This week’s news can be waved away. Mr. Manafort’s conduct had nothing to do with the campaign, they argue, even though the investigation continues and even though Mr. Trump showed terrible judgment in bringing him on the team. Mr. Papadopoulos was a nobody, they say, even as his guilty plea outlines multiple contacts with a “campaign supervisor” who seemed to encourage him.

And the disbelief isn’t limited to Russia. In a recent poll, a mere 8 percent of Trump voters believe sexual assault and sexual harassment claims against him are credible. This even though he was caught on tape bragging about groping women and in spite of more than a dozen allegations of serious misconduct.

But what about when the misconduct is plain for all to see? Then we move to “the other side is worse.” Rage and fear overwhelm, and the desire for goodness recedes. The extreme edge of the #Resistance is the gift that keeps on giving. In some cases, the actions of the president are deemed less significant than the outrages of celebrities and comedians. Sure, Mr. Trump tweeted, but did you see that Kathy Griffin beheading picture?

For Christian conservatives in particular, these double standards are understandable (who isn’t tempted to compromise for the sake of victory, especially now?) but not defensible. Is the rage that accompanies negative polarization consistent with commands to love even our enemies and bless those who persecute us? There is so little humility. There is so much anger. And the Republican character corrodes.

I’m reminded of an encounter at my church. People know that I opposed both Mr. Trump and Mrs. Clinton. They often ask what I think of the president’s performance. My standard response: I like some things, I dislike others, but I really wish he showed better character. I don’t want him to lie. I said this to a sweet older lady not long ago, and she responded — in all sincerity — “You mean Trump lies?” “Yes,” I replied. “All the time.” She didn’t answer with a defense. She didn’t say “fake news.” We’d known each other for years, and she trusted my words.

For a moment, she seemed troubled. I wanted to talk more — to say that we can appreciate and applaud the good things he does, but we can’t ignore his flaws, we can’t defend his sins, and we can’t let him define the future of the Republican Party.

But just then, her jaw set. I saw a flare of defiance in her eyes. She took a sip of coffee, looked straight at me, and I knew exactly what was coming next:

“Well, the Democrats are worse.”