Rethinking Faith: Defining Deconstruction, Transformational Spirituality, and Giving Good Gifts

This month let's question a narrow definition for faith deconstruction, explore spirituality that transforms us, and ponder ways God gives good gifts to His children.

Rethinking Faith: September 2024

Welcome to the September issue of Rethinking Faith. This month we will question a narrow definition of faith deconstruction, explore three types of spirituality including one that transforms us, and ponder ways God gives us even better gifts that we give our children.

Can We Work on a Better Definition for Deconstruction?

This past week I had an introductory Zoom call with the superintendent of the Great Lakes Region of the Wesleyan Church. I’m going to be recording for their Spirit Anointed Leadership podcast in November. This podcast shares encouragement and areas of growth with pastors and leaders within the Wesleyan church. The superintendent, Chris Conrad, wanted to pick my brain on deconstruction and reconstruction and explore how pastors can partner with and support people who are going through this faith journey.

I love so many things about this. As someone still coming out of a rigid complementarian background, having a pastor reach out to me—a woman—as an equal with thoughts, opinions, and beliefs that are worth hearing is a beautifully healing thing. (Since the Wesleyan church ordains women, this probably shouldn’t be a surprise.) I also loved that this pastor was seeking to better understand and support faith deconstruction instead of rejecting and condemning it.

Photo by Brad Halcrow

We talked about my story, my own faith deconstruction and reconstruction journey, how we define deconstruction, and what people who are doubting and questioning their faith need from the church, pastors, and Christians.

At the end of our Zoom call, Chris asked if I’d be willing to respond to something that Francis Chan recently said. I’ve been looking for the original source but haven’t been able to find it yet, so I might be quoting this wrong. But apparently Francis Chan condemned deconstruction by saying that Moses and Joshua didn’t deconstruct and we don’t need to either. If you know the origin of this statement, please tell me because I’d like to read it in context.

I responded by saying that I don’t think Francis Chan is defining deconstruction correctly. He is holding a very narrow view that some deconstructionists and conservative church people promote which assumes that faith deconstruction is the same as deconversion from Christianity.

It’s strange to me how these two polar opposite groups of people have settled on a similar definition while hundreds—if not thousands—of us in the messy middle space of deconstruction would disagree.

I took this conversation and the search for the origin of Francis Chan’s quote to Threads where I still couldn’t find the original quote, but I did hear some great thoughts from others. I came away with these conclusions:

• Trying to use other words as a stand-in for faith deconstruction like reform or disentangling feels too Christianese. These words might connect with people talking about deconstruction as a concept, but they often alienate those of us who are literally taking our faith apart.

• I hold an even firmer belief that deconstruction should be seen as a process and not as an end result. I will continue to use this word and clarify it for people who listen to me.

• There are many people who have deconstructed or who are in the process of deconstructing religious tradition who are still holding onto faith in Jesus. Deconstruction of our faith does NOT always mean we are walking away from it. In fact, many of us have a stronger faith than we ever did before, just without religious baggage.

In yet one more attempt to clarify the term deconstruction, I’m sharing an illustration I wrote. You can find this in poem form on my blog or as it is quoted below in my book, Religious Rebels. I used Legos, but a friend on Threads recently suggested it is also like an overgrown garden. As a lover of flower gardening, I may be writing a new poem/illustration soon.

“Pretend with me that there was this incredible Lego set. Over the years people added pieces to it—most of them with the best intentions. They were trying to make it look defined, creative, and better designed. But after a while people couldn’t tell what the set originally looked like. It was just a pile of Lego blocks stuck together. This is what has happened with our modern Christianity.

I took the blocks apart and separated the pieces. Then I looked at the instructions—which were kind of crumpled and hard to read. I tried to choose the blocks that belonged to the original set and did my best to follow the directions even though they weren’t always easy to decipher. I put the Lego set back together again and threw the extra blocks in my tote. This is my faith deconstruction and reconstruction story.

Not everyone deconstructs this way, but because we use the same word to describe our journeys, it can be confusing. Some people separate the blocks and then use them to build something completely different. The end results can vary drastically. Other people take the blocks apart and throw them in the trash or leave them in a pile on the floor and walk away for a while or forever.

We all took the pieces apart, so we all call what we did with them deconstruction. But it’s what happened after we took them apart that makes our stories so different. It creates a complicated definition because deconstruction means different things to each of us. If we could just agree that deconstruction means taking something apart down to its individual components, then maybe we could stop condemning or making assumptions.”

Christy Lynne Wood, Religious Rebels

Photo by Alan Rodriguez

Let’s reject the narrow definitions of faith deconstruction and broaden it to mean the process of taking apart and examining our faith. What we choose to do with our faith afterwards should be described with different words.

