How Rachel Held Evans Helped Me Lose My Faith—And Why I Think She'd be OK With It

With Rachel at Ohio Wesleyan University on November 7, 2014.

  
I still remember how I heard the news, one year ago today: I was sitting up in bed after sleeping in on a Saturday morning and scrolling through Facebook on my phone...when I saw the news that made me gasp in disbelief.

Rachel Held Evans was gone.

I had heard she had taken ill, that she'd been hospitalized, that she was in fact in a coma. But I remember not having been too concerned. I'm sure I assumed she would pull through. We never think it's going to happen to the people we care about. 

What I don't remember (as I wrote in 2013) is exactly how I first discovered Rachel (though I suspect it was Twitter). But as I read her first two books, Evolving in Monkey Town (now sold as Faith Unraveled) and A Year of Biblical Womanhood, and her blog, her voice became a welcome influence on my thinking. 

She was a believer...who also had doubts, and wasn't afraid to express them. (Or if she was afraid, she shared them anyway.) She tackled tough Bible passages and tough issues. She called out the evangelical church on its bullshit. She cared about social justice and actively used her platform and influence to lift up the voices of the marginalized. And she did it all with such grace and humor. I believe the word "winsome" applies.

When she gave voice to her doubts, she was, without knowing it, also giving voice to mine. She made her blog a safe place to share those doubts, and she never once responded to me judgmentally. And I came to learn firsthand that she treated those whose doubts led them to different places than hers had...as kindred spirits, even. In fact, when I met her in person for the first time, she acted like we were already legit, IRL friends. She could not have been nicer to me. (And later, when I tweeted a link to the post I'd written about meeting her, she not only retweeted it, she also included in her next "Sunday Superlatives" post a sweet word about meeting me, a link to that post, and the photo we'd taken together. Incidentally, her sharing links to my post led to its views skyrocketing; it remains my most-viewed post of all time by far.)

And during the second—and as it turned out, final—time we met (photo above), we got to spend a little time together, just the two of us. And when I told her that I'd become agnostic, she didn't flinch or judge me or try to pressure me to change. She simply continued treating me like a friend.

In the years between that meeting and her passing, I got to the place where I wasn't really seeking out Christian content anymore (and Rachel's work wasn't any exception). I had largely moved on. But I still valued her voice and how she was continuing to use it. 

After she passed, I read many articles about her and about her death—straightforward news pieces, obituaries, and some of the numerous tributes posted by friends and fans alike. I read quite a bit of the #BecauseOfRHE hashtag. And I was surprised that among all of that I found not one mention of how, in addition to helping many people retain or return to their faith, she helped others eventually leave faith altogether and become OK with it, to become OK with, in my case, uncertainty.

And while my life is far from perfect, I am so glad to be free of religion, to have a vastly different—and more benevolent—view of the world than I did before. I believe there's a higher power, but I don't know what form it takes or what it looks like. And I no longer think it matters if I get it "right." Nor do I believe any longer that I'll be punished if I don't.

And, as it turns out, I am not alone. 

From Missy Hunsberger, "She gave me permission....":

• "This book [A Year of Biblical Womanhood] gave me permission to see the Bible in a different light...."
• "She gave me permission to be angry. To be bold. To express that anger."
• "She gave me permission to be proud of my vote for Hilary Clinton... all I can think about when I see that picture being shared of her everywhere, is that this was the picture she posted when she wrote about all the reasons why she voted for Clinton and not Trump. There was a time I believed you couldn't vote Democrat AND be a Christian. She helped me see past that." [links mine]
• "She gave me permission to be angry at the church and to take some [time] away if that's what I needed. She made me feel like I wasn't alone."
• "Perhaps most importantly, she gave me permission to believe that being gay was okay. I was largely there, but she gave me permission to go all the way, even before I knew my own queerness."
• In Faith Unraveled, "She spoke the words to so many of my questions in this book. I don't even know if she answered any of them, but the importance of someone writing down and also wrestling with these same questions was invaluable to me. She gave me permission to question."
• "She also gave me permission to walk away. She didn't shame me, question me, and she wasn't concerned for my soul. She trusted my journey, my hurt, my disbelief and she understood.

