Pulitzer Prize winner, David Garrow, who authored a biography of Martin Luther King in 1986, admitted last year, after looking through newly released archival FBI documents, that King’s infidelities’ and sexual misconduct was much bigger than he once believed.

“I always thought there were 10-12 other women,” Garrow said. “Not 40-45.” In fact, he suggested that the revelations were so significant that it “poses so fundamental a challenge to his historical stature as to require the most complete and extensive historical review possible.”

Despite all this, King’s legacy remains relatively intact. He is still considered a civil rights icon. His accomplishments far outweigh his moral failings, at least, according to most.

I was thinking about this in relation to the recent admissions of predatory behavior and sexual impropriety against the late Christian apologist, Ravi Zacharias. Last week, the board of RZIM, the group he founded, admitted that their preliminary findings revealed the charges to be true.

That admission has been devastating to so many. As one commenter tweeted:

I looked up to him. So many people I learn from looked up to him. He made arguments in defense of our faith against the most knowledgeable critics of our faith that I could never make. He reached three generations with his message.

This sentiment was repeated by many.

Sadly, evangelical culture has suffered a significant share of scandal. But what makes Zacharias’ infidelity so heartbreaking is the scope of his influence and the passion and persuasion he brought to the apologetic stage.

Now I’m left to ask the same question posed by Garrow of MLK: Are these revelations about Ravi Zacharias so significant that they pose a “fundamental challenge to his historical stature”?

This is not to suggest that Zacharias holds a similar historical sway to King. Nevertheless, both had a broad, influential public message and persona, which was marred by private indiscretions.

In his article, How Should We React to the Ravi Zacharias Sex Scandal, one Adventist pastor recommended that we should respond by not promoting Zacharias’ work. Instead, we should

“… reconsider our use of Zacharias’ books, videos, and other materials. As influential as he was, we must consider the implications of continuing to use and promote his work when there are serious questions about his personal integrity. …What kind of witness are we giving when our spiritual leaders turn out to be frauds, yet we continue to applaud them as if nothing is wrong?”

Others are using this as an opportunity to warn the Church about a toxic, celebrity culture. David French, for example, appeals to the Church to seek out prophetic voices:

“How many men must be exposed as predators or frauds before you realize your own church culture is broken? How many ministries must collapse before you realize that the problems within the church aren’t due to ‘them’ but rather rest with ‘us’? You can see clearly the problems with institutions like ‘Hollywood’ or ‘Big Tech’ or the ‘elite academy,’ but you won’t apply the same standards to the church—an institution with the highest possible purpose and calling.”

Neither of these approaches, though understandable, grapple with the essential conundrum — How can someone accomplish so much good and yet be so bad? And does their badness nullify their accomplishments?

Yes, this is a good opportunity to interrogate accountability structures and church ministries. Especially parachurch ministries, like RZIM. (Although, I must admit that the claims to “church culture” being “broken” always seem rather nebulous, especially when it comes to fixing the purported brokenness.) And simply not promoting Zacharias’ books fails to acknowledge whether there is lasting value in his approach or reasoning. Unless we conclude that nothing good can ever come from Zacharias’ body of work, what good is the purpose of not recommending his material? He has written extensively on suffering, evil, atheism, pluralism, and the claims of Christ. Does his sin nullify his approach to these subjects?

After Zacharias’ passing, prominent pastor Tim Keller wrote that Zacharias changed the way evangelism is done.

“Zacharias [saw] that Western culture was fast becoming a ‘post-Christendom’ society, where Christianity no longer felt true or even plausible. He saw that people would no longer simply be showing up in church, that the church would have to go out to them. Most importantly, Zacharias recognized that the leading cultural institutions were no longer instilling those basic religious beliefs in people, particularly in the young, and especially among leaders in society.”

As a cultural outsider (an Indian-Canadian) Zacharias was able to engage other outsiders and speak to issues of religious pluralism. In particular, he engaged thought leaders and culture makers. He often went into the most hostile of settings — American universities — and engaged in dialog with seekers and skeptics.

Keller concluded,

“Today it can be very hard to imagine public discourse in which questions are welcomed, disagreement does not threaten and each person is spoken to with quiet but informed confidence, and with the utmost dignity and respect. Ravi Zacharias believed and proclaimed, but more importantly, showed that following Jesus makes this possible.

Even as Zacharias moves on, the Christian church in the West should move toward this vision for our public life together, remembering, as Zacharias put it, that ‘love is the greatest apologetic.'”

Does Zacharias’ sin invalidate his “vision”? Should the Church disengage an apologetic approach because this apologist was a sinful man? Certainly not!

As in the case of MLK, we are forced to admit that bad people can accomplish great things. This is borne out in Scripture. David was “a man after God’s heart,” and also an adulterer and murderer. Samson was anointed with the power of God, and also a womanizer. Their moral failings did not prevent them from being used by God. This isn’t to dismiss or diminish sin, but to acknowledge its imminent proximity.

In grappling with the then-new charges against Martin Luther King, Anne Carlson Kennedy pondered this conundrum, concluding that within the human heart, the line between the good and the bad, the victim and the abuser, is often infinitely fine.

“The roots of badness are intertwined so completely around goodness that we cannot perfectly and satisfactorily disentangle them—not as we know they ought to be—in the clear light of day.”

As a result, Kennedy concludes,

“This is why we oughtn’t to demand great purity from each other. We ought to find ways to forgive and rectify injustice that leans heavily on mercy. Because we cannot be just.

“…Only Jesus can do that. He, by his gentle hand, untangles the mess, by his own blood atones for the horror of sin, by his great love comforts the broken and wounded, and by his perfect goodness judges the sinner. He is good, and we are not—none of us—and yet he has the power to take evil, our evil, and work it out for a great and true and ultimately perfect good.”

Might I suggest that this also applies to Ravi Zacharias. Yes, I’m unsure how to disentangle his sins from his accomplishments.

Souls were saved because of him. And other souls were scarred.

Light and Truth went forth because of him. As did lies and deceit.

Are the revelations about Ravi Zacharias’ sexual sins and indiscretions so significant that they invalidate his body of work and taint his entire legacy? No more than King’s moral failings and sexual indiscretions outweigh his civil rights accomplishments.

“We are all like the moon,” said Twain. “We each have a dark side.” This goes for all of us. Even the best of us. “The roots of badness are intertwined so completely around goodness that we cannot perfectly and satisfactorily disentangle them.” Nor dare we try. That’s God job, “to take evil, our evil, and work it out for a great and true and ultimately perfect good.”

My prayer is that He does that in this situation.

So how should I remember Ravi Zacharias? As a great thinker. As a passionate orator. As a soul saver. As a flawed man who sinned greatly. And as a man who dearly needed the Christ he preached. Pretty much, just like the rest of us.