The Ravi Zacharias Scandal Gives Me Hope
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Ravi Zacharias was never my favorite apologist. I was grateful for the impact of his ministry and was aware of the positive conversations that stemmed from his work. As a trained physicist, however, I found his arguments involving physics to be lacking and thus chose to read the works of others. In a less broken world, this would be the end of my comments on Zacharias. He was an apologist that had an effective ministry and then died. Yet this is not the complete story. Zacharias instead is a tragic example of succumbing to sinful desires of the flesh and causing significant destruction as a result. His story shows that not even those who are called into ministry are immune to their own sinful nature. This has been true throughout Biblical history. But we can take hope that God’s plan, message, and goodness always prevail, no matter the vessel of propagation.
The trickles of the Zacharias scandal began to reach me in early December. I did not follow the story closely. A few months later, while listening to a podcast, I heard the full story of the extent of his abuse towards women and his double life. My heart broke for these women and those who worked in ministry with him. However, the story was not a surprise. This is a sickness of the soul of which I am intimately aware. I am the daughter of a disgraced missionary and pastor. My life has been devastated by the darkness of the hearts of others and the abuse they perpetuate. I have seen God restore brokenness, however, and I have found hope for justice when secret sins are brought to light.
My Story
I grew up on the mission field in Spain. I was the daughter of missionaries and church planters. My father planted a church in the middle of Madrid. He was an engaging and enthusiastic preacher. Upon meeting him, people tended to love him. Throughout my younger years, I was frequently told by others how my father had impacted their spiritual life. He was involved in training other men to enter the ministry.
We left the mission field shortly before I turned 13. My parents claimed they had done what every missionary should do, work themselves out of a job. The church they planted was left in the hands of a Spanish pastor. My father began to pursue his Ph.D., and it was during this time that I began to see the cracks in my father’s facade. My father had always been an angry person. Now his explosions became larger and more violent. He abused our family pet. On one particular occasion, he struck me so hard that I blacked out. He would unload on his teenage daughter all of his emotional struggles. He expected me to parent him in these moments. I became increasingly aware of the brokenness within my household. Still, I was approached by people discussing his positive spiritual impact on their lives.
In my first year of college, God revealed the truth. My father had been engaging in sexual encounters with male prostitutes. He also had been hiding a legacy of abuse. This included those he had been training to enter the ministry. According to the mental health professionals who guided us through this time, my father had borderline personality disorder with strong indications of narcissism. It was the reason he was so skilled at becoming the darling of the crowd. It was the reason he was able to hide his sin in plain sight. It was one of the reasons his ministry was so engaging.
My father’s ordination was rightly stripped from him. He was removed from his work with the mission. He lost his adjunct contracts at various seminaries. Twenty years of establishing a name for himself within the evangelical communities fell to dust in a matter of six months. Like all matters involving deep sins, the shockwave rippled out, destroying those around him. I became depressed at the loss of my father and the destruction of the illusion of a family. I became self-destructive as I wrestled with the news. My mother lost her job in ministry. The church that he was pastoring experienced fracture.
During this time, my father grieved only for himself. No tears were shed for the daughters whose family lay in ruins. No compassion for those who struggled with spiritual questions as they wrestled with the news that they had been brought to faith by a man who did not live by his own words. God’s justice had come for my father’s unrepentant sins. My father could have repented like David; instead, he emulated Saul and gave in to his pride.
Hope in Justice
I have just told a very painful and true story. There is a tragedy when justice is delivered, but a world without it would be far more ugly. My father had wronged many people. This certainly included his family. It also included many young men that my father had mentored into ministry. In the process he also pursued them. When these relationships fell apart, my father would lie about them and their intentions. These men and their families deserved justice. My family deserved justice.
Similarly, Zacharias’ legacy and name have been destroyed. This is as it should be. Within a few years, the lay church audience will have forgotten him. He is a cautionary tale to those in the field of apologetics. This is justice for the women he wronged. God saw them, just as God saw Hagar, and He brought their story to light. Their abuser was not more powerful than the mighty hand of God. These women can rest in the hope that justice is also on this side of eternity. God sees the abused, even when others do not.
