Deconstruction?

Deconstruction…I never thought I would use that word to describe a life stage. I thought I had faith figured out and that I would just grow more godly the longer I walked with God. My dream was to be an old lady full of grace and poise that had all but mastered being like Jesus and that everyone adored. But religion can be a predator.

I homeschooled my kids. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with homeschooling! I loved those years with my children. But I was born in the 80’s. The birth of the religious right. The beginning of having to have a Christian version of everything. We couldn’t afford private school, so homeschooling was the best alternative. What’s interesting is looking back at when I had my first baby, we fully intended to send her to public school. I’m not sure why. My husband went through the public school system and did just fine. For some reason, the older my daughter got, the more I feared the world for her. I guess maybe that’s normal to a degree. But I was convinced that public school would ruin her and that her literal soul was at stake. I very much bought into the idea that the world is dark and evil and seeking to devour our children – never mind that God is looking to redeem the world. How was it helpful to view the world as an enemy? To assign all but damnation to it when so much of it I knew so little about.

I did all the Bible studies at church. Every. Single. One. Even led sometimes. Because I thought the more I studied His word, the more knowledgeable I would become about Him – never mind the myriad of ways we tend to misappropriate scripture and even idolize it.

I made sure not to speak too much in small groups with mixed company and not to express an opinion that was different from my husband. I tried to always be humble and quiet and never loud or opinionated. I’d like to say that this was difficult for me, but it really was like a part of my brain, or a part of me, just got shut off. I was taught not to listen to the way I was feeling, because the heart is deceitful. I was taught not to listen to my body, because the flesh is sinful.

I was 22 when I got married and 23 when I had my first baby. In so many ways, I was so young and immature. I came from divorced parents and a lot of dysfunction. I was terrified that my marriage would have a similar fate. I was taught that the way to have a long-lasting marriage was commitment and sticking with “biblical” gender roles. So for women – not trying to control your husband. Following his lead – even when you disagree. Letting him fail – even when speaking up would have prevented the failure. And, though you might have biblical justification for leaving if he was unfaithful, true commitment would stay – because marriage isn’t about your personal happiness, it’s to make you more Christ-like.

To be clear, I am married to a wonderful man who loves me and has never been unfaithful to me. But the mental leap from my initial attitude of “if he cheats, I’ll leave” to “If he cheats, I’ll stay, because it will make me more Christ-like” was considered spiritual growth. I felt so disembodied from myself – my true self – and I didn’t even realize it, because I was supposed to empty myself. More of Him and less of me – never mind that God created us in His image and to be His image bearers at birth.

As stated previously in another post, I began to really unpack things when I participated in a Christ-centered racial reconciliation group called “Be the Bridge”. To be honest, I hated it at first. It was not at all what I expected. It challenged me in ways that shook my worldview. For the first time, I was having conversations with Christians who were very different than me. I thought every denomination and faction thought they were the “most correct” just like the southern Baptist denomination in which I was raised. To find that this wasn’t true and to learn that the reasoning behind some of the “other” religious stereo types were actually logical and were actually out of an effort to be true to scripture as well made my head spin. I experienced a conflict deep within me.

My deconstruction journey started because I learned new information that completely changed the way I viewed church, politics and social issues. I felt certain that if my friends and family knew what I knew, they would be just as flabbergasted. And to be fair, my presentation was not always winsome. I felt duped, and I was pretty opinionated. I felt a sort of righteous indignation that lent itself to me feeling justified in being “extra”. I know I pushed people away at times with my fixation on history, social justice, and what it “really looks like” to follow Jesus. Though I regret the way I handled my struggles and changes at times, by the grace of God I have had the opportunity to apologize to several people for the intensity with which I communicated my discoveries. I have since learned that this sort of reaction or pendulum swing is normal for people who have experienced similar journeys. Dr. Timothy Gombis, now one of my favorite theologians up there with N.T. Wright, calls it “lifting the hood” of spiritual and religious beliefs. He also concedes that it can be a very lonely experience. I have certainly felt that.

I had thought about deleting most of my work here on this blog, simply because my theology has shifted and changed so much (and continues to do so), but for now, I’m choosing to leave it, if for no other reason but to illustrate change and growth. I know there are many people who may be reading this and thinking “Bless her heart” or “I’ll pray for her” or “I’ll ask her to coffee”. I understand. I’ve been that person.

When I began to realize that the church I was trying to attend and be involved in was 1) not a place that would allow me to exercise what I felt was essential to faith in Jesus within it’s walls, and 2) not a safe place to process and grow (the backlash was swift – more on that to come), we made the leap into the abyss of not having a church home. It was terrifying as a person who believed that Christian community was essential. We visited places and continue to visit a lovely PCUSA church. We have not joined anywhere, but we’re not really looking to.

While I have certainly changed a lot of my beliefs (though not all), I have found a peace and freedom that I have never before experienced. It is hard and painful and costly. So costly. But I am so grateful for the friends who have stuck by me and put up with me through it all, even when they may not understand or agree. And I’m also grateful for the new friends I have made in this process. And I’m grateful to you! For reading this blog through all the ramblings, confusion, changes, and mess.