From Amanda Marie Salas:

Rachel was a lifeline.... As I delved into her work I was so hesitant because I had been warned about the likes of her. About the slippery slope I was about to go down if I listened to her. I heard all about the dangers of too much love and too much grace.... I didn’t think I would have the audacity to take such a leap [leaving church], but reading Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church that Spring gave us the push we needed to leave by Summer. It’s been three years since we left that world behind and we haven’t looked back.... The last part of the subtitle in Searching for Sunday reads Finding the Church. I don’t know if that will ever happen for us. If it does, I know it will be because Rachel laid the groundwork by leaving guideposts along the way of what is possible when the toxicity of evangelicalism is removed from the equation. She left behind hope that those of us who feel hopeless don’t have to wait for the religious establishment to offer us a seat at the table. We can offer it to each other here– now.

From Sharideth Smith:

She is somewhat responsible for my atheism. She made it safe for me to question and I just took it a little too far like I do everything else. But she never judged me for it. She loved and laughed with me through all my weirdness. I miss her so much.

— Sharideth Smith (@sharideth) April 30, 2020

And from my friend Ashleigh Miller:

I can’t tell you the exact moment I found her; all I can tell you is that her life and blog changed my life. I have always seemed to live in the in between. Rachel was the first person I encountered that seemed to do the same. Her blog and the community she created gave me hope.

 Growing up in a conservative Mennonite community, questions were not encouraged from anyone and much less so from women. I always had them. When I found her blog, I remember thinking, "You mean other people think these things, have these questions?" The peace that came with that was incredible. Later in my deconstruction, she helped me to feel so sure that the god I was raised to believe in was not who god is. I remember an epiphany I had that year: I admitted that if that god did exist, I didn’t want to spend eternity with him.

 

Meeting her and hearing her speak was one of the great privileges of my life. I got this opportunity on three separate occasions, the last of which was at the very first Evolving Faith Conference. The blessing of seeing her preach boldly with a baby on her hip is something I will always cherish. This was also the place where she gave me permission to admit that I was no longer a Christian. I remember walking up to take communion, knowing that it was my last, at least for now. The inclusion she strove for was so incredible and inspiring and it gave someone like me so much hope and joy, even as I grieved for the things I was letting go of. The things I no longer needed.

The day I heard she had died, I wept. The world lost someone so important, and there would be no one else like her. I lost someone so impactful to my journey and my deconstruction. Dan lost his partner. But mostly I grieved for her babies. These two beautiful littles that now had to grow up without their momma. The trauma I knew too well that touched their lives. It was May 4th when she passed on; it was May 12th twenty-four years before that my papa passed, when I was five. This loss for her babies brought my own loss more to my mind than it had in some time. I’m so glad that they have access to things I never did. So many tangible ways to remember her, so many people to share her legacy. So today I do grieve for my loss, for the world's loss, but especially her family's and those babies' loss.

 Rachel, thank you for all you are and all you gave to the world; thank you for all you gave to me. I wish so much you could be with your littles. You are a woman of valor. May the Fourth be with you. Blessed Be.

Rachel: You will always have a place as a major signpost along my journey. I'm not sure if I ever told you this. So I'm telling you now: Thank you. I don't know if I'd be where I am without you. You are and will continue to be sorely missed.

I Have to Believe It

Yes, that's me. Photo taken May 16, 2016, by Jessi Matthews.

This is going to be a really personal post. I haven't written a super-personal post in a long time; 'course I haven't written a post at all in a long time. But I need to get this out, and I'm sharing it because...well, it's what I do.

I had a reiki session for the first time tonight. At the beginning of the session, my reiki practitioner used a guided meditation to sort of lead me into it. For part of it, she said to picture myself in a very beautiful place and imagine that this place was just for me.

My mind immediately went to the Oregon coast, which so far I have visited twice, exactly a year apart. I know they were exactly a year apart because both times were on my birthday. The first of those times, my dear friend Jessi and I sat on a log on the sand and talked while we enjoyed the beauty. It was mostly overcast and a little chilly, but it was still beautiful.

Back to the guided meditation: This time I pictured myself there alone, just standing on the beach and enjoying what in my vision was now beautiful weather—warm and sunny, with the sun reflecting on the water, turning the view from beautiful to spectacular.

At this point in the reiki session, the guided meditation stopped, but I kept picturing myself there...as if I lived there, and one by one, other elements came into the picture. I know what was happening: I was envisioning my dream life. The other elements were all things I have dreamed about doing, having, being...but that haven't happened yet for a variety of reasons. (Some of them,...much to my grief.)

