Deconstruction Isn’t the Bad Guy—Here’s Why

When I first accepted Jesus into my heart, it didn’t work. Well, not like I thought it would.

I was seven years old when I attended a power team event with my dad and brother. We watched in awe as these 80s-looking, overly muscular, non-steroid (I think), tank top wearing weight lifters performed the most obscure tasks in the name of Jesus. Some of them ripped phone books with their bare hands. Others laid on a bed of nails as someone from their team took a sledge hammer to a block of ice that rested on their chest. I remember sitting on my dad’s shoulders thinking that these guys were the closest thing to real life superheroes. And then, they invited me to become one of them.

With sweat running down his face, one of the team members took the mic and gave the most obscure, and manipulative, invitation to follow Jesus. Imagine the following dialogue in the voice of Hulk Hogan.

“We only have this strength because our Lord and Savior gave it to us. If you would like to be strong like us, I want you to come to the front on the count of three.”

Remember, I was seven. What seven year old doesn’t dream of having super-human strength? I climbed off my dad’s shoulders and eagerly awaited the count.

“One!”

I couldn’t believe it! My life was about to change. No more bullies at school. The girls would overlook my glasses and comb-over. I was going to have it all.

“Two!”

Was my brother going up? I needed bigger muscles than him. Maybe if I got to the front before him . . .

“Three!”

Like a horse at the Kentucky derby, I was off. I ran to the front, prayed the prayer of salvation, opened my eyes, and—nearly 30 years later—I have yet to experience the power that these Sons of Thunder promised. Not only did the muscles never come, but my body seems to grow in the wrong direction. I may have accepted Jesus into my heart, but he steered clear of my muscles. It’s safe to say I felt betrayed by belief that night.

Sometimes, we accumulate beliefs that are, obviously, unhelpful or untrue. But what do we do when it’s not obvious? Moreover, what do we do when the beliefs that betray us are hurtful, harmful, or even cruel? When a person, or group of people, decide to attach their cognitive bias to a chapter and verse of the Bible, questioning that belief is seen as questioning the Bible. With the amount of traditions, denominations, and churches, it’s not a shocker that more and more people would be participating in this big, scary word: deconstruction. What I have found through interviews and research is this: If your faith doesn’t grow up with you, you will deconstruct intentionally or eventually. Meaning that either your questions about life will initiate deconstruction, or the difficulties of life will initiate it for you.

Deconstruction is the picking apart of a belief, practice, or tradition to test it for its usefulness, truthfulness, and effectiveness. Inasmuch as we agree on this basic definition, deconstruction is not the bad guy. Here’s why:

We all do it

Perhaps you are reading this with one eyebrow raised and your head tilted to the side, perplexed by a pastor’s defense of deconstruction. Before you move on to a different article, consider that you might be deconstructing my view of deconstruction! It’s a spiritual muscle that everyone practices. Even you.

All the time.

Every day.

We deconstruct those views we don’t agree with. We deconstruct those people we don’t understand. Our minds are always picking apart the news, social media feeds, or passive aggressive text messages, and we are testing these things to see if they are true, useful, or effective. To not deconstruct would mean we would have to blindly accept (as truth) every bias, preference, or opinion. That would be a world void of conviction, innovation, or absolute truth.

I think many Christians’ reactions to the term is because it closely resembles two other words: destruction and deconversion. But both have entirely different meanings. We are not talking about blowing something up, nor are we talking about leaving it entirely. We are talking about getting to the foundation.

Deconstruction is all about getting to the foundation.

We have always deconstructed

If you are a Protestant reading this, deconstruction is part of your spiritual heritage. It’s your spiritual migration. It’s how you got to the doctrines and practices that you center your life on. What was Martin Luther doing if not deconstructing in order to reconstruct a new authority? I dedicate a whole chapter to this in my book, starting with the Old Testament prophets all the way to present day. The central idea being that Jesus had to deconstruct if he was going to establish himself as the ultimate authority over religious tradition (Mark 7) and practice (Matthew 5:21-48). Following Jesus’ example, reformations (or effective deconstruction movements) have taken place when the predominant expression of Christianity of the day bears a faint resemblance to Jesus.

Jesus, and Jesus followers, have never settled for a faith that doesn’t allow them to love and live like Jesus did. The question we must honestly ask ourselves is not whether we should be deconstructing. The question is: Does evangelical Christianity look like Jesus?

I submit that it does not.

This is where we must make an important distinction between being a Jesus follower and being an evangelical Christian. All evangelical Christians must look like Jesus, but not all Jesus followers must look like evangelical Christians. The two are not necessarily at odds with each other, but they are also not the same. That being said, if the current state of evangelical Christianity bears a faint resemblance to the Jesus-looking-God of the Bible, we have a spiritual, and moral, obligation to lead the way, once again, in deconstructing so that people can see God in the face of Christ more clearly.

Deconstructing faith is the discipline of a Jesus follower, and we would be wise in reclaiming it once again.

We can never stop                                  

There has never been, nor will there ever be, a time in history when the predominant religious expression of any given culture looks and acts like Jesus. We will always need to remind culture that they have heard it said, but Jesus says unto them. They have heard it said by pastors, parents, and profit seekers. But Jesus has a new word.

I believe that those who are following Jesus in this way can oftentimes feel like a voice in the wilderness. An annoyance to the religious leaders and the religious norm. That has always been the case, and that can’t keep us from trying to heal the deep sadness caused by our label.

We can’t rewind, but we can rebuild.

We must rebuild.

And to rebuild, we must first deconstruct.