Rachel Held Evans - Wholehearted Faith

For Henry and Harper

May you live and love wholeheartedly,

no matter where the journey of faith takes you.

For Kathleen Gleason

For Jill Noga

I remember Rachels tone that day more than her words. Something was wrong. She called me into her office to take a look at her laptop. After restarting, the word processor reopened all documents previously active before that damned silver glowing clam decided to update itself and restart. But the words she expected werent there. Thousands of carefully selected, painfully organized, dutifully placed words. Gone. Shed completed about 20 percent of a new book. The first book of her biggest contract yet. And now it appeared that most of it was lost to the binary grave of technology.

Okay, breathe. This shouldnt be a problem. As Rachels tech consultant, a hat often worn atop my husband cap, I had robust autosave and backup procedures in place. Wed learned our lesson ever since the dreaded Chai Tea Latte incident, a moment from our past wed come to remember simply by a redundant pronunciation of the drinks name. That one left us with our first few gray hairs and a story that could best be enjoyed through the eyes of others once wed had some time as an emotional buffer.

However, as with most technical things, my backup system worked only if it worked and for some reason it hadnt. File search? Nothing. Latest backed up file? At least a month old. Rachels urge to vomit led her away from the vicinity. Fortunately, Google still worked. After a few desperate searches, a glimmering flicker of hope ignited a wildfire of motivation. I learned there was a hidden folder that contained temporary autosaved files that wouldnt show up in a file search. I called Rachel back, and with a few clicks, wed done it. Found all eleven thousand words of her next book that minutes ago wed thought were gone forever. Just in time, too, because our baby was hungry and our three-year-old was up from his nap.

A month later Rachel got sick and never recovered. She died May 4, 2019. The eleven thousand words we found that day are part of this book you hold in your hand. This manuscript isnt what Rachel originally envisioned. Our life today isnt what she envisioned. Being dead at thirty-seven isnt what she envisioned. But thats the thing about having vision. Its not about always being right about the future. Its about constantly learning whats right and striving for it. And thats the vision Rachel had. Its a vision of uplifting people and ideas that benefit the marginalized. Its a vision that lives on. Her stubborn hope for a better future was all-encompassing. She lived more life in her short time with us than most people twice her age. She prioritized doing well at whats important, and she discarded her imperfections with the chaff of each day.

While I might fret over a sopping wet sponge left in the sink, Rachel would be lost in thought considering how to best use her growing influence to come alongside those relegated to the margins. While I ensured every penny spent on expenses was properly entered in our bookkeeping software, she would track down talks and read articles written by talented people not yet in the spotlight. While I wrote code for websites that would need updating in a year, she wrote words to exist for lifetimes.

Jeff Chu rode with me from the hospital back to our accommodations the night Rachel died. Jeff was there in the morning as we decided how, exactly, to let the world know what it had lost. In the coming days and weeks, the New York Times ran an obituary. Hillary Clinton tweeted condolences. Jeff traveled from New Jersey to Tennessee to cook me food. In addition to his culinary skills, he is an accomplished writer. He has written extensively for national publications, is a ruthless editor and a dear friend. After Rachels death, I asked him to take some of her unpublished work, unrealized ideas, and start sewing together a new manuscript. Without hesitation, the instant I had enough jumbled words out of my mouth for him to comprehend my request, hed already said yes. Like so many friends during this time, Jeff showed up.

In this work you will find Rachels voice, but more than that, I hope you see her vision. May you understand the best way to remember Rachel is to embody her approach to others, her approach to faith and doubt, her approach to this fragile, fleeting life. Wholehearted.

Daniel Jonce Evans

Dear Rachel,

I remember the horror on your face when I revealed this previously unknown part of myself to you. Your expression was equal parts disbelief and realization. This is who you married. The spark in your eyes told me you already had a playfully poignant tone prepared for situations like this. Your words followed that spark like a warm, correcting blaze. You dont read the introduction? Not usually, no, I... Realizing, perhaps, this may be the end of our young marriage due to a gross oversight, I started fumbling with cadence to find the one that could best fit the now obvious bad news I was delivering. I typically start with chapter 1. Sweetie! Oh my gosh!

As you explained the significance of my error, I decided that since this was so important to you, there was only one thing for me to do: double down. I just feel like the important stuff will be included in the actual book. To me, the escalating banter that ensued, as we sparred without injury, became more valuable than either of our opposing arguments. But I wont speak for you. I imagine it was your grace alone that allowed our relationship to continue past that hurdle.

I read the introduction to this book, Wholehearted Faith , and couldnt get through it without tears. If I hadnt learned to reconsider vulnerability as strength (thanks, Bren), I would have counted my tears as a polemic bolstering my case. Jeff has done a wonderful job here; he has taken your words, tone, and spirit, and completed your work. I wish you could see it. I wish you could read it.

You talked about the risk of yes; I am left here to share the consequences of it. We said yes. You and I said yes to risk, yes to life together until death, yes to kids. You and I said yes to the unknown, unforeseen consequences of commitment. I once thought Till death do you part meant separation when a partner dies. I realize now some commitments last until were both in the grave. There are parts of you that I strive to carry on. Or perhaps, they carry me. I want them to live for our children, for our friends, for the readers whose lives you changed. I am thank ful for the parts of you that balance the weak parts of me. And even if I dont always find the strength to adequately continue the best parts of you in this world, I wish you could know that now, when I pick up a new book, I read the introduction.

Love,

Dan

How can I help?

Thats how I first encountered Rachel Held Evans.

A few months before my book came out, my publisher received an email from her. She was already ascending from Christian-blogger famous to Christian famous. I was a full-time journalist in New York City. After some years away from the church, I had recently, hesitantly joined one. I didnt read Christian blogsor any blogs, really. I hadnt heard of her books. I had no idea who she was. But a friend told me that Rachel had been on The View and that she was a Big Deal.

How can I help?

Who would say that to a total stranger?

Rachel would.

She ended up inviting me to guest-post on her blog, and in the subsequent years, she popped into my life again and again, by email or by textalways encouraging, always offering a snarky observation, always speaking a word of hope. We began meeting up whenever we were attending the same conference or event. When I was traveling through Tennessee, she and Dan welcomed me into their home and drove me through the gorgeous countryside, where we stopped at a farm to buy some apples. Agritourism! Rachel said. With her quirky humor and the love emanating from her enormous heart, she bossed her way into my life and stayed there.