I'm walking along the beach because I have the energy to do that. My body looks more like I want it to than it does now. I'm throwing a frisbee to my dog. I'm joined by my loving partner. I have indeed found someone to grow old with. He loves me fiercely. And I him.When we go back to the house, we don't have to go far because it's right on the beach. (No one said my dream life would be cheap.) In the great room, there's a grand piano. (Again with the not-cheap.) I'm working toward entering the [Van] Cliburn International Amateur Piano Competition. This is a house that I've decorated myself because I have the energy to do that. We host lovely dinner parties because I actually do want to be the hostess sometimes. I am as "domestic" as I feel like being because I have the energy to do things I feel like doing. (Are you sensing a theme yet?) I have a job that I love. I do volunteer work that helps people and that I find meaningful. I have a part-time (at least) singing career because...well, that is my truest passion.

Back to the present for a moment: I think many people in my life think that my biggest passion is English—grammar, writing...because I talk/post about that rather frequently. And I'm not un-passionate about that. But ever since my college days, ironically after I stopped being a music major ("piano performance emphasis"), a love for singing like I'd never known awakened (even though I'd been in various choirs for several years by that point). And singing does bring me a kind of joy that nothing else does. Most of the time though, (when I'm not in one of the handful of choirs I've been in since that time) I don't generally sing. It's odd. But I think it's because emotionally,...I'm not usually in a place to even want to sing. Like, it doesn't even occur to me. In case it sounds weird to you that I wouldn't want to do something that brings me joy...that's called deep depression, my friend.

I'm suddenly realizing, with all of this talk of what my true passion is and of how much I have not yet self-actualized...that I am still, however unintentionally, suppressing my true self. Daaamn. Now if only bringing my true self to the fore were as easy as it had been the first time (moving out of my parents' house and going to college).

Because now the challenge is to believe that I can have that kind of life—or at least that I can make many of those elements a reality.

Which brings me back to my vision. The phrase that popped into my head and just kept recurring to me was: "I have to believe it."

Because right now,...I don't. That's the bare truth of it.

The cultural narrative of "you just have to believe in yourself" and "well, you have to have hope" is strong enough that I almost feel ashamed to admit this. But if you'd had a life filled almost entirely (so far) with heartbreak, how would you feel?

So tonight that's where I'm at. Knowing I need to believe in a better future for myself. And not yet being sure of how to do that—or even that I won't resist any effort in that direction. (My cynicism runs deep, yo.)

Never has the phrase "hoping against hope" meant so much to me.

I just know that if I actively believe it won't happen, then it very likely won't.

I'm also realizing...I have to make it happen. *sigh* And we're right back to...that'll happen someday when I have the energy for it. There's that theme again.

So what I actually have hope in right now are the mind/body practices I've been trying lately—namely, reiki, massage, trauma releasing exercises, yoga. Because getting my body to work better has to be step one. And they are showing promise in that regard.

So...current state: Staying the course.

Evolving in Monkey Town, Part 1: On Slants and Evolution

"I would like to beg of you, dear friend, as well as I can,
to have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart.
Try to love the questions themselves,
like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language.
Do not now look for the answers.
They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them.
It is a question of experiencing everything.
At present you need to live the question.
Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it,
find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day." 

-Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet¹

* * *

Note: This post is part of my occasional series Books That Made a Difference.

As I've said before, I don't remember exactly when or how I first discovered Rachel Held Evans. And I don't remember how I first heard about her first book, Evolving in Monkey Town. I just know that at the time, I didn't really know what it was about; I'd just heard about it and was intrigued. Maybe I'd caught wind of some controversy around it? Seems likely. Anyway, it's fair to say I bought it mostly out of curiousity. By then I was quite familiar with Rachel through her blog and just really loved how she espoused what I'll call a different kind of Christianity. By which I mean a (very) different kind  from the kind I inherited.

And as it turns out, that's what the book is about—that different kind of Christianity and how Rachel transitioned to it...as the back cover says, "from certainty, through doubt, to faith...." I could talk here about how, for me growing up, practically everything was about certainty—it is fundamentalism's core; certainty and faith were the same thing. But...I would be getting ahead of myself.

