Part One: Deconstructing Our Faith Like Jesus Did His

I, too, am tired of all the religious arguments

Like the Martin Luther humor above, this is a series I may end up wishing I had never written — even sober. So many of us are weary of traditional Christianity’s endless obsessions and battles over doctrine and theology. One of the reasons Luke and I began ICN was to foster a progressive Christian path that put spiritual practice first, then theology.

You will notice that I use lots of cartoons, some humorous, others heartbreaking, in these eight essays to keep a sense of humor amidst the often furious disagreements over theology among Christians. I hope this keeps us laughing rather than fighting, because we all know we’ve had enough of religious arguing!

Deconstruction is a powerful Christian practice

The term “deconstruction” is becoming more common these days as a word that represents the process of dismantling toxic religious beliefs and practices. But it’s not a new spiritual act.

Just ask Martin Luther. He proposed tearing up (deconstructing) the then-current idea of the church so it could be reformed — or deconstructed.

The story goes that five hundred years ago, on Oct. 31, 1517, the small-town monk Martin Luther marched up to the castle church in Wittenberg and nailed his 95 Theses to the door (see picture above), thus lighting the flame of the Reformation — the split between the Catholic and Protestant churches.

It is considered one of the events that signified the end of the Middle Ages and the beginning of the early modern period in Europe.

Jesus was a deconstructionist

Deconstruction is reevaluating and often shedding religious doctrines, values, and practices found outdated, problematic, or just plain harmful. It is especially aimed at tearing out what originally fit the worldview of its recipients but now has become toxic.

Jesus was deconstructing his religion when he cleared out the money changers, saying, “My house shall be a house of prayer for all nations” (Mark 11:17). They had effectively excluded the Gentiles from prayer by doing money changing in the Court of the Gentiles. He dramatically told the religious leaders to tear down the elaborately constructed temple religion that excluded so many.

In John 3, Jesus tells Nicodemus to unlearn what made him a respectable grown-up and spiritual leader. Jesus said that if he drastically tore down the religious life he had built for himself, it would be like being born again.

In John 4, Jesus tells the woman at the well to tear down her fixation on the only proper place to worship God. He said to her that every place can be a site of true worship.

“You have heard it said … but I say to you . . .”

Five times in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus pointed out parts of his faith that needed to be torn open to see deeper meanings.

He pointed to a longstanding commandment of his religion, saying, “You have heard it said, ‘You shall not murder.’” However, Jesus points out that a deeper is that if you are even angry with another, you are headed for the garbage dump living he called hell. (Matt 5:21-22).

Then Jesus turns to adultery (Matt 5:27), making false vows (5:33), revenge (5:38), and hating enemies. “You have heard it said love and your neighbor and hate your enemy, but I say to you love you enemy (5:43). He tore out the “hate your enemy part. That’s deconstruction.

The early church’s most significant conflict was when Paul deconstructed the meaning and necessity of the centuries-long, deeply held religious practice of circumcision. If they were to follow Jesus, they no longer needed to follow the old rules and practices.

Deconstruction means we don’t simply accept something as true because it’s what everyone has believed for a long time. It is the process of taking things apart, deciding whether to keep them, remodel them, or discard them.

This is like renovating an older house; removing, adding, modifying, and rearranging various structural elements in order to make it more livable for those who live in the house now. Only this has to do with deep truth, profound spiritual experience, and what best produces transformed lives.

For some, their house is so damaged it needs to be completely torn down. They have to move somewhere else for a while—perhaps a different religious belief system or none at all. This is a good step toward healing and transformation. It should be celebrated, not feared. Eventually, they may feel ready to reintegrate and come home to this part of themselves in a more evolved way. It may be many years later.

Today’s leader of Christian deconstruction

Father Richard Rohr, Franciscan friar and founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation, is the most popular deconstructionist in the Christian world today! He outlines Christian deconstruction as one of three necessary steps of faith:

Construction: The building of one’s faith
Deconstruction: The challenging of one’s faith
Reconstruction: The formation of new paradigms

He says, “Seen in this light, deconstruction is a vital and necessary step in the ongoing faith formation of the Christian. Also, this is not a linear process that ends with a permanent reconstruction, but more like a cycle we keep returning to as we continue to grow and learn.”

Some people think Christians who deconstruct their faith want to do that. The reality is that deconstruction happens to you. You see something you can’t easily reconcile with your existing beliefs. Then you go through the agonizing process of deciding what to do with that belief.

Or they think it is only those with a weak faith who change their beliefs. The opposite is true. It takes courage to break with tradition and follow your heart.

Or they think Christians who change their beliefs don’t have any use for the Bible. I have spent a lifetime valuing and studying the Bible. I quote from it often because I see it as a treasure house of spiritual wisdom. Yes, the biblical house also has some harmful parts that need correcting. But it remains an essential resource for serious Christians.

Some think anyone who would change their long-held beliefs must not know theology and church history. Again, I have spent a lifetime studying both, and it is not despite that but rather partly because of my study of theology and church history that I practice deconstruction and reconstruction.

Once deconstruction has enabled you to see, you can’t unsee.

Distance between Jesus and the church

People are often motivated to change their beliefs when they experience or witness spiritual abuse or religious trauma.

When people see the radical dissonance between Jesus and practices in the church, such as racism, patriarchy, misogyny, and abuse, they want to do something about the biblical, theological, and cultural systems that foster it.

