Dr Amy Orr-Ewing: ‘We’ve made forgiveness a weapon for the powerful. It is never that in the hands of Jesus’

Amy Orr-Ewing’s academic credentials are impeccable: a first-class degree in theology from Oxford, an MA from King’s College London and then back to the dreaming spires for a doctorate. She counts intellectual heavyweights such as Alister McGrath, Os Guinness and Dr John Lennox as mentors. 

Orr-Ewing is no ivory tower academic, however. Her childhood was spent in pioneering church plants, seeing the transformative power of God at work in multicultural, inner-city areas. As an adult, she’s smuggled Bibles into Afghanistan, met with Taliban leaders and alongside her husband run a church in London where the youth work was so successful that local drug lords threatened her life. 

Like her mentor, Dr John Lennox, her aim has always been to make the case for Christ in a way that stands up intellectually. But also like Lennox, she experienced opposition as an undergraduate student because of this. Orr-Ewing tells me that she remembers being issued with a stark ultimatum by an Oxford don. A career in academia would not be possible “unless you change your views” – ie cut back on the charismatic Christianity stuff. The 19-year-old was momentarily shaken but, ultimately, undeterred. “There was an intentionality about identifying Christians who might have a public voice and taking them out,” she says. “I remember making the decision: I’m not going to cave in.”

For years she’s spoken about the Christian faith in a way that connects with the cultural moment. But when the Covid-19 pandemic hit in 2020, Orr-Ewing’s husband began to experience PTSD as a result of childhood abuse. Around the same time, allegations of sexual abuse emerged against her boss, apologist Ravi Zacharias, who had recently died. It was, she says, “a very dark time” that ultimately led her to begin advocacy work with abuse victims and survivors. 

We’ve made forgiveness a weapon for the powerful to beat the weak with. It is never that in the hands of Jesus

Now, Orr-Ewing has turned her attention to what she calls a “true gospel jewel” – the topic of forgiveness. We live in an age of outrage, where a generation hungry for justice often seeks to confront hurt and abuse with rage and grievance. Within that context, many see the Christian principle of forgiveness as weak, because it “just lets people perpetrate injustice”, she says, or weaponises it against the victim, forcing the abused to forgive their abuser. It’s a flawed understanding, but one that needs countering clearly and with love and compassion, argues Orr-Ewing in her new book Forgiveness (Baker). “I wanted to give forgiveness back, as a gift to the Church and to those who’ve suffered, because it’s a superpower, actually.”

You describe yourself as a public theologian. What does that mean?

It’s speaking about the Christian faith in a way that connects with the cultural moment and the public debates that people are having. It might also be described as public advocacy for the Christian faith, or apologetics – but that’s not a word people outside the Church use, and people sometimes find it difficult. If you’re an apologist for something, it’s usually bad – trying to defend the indefensible. 

Did you ever imagine that being your job?

Definitely not. I had never seen a woman preach. I didn’t have female role models, and I didn’t see any women doing what I now do. I’m so thankful for the male mentors that I’ve had, but there weren’t women who had ploughed that furrow. 

Alongside your academic career, you’ve also done many other forms of ministry. Was it a conscious decision not to remain solely within academia?

That’s such an interesting question. I’ve just turned 50, and I’m aware that, when we talk about calling, we can give the impression that you figure it out and then you just do it – and that is not what it’s like; that’s what it looks like afterwards. 

Dorothy L Sayers has this image of a tapestry – if you look at the back, it looks like a crazy kind of Jackson Pollock [painting], with threads all over the place. You have to walk round to the front to see that there’s a pattern. There’s a designer. 

I think calling is like that. You follow Jesus, take opportunities and try to be faithful, step by step. God uses our giftings and natural talents, and gives us supernatural giftings, but He also gives us preferences. I’m not the sort of person who would want to be in an ivory tower, beavering away at very niche, peripheral questions – which is what you have to do in academia. I care more about reaching the world. I wanted the credentials to operate in that sphere but also to be a bridge to normal people; to try to break down things that feel daunting. 

In your new book, you tell a story of offering forgiveness to people who threatened your life. Tell us about that.

