Revelations about Ravi Zacharias
What do we keep, what do we shun, and how do we know the difference?
January, 2021
This month's spotlight verse (Hebrews 5:2) notes one of the advantages of the human high priest: his human perspective. The fact that all earthly spiritual leaders struggle against sin should make them more sympathetic to the struggles of others. Unfortunately, it also means every spiritual leader can potentially fall into sin and damage his own ministry. Christ is set apart from other spiritual leaders because He, alone, was free from sin and weakness.
Ravi Zacharias is one of the most influential figures in my spiritual life. When asked about my spiritual "models"— whose work has most impacted me and whose approach I seek to emulate—I've long offered the same list of four people. One of those is Ravi. Using his first name, itself, speaks to the personal connection many have to him. I met Ravi face-to-face only once, yet the instinct is to refer to him in that familiar way. His affable, simple approach to giving direct answers greatly shaped my early efforts in theology.
Prior to his death this year, Ravi was alleged to have had an inappropriate relationship with a married woman. That dispute ended in a non-disclosure agreement. Most observers considered it overwhelmingly likely Zacharias was guilty of nothing more than poor judgment in a specific circumstance. Claims made public near the end of 2020, however, came from additional sources and with significantly greater collaboration. Though the world at large will never know exactly what happened, current discoveries indicate Ravi Zacharias was involved in repeated instances of sexual misconduct. A theme of those encounters was an abuse of trust along with a level of manipulation that is simply beyond excuse. That, in turn, lends obvious weight to earlier accusations.
Responding to tragic discoveries like these should inspire four reactions: lovingly offer healing and justice to those who have been wronged, condemn sin without reservation, rationally separate individual sins from objective truth, and labor against the celebrity hero worship which risks both abuse and downfall.
Once we understand the situation—so far as we can—our immediate response should focus on those harmed by this behavior. We must commit to caution and gentleness towards those who feel victimized. Naturally, questions will come by reflex: why people have come forward only after his death, why certain legal maneuvers were used, what possible benefits the accusers might seek, or even the exact nature of the alleged acts. Cautious skepticism is not merely wise, it's a biblical ideal (Acts 17:11; Proverbs 18:13, 17). However, it's also biblical to protect the weak when they are harmed (Psalm 82:3–4; Jeremiah 22:3; James 1:27). Properly addressing the wounded—by accepting that they are, in fact, wounded—is a point that cannot possibly be overstated.
It's to be expected that allegations against Ravi Zacharias would be met with intense skepticism. After multiple decades of ministry, without any public perception of impropriety, one could even argue it to be the only sensible approach. Even when the more recent allegations emerged, disbelief is precisely the response one would expect. Nothing is gained by assuming all accusations are true. And yet we stand to lose even more when serious charges are dismissed out-of-hand. Part of the pain heaped into this situation are the sometimes unkind, uncharitable responses towards those who made these claims.
Speaking from the perspective of ice-cold logic, how we react to accusers and victims is an application of truth; arguably that's neither literally the "first" nor "most important" step. But how we treat persons who suffer from the sins of others is the acid test for our commitment to truth, prioritization of principles, and freedom from idolatry. The revelations about Ravi Zacharias' legacy shouldn't make us more credulous, but they should make us more careful, no matter which direction our instincts might lead.
Hand-in hand with acknowledging pain suffered by those who feel victimized is the need to condemn sin, in simple and unambiguous terms. Sexual behaviors outside of marriage are immoral, no matter what excuses our sin nature might inspire. Manipulation of others, for sexual reasons or otherwise, is a sin. That of which Ravi Zacharias is accused is entirely without excuse. Condemning those sins without reservation or hesitation a non-negotiable cornerstone of a Christian response.
Multiplying the pain caused by this scandal is the inevitable shadow it casts: a lurking obstacle for Ravi's ministry, writings, preaching, and other efforts. This, too, is entirely expected. These revelations will shake, even shatter, the faith of some. They'll create a stumbling block for others. And they'll be easy fodder for anti-Christian voices. In the immediate aftermath it will be difficult to parse the difference between Zacharias' sin and the truths he legitimately preached, without appearing to dismiss the pain of victims or diminish the seriousness of the crimes. Difficult or not, it's important to remember that human fallibility does not make truth into a lie.
Martin Luther's theology was critically important in restoring biblical truth. Yet some of his writings invite accusations of antisemitism. Such hatred is wrong, but even if Luther was an anti-Semite, it would neither make his true statements false nor or invalidate all his work. His namesake, Martin Luther King, Jr., was a confirmed plagiarist, adulterer, and womanizer. That does not diminish his work on behalf of civil rights. Ghandi's early racism and bizarre sexual experiments don't mean his perspective on civil disobedience is worthless, or that his name need be "cancelled." The founding fathers of the United States held views of race in deep conflict with modern attitudes, yet their political theories led directly to the equality seen in western culture today.
Perhaps the most vivid example of this distinction is David, a biblical figure guilty of manipulation, lies, adultery, and arguably murder. The victims of those crimes are due corresponding sympathy and support. David's sin should be clearly and straightforwardly condemned. And yet, his sin does not mean everything David ever said, or did, or preached was wrong. It is possible to thank God for using fallible people—Luther, MLK, Ghandi, King David, Zacharias, and others—to teach important truths, without any contradiction to righteous judgment against the sins of those same fallible people.
In the short term, works closely associated with Ravi Zacharias might raise more controversy than benefit. It's a possible stumbling block that has to be considered. That does not mean erasing or ignoring all he ever wrote or spoke. It certainly means including that context and complexity into how we read and interpret him.
These events should inspire every believer to avoid putting Christian leaders on a pedestal. To those who trusted him, it's devastating to learn he most likely lied and contradicted aspects of his own message. Time and again, betrayal from a mentor or role model has led people to abandon faith. The reasons for that are within our grasp, but such reactions are a sign the person's ultimate trust was in that fallible figure, not in the person of Christ. I'm especially grieved knowing that we'll soon see how many grounded their faith not in Christ, but in the celebrity figure of Ravi Zacharias.
As parents, teachers, pastors, leaders, and fellow believers, this should be a watershed moment. We can never claim certain knowledge of another person's heart (1 Samuel 16:7). We don't need to become cynical pessimists. Rather, we should remember to trust and verify (Acts 17:11), to absorb and examine (1 John 4:1), to honor and assess (2 Corinthians 11:14), to emulate that which is good (Hebrews 13:7), while also accepting that even celebrated heroes might, one day, let us down (1 John 1:9; Romans 3:23).
Ravi let me down. He let a lot of people down. Worst of all, he let his Savior down. And his actions caused harm to those who were taken in by his position and charisma. We need to acknowledge that pain, admit that it's real, and that his actions were wrong. Then, once we've mourned, we can remember that the faith he preached was always true (Jude 1:3), and was never about Ravi Zacharias in the first place (1 Corinthians 1:10–13).
-- Editor
