So, About The Latest Time I Deconstructed My Faith
If you've followed Jesus for any length of time, you've deconstructed your faith. You've been disappointed or surprised. Your faith didn't work out like you expected. Now what?
If you follow Jesus long enough, life will end differently than expected.
At that point, you will be forced to ask yourself, God, the universe,
“How does Jesus fit into this ‘new’ world?
Is this Jesus one I want to continue to follow?”
Friends, this is “deconstruction.” I don’t know how often I’ve walked through these questions, but more than a few times. If you’ve followed Jesus for over five years, I’m guessing you’ve faced this same experience.
I’ve been thinking about this idea of deconstruction for quite some time. It’s often been at the edge of my conscience. Over the past 6-7 years, this conversation has been floating around the Church — men and women who begin to re-process the faith of their youth. People often refer to deconstruction as parallel to de-conversion because this can result from deconstruction and make headlines.
But we all go through faith deconstruction.
Two things recently brought it to the forefront of my mind once again.
My pastor hosts a church podcast. It’s been dormant for a few years, but he recently brought it back. He hosts it with one of our parishioners, and it’s a fun listen. Just this past week, they rehashed our church’s own moral failure. He and I were both young adults when it took place (I was 19, and he was 24), and as he described the personal fallout in his life, he used the term ‘deconstruction’ to explain what he walked through in the following months and years.
A church member suggested I read The Exangelicals. The book is about the concept of deconstruction (and, for many, de-conversion), but more interestingly, the author is a former member of the church I grew up in and first became active in ministry.
NPR correspondent Sarah McCammon grew up attending the church roughly around the time our founding pastor had his moral failure. While I’m only partway through the book, she hasn’t mentioned his failure, but she writes about her own disillusionment and how it lines up with many of those who grew up in the white, evangelical church at large in the 90s.
My Moments of Deconstruction
My pastor’s confession of his own time of deconstruction made me consider some of the different times I have deconstructed my own faith.
My College Years
The first one I thought of was not long after the fall of our lead pastor. That particular event was a marker for my life, but it didn’t rock my boat like it did so many other people in our church. However, my deconstruction moment happened not long after that church scandal when I transferred from a local junior college to Nazarene University a year later.
I did not grow up in the Nazarene denomination but in a non-denominational, charismatic church. If you listen to the podcast with our pastor, he talks about the spiritual excess in our church. It was a little over the top. But it was much more tame when I was old enough to comprehend what I was seeing. We believed in all of the gifts of the Holy Spirit — speaking in tongues, prophecy, miracles, and healing. Our worship was progressive with a band of guitars, drums, and other musical instruments, and we didn’t use hymnals but sang choruses from an overhead projector. People raised their hands in praise, and it wasn’t uncommon to see people dancing in their seats and the aisles.
Not the Nazarenes.
The Nazarene tradition isn’t like going to a Lutheran or even a Methodist church with all the forms of traditional liturgy, but it was nowhere near my own experience of church. Yet, those people loved Jesus just like I did. I know this may sound odd, but it threw me off.
Like George from Seinfeld says, “It wasn’t them. It was me.”
Due to the size and success of our church — we were a megachurch before megachurches were a thing. Thousands of people attended our Sunday morning services, and hundreds of teens attended our youth group. Summer camps were caravans of buses and vans. This gave me the impression that our church was THE church. We had THE answers. I had to accept the dissonance between what I grew up thinking and what I experienced attending a Nazarene school.
I didn’t graduate agreeing with all of their theology. I argue that many of the differences in our theologies are simply different perspectives of the same thing. We use different words to express the same ideas. It’s deeper than that, but we are closer together than far apart. The tie of Jesus binds us much tighter than I walked in understanding.
The Fall of 2016
That was 30 years ago, and through the subsequent years, I’ve had other moments of deconstruction. Most of them have been related to disappointment in my life. They have come when life didn’t wash out like I expected. However, my most recent experience of deconstruction was not my personal disappointment; it was a national one.
