”.[2] This is the tragic irony: those who disturb the comfort of the many are often judged as disturbers and apostates, when in fact they are acting with a good conscience, trying to stand for what’s right.

To me, goodness is not defined by compliance but by courage and conviction—the willingness to act according to the light one has received, even at great personal cost. Speaking truth in love requires sacrifice: the loss of reputation, of comfort, and often of cherished relationships. Yet this sacrifice transforms. I am not less of a person for stepping outside of conformity; I am more. I am not worse for rejecting the false peace of silence; I am better for embracing the difficult path of honesty.

Others may see this inversely. They remember me as more virtuous when I was easier to live with, when my beliefs did not challenge their own. But I cannot measure myself by their estimation. The measure of goodness lies in fidelity to truth, not in the approval of others. Christ Himself taught, “Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.“[3] If the prophets were maligned, why should I expect to be celebrated?

Scriptural Parallels: Prophets Judged and Slain

The conflict between conscience and conformity is a consistent theme throughout biblical history. The Lord’s servants have often been accused, condemned, or even slain “privily” (in secret) for daring to speak truth that pierced the hearts of their listeners.

Jeremiah was branded a traitor to his people for prophesying the coming destruction of Jerusalem. His enemies said, “This man seeketh not the welfare of this people, but the hurt”.[4] He was cast into a dungeon for faithfully declaring the word of God.

Abinadi, in the Book of Mormon, was accused of being mad and evil. He stood boldly before King Noah and his priests, declaring repentance, and was ultimately burned at the stake.[5] His death marked him as a criminal in their eyes, but as a martyr of truth in the eyes of God.

Samuel the Lamanite was driven from the city and narrowly escaped death when the people shot arrows and cast stones at him as he prophesied upon the wall.[6] His words were considered offensive and intolerable, though they were given by divine command.

Christ Himself, the greatest of all prophets, was accused of blasphemy, demon possession, and political sedition. Though He healed the sick and taught love, His refusal to conform to the expectations of religious and political elites brought about His crucifixion.

These examples reveal a sobering pattern: those who bring God’s word are rarely embraced by the majority. Instead, they are accused of evil, labeled as heretics, blasphemers, and sedition, and often silenced. Yet their faithfulness, even unto death, is what sanctifies their message.

Conclusion

In the end, my conscience testifies that I am indeed a better person now than when I was more concerned with appearances. The cost of truth has been high, but it has also been refining. To bear rejection without hatred, to stand firm without arrogance, and to endure accusations without abandoning conscience—this is the crucible in which true character is formed.

I find strength in knowing that my experience is not unique. The prophets of old bore similar and even greater burdens, faced similar accusations, and walked the same lonely road. If they endured to the end in faith, then I, too, can press forward, trusting that the measure of a good life is not compliance with human opinion but fidelity to divine truth.

---

[1] Isaiah 5:20 – 24

[2] John 10:20

[3] Matthew 5:11 – 12

[4] Jeremiah 38:4

[5] Mosiah 17:13–20

[6] Helaman 16:1–2

---