The Courage of Deconstructing
Hello, my name is Krista, and I’m a deconstructing Christian. It took a while to accept it, but I can say it out loud and write it in a post now. I remember telling people about my deconstruction journey over the last few years. Here’s some of the responses.
“Well, don’t you mean you’re reconstructing?”
Maybe.
“I think you may be deconstructing church, but you aren’t deconstructing your faith.”
Um no, I think it’s both.
“But you still believe in the five essentials of Christianity?”
It depends on the five.
“You aren’t going to church? How are you even growing?”
No, and interestingly enough, I feel like I’ve grown closer to Jesus and Him to me in the last few years.
“But what about community?”
“What are you doing for community?”
“Community is so important, where are you finding that these days?”
“BUT WHAT ABOUT COMMUNITY?”
Considering that the communities you’re speaking of have wounded me deeply over the decades, I needed to step away for a time. And in doing so I’ve found community to look different than what happens inside the four walls of church:
Dinner with friends, and then enjoying a glass of wine on their deck while looking at the night sky filled with God’s amazing artwork.
Coffee with a friend who needed to cry and share her story with a compassionate listener.
Brunch with my husband on Sunday morning after a lazy morning of not rushing out the door to a serving obligation at church.
And best of all, Rebuilding Faith, a community for those who are at any stage of deconstructing, who have found a safe place to walk out their belief, disbelief, and unbelief. (Check It out HERE.)
It was in such a space that my husband and I began to find our footing to step back into church after three years away. It was stories we heard from a few people in the community who had been wounded, unwanted in Christian communities, and who had every reason to walk away from their faith because of the harm they received from other Christians. But after a time of deconstructing and rebuilding, they could confidently step back into the spaces they had once felt unwelcome.
What was this confidence they were speaking of?
Jesus.
Remember the marketing campaign from several years ago? WWJD (What would Jesus do?) Well, it turns out we might have been on to something.
I wore the rubber band bracelet with pride, which in hindsight being proud of such a statement might have been the opposite of its intent. I thought of it as a proclamation, maybe even protection, because, duh, I was a Christian, so of course I was always operating by those four initials, right? No. It turns out you actually have to be like Jesus.
And, warning, that’s where you and I might stop agreeing, which is okay because this isn’t about you. Believe me when I say I’ve lost friends on this journey. It takes a lot of courage to deconstruct and rebuild faith. And for a quiet soul like me, it takes a lot to put this out there. So why do I think anyone cares? I don’t. But if there are a handful of you in this crazy space right now, I want you to know I see you and I’m cheering for you.
The last thing I want to do is make anyone angry, so only read on if you can do so with a lens of love over your eyes. Honestly, sometimes it’s better to just not read posts like this if it’s going to trigger you in any way.
Everyone’s deconstruction journey is different, but I think for most of us we arrive at a similar place—loving people better. Funny, that sounds like a commandment straight from the Bible.
Here is what deconstruction looks like for me:
Less judgement, more love
More doubt, less certainty
God is love, versus the punisher I learned about in my youth
Loving where I live (America) isn’t equal to, or above, loving Jesus
Hell is very small and Heaven is crowded
All lives matter (no buts in this sentence)
Becoming affirming is a beautiful experience
Advocating for the marginalized is blessing the poor in spirit
The inner soul work of Jesus is better than the outward display on platforms
Less talking and more listening gets us places
Women have agency in all spaces
Walking away from toxic environments is empowering
Loving neighbors is freeing for the soul
Believing that love wins, brings peace and joy to daily life
The list grows daily, but here’s what has captured me most. I’m ready to go back to those places that once made me feel anxious, unwelcomed, judged, wounded, and kind of disgusted, because now I’m rebuilding what I believe, and I’m still committed to the One in whom I believe. I’m realizing that confidence returns after giving space and time to all the questions. Do those places feel welcoming? This is the challenging part. Because I’m continually questioning denominational systems, doctrine, and theology that has been engrained in me from an early age, not every environment is a safe place to walk out those questions.
Here’s something I want you to know. There are times when taking space from people, places and things is necessary. I wish this idea would become more normalized in our society, and especially in church communities. I don’t know what that looks like for you, but I’m giving you permission to take space if and when you need it. And guess what, even if you aren’t in a church community, you are still on a spiritual journey. This is a great season in your life to start meeting with a spiritual director. I happen to know one who would love to accompany you. Let me know if you are interested HERE.
Before I sign off there is one person who has been my constant companion and resource on this deconstruction journey. My dad. The conversations, the email threads, the shared readings, mean more than I can express. I always knew my dad was on the progressive side, but I never realized how quietly he had to walk this road being in ministry spaces most of his life. To me, this is the greatest act of loving others well: being patient, being respectful, and being kind as others walk out their faith journey. Thank you, Dad, for modeling that.
Blessings to those of you who are in this awkward deconstruction space right now. I’m here if you need me.
With love,
Krista
