In the wake of Yancey’s admission of an affair, Christians face a test they rarely pass: how to tell the truth and still offer grace.
I’m writing this now because the public response to Phillip Yancey’s confession has been shallow at best and shame-fueled at worst. Not because the confession was unclear. Not because grace is unavailable. But because the Christian church still struggles to hold two truths at once: that sin is real and grace is enough.
In a recent post, Yancey admitted to having committed adultery early in his marriage — a secret he carried for decades. He revealed it not to shock, excuse, or justify, but because he says he can no longer carry the weight of pretending. It was a confession in the truest biblical sense. No blame-shifting. No manipulation. No spin.
The response? Predictably split. From the right, accusations that his theology was always suspect and that this simply confirms it. From the left, awkward silences or rushed statements of support that avoid mentioning sin at all. In the middle, many ordinary believers are wondering what they are supposed to feel. Outrage? Compassion? Distance? Disappointment?
The truth is, we are watching a church culture that does not know how to deal with sin unless it ends in clean conclusions or public disqualification. We want either total condemnation or full exoneration, and we are deeply uncomfortable with anything in between.
But this is where grace matters. This is where the cross means something.
“While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). That is not a metaphor. It is not sentimental. It is a brutal, real-world truth about how God deals with sin. Not by denial. Not by delay. But by substitution. Jesus died not only for clean sins and short failures but for real betrayal, real adultery, real shame.
And that brings us to the tension. The sin matters. It harmed people. It grieved God. And it must not be brushed aside. But if we stop there, we preach a gospel of law without blood. If we refuse to say out loud that Christ’s sacrifice covers even this, then we are not offended by Yancey’s sin. We are offended by grace itself.
The truth is, most of us want grace for ourselves and judgment for others. We can quote “all have sinned” (Romans 3:23), but we rarely live like we believe the second half of the sentence: “and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus” (Romans 3:24).
Yancey’s confession is not a cause for applause. It is a call to honesty. Not only about sin, but about our response to it.
The impulse to “otherize” him — to treat him as a cautionary tale, a doctrinal failure, or a moral outcast — is strong. But it is exactly the opposite of what Jesus modeled. The Pharisees loved the spotlight of exposure. Jesus loved the dust of restoration. He did not deny sin. He died for it. And then he offered the kind of forgiveness that still offends the religious mind.
If we cannot figure out how to both name sin and announce grace, then we have misunderstood the very gospel we claim to defend.
So yes, Yancey sinned. And yes, it was serious. And yes, he is still loved by the God who already saw it, already paid for it, and already offered mercy. That mercy is not cheap. It cost the cross.
If that grace is not big enough for this, then it is not big enough for you or for me.
And if you are carrying something — something hidden, something that weighs heavy — and you wonder if there’s still a place for you, hear this:
God is not surprised.
He does not flinch.
He doesn’t pull away when you confess. He draws near.
He is not waiting for your cleaned-up version. He’s waiting for you.
Come to him tired. Come to him tangled. Come to him with the mess you’ve tried to manage on your own.
Not every church will know what to do with your story. Not every person will respond well. But Jesus will.
He is the friend of sinners. The healer of shame. The one who doesn’t just forgive, but stays.
He will walk with you.
And when you are ready to speak the truth, even if your voice shakes, you will find he is already listening.
You do not have to be afraid.
The cross was built for this.
Disclaimer: This content does not constitute legal advice. For specific legal questions, please consult a licensed attorney.
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