Most of us remember the 2016 election. No one expected Donald Trump to be a serious contender when he announced his candidacy, yet it didn’t take long for him to surge forward in the polls. I wasn’t excited about this development, but as a lifelong Republican, I would have hesitantly voted for him in that election.
Until early October 2016.
Just a few weeks before the elections, the infamous Hollywood Access tapes were released, in which we heard President Trump exchanging “locker room” talk. This revelation alone did nothing to shake my faith, but it was the response of many leaders of the Evangelical church at large that made me question their true motives. While most didn’t condone his speech or attitude, they didn’t distance themselves from the candidate.
Now, let me give you some context. I was a child of the 80s, and my first opportunity to vote in a presidential election was in 1992. The main candidates were George H.W. Bush and Bill Clinton (Ross Perot was a semi-serious Independent candidate and kept any one candidate winning 50% of the vote). Maybe because this was my first opportunity to vote, but I remember the outrage of the conservative Evangelical leaders at the accusations of Bill Clinton’s own philandering. At the time, these leaders questioned how to allow such a candidate into office.
I remember thinking, “Now the Church will speak! These same leaders who railed against Bill Clinton will begin to distance themself from Donald Trump.” Yet, it was just the opposite. They doubled down on their support and compared him to the chosen but flawed King David (who the Bible describes as “a man after God’s own heart.”)
I was angry. I was disappointed. I was broken.
As I look back at that experience, I realize how much it has shaped my thinking over the past few years. I’ve once again deconstructed my faith, and it has caused me to rethink my thoughts on various topics in the church. I’ve thought long and hard about justice, power, and oppression. That moment has given me a reason to think about the role of women in the church (and society). Ultimately, that moment made me want to know Jesus more and be clear on how I should follow him more faithfully.
Deconstruction is natural.
If you’ve been following Jesus for any length of time, and you haven’t deconstructed your faith, you either aren’t being honest with yourself, or you have become stagnant in your faith. As you grow, you need to change. But often, it’s not easy to walk through — especially when other people in your life aren’t in the same place as you are. So, let me close with two quick thoughts.
1. Pain and disappointment is a trigger
When Peter, John, and the other disciples watched Jesus’ trial, crucifixion, and death, they were deeply disappointed. Though Jesus had told them this was his ultimate goal, they didn’t see it coming. This pain put them in a tailspin. Even after Jesus’ resurrection, Peter was unsure what to do with himself. What he thought was going to be was completely different from what it actually was.
The pain of his experience triggered him to begin questioning everything he thought he knew to be true. If it can happen to Peter, why won’t it happen to me and you too? Don’t be surprised if trauma triggers you to question and reframe your faith, doctrine, and theology. And for those of you who have friends and family members who are dealing with their own questions of faith, understand it is most like pain driving them to this place.
Your goal should be to help them explore their feelings and questions, pointing them not to “answers” but to Jesus—because it’s all about Jesus.
2. It’s about Jesus.
As a parent of young adult children, I’ve come to a point where I don’t want them to believe what I believe. I want them to love Jesus, and how that plays out may look different than how I love Jesus. The key is hanging tight to Jesus.
Proverbs discuss wisdom extensively. In fact, the writers (mostly Solomon) personify Wisdom. Wisdom is a woman worth following and pining after.
Jesus is the ultimate fulfillment of Wisdom. In every way, Jesus is wise, so when Proverbs talks about hanging tight to Wisdom, we can translate that as also hanging tight to Jesus.
“Wisdom is a tree of life to those who embrace her; happy are those who hold her tightly.” -Proverbs 3:18
When I hang tightly to Jesus, I am happy.
Notice that it doesn’t say I am happy when I hold tightly to my theology, my church, or my tradition. I am happy when I hold onto Jesus.
Hang tightly to Jesus. He is your hope.
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