Three Categories of Spirituality — Dr. Gary Burge

This section of Rethinking Faith is usually about something I’ve read, but today it’s about something I heard. We had a guest speaker at church last week. Dr. Gary Burge has been a professor of New Testament theology at both Wheaton and Calvin, leads study trips to the Middle East, and has written numerous books including a commentary on the Gospel of John that our pastor used for his spring sermon series. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Dr. Burge initially looked like any other basic, older, white, conservative man. Then he opened his mouth and mine fell open too.

I couldn’t stop smiling through his whole sermon. This well-studied, intelligent professor also believes what I’ve come to believe about salvation. I’ve never heard anyone else say it out loud. “Salvation is not just about forgiveness,” he said. “It’s also about restoration.” I whispered that last word with him and couldn’t believe we said it at the same time.

The sermon was mostly about salvation and the Holy Spirit. At the end Dr. Burge talked about three categories of Spirituality. I emailed the next day and asked for them in print. Here they are. I hope you are as encouraged as I am.

1. Spirituality by Imitation

That is, we frame our personal live around the life of another. We imitate them. This is commonly done with the life of Jesus so that I think of myself as a disciple because I’m living out the values of Jesus and the lifestyle. Mahatma Gandhi in India did this for Jesus. So clearly it is not uniquely Christian but it has value.

2. Spirituality by Obedience

In this model, we learn either doctrines or rules and we conform ourselves around them. What you know and how you live (ethics/morality) then become the shapers of who we are. This is true and good too; but it is not really the complete sense of being a disciple. This is where you get sterile orthodoxy or legalism where rule-following defines our lives.

3. Spirituality by Transformation

This is a model by which we have an inner-experience of God and we are changed from the inside out. This is a work of God’s Spirit, not our spirit. We do not impose external rules to promote change, but we are spiritually transformed by God’s Spirit and this leads then to a righteousness we can only approximate by our own powers. This is basically Paul’s argument in Galatians 5. The rule-makers believe they can promote transformation; Paul says, no, it is inner experience of the Spirit that promotes transformation. Look at Galatians 6:15. For Paul, following religious rules counts for little. It is a new creation (transformation) that makes a difference. Therefore we can say: a Spirit led transformation brings about an imitation of Jesus, obedience to God’s heart, and genuine change. We now can become everything that God has meant us to be. It is mystical, supernatural, and it is the deeper meaning of Pentecost.

I cannot explain how much my soul resonates with these words. The first two spiritualities—imitation and obedience—are what I have seen throughout my life in religious Christianity. But transformation is the mystical and supernatural thing that happened to me as a teenager in my cult and has continued to follow me throughout my adult life. The Holy Spirit and his mysterious, unexplainable work is why I am still a believer in Jesus. If only we heard more about this kind of transformational spirituality and less about religious behaviors in our churches.

I talked with Dr. Burge at the end of the service and he was excited because I resonated with what he said. He told me that he has to tread carefully depending on what type of church he is in because Christians get offended. Our churches are seriously filled with modern religious leaders—the kind Jesus dealt with on a daily basis. Religion sadly works until it doesn’t.

Maybe our disillusionment and the pain we’ve suffered is a gift. It woke us up, made us look for something more, and brought us to the place of being willing to be transformed by a mystery we can’t explain. I think it’s a gift.

If Broken People Can, What About God?

“Is there anyone among you who, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you then, although you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!”

Matthew 7:9-11 (NET)

Photo by Ben White

I’m now six weeks into my new job as a school behavior specialist. I love it. This job was made for me. It’s not without it’s challenges, and sometimes I’m tired, but I also can’t believe I’m getting paid to do what I was made to do.

I’ve been learning SO much about God by learning about people. I think we often take the worst parts of people in our lives, especially parental figures, and impose those characteristics on God. We assume that He is like us instead of remembering that we were just created a little like Him.

The verses in Matthew I quoted above keep running through my head. “If I as a broken version of myself, can give good gifts to these children, how much more is my Father giving good gifts to me?”

If I can sit calmly with a dysregulated child as I shared about last month, how much more is my good Father God willing to sit calmly with me? If I love walking hand-in-hand with a sad child and talking to cheer them up, how much more does my Father God love to walk hand-in-hand with me when I am sad? If I can start fresh each day with a challenging child, how much more forgiveness and grace is available from God for me?

In the broken parts of us, God wants to bring healing and restoration. And in the good parts, we are a reflection of an even greater goodness. In the beautiful parts, we are a reflection of an even greater beauty. If I can give good gifts, how much better are the gifts of God?

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As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts, questions, or comments. You can find me on Threads, Instagram, Facebook, my website, and on my original podcast. I’d love to connect with you on any of these places!

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