I got married after university, and my husband felt called into ordained ministry. We experienced a call to a church in Peckham, London. On the day we went for the interview, we walked past five murder boards in just a few streets. We sensed that God was calling us there, but it was costly. My twins’ earliest memories are of an arson attack on our house at 3am! 

Hundreds of young people came to faith [because of the work that the church was doing]. The local gangs had a system of recruiting children – a bit like county lines – because if they got caught, they got a lesser sentence. Their concern was that this stream of children was drying up. A man said to my husband: “You need to stop. If you don’t, we’re going to rape your wife and murder your children. We’re watching the house, and we know when you’re not there.”

Forgiveness is not based on my feelings 

I lived with that for four years. I struggled with fear and anxiety as a result, but one thing that really helped was praying for the Lord to help me forgive those who had blighted my life with this threat. The practice of forgiveness is not just a great thing for society, and it’s not just a Christian discipline. It also has a tangible impact on our physical and mental health. There are studies that show a correlation between the practice of forgiveness and health benefits – from diabetes and heart disease to anxiety.

Why did you want to write a book on forgiveness now?

There’s been a rise of rage and outrage connected to identity politics; the idea that everyone’s divided and grievance is power. Critical theory tells you that whether you’ve experienced sexism, racism or homophobia, the rage you push back with is how you get agency and a voice. We’re definitely seeing a rise in this when we do campus apologetics, and so I was looking to connect with young people who were rejecting faith on the basis that Christianity is weak because [they think] it just lets people perpetrate injustice. 

At the same time, we were seeing leaders we’ve loved and respected perpetrating sexual or power abuse, or the collapse of churches and organisations, whether that was Mars Hill, Ravi Zacharias or Mike Pilavachi. It felt like every week, there was another situation where these beloved churches and leaders that I trusted, or had benefited from, were falling. 

I became an advocate for survivors in those situations, and often, a poorly formulated articulation of forgiveness was weaponised against those who’d suffered in order to prop up perpetrators. A common thread would be that a leader turns out to be a rapist or a power abuser, and a survivor is brave enough to come forward and challenge that, but then the narrative becomes that the survivor is angry or unforgiving, and their sin of unforgiveness is worse than – or the same – as the sin of the leader who caused the abuse. That’s a totally false view of what forgiveness really is. I wanted to write a book that could give forgiveness back, as a gift to the Church and to those who’ve suffered, because it’s a superpower, actually. 

When I was writing this, people asked: “What are you working on?” And when I said: “Oh, I’m thinking about forgiveness,” if the person had no Christian faith, they’d say: “That is so interesting. Tell me more.” But Christians would visibly recoil, and say: “Oh no, I suppose that’s a book I should read. I’ve got this list of people that I’m failing to forgive…” They’re either feeling like a failure because they haven’t forgiven, or forgiveness has been weaponised in their church community, and they don’t know whether forgiveness is actually safe or good.

So there’s still work to be done in how we talk about forgiveness in the Church?

Without Christ and the cross, forgiveness is Elsa in Frozen singing ‘Let it go’: it is simply releasing your pain to the universe; a psychological trick that you play on yourself, where you say: “This no longer hurts me.” Or: “Maybe it wasn’t that bad.” Justice movements would say this is morally abhorrent, because sexual abuse, slavery, egregious harm and moral wrongdoing always hurt and they always matter. So, it would never be right to just let it go. 

Forgiveness is not based on my feelings. I can still remember the abuse I experienced, I feel pain about it and I’ve forgiven.

The other mistake we make is to equate forgiveness with restoration of relationships. It may well be that relationships can be restored, but that doesn’t always happen, because confession and repentance are essential. 

As Christians, we only receive forgiveness when we confess, repent and believe. In the same way, it can be true that I’ve received the grace of the cross, I’ve offered it to the other person, but they haven’t repented or confessed, and so it’s not actually possible for that relationship to be restored. Or it’s not safe for that person to have access to my life. There might be domestic violence, sexual crime, a prison sentence that needs to be served – all of that can be true, and it can be true that I’ve forgiven. 

