This summer, I was introduced to a term I’d never heard of but understood somewhat intrinsically–deconstruction.
It’s a term many Christians (or former Christians) are using to describe their journeys of systematically analyzing and departing from some or all of their faith. While I’ve never done a full deconstruction, implying a complete re-evaluation of every aspect of my faith, I’m no stranger to systematically taking apart aspects of the Christian religion in an attempt to make sense of them. I’ve come out of these phases with my faith intact–others, however, aren’t so lucky.
I’ve been listening to a podcast this summer called The Liturgists, run by Michael Gungor and Mike McHargue, two men of faith who had dramatic phases of deconstruction and then atheism before slowly returning to belief in Christ. Their stories are incredible, and it’s been such an encouragement to my very cerebral, why-isn’t-there-proof-for-everything soul to hear from like-minded people who have found comfort in Christian Mysticism and the mystery of faith rather than proofs or facts. One of the things essential to embracing mysticism from an intellectual standpoint, though, is having the freedom to ask questions–and this is where we’ve done so much wrong to people like Joshua Harris.
For the newcomers to this conversation, Joshua Harris, author of 21st-century cult classic I Kissed Dating Goodbye, just announced a divorce, support for LGBT+ marriage, and that he can’t consider himself a Christian by his own definition of the term, all in the span of a couple of days. That’s a pretty crazy trip, and not just for those of us reading it. Imagine what it must be like to be Josh Harris.
DON’T QUESTION IT
It’s an unfortunate truth in many Christ-centered communities that, when something doesn’t make sense to you, you’re not supposed to question it. This isn’t the way we’re meant to practice faith.
When Jesus is describing how parents give gifts to their children, I wonder if he had this sort of thing in mind.
“Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone?” Which of you, if your daughter asks why the gospels don’t seem to tell all the stories in the same order, will slam your fists on the table and tell her to stop questioning God’s Word?
In the same vein: when God’s actions in the Old Testament suddenly start to inspire fear over love, flipping over to Galatians shouldn’t be a “quick fix” you use to just erase that image of God from your mind. When a verse doesn’t seem to make sense, we can’t train ourselves to throw up mental blockades, ignore it, and chant, “Your ways are higher than my ways” until we stop feeling uneasy.
Rigid faith, when bent, will break.
Of every ex-Christian I have spoken to, all of them, without exception, speak of the pain they felt at not being allowed to ask questions in church. They describe church leaders scolding them, yelling at them, asking them not to come back because of the genuine questions they asked, so heart-breakingly often being told this as children. We are yelling at children who have real questions and training them to either a) mentally shut their minds down whenever something begins to confuse them, which is a tactic cults use to keep followers from questioning, or b) we teach them that their questions aren’t welcome in the church and, as a result, neither are they.
Joshua Harris has got to be in this hole right now, and he inadvertently helped put himself there, what with publishing a book at age 23 that quite literally launched the “courting” movement in conservative Christian circles. His entire brand was centered around a fairly strict set of social and theological norms–to question anything would be to question his entire career. And when you don’t allow someone–or yourself–to have the freedom to change their mind, you risk their beliefs becoming brittle and fragile, hardened by years of “just have faith”s and “God’s thoughts are not your thoughts”, right up until everything shatters.
ASK, SEEK, KNOCK
God made us curious.
We’re commanded to ask, seek, and knock. That’s not just for material things–that’s for answers, for faith, for encouragement.
Exodus 12 tells the Israelites to answer their children when they come with questions: “When your children ask you, ‘What does this service mean to you?’ you are to reply, ‘It is the Passover sacrifice to the LORD…”
Jesus stayed up with Nicodemus all night, answering questions. Mary was honored for asking, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The Psalms are filled with laments of why and how and where.
God didn’t create us to simply take everything lying down–he doesn’t expect us to sit silently in a pew with our hands clasped for our entire lives. Did the disciples just sit quietly by without questions when Jesus told a purposely vague parable? Would Nicodemus ever have come to faith if he hadn’t come to ask Jesus questions in the night?
