She held the baton high for important issues the church and culture are still wrestling with today—issues of gender, race, even socio-economic status—and encouraged many to wrestle with doubts, fears and inequalities. And she pushed those of us who thought differently, encouraging us to wrestle with our assertions.
We’d do well to ask why she mattered to so many—and I will address that in a bit. But, let me first reflect on our own interactions.
Interaction
I was reviewing our X/Twitter direct messages, and there was plenty of disagreement in there. But there was also a lot of, well, agreement and affirmation.
It is no secret that Rachel and I landed on two different sides of the line on more than one occasion. I worked at LifeWay for several years, and you can Google to learn why that might be important if you don’t know. But even amidst conflict (that was often quite personal, in that it mattered personally to both of us), she never stopped engaging directly. The effort that it takes to deal with people one-on-one is tremendous, and she did not run from it.
Rachel and I texted and direct messaged on more than a few occasions on areas of concern she saw in the evangelical church. I pushed back when it seemed appropriate, and so did she.
A few years before she died, the Washington Post called Evans “the most polarizing woman in evangelicalism.” Indeed, many in evangelicalism simply didn’t know what to do with her concerns and thus wrote her off.
The problem is, failure to listen can make one tone deaf. Rachel was always trying to break into our echo chambers. I did not always like when and how she did it, but dismissing her in favor of the sounds of our own voices was not always the right choice.
Contrary to what some might think, however, she and I did not always disagree.
Actually, she reached out to encourage me (and to exhort me in positive ways) on more than a few occasions (and I, to her on other occasions). For example, I wrote an article about “a woman’s place,” reacting to some of what I had seen in evangelicalism. She wrote me:
“Thank you SO MUCH for your post today. My inbox is stuffed with messages from women who have suffered under Hilly-style pressure.
“Again, really loved the piece. One thing to keep in mind: Perhaps a woman’s highest calling is not motherhood, but to follow Christ.
“(I also get a lot of messages from women who can’t have children, and this is sometimes painful to them.)”
But, Rachel was not satisfied with the evangelicalism of her youth, and our direct messages reflect that divergence. (Perhaps ironically, I started my faith journey in the Episcopal church and ended up a conservative evangelical. She started as a conservative evangelical and ended up an Episcopalian.)
What Rachel did, and what so many others in our churches are (sometimes silently) doing, is more common than most know: She questioned what she had been taught and what she was seeing.
Doubts, questions and concerns are part of every believer’s life, whatever form that takes and at whatever stage of life.
Watching the reaction to her death has reminded me that our churches need to be a safe place for people who wander and for people who wonder.
The typical question is about what we as individuals do with our concerns. But the last few days I’ve been asking: What must our churches do with the questioners—whom some may call “the wanderers”?
First, we need to acknowledge that Rachel was not alone—and we are part of the reason. Please note, I’m neither critiquing Rachel’s journey nor agreeing with it. I’ve already engaged that issue over the years. But, here is the thing. She had such an impact because so many had the same questions. Many evangelicals simply wanted to attack or avoid her, and in doing so they unintentionally said to many others, “Your questions have no place here. Toe the line, or we will attack and avoid you.”
Maybe we need a better conversation about some challenging issues. And maybe we need to keep showing up instead of writing off.