Remembering Rachel Held Evans #rememberingRHE

This month marks the sad anniversary of the passing of Rachel Held Evans. She unexpectedly died on May 4th, 2019 due to health complications. She was an award winning columnist and author. She also had her own blog and regularly shared thought provoking articles. Often Rachel was noted for calling out tropes of evangelicalism and turning them on their head. Some loved her and some not so much. I certainly felt both challenged and encouraged by her. She was an inspiration for this blog.

I first heard of Rachel during a really hard time in my life. It was something she said that gave me permission to accept and deal with a major part of who I am. It was a landmark moment in my life.

Suffice it to say, when I first heard Rachel Held Evans, I was at a crossroads in my faith.  At this point, I was dealing with sorting out how the Jesus I had been told about was nowhere to be found, and watching all the certainty I was supposed to have, unravel.  Compounding these questions, was the turmoil caused by the death of a close friend. I was ready to give it up. 

Rachel’s words helped to pull me out of that. I can think of no better way to thank her than to share her own words for those who may also be having a similar experience. Sometime in 2014 I stumbled across The Liturgists and their album Garden. On the track titled Saturday, Rachel Held Evans offers hope and relief for those experiencing a faith-crushing doubt.

"It will bother you off and on like a rock in your shoe.
It will startle you like the first crash of thunder in a summer storm.
Or it will lodge itself beneath your skin like a splinter.
Or show up again: the uninvited guest whose heavy footsteps you’d recognize anywhere. 

Appearing at your front door with suitcase in hand, at the worst possible time.
Doubt will pull you out to sea like a riptide or hold your head under as you drown.

Triggered by an image,
A question,
Something the pastor said,
Something that doesn’t line up,
The unlikelihood of it all,
The too-good-to-be-trueness of it, 

The way the lady behind you in the thick perfume sings 'up from the grave he arose' with more confidence in the single line of song than you’ve managed to muster in the last 10 years.

And you’ll be sitting there in the dress you pulled out from the back of your close, swallowing down the bread and wine, not believing a word of it. 

So you fumble instead through those back pocket prayers:
'Help me in my unbelief!'
While everyone around you moves on to verse 2, verse 3, verse 4 without you.

You will feel their eyes on you.
And you will recognize the concern behind their cheery greetings:

'We haven’t seen you here in awhile! So good to have you back!'
And you will know they are thinking exactly what you used to think about Easter Sunday Christians.

Nominal.
Lukewarm.
Indifferent.

But you won’t know how to explain how there's nothing
Nominal,
Or lukewarm,
Or indifferent,
About standing in this hurricane of questions everyday
And staring each one down
Until you’ve mustered all
The bravery,
And fortitude,
And trust it takes to whisper just one of them out loud on the car ride home.

What if we made this up because we’re afraid of death?

And you won’t know how to explain why, in that moment,
When the whisper rose out of your mouth like Jesus from the grave,
You felt more Alive,
And Awake,
And Resurrected
Than you have in ages.
Because at least it was out.
At least it was said.
At least it wasn’t buried in your chest anymore crawling for freedom.

And if you’re lucky,
Someone in the car will recognize the bravery of the act.
If you’re lucky,
There will be a moment of Holy Silence
Before someone wonders out loud

If such a question might put a damper on Easter Brunch.

But if you’re not,
If the question gets answered too quickly,
Or if the silence goes on too long,
Please know,
You’re not alone.

There are other people singing words to hymns they’re not sure they believe today,
Other people digging out dresses from the backs of their closets today,
Other people ruining Easter brunch today,
Other people just showing up today.

Sometimes, just showing up, burial spices in hand, is all it takes to witness a miracle."

...

I remember being on stage playing worship music in front of modest congregations wondering if, like Jonah, I needed to be tossed aside for the storm to subside. I remember not believing a word of what I was singing. I remember the hurt, the anger, and the confusion of the position I was in. I was supposed to be leading people into worshiping a God I didn't believe in. If that's not a double life, I don't know what is.

I wanted to hide. At times, I wanted to succumb to the weight of the guilt. I couldn’t breathe. Some days, as dramatic as it sounds, I wanted to die. In her words, Rachel Held Evans helped give me the breath of fresh air I desperately needed. In one of my toughest times, Rachel Held Evans’ honesty resurrected a part of me that wanted to see the light, wanted to be alive, and wanted, despite the confusion, to not let go of this Jesus character.

And it still does today.

Her work in such books as Evolving in Monkey Town: How a Girl Who Knew All the Answers Learned to Ask the Questions (2010, republished as Faith Unravelled in 2014), A Year of Biblical Womanhood: How a Liberated Woman Found Herself Sitting on Her Roof, Covering Her Head, and Calling Her Husband Master (2012), Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church (2015), and Inspired: Slaying Giants, Walking on Water, and Loving the Bible Again (2018), continue to leave readers inspired and life altering. I encourage all to read these books and explore her blog at rachelheldevans.com