The truth is, all the Pharisees unwilling to question their own beliefs and laws were the ones who got hurt in the end.
That is why, friends, when I read about Josh Harris’s deconstruction, the first thing I did was breathe a sigh of relief.
Why?
Because he’s free now. He can ask the hard questions. He’s not being pressured anymore to stay quiet for fear of hurting his marriage, his followers, his public image (well, he is–but anyone trying to shame him now sure isn’t going to get anywhere.) He doesn’t have to put on a facade and live a lie, pretending to happily go to church each Sunday, successfully embittering and further alienating himself from any faith he might have had.
What I’m hoping to illustrate through all of this is simple: if Josh Harris was asking these questions before being open about them, it’s almost guaranteed he was hurting himself more than he was helping anything. Stifling the questions indefinitely is never healthier than asking them.
FOSTER THE QUESTIONS
Now, I’m not claiming I know with certainty that Josh Harris left Christianity because he wasn’t allowed to ask questions. Not even his past close friends know what’s led to Josh’s deconstruction, and they’ve cautioned against speculating on it. Though I see a very large trend of unanswered questions leading to a departure from the faith, questions may have had nothing to do with it: many believers in very open, free-thought-promoting settings still walk away from the faith, and many believers in more heavy-handed congregations learn to find peace in the mystery of Christ.
But what I am saying is that, firstly, the Church is complicit in so many stories like Josh Harris’s–and that, more importantly, deconstruction isn’t the end of the world.
Church, we must foster a culture where questions are welcome. Even if that means we can’t always answer. There is importance in resting in the mystery, but there is also importance in questing for answers. Something I’ve often been told is, “God can handle your questions.” Sometimes, in my mind, that phrase has become, “If God is real, he can handle my questions.” And that’s okay, too–because God can handle my doubts.
If a question or doubt makes us uncomfortable, that’s understandable, and you can admit as such without compromising your faith. It’s also an opportunity to grow in your knowledge or grow in your faith, not to shut down whatever or whoever raised the question. If we can foster this sort of community, we might prevent the dramatic crises of faith we’re seeing among people who break suddenly and emotionally from the Church.
We must also stop viewing deconstruction as a bad thing. I know that sounds absolutely crazy–but understand that forcing someone to pretend they identify with a belief they no longer hold is never helpful, and allowing someone to question, doubt, and seek answers almost always is. If someone is having an intense wrestling match with their faith, we can’t control that–but we can control how we react and whether or not our reactions are helpful.
Josh Harris’s deconstruction may just be the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “I can’t join [Christians] in your mourning. I don’t view this moment negatively,” he’s said in his post. We can mourn the loss of faith–I know I certainly do–but friends, we shouldn’t mourn the questions, and I’m afraid people are confusing the two.
The questions are wonderful. They’re what makes Scripture engaging, they’re what brings believers together to discuss them, and they’re what has shaped my faith for most of my life. They can also be stumbling blocks that trip us up or even prevent us from going on; but they are vital to faith in Christ.
Josh Harris absolutely did the right thing by being honest about where he is in his faith.
However, I’m not seeing a loving response from so many Christian news outlets or fellow bloggers; instead, I’m seeing people attacking his views on the LGBT+ community, attacking things he’s said in the past, criticizing him for the decisions he’s making in regards to his divorce, and so much more. Debate and theology lessons in the comments are not what this is about. What I wish we were seeing is believers taking this opportunity to commend Josh for asking hard questions and to encourage one another to find answers other than the trite ones we hear over Karen’s meatloaf at the potluck.
Don’t be afraid to ask yourselves hard questions, friends. They aren’t a reflection of unbelief, not being “good enough”, or poor character. And don’t be afraid of other people asking the questions, either. Use them as the diving board for drawing your children, drawing your congregation, drawing yourself closer to the truth–and the truth, as we should be able to quote, will set us free. No matter where it leads, we are in God’s hands.
To join Josh in quoting the Christian mystic Julian of Norwich, “Sin is [inevitable], but all shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”
