The Breadth of deconstruction
Photo from Aaron Sebastian on Unsplash
Growing up in church, one of the first things you learn about God is how big They are. It’s difficult to describe anything surrounding the Divine to a child, who have yet to develop abstract thought. Thus, bigness becomes a major factor in our early conceptions. In the playground economy of “my dad can beat up your dad” it certainly felt nice to think there was a huge father figure up above who would watch over us.
As you continue in church communities, you begin to understand what you’re a part of. Many of those who grew up in such communities were sold this idea that Christians are special. We were chosen by God to be Their children. We were set apart for holy purposes. We were fighting to save the world. Yes, of course, the world who toiled in sin. We were different from them. Perhaps better than them. Because of our belief in God.
So the bigness of God coincided with the importance of our place next to God. As these two pillars continued to strengthen as we got older, our identity continued to form. We began to go on more theologically robust retreats, we began to read books by theologians, and we began to consume sermon after sermon on the indescribable vastness of God.
We learned that we had to be ready to die to serve God. That we may be called to a remote village in another country where they may kill us over our faith in God. We had to sacrifice everything to be true to our Divine Father. Factor the theological teachings on the eternal nature of hell for people who didn’t believe in God and you have the perfect cocktail for extremely high stakes.
The whole thing was BIG.
And then what, we’re just supposed to leave that? Not so easy a task.
Anytime we value something, anytime we care about something, anytime our identities are so intertwined with a principle or ideology, any sort of fall out has an inordinate amount of breadth. The weight of losing something like that feels insurmountable, even when it’s our decision.
Anyone who has lost someone they love, or suffered a messy breakup or divorce with a long term partner can attest to this. The hotter the candle burns, the heavier the separation becomes. If we hear about a stranger dying on the news, we may feel sad but we honestly forget about them quickly. Our best friend dying however, now that is major grief that doesn’t go away so easily.
When we finally begin the process of deconstruction, when we get to a place where we question everything, the task before us seems so daunting. And this is one reason many may never get there. Because it’s such a huge undertaking. We leap off of the house we built on an apparent rock straight off a cliff with no idea if we’re going to land anywhere.
Walking away from a faith construct where our whole life was laid out before us means a wide scope of decisions. We are not only changing our faith framework, which is no small feat, we are reorienting our entire lives. As we begin to unwind the ideologies we were convinced of, seemingly thousands of new options unfold before us.
“If I’m not that anymore, then who am I?”
“If my Sundays are free, what do I do?”
“If they aren’t my community anymore, who is?”
“Do I even believe in God at all?”
“How do I feel about this type of person I wasn’t allowed to accept?”
“How should I vote now?”
“What type of books do I read now?”
“Can I have sex before marriage?”
“Is there actually an afterlife?”
The list goes on.
And the list is not linear. Deconstruction is not linear. Deconstruction is not a one time decision but a lifetime of unlearning, reconstruction, and reorientation. Such is its breadth.
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned in the process is that once we accept deconstruction’s breadth, we can find freedom in not having to race anywhere. We don’t have to figure it all out right away. We don’t have to figure it out at all. We have time to be uncertain, knowing that we may never get to where we want to go. Maybe where we thought our journey of faith would end is going to be entirely different then we ever imagined.
Of course we will pick up new ideologies along the way, hopefully healthy ones. It’s not wrong to believe in things. But we must know that our beliefs may continue to shift and change as we experience new aspects of life. Being unsure about Divine, infinite topics is not wrong in any moral sense. Anyone who would argue otherwise is arrogant and most likely projecting a fear and insecurity that they are covering with certainty.
Look. It matters that it’s hard to deconstruct. It matters that your process is so big. It matters that it can feel overwhelming. And it matters that you don’t lose sight of the daily joys this world has to offer in the midst of confusion. We do not have to deconstruct 30 years of our lives in 1 day, 1 week, 1 year. We are free to be in process and we are free to be unsure of absolutely everything.
If we can stay in the now, accept ourselves every step of the way, we may be able to begin to move in ways that surprise even us. This life is in fact a marathon, not a sprint. And the mountain towards knowledge happens on step at a time, if it is even a mountain at all.
One thing is for certain, knowledge isn’t everything. We must not forget to be. For when we rest in the present, when we meditate on love and notice the beauty around us, when we breathe, we may find that the person we always wanted to be, has always been with us.
<3
Reid