You share a story about a woman who told you that her husband was physically abusive. You helped her go to the police and change the locks – and that led to her son saying he felt safe within the Church again…

Yes, because he’d experienced two previous Christian leaders who knew about the situation and told his mum: “Forgive him and submit to him.” We’re talking about someone being burned with an iron. Horrific abuse. Those children were in danger. That’s the weaponisation of forgiveness against the victim. So, for that young man to hear that his mum’s suffering and safety mattered to a pastor – a representative of the Church – that was enough for him to be open to Jesus. Not only does it matter physically, because a woman and her children were suffering, but it is a gospel issue; an evangelism issue, a truth issue – and a life and death issue, potentially. 

The pursuit of truth and justice is very important for gen Z. If they perceive the Church to be flaky on that issue, might it result in them rejecting Christianity altogether?

Yes. And then the real, true gospel jewel of forgiveness is lost, because it’s been abused and misused. Reclaiming that is a crucial task in the Church. 

Without Christ and the cross, forgiveness is Elsa in Frozen singing ‘Let it go’

People often ask me about the increase in estrangement and cutting people off – you see it with the Beckhams, in the royal family, and in communities up and down the country. Forgiveness is lost, but sometimes that’s our fault, because we didn’t care enough about justice and suffering, and we made forgiveness a weapon for the powerful to beat the weak with. It is never that in the hands of Jesus. 

You’ve previously spoken about your own experience of trauma following the revelation that Ravi Zacharias, whose ministry you worked for, had sexually abused women. What impact did that have on you?

That happened at a similar time to my husband also experiencing PTSD as a result of childhood abuse. If you had looked at us, you would have thought: They went to Oxford, they’ve led things that look really big and successful, got lovely children, a happy family. We didn’t seem to have any difficulties. But we went through this very dark time, and honestly, one of the things that I needed was professional trauma therapy, and so did my husband. 

A traumatic experience affects your body as well as your mind and emotions. I worked with a psychologist for over a year, and I also did a lot of reading and research. A brilliant writer called Peter Levine speaks about trauma survivors needing someone to “bear empathetic witness” to the horror of what happened in order to recover. I thought: Wow, a world-leading trauma specialist has just described what God does for us in Jesus on the cross. He bears empathetic witness to the suffering and agony and horror and injustice of this world, and only when we experience that does forgiveness become possible – and therefore healing. 

For the last six years, a major part of my work has been advocating for survivors of abuse, often in Christian settings; being a safe person as they try to bring to light what has happened – and trying to help the Church learn and do better.

How do you prevent those stories from impacting your faith?

It definitely impacts my faith – but positively, because this is gospel work. Jesus says: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). There’s an awful lot of darkness, but this is about bringing the light of Christ – truth and justice – into situations. There’s a massive difference between being the victim or survivor and being the person who bears empathetic witness alongside them. It is sometimes triggering, and you need to process that with God in prayer, and with friends.

God does not need us to defend the indefensible

I used to think being a good Christian involved being really polite. Now I think being a follower of Jesus means we don’t scrimp on how bad the darkness is. 

The last few years have seen a rise in spiritual openness, particularly among the younger generation. At the same time, there have been horrific stories of abuse in the Church. Do you think that’s a coincidence?

No, I think it’s two sides of the same coin. If you study revival – an awakening to God both in the Church and in the culture – one of the hallmarks is an awareness of the holiness of God. I think what we’re seeing with gen Z – people buying Bibles and coming to church – is this awareness of God. People are being drawn to rigorous, deeper theology, as well as supernatural encounter with God.

When we see the dirt and filth of abuse in the Church uncovered, that’s God showing up because He’s coming back for His bride. I don’t think it’s something we need to fear. It’s obviously really disturbing and really upsetting, but God does not need us to defend the indefensible. He never wants us to cover sin. He wants it to come into the light, and for those who are in darkness to be challenged and to repent. 

The holiness of God showing up is always a good thing. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s a hallmark of revival.  

To hear the full interview listen to Premier Christian Radio at 8pm on Saturday 5 September or download The Profile podcast 

Forgiveness by Amy Orr-Ewing (Baker) is available now