Justice is a topic with which we are often uncomfortable, particularly individual justice. It is far easier to think of justice as being abstract. When we think of justice belonging to God, there is a temptation to believe that justice is resigned to the life after this. Throughout history, however, God has frequently served justice within the lifetime of the victim. God brought Sisera to justice through the hand of Jael. Pharaoh and his people were brought to misery through plagues for not freeing the Hebrew slaves. The administrators responsible for throwing Daniel to the lions were put to death. Jezebel was flung down to the dogs. These are all examples of justice. This gives hope to victims. We have a desire to know that unrepented evil does not go unpunished. The Psalms testify to this yearning for God’s justice. If God does not punish evil, He would be a fickle and unjust God, hardly worth following. Further, evil destroys lives. Evil that is allowed to perpetuate ad infinitum is catastrophic. Justice for the wicked is a part of God’s redemptive plan.
God’s justice is perfect. His plan is larger than just one lifetime. As such, there is no person whose ministry or importance is so great that they escape God’s judgment. This is especially important with the horror of several elections in recent memory where major party candidates had sexual scandals against them (and neither party is innocent in this regard). Our broken cultures force us to consider excusing repugnant behavior for the sake of desired social or economic outcomes. God has no such considerations. His goodness will always prevail. In bringing Zacharias to truth, God showed us the value He places on righteousness. God showed us the value He places on women. God hears the cries of victims and, when it is His will, delivers them justice within their lifetimes.
Hope For Redemption
God has a history of using broken people to bring about His plan for the world. My father was no exception. The ministry my father did was never ultimately about him. It was always about God. The church he planted still stands today. It is primarily attended by locals, and the church leaders are Spaniards. Many people that my dad led to Christ are continuing to follow Him. To God be the glory. The same will be true for those who have come to faith through the ministry of Zacharias. Their faith in God will continue and those who are now in ministry because of Zacharias will continue to spread the word of the gospel. This in no way cheapens their faith.
My dad’s disgrace also let me see the extent to which God will pursue restoration of those who fall from grace. For years I watched as those who had worked on the mission field continued to meet with him. I saw how they cared for his soul. I witnessed the gospel being brought to him over and over again. God sent wave after wave of trained ministers and counselors. The extent to which God loves those made in His image is truly astounding. I sadly also watched as each attempt was rejected. My dad was content to live in his sins and remain unrepentant. Should my father decide to return to God, there are several men and women ready to walk with him.
Even in this, there is hope. I believe that God pursued Zacharias’ heart until the very end. I will not claim to know the state of his soul; that is between him and God. I stand on the truth that God aggressively pursues those who live in sin. We are always welcome to come back to God and embrace His grace and forgiveness. We can hold to the stories of the redemption of King Manasseh (2 Chronicles 33: 12-17) and King Nebuchadnezzar (Daniel 4: 34-37) as evidence that there is no wickedness from which God cannot rescue us.
How should the church treat those who have stumbled into sin in their ministries? We should not “cancel” those in the church who have fallen, received justice, and have come to true, life-changing repentance. This does not mean that they should hold ministry positions, but they should be allowed to commune with believers. In all cases, through prayers and scripture, God’s plan for their life after repentance should be sought. Our pursuit of justice should never be so zealous that there is no room for repentance.
I mourn with those who grieve the spiritual loss of a man who once was thought to be a role model. I grieve more so for his victims. I am thankful that they have justice. I pray that God continues to heal them. I pray that God continues to work in the lives of those who came to faith in Him because of Zacharias. I pray that the memory of Zacharias fades quickly and all that remains is justice and the redemptive grace of a merciful Savior.
Emily Grace is a writer of bad poetry, a runner of slow marathons, the wife of an artist, the mother of two adorable children, and a physics professor at Northwestern College in Orange City, Iowa.
Editors Note:
Subsequent to our publication of this article, Emily Grace’s father provided Firebrand with the following statement: “At no point in my ministry did I see male prostitutes. I had no secret affairs. I never took advantage of the men God sent me to prepare for ministry…. No seminary fired me.”