No, evangelism isn’t a human rights violation

When Vice President J.D. Vance said back in the Fall of 2025 that he hoped his wife Usha would someday convert from Hinduism to Catholicism, backlash came quickly. Vance was at a Turning Point event when he remarked, “Do I hope that eventually she is somehow moved by what I was moved by in church? Yeah, honestly, I do wish that, because I believe in the Christian Gospel, and I hope eventually my wife comes to see it the same way”.

What a cad.

Critics quickly accused him of disrespect, intolerance, even spiritual imperialism. And they’re still at it.

A recent Wall Street Journal opinion piece, penned by Avatans Kumar, president and trustee of the nonprofit INDICA (an Institute for Indian knowledge systems), criticized Vance again and argued that people have “a right to stay in their religion and not be bothered by those who wish to convert them.” Kumar went on to write: “There is a disconnect in human-rights discourse. The right to change religion is unqualified by its nature, but the right to try to change someone’s religion can’t be unqualified without interfering with and violating others’ religious freedom.”

On one level, I hear him. Nobody likes manipulation, coercion, or fake conversions driven by politics or force. You can’t manufacture genuine belief through intimidation.

But let’s remember, contrary to what happened in the Crusades, Christianity itself rejects compelled faith. Jesus never once commanded His followers to put a sword to someone’s throat and swear allegiance.

Instead, Jesus commanded: “Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you” (Matt. 28:19–20). And here is the uncomfortable truth modern culture desperately wants to avoid: Christianity is, by its very nature, evangelistic.

And it’s not because we’re arrogant.

Nor because we enjoy confrontation.

But because we believe something terrifying and glorious at the same time: that eternity is real.

If Jesus Christ truly rose from the dead (and He did), if salvation truly exists through Him alone (and it does), and if separation from God is real (shudder!), then our silence, which leaves non-Christians in their error, is not compassion. Instead, it’s indifference, the exact opposite of love.

Atheist Penn Jillette gets that. He once disclosed:

“I've always said, you know, that I don't respect people that don't proselytize. I don't respect that at all. If you believe that there's a Heaven and Hell, and people could be going to Hell — or not getting eternal life, or whatever — and you think that, ‘Well, it's not really worth tellin' 'em this, because it would make it socially awkward,’ and atheists who think that people shouldn't proselytize, ‘Just leave me alone. Keep your religion to yourself.’ How much do you have to hate somebody to not proselytize? How much do you have to hate somebody to believe that everlasting life is possible and not tell them that? I mean, if I believe, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that a truck was coming at you and you didn't believe it — that truck was bearing down on you — there's a certain point where I tackle you, and this is more important than that.”

Jillette’s statement cuts straight through modern religious niceties. Our culture says the loving thing is to leave people alone. Christianity says the loving thing is to tell the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable and initially may make someone an enemy, as Paul said: “So have I become your enemy by telling you the truth?” (Gal. 4:16).

To do our best at not making enemies, we deliver that truth respectfully and kindly as Paul described: “Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were making an appeal through us; we beg you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God” (2 Cor. 5:20), knowing that “he who turns a sinner from the error of his way will save his soul from death” (James 5:20), and believing “the fruit of the righteous is a tree of life, and he who is wise wins souls” (Prov. 11:30).

There is also a side to it that includes a fear of God in ensuring we warn people to not disregard His call to salvation, just as was said to the prophet Ezekiel: “When I say to the wicked, ‘You will surely die,’ and you do not warn him or speak out to warn the wicked from his wicked way that he may live, that wicked man shall die in his iniquity, but his blood I will require at your hand” (Ezek. 3:18).

Christianity has never been a privatized spirituality meant to remain hidden inside church walls. The first Christians preached publicly despite imprisonment, threats, and execution. In Acts 5, authorities ordered the apostles to stop speaking about Jesus entirely. Their response was blunt: “We must obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29).

That is the real issue underneath modern discomfort with evangelism. Christianity makes universal truth claims, not merely personal preference pronouncements. Christians are not saying, “Jesus works for me.” They are saying, “Jesus is Lord.”

Kumar complains about this in his article, saying: “At the heart of proselytizing is exclusivity.” He’s right. And universal truth claims offend modern people almost more than anything else.

Today’s highest moral commandment is not holiness, truth, or even love. It is non-interference. Stay silent. Keep faith private. Never imply someone else could be wrong. Never disrupt spiritual comfort.

There’s an old story often told in Christian circles about the 19th-century English criminal Charles Peace while being led to execution. A minister spoke to him about Hell and judgment, and Peace reportedly replied: “Sir, if I believed what you and the Church of God say that you believe … I would crawl the length of England over broken glass to warn men.”

If that makes you a bit uncomfortable, it’s likely because it exposes a contradiction many of us live with contentedly: claiming to believe in eternity while barely speaking about it. But remember that the early church did not spread because Christians were socially polished. It spread because they were convinced.

Convinced Christ rose, that judgment was real, that mercy was available, and silence would be loveless.

We often fear being labeled intolerant more than we fear disobeying Christ. We carefully protect our reputations, our comfort, and our social standing while the clearest commands of Jesus gather dust.

Don’t let that be you.

In the end, if we truly believe what we claim to believe, then evangelism is not a human rights violation as Kumar asserts. It’s an act of compassion and mercy, and one that the person you’re talking to will thank you for in eternity.