What To Do With Ravi? What To Do With Us?

      This writing comes late, for several reasons. For one, I felt the need to wait until much of the noise had passed and the aftermath settled before writing, as I wanted time to reflect, understand, and make sure what I end up saying is actually meaningful. For another, I wonder if I should say anything at all on this matter. But I figured, considering the fact that I wrote a tribute to Ravi on the day of his death, I should address it somehow. But what I am about to say will probably not be what you are expecting to hear.

     I don't know if Ravi is guilty or innocent. Unlike almost everyone else, I actually cannot say if I believe one way or the other on this matter (not whether sexual harassment is wrong but whether it actually happened in Ravi's case). Why? I just don't know enough. And I refuse to uphold a verdict with the very little information I have--that we have.

     You might be thinking, "But we have evidence! We actually have an investigation carried out by a professional firm (read the report HERE)! We have witnesses, and all sorts of suspicious activity to point to! Isn't that enough?" Well, it is, if the integrity of each of those factors are indisputable. However, they might not be. In fact, Ravi's son, Nathan Zacharias, has been presenting counter-arguments addressing the questionable history of Miller & Martin (the investigation firm), biased sample pool of witnesses, manipulated "evidence," and more. I won't talk about the details here, but here is a link to Nathan's blog, "Defending Ravi," if you are interested in reading it. But if you do, please read all of it, because this is a son's attempt to defend his father while dealing with his loss, the shock of the scandal, and the evaporating support of those who once called them friends. Read all of it, and you are likely to learn something you didn't know before.

     Now, does this mean we should believe Nathan Zacharias? Not necessarily. But does it mean we should be more careful with how we approach the allegations we have been presented with? I think so. One critical thing we need to deal with is the fact that Nathan's position as son of Ravi Zacharias means he is either one of the most biased persons involved or one of the most credible. In other words, does Nathan's position as Ravi's son invalidate his testimony? To this question I have no answer, as with many other questions. There is so much we do not know, and the most important answers are inaccessible to me, a mere spectator, just like to the rest of us who are not privy to actual events. Context matters, and that is often the one thing that gets lost in transmission (whether intentionally or not). Nonetheless, I want to give the proper respect due to the Zacharias family, who deserves continued support from the body of Christ.

     But what is more important is how many Christians have been responding (or should I say reacting) to this matter, in whom I am bitterly disappointed.

     Even if Ravi was guilty as charged, the self-righteous cancellation of his name and the accompanying mistreatment of his family are inexcusable. And this is not just by social-media Christians, but by RZIM itself, the organization whose successes were due to the very man and family they now seek to erase. Modern Christendom's desperation to be politically correct and socially acceptable compelled many to jump on the bandwagon and assume the roles of judge, jury, and executioner, cancelling a man who is no longer able to defend himself. They have condemned him to hell, suggested that he never actually knew the Lord, and renounced his friendship. And when the furious rant dies down, they seek to blot out his name, his work, and his memory. And are they justified? In the name of truth, they choose to discredit any truth that he ever uttered. In reducing his identity to his faults, they also discredit the very gospel they claim to live by. They threw the first stones with Bibles in their pockets.

     Additionally, our focus on his failures very conveniently excuses us from pondering our own twistedness.

     Even so, I must say that I understand, and perhaps even sympathize, with the general sentiment that overcame Christendom like a tidal wave. If Ravi was guilty, such repercussions would even be expected. As is in the nature of betrayal, the hurting party suffers disillusionment as their fabricated narrative breaks down. However, if they are not careful, this can easily lead to bitterness and resentment; not taken care of, this will give birth to hate, until one day they find a desire in their hearts to watch the world burn. And even now, observing the reactions spiraling around us for the past few months, from both believers and unbelievers alike, there is a renewed hate that wishes to see institutional Christianity rise up in flames.

     So on the one hand, I cannot tolerate the self-righteousness and lack of grace with which many in the Church have handled this, while on the other, I understand the hurt and anger that others have experienced (regardless of the truthfulness of the allegations), and I want to push us towards healing and maturity as we struggle with the failures of our spiritual leaders.

     Whatever the truth is, we cannot deny the gaping wound in our hurting Church, a wound that has been there for far too long. If we do not learn to respond to it properly and heal from it, we would destroy ourselves every time the monster rears its ugly head.

     The last thing I want to address is the fact that Ravi's sins (whatever they are and are not) do not change the truths he had preached for over four decades. If we are unable to glean what is good from an imperfect person, maybe that is because we are too spiritually and psychologically immature to do so. I do not deny the positive impact of Ravi's ministry on multitudes of people, nor its genuineness; neither do I deny that God used him mightily for His kingdom.

     The truth and beauty of the Kingdom is breaking out into this world, though often tainted by its bearers. If salvation could come through the bloody hands of Roman soldiers and the tyranny of countless empires, surely the gracious work of God could come through tainted vessels such as you, I, and Mr. Zacharias.

The Virtues I Do Not Have

     Some call me strong, gracious, resilient. Others say I have faith. I assure you that none of that is true. The more I observe myself as the days, months, and years roll by, the more I'm certain of this. They say the trials of life make you stronger; if that's true, I'd say I've been fairly privileged. And my privilege is my weakness. I read of the Christians in soul-crushing trials, of the likes of Bonhoeffer in Hell on earth. I see their grace, their conviction, their faith in the face of the unspeakable, and I know I do not have such in me. I have not the fortitude. Instead, I, at the first sign of trouble, am more than ready to shake the proverbial fist at the sky. Any other impression of me is merely that--an impression. A façade. So don't call me strong, or gracious, or faithful. I doubt any of the men and women of old would attribute such virtues to me.

