by Demi Prentiss

Christians all over the world say the Lord’s Prayer often, in worship and in private prayer, and typically know the “prayer that Jesus taught us” by heart.  Like many of the things we do almost without having to think about it, we can come to say the words thoughtlessly. Sometimes the words lose their meaning for us.

“Your kingdom come” is one of those phrases that slips by, almost without our noticing – without our noticing that what we are praying for is the reign of God, on earth, right here, right now. And by offering that prayer, we’re acknowledging the part we have been created to play in the coming of that reign. We’re the children of God – whose kingdom we pray for – and “heirs through hope of [God’s] everlasting kingdom.” (BCP p. 339)

Learning to perceive God in action everywhere we find ourselves is one way we can begin to realize the in-breaking of the reign of God, sometimes in the most unexpected places. On occasion, we are allowed to see that our own actions might be aligned with living in the kingdom, in present time, in our daily lives.

This past weekend, the angels ushered Rachel Held Evans into the nearer presence of God, weeks after a reaction to antibiotics caused doctors to place her in a medically-induced coma. At age 37, she leaves a husband and two young children mourning her death, as well as a host of readers who found her a refreshing and liberating voice among writers who blog about religion. Evans was an Episcopalian and attended St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in Cleveland, Tennessee.  Her books have been much-discussed and debated. As reported in the Washington Post, “Rachel’s presence in this world was a gift to us all, and her work will long survive her,” her husband Dan Evans wrote on Saturday.

Rachel’s writing helped many people perceive the reign of God in a more-accessible, practical way. She spoke of God’s reign as allowing each person to be the beloved creation God envisioned. In honor of her life and her witness – her “baptismal mission,” her “ministry in daily life” – here are some of her words:

This is what God’s kingdom is like: 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.

― Rachel Held Evans, Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church

 

We might say the kingdom is like St. Lydia’s in Brooklyn where strangers come together and remember Jesus when they eat. The kingdom is like the Refuge in Denver, where addicts and academics, single moms and suburban housewives come together to tell each other the truth. The kingdom is like Thistle Farms where women heal from abuse by helping to heal others. The kingdom is like the church that would rather die than cast two of its own out the doors because they are gay. The kingdom is like St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in Cleveland, Tennessee, where you are loved just for showing up. And even still, the kingdom remains a mystery just beyond our grasp. It is here, and not yet, present and still to come. Consummation, whatever that means, awaits us. Until then, all we have are metaphors. All we have are almosts and not quites and wayside shrines. All we have are imperfect people in an imperfect world doing their best to produce outward signs of inward grace and stumbling all along the way. All we have is this church—this lousy, screwed-up, glorious church—which, by God’s grace, is enough.

― Rachel Held Evans, Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church

 

Let us so walk before God’s people, that those who follow us might come into his kingdom.

― Rachel Held Evans, Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church

 

“God’s kingdom in the preaching of Jesus,” explained [N.T.] Wright, “refers not to postmortem destiny, not to our escape from this world into another one, but God’s sovereign rule coming ‘on earth as it is in heaven.’ . . . Heaven, in the Bible, is not a future destiny but the other, hidden dimension of ordinary life—God’s dimension, if you like. God made heaven and earth; at the last he will remake both and join them together forever.”
― Rachel Held Evans, Inspired: Slaying Giants, Walking on Water, and Loving the Bible Again

 

Marriage is not an inherently holy institution. And it cannot magically be made so by the government, by a priest, or even by the church. Rather, marriage is a relationship that is made holy, or sacramental, when it reflects the life-giving, self-sacrificing love of Jesus. All relationships and vocations—marriage, friendship, singleness, parenthood, partnership, ministry, monastic vows, adoption, neighborhoods, families, churches—give Christians the opportunity to reflect the grace and peace of the kingdom of God, however clumsily, however imperfectly. For two people to commit themselves not simply to marriage, but to a lifetime of mutual love and submission in imitation of Christ is so astounding, so mysterious, it comes close to looking like Jesus’ stubborn love for the church.
― Rachel Held Evans, Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church

 

Jesus made it clear that he did not come to abolish the laws of the Torah, “but to fulfill them” (Matthew 5:17). The life and teachings of Jesus, then, embody all that these laws were intended to be. Jesus is what the living, breathing will of God looks like. This includes compassion for the poor, esteem for women, healing for the sick, and solidarity with the suffering. It means breaking bread with outcasts and embracing little children. It means choosing forgiveness over retribution, the cross over revenge, and cooking breakfast for the friend who betrayed you. As Elton Trueblood put it, “The historic Christian doctrine of the divinity of Christ does not simply mean that Jesus is like God. It is far more radical than that. It means that God is like Jesus.
― Rachel Held Evans, Inspired: Slaying Giants, Walking on Water, and Loving the Bible Again

Rest in peace, Rachel Held Evans. Your words will continue to enlighten and disturb us.