Remembering Rachel Held Evans

Rachel Held Evans, 37, died unexpectedly due to brain swelling after complications with the flu. She was most known for her New York Times’ best-selling book Searching For Sunday, as well as being an influential Christian blogger and speaker. Photo … — Rachel Held Evans, 37, died unexpectedly due to brain swelling after complications with the flu. She was most known for her New York Times’ best-selling book Searching For Sunday, as well as being an influential Christian blogger and speaker. Photo Courtesy of RachelHeldEvans.com

A celebrated NYT Best Selling Christian author’s legacy of truth, love, and humility through the eyes of her sister

By Amanda Opelt

While I knew my sister to be influential, I don’t think I knew the scope of her impact. Messages, testimonies, and remembrances came in from around the world. Using the hashtag #becauseofRHE and #rememberingRHE, people shared how their lives had been changed by her work, how she had given them the courage to come back to faith after wrestling with doubt or rejection from church. She’d provided a safe haven for outcasts of the fundamentalist movement to reconstruct their faith after a season of deconstruction and disillusionment. She’d leaned in and listened to the voices of the voiceless. While many wrote about the importance of including the input and involvement of people in the church’s margins, she invited them to actually share her platform, write on her blog, speak at her conferences, and contribute to her content.

Most major news outlets covered her passing. Words like “formidable,” “force to be reckoned with,” and “troublemaker” have all been used to describe her in articles and podcasts since her death. Those words aren’t entirely inaccurate, but those of us who knew her well and read her work for ourselves rather than simply reading her critics, we knew more of her grace, her kindness, and her relentless love. The middle name my parents gave her was Grace, in tribute to our great-grandmother Grace who lived in these hills, on the side of Roan Mountain. My granny Grace was known for her southern cooking and for always having enough food ready for whoever might show up on the front porch that day. There was always room for more at the table, for neighbors, for “cousins” who weren’t really cousins, for visitors from “off the mountain.”

This was Rachel’s heart as well. She believed all should be welcome to the table of Christ, into the family of God. “This is what God’s kingdom is like,” she wrote. “A bunch of outcasts and oddballs gathered at a table, not because they are rich or worthy or good, but because they are hungry, because they said yes. And there’s always room for more.”

Things Only a Sister Can Know

Many have written more eloquently than I ever could about her legacy, the importance of her place in history, how she impacted and forever changed Evangelical culture. But there are a few things that I can add to the conversation, details and particulars about the life of this amazing person that only a sister can know.

I can tell you that sharing her platform and promoting the success of others was a characteristic inherent in her since birth. In high school, when she was a cool senior and I was a lowly freshmen, she’d proudly walk down the hall next to me every morning and say “Hey, come meet my sister; she’s so cool!” I think we all aspire to be the person Rachel saw in us, the person she knew we could be.

Loving sisters. Amanda Opelt and Rachel Held Evans were each other’s only sibling. Despite being older by three years, Rachel always looked out for Amanda, even in high school. “I think we all aspire to be the person Rachel saw in us, the person she… — Loving sisters. Amanda Opelt and Rachel Held Evans were each other’s only sibling. Despite being older by three years, Rachel always looked out for Amanda, even in high school. “I think we all aspire to be the person Rachel saw in us, the person she knew we could be,” Amanda said.

I can tell you what a hard worker she was, how committed she was to the craft of writing. As a little girl, she’d pour over manuscripts she’d written: short stories, essays, plays we’d perform at Christmas time. She’d edit, and rewrite, and re-imagine until it was perfect. She was well read and always did her homework. She once told us she’d rather people think she didn’t bathe enough than to think she didn’t study enough.

I can tell you that she was willing to go toe to toe with anyone on issues that mattered, but she was never petty. She didn’t believe in quibbling over issues that were inconsequential. She never tried to make herself look good by making others look bad. She wasn’t threatened by the success of other authors or speakers. She enjoyed a lively conversation and to see communities of believers thriving in the midst of differences.

I can tell you that she was unfazed by her fame. She never thought of herself as a big deal. She lived in a modest home in a modest neighborhood in our small, unassuming little hometown in East, Tennessee. She’d always talk about what an honor and joy it was to do the work. She was approachable. Unlike other Christian celebrities, there was no pretense with Rachel. She made everyone feel like they were an old friend from high school, like they belonged, like she was privileged to be talking to them. She didn’t have a particular “look.” Her poor Instagram account would languish for months without a post. There was an authenticity to Rachel that was unique and refreshing. After Rachel died, her book appeared on the New York Times best seller list. “She’d be thrilled,” someone put it. “Then she’d go buy the groceries.”

I think that’s what made Rachel so special. While other writers were working on their brand or their image, Rachel was working on her content; and she was working on her relationships. She was learning her audience. She was leaning in close to listen to their stories, to be changed by their stories. Truth was her brand. As Beth Moore put it, “in an era of gross hypocrisy, she was alarmingly honest.”

Coping with Grief

A lot of people have asked me how I am coping, how I am navigating this new world in which I don’t have a shared future with my sister. I don’t know how to answer that question. I don’t really know how I am doing. As a career, I’ve taught aid workers how to be resilient in the midst of crisis. I’ve taught them common reactions to trauma and grief. Academically, I am prepared for this. In reality, I am an amateur and barely managing to find my footing most days.

There have been times through this whole unbelievable ordeal that God’s presence has been palpable. At other times, He’s felt frighteningly absent. I know people are praying for me, that I will experience the peace that passes all understanding. But I think I’ve learned that the wilderness is a true wasteland, emotionally, mentally, spiritually. It’s desolate enough to lead the Psalmist to ask God “Why have You forsaken me” (Psalm 22)?

On May 4, Rachel Held Evans, a recognized Christian writer, blogger, and speaker died at age 37 from severe brain swelling after being hospitalized for the flu mid-April and later experienced sustained seizures, resulting in a medically-induced coma. She left behind a husband and two small children, ages three and 11 months, her parents, and her sister, Amanda Opelt. This is Amanda’s testimony of Rachel’s life and legacy as not just an influential Christian thinker, but as her sister and only sibling.

This article was originally written for the Summer 201 9 Edition of The Journey magazine.