Philip Yancey, one of the most influential Christian writers of the last fifty years, has confessed to an eight-year affair. He is 76 years old.
For those unfamiliar with his work, Yancey authored award-winning books like “What’s So Amazing About Grace”, “Disappointment with God”, and “The Jesus I Never Knew”. His writing gave countless people permission to wrestle honestly with faith, doubt, suffering, and grace. I’ve long admired him. His books shaped me. And none of this changes any of that.
The news is, of course, heartbreaking. News like this always re-breaks my heart and sends shivers down my spine, because it pulls me back into the devastation I caused by my own infidelity—the wreckage, the shockwaves, the lives of those I love altered in ways that never fully return to “before.”
An affair is not an abstract moral failure. It is a long obedience in deception, and it leaves wreckage in its wake. Trust me, I know. Real people, especially those closest, carry the weight of betrayal, disorientation, grief, and a loss of trust that words alone cannot repair. Any talk of grace that does not first make room for that devastation is not grace at all; it’s evasion. For those affected, it’s understandable that hearing about grace in any form might feel like an allergen right now, a bitter reminder that feels premature or even painful.
What shocks me most, however, isn’t Philip’s sin. It’s the way Christian subculture routinely reacts when broken people break things.
Disappointment? Yes. Sadness? Absolutely. Feeling gut-punched? Of course. But shock? That’s the tell.
Shock almost always signals that Christian subculture is still operating with a high anthropology rather than a low one. We say we believe in the depth of human brokenness, but we rarely believe it applies to the people we admire most. We expect sin in theory, just not in our heroes.
Somewhere along the way, we’ve come to believe there is a fundamental difference between certain people and the rest of us—that some are less broken, less fragile, less capable of failure. But while there are functional differences between roles, statuses, and responsibilities, there is no fundamental difference at the level of human nature. The idea that some people don’t struggle with the same fears, temptations, and contradictions as everyone else is a myth. Human beings are human beings, carrying the same flaws, anxieties, and sinful tendencies across the board. No one lives outside the bounds of reality or human nature.
I have a friend who once said that all of us are three bad days away from becoming a tabloid headline and most of us are already on day two. All have fallen short, across every culture, vocation, ideology, and persuasion under the sun. Sin is a shared, ever-present reality, something that clings to all of us. All of us.
So if our theology leaves us stunned by human failure, it may be worth asking whether we’ve quietly believed in ourselves more than we realized.
What’s so amazing about grace? It covers both the sin of adultery and the sin of the one who looks down on the adulterer. It doesn’t excuse the devastation. It doesn’t bypass the wounded. It doesn’t ask whether one fall is worse than another. Grace simply shows up where it is needed most—over the wreckage, over the betrayal, over us all.
#philipyancey
Gloria Jackson
My pastor said not to allow any ones sin surprise you, not even your own. All of us are capable of any sin you can imagine, given the right circumstances.
11h
Reply
David Wood
I think we really have to get honest about what we call sin.
Luther called sin the bondage of the will.
He saw it as a fundamental inability in human nature, not simply doing something wrong.
Science calls it self interest.
You can’t will yourself out of self interest.
The only possible way to transcend it is through truly believing you are loved.
It’s only then that we can find the desire within our hearts to not be self serving.
The problem is Christian culture treats this like a one and done.
Give your heart to Jesus *magic wand* you’re saved and don’t act out of self interest anymore.
Except people do. All the time, consciously and subconsciously.
Do I wish he had been more honest? yes.
Mainly though I am sad for Philip and for everyone hurt. I hope they all know they are loved.
I certainly won’t be casting any stones.
10h
Reply
Edited
David Keeney ·
This beloved Christian author admitted that he was a Christian and a human being at the same time. He has taken appropriate action. God has never used a perfect person other than Jesus. Pray that the relationships of the families involved are restored.
11h
Reply
Edited
Jess Hays
Anyone who thinks someone’s great failure is a disqualifier of grace rather than proof of its radicality has known it only in theory and not in reality.
Gloria Jackson
My pastor said not to allow any ones sin surprise you, not even your own. All of us are capable of any sin you can imagine, given the right circumstances.
11h
Reply
David Wood
I think we really have to get honest about what we call sin.
Luther called sin the bondage of the will.
He saw it as a fundamental inability in human nature, not simply doing something wrong.
Science calls it self interest.
You can’t will yourself out of self interest.
The only possible way to transcend it is through truly believing you are loved.
It’s only then that we can find the desire within our hearts to not be self serving.
The problem is Christian culture treats this like a one and done.
Give your heart to Jesus *magic wand* you’re saved and don’t act out of self interest anymore.
Except people do. All the time, consciously and subconsciously.
Do I wish he had been more honest? yes.
Mainly though I am sad for Philip and for everyone hurt. I hope they all know they are loved.
I certainly won’t be casting any stones.
10h
Reply
Edited
David Keeney ·
This beloved Christian author admitted that he was a Christian and a human being at the same time. He has taken appropriate action. God has never used a perfect person other than Jesus. Pray that the relationships of the families involved are restored.
11h
Reply
Edited
Jess Hays
Anyone who thinks someone’s great failure is a disqualifier of grace rather than proof of its radicality has known it only in theory and not in reality.