Thoughtful people who take progressive theology seriously often see the need to change parts of their belief system. They are no longer willing to accept platitudes and easy answers from church leaders.

Loneliness

It is painful for those who question their faith to be excluded from their churches. It’s also painful to see this abusive expelling of those reexamining their faith.

There is a need for communities of Christians that welcome those who question. It can feel very lonely to go through deconstruction. This loneliness is compounded for many pastors and church leaders, who don’t feel safe sharing their deconstruction with their congregations. Sadly, many church leaders sacrifice their own spiritual evolution to serve their congregations and keep their jobs.

We need a space to safely explore deconstruction with people whose power isn’t threatened by the questions and struggles. If you don’t have a safe community to share your doubts and questions, ICN is one community of a growing number seeking to support and create space for safe religious deconstruction/reconstruction.

How to Reconstruct Your Faith

Deconstruction can be lonely and agonizing. Here are some practical ways to faithfully undergo deconstruction and reconstruct your faith on the other side:

Most important is to find a safe community of love and acceptance where you and others can share your journey of change.
Be compassionate and patient with yourself.
Remember that God is present in dark times, too.
Practice playful mystical prayer.
Get into therapy, inner healing, or shadow work.

My journey in church deconstruction and reconstruction

In my almost five decades of pastoring Broadway Church in midtown Kansas City, Missouri, I majored in deconstruction. I pushed the congregation to its limit. It was encouraging to see an ever-increasing attendance and participation in our church.

It was a real Southern Baptist Church where I dunked hundreds of people in our heated baptistry opening into the sanctuary and married almost a thousand couples.

We began with a modest worship service attendance of a hundred and fifty in 1963 when I came. Within twenty-five years, we had moved to a crowded eight hundred adults packed into our 400-seat auditorium on Sunday morning in two services with closed circuit TV for the overflow in the Fellowship Hall. And that didn’t include the 200 children in Sunday School and Children’s Church. That was a thousand bodies on Sunday morning in cars praying for a parking space on the streets in a church that didn’t have a parking lot!

However, at every turn, we also had members who left. Two times, when other leaders decided to go a different direction, significantly large groups left the church, resisting any further evolution. Exciting times of renewal. Discouraging times when everyone did not want to continue together. Spiritual evolution was more important than being a big church.

I aimed our first big “tearing down” at the lonely crowd on Sunday morning. I began asking, “Who do you love like Jesus loved the twelve? Many think Jesus meant us to love everyone like he loved the twelve. But no, you can’t do that. It takes a few up-close relationships to make our love real and the larger community work.

It also seemed significant to me that the first thing Jesus did in his ministry was to gather a few of his friends in what today we would call a “small group.” He could have stayed with the crowds or a few one-to-ones. Instead, he spent most of his time and energy with this group of a few friends.

I first met Fred, who had just spent five years in prison, when he walked into my study and pulled out a loaded revolver. As I braced for the end, he handed it to me, saying, “I won’t need this any longer. I’ve decided to follow Jesus.” What should I do now?” After I started breathing again, I said, “You need a small group to meet with every week where you can share your life and get prayed for.” Fred wanted to be baptized and joined our first small group. At that time, it was a men’s group with Tom the alcoholic, Roy the meteorologist, John the TWA airline pilot, Brad, who had twenty-six jobs in the last three years, and Wes, who was in and out of mental institutions. What a gang!

Eventually we had 400 people in fifty small groups that met weekly in one another’s homes.

Today most Christians live in the world and go to church. The first Christians lived in the church and went to the world. They did this by loving one another in the house churches of the New Testament, up close and personal, spending lots of time together.

Mixing it up with the charismatics

When I was twenty-four, I took my Baptist religion and reputation in my hands and attended a charismatic Episcopalian prayer retreat. Episcopalians will do anything for God as long as it’s not tacky. Baptists will also do anything for God, especially if it is tacky.

An exuberant black woman whose husband was a Baptist pastor led the prayer group I was in. When it was my turn to sit in the prayer chair in the middle, she clapped her hands and shouted, “Hallelujah, we got our hands on a Baptist preacher!”I would have run out then, but I had stopped breathing and couldn’t move. She prayed I would be “baptized in the spirit.” However, nothing happened because I was driving with my brakes on.

Two weeks later, in bed, reading a murder mystery, love suddenly hit. For an hour, I imbibed intoxicating love for everyone and everything. I loved the walls, the floor, my book, Catholics, Communists, my parents, and even myself.

Four years later, at Broadway Baptist Church, I knew the next step after small groups was to do what Jesus did after gathering together his close friends. He led them into a fresh, deeper stream of awakening spirit.

Following my official leadership policy of “muddling through,” more and more of our folks came alive as we became part of the then third wave of the Charismatic Renewal. Many found a new sense of Jesus’ presence and spiritual aliveness. Our worship changed from the “sit and be still in church” of traditional churches and became lively with joyous singing, movement, and praise. A few left because they thought church services should be more dignified.

We continued to make more than a dozen significant changes that deconstructed and reconstructed our beliefs and practice, one every three or four years. It was an exhilarating journey.

This series will continue by looking at further deconstruction sites, toxic beliefs, and practices of reconstruction.

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Moving from Toxic Beliefs to Transforming Ones