The book's title is a takeoff from the fact that Rachel's town, Dayton, TN, was the site of the famous Scopes "monkey trial" of 1925.

This book has been so eye-opening for me, I knew I had to write about it. So in this and in future posts I'll be sharing my thoughts on it.

* * * 

In the Preface, Rachel shares a series of things about herself to let the reader in on the "slant" she brings to Christian faith and the Bible. Which is great, because I think everyone brings their own slant, as much as many would like to claim otherwise. Some of them are amusing, like, "The Stuff White People Like blog is painfully representative of my lifestyle and habits" (page 13). Some are serious, like, "I'm judgmental of people I think are judgmental" (page 13) and this set: "I've been hurt by Christians" and "As a Christian, I've been hurtful" (page 14). I love that she included those last few, because they're real, honest, and humble. Who isn't at least somewhat judgmental? (Brené Brown says, "We all do it [judge others] and most of us do it all the time."²) And it can be really easy to talk about how you've been hurt, without acknowledging that you've dished it out too.

Near the end of the preface, Rachel says,

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm not exactly an impartial observer. My culture, my childhood, my gender, my prejudices, my hopes, my imagination, my virtues, and my vices—these things color my view of the world and infuse it with meaning. I've got baggage just like everyone else, and it's as much a part of my faith journey as the high peaks, the low valleys, and the long, lovely stretches of road that I wish could go on forever.

I'm a lot of things, but fair and balanced I am not. (page 14)

And again, I would say: who is?

My first real "Whoa" moment came with the title of the Introduction, "Why I Am an Evolutionist." At this point, I am not an evolutionist. But then again, origins is not one of the things I've specifically re-examined yet. Creationism (of the literal, 6-day variety) was pounded into me in my fundy upbringing and evangelical college. Of course. What else would a good Christian believe? A particular standout in my memory is a "Back to Genesis" seminar put on at my college by people from the Institute for Creation Research. At that time, Ken Ham was among them (he is now the Answers in Genesis guy). He had a whole session, which I believe was called "Creation Evangelism," where he posited that the entire Christian story is based on a literal interpretation of the events in Genesis. And that otherwise...the whole thing falls apart. And I bought that; I bought it hard.

Rachel relates that, like me, she was "...told that belief in evolutionary theory and belief in a personal, loving Creator are mutually exclusive, that if the Bible cannot be trusted to accurately explain the origins of life, it cannot be trusted for anything at all, and the Christian faith is lost" (page 16). And now...here she, an evangelical-raised (no less) Christian, is boldly declaring she's an evolutionist. What am I supposed to do with that? If Christianity and evolution are fundamentally incompatible, what of Christians who believe in evolution?

Honestly, I have no idea.  In any case, I'm no longer inclined to be judgmental (see what I did there?) toward people based on how they believe on this topic.

Now, to be fair, she seems to hold that position less strongly than the Introduction's title might lead us to believe. Witness this passage:

Monkeys make me nervous. Whenever I hear about chimpanzees solving math problems or Koko the Gorilla using sign language to order her breakfast, I feel inexplicably threatened by their humanlike qualities and intelligence.... I suppose my monkey-phobia has something to do with the sneaking suspicion that maybe the biologists are right after all. Maybe man and ape share a common ancestor, and that explains our eerie similarities. (pages 15 & 16)

I like that she admits that. I've had similar thoughts (though I was probably so disturbed by the implications, that I didn't even form them into actual words in my head). I mean, if we're not related to chimpanzees, for example, how come we share so much genetic material? Ponder that one for a while.

And then there's this one:

I'm still not sure what to make of evolution. Scientists have perfectly good evidence to support it, while theologians have good biblical and philosophical reasons to be wary of its implications.

However, I have a feeling that if Darwin turns out to be right, the Christian faith won't fall apart after all. (page 16)

And that is a conclusion I can live with.

As the Introduction continues, Rachel talks about why she believes that to be the case and about what kind of evolutionist she really is. But that is topic enough for its own post, so stay tuned for part 2.

_________________

¹I owe the discovery of this quote to author (and incidentally a high school mate of mine) Elissa Elliott; I first saw it on her website. Elissa's book is Eve: A Novel, which is fantastic.

²Brené Brown, Ph.D., LMSW, I Thought It Was Just Me (but it isn't) (New York: Gotham Books, 2007), 38.