Are Deconstructors “Real Christians”?
A response to some pushback surrounding “deconstruction”
Recently I published an article called “Help! I think I’m still a Christian.”
That particular piece got some of the most organic engagement I’ve ever had on something I’d written. Last I checked, more than a thousand people have found it, and not merely because they searched “Christianity” on Medium — their friends and relatives sent it to them.
(I must pause here to express how deeply grateful I am to all of you who not only read it, but passed it along. Your support means the world, and I couldn’t be happier that it resonated with you on a deep enough level that you would want someone else to experience it too.)
Aside from the overflowing support, though, the article seemed to be getting a significant number of responses with a common theme. People would read the article, and immediately be turned off by the word “deconstruction.” Some of them would even take the time to write out a comment or response to the article explaining how I had “gone down the wrong path” and that I should “abandon” the deconstruction of my faith.
“Deconstruction” has become a triggering word for some, especially those who still identify with conservative or fundamentalist expressions of Christianity. It’s seen as an affront to Christian tradition in general, or worse, to Jesus Christ himself.
One Passionate Commenter (hereafter referred to as “PC”) argued that “deconstruction” can only have one narrow meaning, wherein the deconstructor “systematically dismantles” something — be that a philosophy, or belief system, or a singular idea — in order to “repurpose some of the material.” I don’t see it that way.
I shared the following thoughts with PC, and others who responded, but the sentiment feels worthy of sharing on a larger scale as well.
Deconstruction Can Mean Lots of Things
First of all, “systematically dismantling” and “repurposing” are two entirely different tasks, and the former does not necessitate the latter.
As a child, I often “systematically dismantled” my analog alarm clock, in part because it made me feel grown up and accomplished to be able to put it back together, but also because I was genuinely interested in watching the cogs inside the clock spin — I wanted to understand how things worked beneath the surface.
Faith deconstruction can work the same way. On the most basic level, it’s simply a method of intricate examination.
Most of us have encountered the cognitive dissonance of learning new information that doesn’t correspond with the assumptions of our faith tradition. Some of us have dealt with that tension by explaining it away or spiritually bypassing it, but others of us were inspired to examine those assumptions more closely, not because we were itching to get rid of our belief system, but because we desperately wanted to hold onto our faith, and do so honestly.
Of course, that process of looking closely has led many of us to identify some “material” that, upon further reflection, no longer holds up. In pulling up the floorboards we found rotten joists. In the attic we discovered weak spots in the roof. Naturally, our response is to address these compromised materials and replace them with something stronger for the sake of preserving the life of the house.
PC referred to this sort of engagement as “picking and choosing what you will retain and casting aside anything that doesn’t suit you.” I believe they meant this pejoratively, but I’m not sure I understand the indictment.
In reality, “picking and choosing” what to believe and casting aside what does not suit, framed positively, sounds like thoughtful, critical engagement with the beliefs we claim to be central to our lived realities. It also sounds eerily similar to what Jesus compelled the people of God to do on countless occasions throughout the Gospels.
Consider Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount” in Matthew 5. Time and time again Jesus refers to a truism from the Hebrew Scriptures, observing how the ecclesiastical elite have turned each precept into an arbitrary checkbox of religiosity, and promptly re-interprets those principles through the lens of loving devotion to God. Today, we see this interaction as Jesus “clarifying” what Scripture meant, but in a very real way, this was also an instance wherein Jesus openly defied the normative principles of his religious tradition.
Ironically, Jesus ends his sermon with a reflection on “true and false” believers. (In other words, who are the “real” ones?) In 5:16–19, we read:
By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles? Likewise, every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.
Who Are the “Real Christians”?
How do we decipher who’s really a Christian? Is it by their stated beliefs? Their denominational affiliation? The authors on their bookshelf? The politicians they vote for? The bumper stickers on their car?
No. By the fruit of their lives.
The only prerequisite for being a “real Christian” is thoughtful, genuine engagement with and desire for God. In other words: faith. And our faith (not our theology) is what ultimately bears fruit.
A pastor friend of mine used to put it this way:
Anyone who wants a seat at the table gets a seat at the table, no questions asked.
“Picking and choosing” what to believe and “casting aside what doesn’t suit” is only an indictment if the one doing the picking and choosing is not doing so in good faith.
Perhaps PC meant to imply that anyone who, like myself, has undergone a “deconstruction” in their faith journey must not have done so faithfully, but for that implication to carry any weight, PC would have had to actually know the people they are condemning, and have been intimately involved in what most often turns out to be a rather long and painful, but nonetheless meaningful and rewarding journey.
No One is Forcing Us to Stay Christian…
Christian spirituality is infinitely complex. To speak of it as a simple set of intellectual principles one must uncritically assent to — or else they’re “not really a Christian” — not only cheapens the Good News of Christ’s Kingdom, which is endlessly deep and wide, but discounts the work of the Spirit, who has used countless “real Christians” to draw people into loving relationship with God, regardless of those Christians’ disagreements about theological matters.
Of course, I don’t mean to make an argument for relativism. I do believe it is possible to identify a “list of principles” (the Apostle’s Creed, for instance) that have served as a helpful guide for Christian Orthodoxy throughout history. But even a quick glance at these Creeds will show that the “list” is much shorter than we often assume, and the beliefs “listed” still involve some level of interpretation (or thoughtful engagement; faith).
What I’m contending for is a sentiment that “real Christians” have oriented their communion around for centuries:
In essentials unity, in non-essentials liberty, in all things charity.
For the most part, those of us who have deconstructed Christian faith, but wish to retain the label of “Christian,” do so because we do assent to the essential matters of Christian Orthodoxy. Where we dissent is on the inessential matters of biblical hermeneutics, secondary theologies, ecclesiology, etc.
This dynamic seems to be hard to imagine for some. The clearest way I can think to say it is this: no one is forcing us to “stay Christian.”
We’re staying because we want to. We’re staying because, despite our hangups, there’s something about the Way of Jesus that compels us. We’re staying because, regardless of our doubts and concerns, we’ve seen enough to say “there’s something here, and I want more of it.”
