Seven Years of Change
The past seven years have held a sea of personal change, shaping my faith and practice in profound ways.
Our family relocated to a new city. I started a new church. We survived a pandemic. We restarted our church. Our kids have become teenagers. I completed four years of therapy. I became a spiritual director. I resumed writing.
I’ve also experienced deep spiritual change. Many of the ways I’ve pursued God and practiced my faith have grown significantly. Some of the theological convictions I once held dear have shifted with further study, understanding, and experience. Most of this has been very good, but it has also been immensely painful.
Many would define this process of change in my spiritual life as “deconstruction.” If, by some chance, you’re unfamiliar with that word, it often refers to the process by which individuals critically evaluate, question, and sometimes dismantle their religious beliefs and practices. Much of this definition fits my personal experience. But I’m weary of this word for two reasons:
1. Its meaning has become too broad.
2. It is too often stigmatized.
Let me explain this a bit more.
The Problem with the Term “Deconstruction”
Let’s start with the overuse of this word and the ambiguity it has caused. The term “deconstruction” has been applied so broadly to so many different experiences that it has begun losing its meaning. When a word means everything, can it really mean anything? I liken it to a junk drawer.
Everyone has at least one junk drawer in their home. They are typically filled with unrelated items that we’re uncertain where else to put. There is usually at least one battery, even though no one is certain it even has any charge left. There are typically a few rubber bands that we can’t bring ourselves to part with. There is often a smattering of pens on the verge of running out of ink. We always have a gift card or two with such a small remaining balance that it’s barely worth hanging on to them. My point is, junk drawers hold an often massive amount of unrelated items.
This is how I think about the word deconstruction right now. I hear it used too broadly and indiscriminately. It is one word used to define many different experiences. When I hear it in conversation, I often find myself wondering if the person using it even knows what it means. It has become a term everyone uses and few seem to truly understand.
I’m also concerned with the stigma many spiritual leaders have attached to it. Hardly a week goes by that I don’t see one online criticizing those experiencing some stage of this process. As a result, many see the process itself as inherently negative. It’s painted as a rejection of faith rather than a natural part of it.
Here’s the irony with this stigma: our faith is designed to be dynamic.
Reframing the Experience of Evolving Faith
I just finished teaching a survey of the book of Acts. One of the most interesting aspects of the early church’s experience was how much their belief and practice changed over time. From the start of the book to the end, we observe seismic shifts in both their theology and practice. Furthermore, each of the epistles tells the story of these early disciples on a journey involving ongoing change. In 1 Corinthians 13:11, the Apostle Paul writes,
“When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish things.”
One obvious point here is that we’re designed to grow and change over time.
I hope it’s obvious that I’m not implying that God changes. I’m also not implying that God’s Word changes. I even understand that we have the Scriptures in a form that the early church did not. So in some ways, we might have some advantage. We’re spoiled with more sermons, commentaries, study tools, books, podcasts, and theological websites than anyone could ever consume. The early church had almost none of that. They were figuring it all out on the fly.
So I’m not saying God changes. I’m not saying the meaning of Scripture changes. I am very much saying that it is normal and healthy for our understanding and application of Scripture to change and grow. New information, experiences, and perspectives lead to a more mature faith. Shouldn’t it concern us if our faith is not changing? Wouldn’t that be a sign that we’re not maturing? Are we really so arrogant as to think we have everything figured out at any point in our lives?
Over the last year, my soon-to-be 12-year-old son has grown almost six inches. A year ago, he was a little boy. In the last year, he has become a young man. He smells like a man, he’s growing hair like a man, and he’s begun to sound like a man. And none of this concerns me! This growth is a natural and normal part of growing up and maturing. What would concern me is if he was not growing and changing.
The same thing is true of our faith. Questioning, reevaluating, and even changing some of your beliefs can actually strengthen your faith rather than diminish it. I have had two simultaneous experiences over the last five years: some of my once-held beliefs have changed, and I have experienced an intimacy in my relationship with God I never knew was possible. This growth can be scary, and it’s often disorienting. But it can also be a symptom of health and maturing.
Embracing the Journey
So I propose we be more selective with our use of the term “deconstruction.” I’m just unconvinced that it’s helpful most of the time. What a majority of us are experiencing is simply the disorienting journey of faith. The wrestling we’re doing doesn’t mean there is anything wrong. This is life with God.
It’s messy.
It’s confusing.
It’s painful.
And all of this is an essential part of growing up in our faith. There will never stop being old ways of believing and practicing our faith that need to be released and new ways that need to be received. What if we choose to believe that God’s ways are, in fact, higher than our ways, and His thoughts higher than our thoughts? (Isaiah 55:8-9) If that’s true, then He will always be inviting us to change, to align our imperfect understanding with His perfect wisdom and nature. And despite the difficulty of this process, it’s ultimately good because it leads us to a deeper relationship with God.
If, like me, you’ve experienced change in some aspect of your faith, I want to invite you to embrace curiosity over judgment. Judgment has a way of breeding fear and shame. Both of those distance us from God, ourselves, and others. Curiosity draws us closer to God. So get curious about what’s changing in you. Get curious about what is prompting the questions, even the doubts that are coming up. Get curious about where God is in it all and what He might be inviting you to.
There is no shame in change. But refusing to allow God to grow you is a tragedy. So let’s embrace the true journey of faith and all the healthy growth and change that comes with it. Let’s commit to engage with our evolving faith openly and honestly. Reach out to a friend or a spiritual director to share your experiences and questions. Explore content that challenges your thinking, and don’t shy away from the discomfort that comes with growth. Together, we can navigate the messy journey of faith, trusting that God is with us every step of the way.
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“So let’s embrace the true journey of faith and all the healthy growth and change that comes with it. Let’s commit to engage with our evolving faith openly and honestly.”
I couldn’t agree more. I think staying curious and open to the mystery of God is the best way to stay faithful. Not having concrete answers can be hard but in the space of not knowing is where we open and the miracles happen.
I so appreciate your persistance in inviting people into curiosity. And not only inviting them to it, but meeting them in it. I wish I could Airdrop these essays into the minds of everyone I know!