     You might think that I'm in a pit of melodramatic pessimism. Perhaps I am.

     They say that God grants appropriate strength to whom He wills. Then perhaps I am unfit for such a grace.

     They say that I'm not the only one, that everyone struggles that same way. Then maybe we all need a better model for true virtuous spirit.

     They say, "A sapling cannot compare itself to an old oak." Neither can unrefined silver be compared to the refined. I must call myself for what I am. Then maybe God would have the grace to pass me through the furnace that is heated seven times over.

Golgotha

Amazing grace and extravagant favor That Golgotha would be graced by His presence And sprinkled with His blood. Death’s defeat was not merely its elimination But its beautification.

"Christ in Limbo" by Hieronymus Bosch

It was not mere human execution that took place on that hill, but a demonic onslaught. Men may have pierced His flesh, but Hell enveloped His spirit. Separated from the Presence and offered to Death, such is the wrath of God. What glee and cries of delight, the ugliest sound Heaven had ever heard, with which bloody chains assaulted Him. Screams of victory erupted from the throat of Hell as the Son was dragged into its bowels; the Father and Dove looked on as one of their own disappeared into the darkness.

But the darkness was too stupid to see the end, for the darkness blinded even itself. With the trap with which it ensnared mankind for millennia it ensnared itself. Never could it anticipate that the divine bloodstains in its halls would seal its demise. It did not realize that holding Him within its caverns made it possible for even those in Hades to say that the Christ was Emmanuel for them as well. It thought God was offering a sacrifice to Hell, when it was Hell that was unknowingly participating in a sacrifice to God. It lusted for His blood, forgetting the ancient warning that life is in the blood. It did not foresee its gates would be kicked open by the Dove, leaving a holy footprint to this day. It did not expect a mass exodus out of Hell, led by the Lamb who was slain.

And the Father watched as His Son, forever scarred, emerge into the light of the morning sun.

The Two Greatest Failures of Every Generation

Photo by Guillaume de Germain on Unsplash

     Let us consider the people of Nineveh. Roughly around 760 B.C., the prophet Jonah confronted the wickedness of the city, resulting in a religious awakening and a swing toward monotheism. Thus, the people were spared from judgment.

    Fast forward slightly over a hundred years later to the days of Nahum. Wickedness prevailed in the city once again. Most of the people who were old enough to remember the revival of Jonah were gone, and Nahum arrived to proclaim a similar but more elaborate message. This time, they were not spared. Shortly thereafter, in 612 B.C., Nineveh sat in ruins.

    It took the Assyrian city five generations; for early Israel, not so much. Flip over the Book of Judges and we find the infamous cycle of rebellion, judgment, repentance, deliverance. Starting with the man Othniel, after he delivered Israel, "the land had rest for 40 years" (Judges 3:11). Then wickedness reigned again, and then came the Moabite oppression. Ehud rose up to deliver the people as the second judge, and there was peace for 80 years. Then came Deborah, whose work ushered in another 40 years of freedom before the cycle started again. Then came Gideon, after whom 45 years of peace ensued, before Israel turned again. Are you seeing the pattern? It took Israel an average of 1-2 generations for the spiritual climate to dry out. May I suggest that the primary reason for these frequent fallouts may be the lack of transmission of the knowledge and fear of God from one generation to the next? How would I guess this? It's the crazy possibility that members of the generation that went through one season of cultural wickedness lived to see the next in 40 years--and probably did nothing about it.

    Thus these I believe are the two greatest failures of every generation, which I still see to this day:

        1. The failure to impart healthy values to the generation after;

        2. The failure to receive and learn important values from the generation before.

    On one side, it is irresponsible not to pass on the wisdom, customs, and beliefs that sustained you in life. On the other side, it is arrogant to think that you can figure out this thing called life without the guidance of the past, let alone do it better than they had.

    That being said, it is at this point where I must unpack the layers of what we are talking about. At the same time as I am calling to retain the teachings of the past, I am also calling to renew them. We must be both adamant traditionalists and ardent progressives; I don't mean progressive in the postmodern sense (assuming it makes any sense at all), but truly progressive in seeking the renewing of the world. There is a reason why we human cultures propagate endlessly into new generations; so that we don't grow so old that we die of chronic stiffness. It is the job of the young people to birth our long-held value systems into new life, and I say we let them have at it. The problem is that these youngsters, more often than not, don't so much evolve our value system as much as kill it. They kill off more than they have to replace it with.

    That's not to say there ought not to be any killing involved, however. Every time something evolves, something needs to die; in order for the rocket to enter orbit, the thrusters need to fall off. You can trust the next generation to be merciless in their critique, but that is all it must be: a critique, not a rebellion. You ought to renovate the house, but ripping it off from over your bed is not such a good idea. It is naïve to think that you can usher in a better world with your tiny brain and 20 years of life experience. You need to be at least a thousand years old to formulate anything that could possibly reach that goal. But good news! By seeking out the successes, failures, and even folk lore of ages past (not to mention your own parents), you can have the wisdom of centuries to augment the energy and imagination of your youth. In a way, you can be bigger than you are. I would also argue that that is what culture ought to be: a wise sage with a young soul.

    We are responsible for what we pass on, or fail to pass on, to those who come after us. We are also responsible for learning, or failing to learn, from history. This applies on the large scale of culture as well as the smaller scale of the family unit and the individual. As for me, I am determined to be an exception in these two greatest failures of every generation.