When I became a Christian in 2005, the Emergent movement was near its apex. That loose-knit group of church leaders, writers, and provocateurs embraced a new kind of Christianity for the postmodern mindset. I didn’t see the appeal, but many who grew up in the church did.
An entire cottage industry developed around the movement’s high-profile voices, with book deals and speaking tours to help them share their “bold vision” with the world. Through skillfully employed rhetorical questions, they chipped away at the foundation of their hearers’ faith. Many of those same voices abandoned their own faith along the way.
Today’s conversation around deconstruction feels like a repeat of those heady days of the early 2000s, but now we have TikTok influencers and deconstruction coaches ready to guide people through the process for a fee. Though there are similarities between the Emergent movement and deconstruction, there are substantial differences. The Emergent movement’s aim was reimagining Christianity; the goal of deconstruction is its repudiation.
Alisa Childers and Tim Barnett understand this distinction. They’ve experienced it as they’ve walked alongside those who are deconstructing, those pushed toward it, and those left picking up the pieces in deconstruction’s aftermath. In The Deconstruction of Christianity: What It Is, Why It’s Destructive, and How to Respond, they seek to describe what deconstruction is and help believers respond to those whose hearts are prone to wander.
Shared Definitions
Some people use “deconstruction” as a synonym for “apostasy,” the rejection of historic orthodoxy. Others approach it as synonymous with “refining” or “reformation,” appending a modifier like “good” or “bad” depending on the outcome. The latter approach is much closer to how Childers, apologist and former CCM artist, used the word in her earlier book, Another Gospel? There, she used it to describe the doubting and questioning she experienced under the teaching of a progressive pastor—doubts and questions that led her to the Bible for the answers. Childers has since rejected this use of “deconstruction” because it can lead people with honest questions down a social media rabbit hole of animosity toward the historic Christian faith.
Tim Barnett, an apologist with Stand to Reason, joins Childers to offer a third definition, arguing deconstruction is “a postmodern process of rethinking your faith without regarding Scripture as a standard” (26). Defining it as a process and not simply an event is exactly right. This creates clarity around the who, what, and how of deconstruction but avoids creating a hostile environment that might push away deconstructors. It leaves room for discussion.
Key to the definition is the rejection of Scripture as the primary source of authority. Deconstruction replaces the Bible’s authority with personal experience, something that collides with every historic Christian tradition. But for many deconstructors, historical orthodoxy and biblical authority, as they understand them, are the problem. Doctrine is harmful or “toxic,” an instrument of power and control instead of a guide to truth (144). Using the Bible as the arbiter of truth is the source of the problem for some who deconstruct, especially if they’ve experienced Scripture being weaponized against dissent. They argue that doctrine and biblical authority are ways to silence dissent.
Here’s the irony: many deconstructors will decry evangelicals as dogmatic fundamentalists who allow no room for disagreement. But many deconstructors are just as dogmatic as those they reject. They’ve only redirected their dogmatism, with orthodoxy taking the role of heresy. When the Bible is no longer the standard of faith, personal autonomy takes its place—and no one can say otherwise.
Underlying Crises
If deconstruction is a process, how does it start? Often with a personal crisis. The authors write, “If deconstruction is the explosion, the crisis is the burning fuse that detonates it”—for example, the sudden loss of a loved one, Christians treating any expression of doubt with hostility, or sexual or spiritual abuse within the church (79). These are all real issues experienced by real people and lie at the heart of the church’s credibility crisis.
Many deconstructors are just as dogmatic as those they reject. They’ve only redirected their dogmatism, with orthodoxy taking the role of heresy.
One common theme is that deconstruction begins as a reaction to political idolatry by conservative Christians, which a flood of books continues to highlight. While this is an equal opportunity sin, political conservativism most often bears the brunt of criticism.
Childers and Barnett note there’s “genuine hurt and confusion over the political atmosphere within the church” (88), which significantly understates the problem in some cases. But it also recognizes there are cases where politics functions as an excuse for a process already underway. As one deconstructing pastor wrote, “Before I got [my congregation] over to progressivism, I just wanted to get them into the throes of deconstruction” (72).
The authors don’t defensively dismiss deconstuctors’ accusations against Christianity, nor do they unquestioningly accept them. Their approach is to condemn un-Christian behaviors and challenge assumptions in light of Scripture. While some will be unsatisfied by this approach, there’s wisdom in it. Childers and Barnett are speaking to a range of readers that will likely include some in the throes of doubt and others who misinterpret righteous anger over the church’s sins as cultural capitulation. Overall, the authors do well in their balancing act.
Respond to Deconstruction
The Deconstruction of Christianity shines in presenting advice for those ministering to people in the process of leaving the faith. Repeatedly, the authors challenge us to welcome questions, to be the kind of people with whom it’s safe for a person to share her questions and express her doubts. But we also need to learn to answer those doubts effectively. They write,
Thoughtful questions demand thoughtful answers. When we respond with half-baked or pat answers, we communicate that we’re not taking the questions seriously—or even worse, that we simply don’t have any good answers. Bad answers shut down sincere questions. (209)
We have to be willing to invest in exploring the answers with the person asking. “I don’t know” can be a great answer in itself, especially when followed by “How about we explore this together?”
They recognize that walking alongside deconstructors can be challenging, and they offer needed guidance: pray, stay engaged, assess your role in reaching out, and set boundaries for interactions. This process is wise, but it doesn’t guarantee a positive result. Childers describes walking through this process with a friend who hasn’t yet returned to the faith. “Every deconstruction is unique,” the authors remind us, so we have to “ask God for wisdom and surround [ourselves] with wise and godly Christians” who can encourage us as we help others (240).
Deconstruction Isn’t Inevitable
The book’s most significant takeaway is that “behind every deconstruction is a very real person with a complex web of wounds, desires, triggers, foundations, and experiences. Each one is seen and loved by God” (178). No one is a lost cause. Deconstruction isn’t inevitable.
We have to be willing to invest in exploring the answers with the person asking. ‘I don’t know’ can be a great answer in itself, especially when followed by ‘How about we explore this together?’
Childers is proof of that. Instead of walking away from her faith, she leaned in and found the answers she sought not outside of the faith but in it—the answers that give life. And though she has said elsewhere that she walks with a limp, she walks still.
Many things can drive people to give up on Jesus. But Jesus doesn’t give up on people. He loves them. That’s one of the beautiful realities of the gospel. Jesus, God the Son, entered into this world, adding humanity to his divinity, in pursuit of lost, broken, weary, and heavy-laden people (Matt. 11:28). He set the oppressed free (Luke 4:18). He died for the helpless so they might have life in him (Rom. 5:6–11). If Christ did all this and more, if he didn’t give up on people, then how can we?
This book is a helpful resource for pastors, youth leaders, and parents. It reminds us that because deconstruction isn’t the end of a person’s story, we shouldn’t treat it that way. We must keep pointing people to Jesus as the One who has given all for them and love them like Jesus does. As we do, it may lead to a beautiful picture of spiritual renewal.
The Gospel Coalition