Rachel Held Evans, progressive Christian apologist, writer, and speaker, died on May 4 after an illness. I had heard she was ill and in the hospital. Still, like so many, I was shocked to hear the news that at 37, she left behind two small children, a husband, and a community of “doubt-filled” believers who love her.

As the news of her death spread, it has become clear what her “brand” of Christianity meant so much to so many people. With the hashtag #BecauseofRHE, writers, friends, members of the LGBTQ community, and well-known members of the Christian community have been remembering her fierce voice in the public sphere, encouraging emails as a friend or colleague, and her relentless crusade to bring marginalized, scorned, hurt people to Christianity. Because of her popularity and the outpouring following her death, it’s worthwhile to understand just why people are reacting with such visceral emotion.

Evans’ example to others

I didn’t know Evans personally, and I didn’t hold many of her views theologically. Yet many of us on the “other” side admire the honest, vulnerable, zealous way she arrived at her conclusions.

Despite attending a small Christian liberal arts college, Evans left the evangelical church in her adulthood largely due to its stance on LGBTQ issues. Along the way, she authored books that showed just how much she was wrangling anew with concepts she had been familiar with since childhood. With zeal and earnestness, Evans sought to determine how the faith of her youth reconciled with what she believed to be an exclusivity the modern evangelical church had with the political Right that didn’t mirror the acceptance and truths Jesus offered in the Bible.

In 2014, she announced she was “done fighting for a seat at the evangelical table,” and not only accepted, but carved a space online, for a brand of progressive Christianity not yet seen before. She eventually began to attend an Episcopal church.

At The Atlantic, Emma Green said Evans “was part of a vanguard of progressive-Christian women who fought to change the way Christianity is taught and perceived in the United States. Especially for people who have felt hurt by or unwelcome in the Church, Evans provided a safe shore, full of encouragement and defiant acceptance.”

Slowly, Evans’ fierce voice offering a seat at the table of Christianity for those who previously felt ostracized became a megaphone for the dialogue between her and other confused, frustrated, “doubt-filled” believers. While I didn’t agree with her conclusions, especially as it related to politics, it is here where many of us share common ground with her: The Christian walk is fraught with ups and downs that spur questions, frustrations, regret, and doubt. Christ himself acknowledges us but asks us to believe anyway, despite questions and anxiety.

Rather than placate her bevy of ragamuffin believers, to borrow a term from another infamous ex-evangelical who also died too young, the late Rich Mullins, Evans asked aloud many questions the rest of us have had but perhaps were too afraid to ask. Evans had more questions than perhaps answers. Instead of losing friends, followers, book deals, or notoriety, she gained them in spades. This is a testament not only to how desperately people crave transparency, but to Evans’ commitment to honesty even in doubt.

Regardless of the many opinions on her theological and very liberal political views, it’s clear that Evans lived her adulthood with sincere conviction. She walked with one foot in the Bible and the political Left, where she felt that led her, and the other foot in the kindness and gentleness of outreach to others.

Is regret a wasted emotion?

The more I have thought about Evans’s death, the more I started to ask myself: What if that were me? Immediately, I was filled with regret.

I’ve heard some say “regret is a wasted emotion” and it’s popular to see memes on Instagram encouraging people to “live life without regrets.” But that’s foolish. Sure, wallowing in regret is a waste of time; regretting every single thing that’s happened would be an absurd focus on a negative emotion, but regret has its place in the human psyche.

For me, regret often informs my decision, one way or another. Will I regret doing this? Have I done something similar I already regret? Will I regret not doing this? In a recent study:

"Cornell psychologists identified three elements that make up a person’s sense of self. Your actual self consists of qualities that you believe you possess. Your ideal self is made up of the qualities you want to have. Your ought self is the person you feel you should have been, according to your personal obligations and responsibilities.”

Nearly three quarters of those surveyed said their biggest regret in life was that they didn’t fulfill their ideal self. One psychologist writes how “fear of regret can be worse than regret itself.” I can say from experience, I’ve definitely regretted avoiding or neglecting some things. If I were to lay in a hospital bed tomorrow, able to ponder my life before I met my Creator, I might then too. It’s time to do the things you’re afraid of doing, or have put off doing due to procrastination, anxiety, fear, or laziness.

Since none of us know when or how we will die, it's wise to live in a way that we don’t regret our choices or do those bold things so we don’t regret not doing them. I certainly haven’t always done this and I don’t need to see another wave of grief on social media over a 37-year-old woman I shared little common ground with to motivate me any time soon.

What anyone can learn from Evans’ death

You don’t have to be a person whose job was to write about the angst and love she felt with Christianity to learn something from Evans. Here are a few things that come to mind that Evans had, traits that are valuable in anyone’s life, regardless of circumstance or career choice:

Be honest:

Thinking what it was about @rachelheldevans that could cause many on other sides of issues to take their hats off to her in her death. People are run rife with grief for her babies, yes. But also I think part of it is that, in an era of gross hypocrisy, she was alarmingly honest. — Beth Moore (@BethMooreLPM) May 5, 2019

Be encouraging:

Today I went back and reread every text message I exchanged with @rachelheldevans and was reminded again of how she embodied grace. There were moments I might have quit if it weren’t for her encouragement. #becauseofRHE — Jonathan Merritt (@JonathanMerritt) May 5, 2019

Be focused and persevere:

Christianity has a long history of vigorous debate. But at the end of the day we belong to the body of Christ.



Rachel Held Evans was an important interlocutor in our ongoing debate.



Today she finished her race.



Now we entrust our dear sister to the care of our Lord. #ripRHE — Brian Zahnd (@BrianZahnd) May 5, 2019

Make an impact on your corner of the world:

You may not know of @rachelheldevans, you may not believe, or you may believe & disagree with her, but there is a heaving river of testimony & love rolling today that is a marvel. May grace, or it’s pursuit, rush through the doors her light opened & her memory is opening still. — John Dickerson (@jdickerson) May 5, 2019

There is something about death, especially the death of someone too young, too healthy, too beautiful, too influential, too compassionate, too famous, that we deem unfair and unjust. With righteous indignation on their behalf, and with a lump in our throat and hot tears streaming, grief can sometimes feel nearly claustrophobic.

This is perhaps the only time navel-gazing is allowed. The only good that comes from grief like this is that it often forces the rest of us to take a hard look at our own lives, the people we love, the choices we’ve made, the things we have or have not accomplished, and ask: How will we be remembered?

Nicole Russell (@russell_nm) is a contributor to the Washington Examiner's Beltway Confidential blog. She is a journalist who previously worked in Republican politics in Minnesota.