A Chilling Memory

A couple of weeks ago I remembered a story my Dad told me many years ago. I hadn’t thought about it in years. I suppose it came to my mind after reading the news about the posthumous fall from grace of Ravi Zacharias. Many of you will know who RZ was, but for those of you who don’t, he was a brilliant Christian apologist, speaker, debater and philosopher from India who played an enormous role in stabilizing my faith during a time of doubt many years ago. I first saw him when he was at Oxford debating some atheist about the existence of God. I was mesmerized by his eloquence and the intricate patterns of his arguments, using logic and rationality along with an erudite wit that disarmed the largely hostile crowd that packed the hall to hear him. So, all these years later to learn of his personal and moral failings was a blow. It is so strange to me how many times something that my dad had said to me comes flooding back during times of great agitation. The story I am about to relate isn’t complete. I don’t remember every detail. I will have to backfill in places, but the moral of the story I remember with crystal clear certainty...

Back in the early 1960’s, I was a little boy and my dad was a giant. He had moved the entire family from Richmond, Virginia to New Orleans, Louisiana so he could attend The New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary as a 39 year old freshman, the only student on campus with four kids and zero money. During that time Dad was given a church field, a little church in a one horse town called Nicholsville, Alabama. Every Friday night we would make the long drive from New Orleans to Nicholsville, passing through Laurel, Mississippi around the halfway point on Highway 59. I include this detail because it was on Highway 59 just outside of Laurel where our story comes to its shocking conclusion.

There was a young, charismatic preacher from Mississippi back in the early 60’s who was making quite a name for himself in Southern Baptist circles. His name eludes me and I’m not even sure Dad ever told me his name. It would have been like him to leave it out. Anyway, this man was the pastor of a thriving and rapidly growing church, but that church couldn’t contain this man’s ambition or his talent. He was invited to be the revival speaker at every big church in the south it seemed. He even got invited to speak at convocation at the Seminary, such were his gifts as an evangelist. Everywhere he preached, people responded. He was a captivating speaker and mixed with his dynamic personality, the sky seemed the limit.

Then, one day, at the peak of his popularity, it was discovered that he had been having an affair with a young woman who sang in the choir at his church. When the governing body of the church confronted him he refused to repent, claiming that his new love was the work of God. Just like that, his ministry was over. He divorced his wife and left the church to run off with his new girlfriend. Everyone in dad’s circle of friends in Seminary were stunned and disheartened by the news. How could he have done such a thing? It was not only a dark day for those who looked up to the man, but also for the cause of Christ and his Gospel.

But the story didn’t end there. Just a few months after his fall from grace, this man was traveling at night on Highway 59 with his new wife in the passenger seat. They were just outside of Laurel, headed towards Hattiesburg when the front left tire blew out. The man was able to guide the car to a stop just off the road. He got out, walked back to the trunk, lifted the spare out and began changing the tire. Suddenly a speeding 18 wheeler came roaring past. Just before the truck pulled along side the car, a giant piece of tread let loose from one of the wheels, flew through the air and in a blink of an eye, decapitated the dynamic, charismatic young ex-evangelist.

The news spread like wildfire on the campus of New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary. Students began quoting the old prophets in hushed tones...There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end it brings death. In Dad’s telling the lesson was simple...whatsoever a man sows, that shall he also reap. Dad believed that the calling into ministry was a sacred thing and that with it came a grave responsibility...your walk better match your talk or there would literally be hell to pay. I remember this part like yesterday, Dad turning to me after telling this ghastly tale, “Son...God will not be mocked.”

The good that Ravi Zacharias’ words and deeds did for me was incalculable. Without his intelligent voice during that time in my life, I might have totally abandoned my faith. But to learn of his double life and hypocrisy was crushing. Although he never had to answer for it in this life, I agree with my Dad. With a great calling comes a great responsibility. God will not be mocked.