Recent studies reveal about 10 million people have been labeled “dechurched casualties.” These are folks who’ve left the church over the past 25 years because of their negative experiences, and they have no intention to return. Faith deconstruction, while not exactly synonymous, is a common experience among this group. Much has been written extolling either the dangers or benefits of deconstruction. But is seeing deconstruction as a threat or as liberation the only options?
In their new book, Invisible Jesus: A Book about Leaving the Church and Looking for Christ, New Testament scholar Scot McKnight and pastor Tommy Preson Phillips choose their side. They write, “We believe deconstruction is a prophetic movement resisting a distorted gospel. It is not a problem; it is a voice. And we need to listen to what it is saying to the church” (1). McKnight and Phillips are right to be concerned with the ways some churches distort the gospel, but Invisible Jesus doesn’t bring the clarity necessary to strengthen the faith of deconstructors and the church’s witness.
Basis for Deconstruction
McKnight and Phillips, who share their own deconstruction experiences, argue that while many are leaving the church, they aren’t necessarily leaving Jesus. Often, they don’t abandon the church altogether but rather “find another form of the Christian faith that fits them better” (13). The authors provide little reflection on the various conclusions deconstruction can lead to. While many (including me) do remain Christian, it’s undeniable that many don’t. This reality is largely overlooked in Invisible Jesus.
Deconstructors, seeing Christians acting hatefully in how they fight the culture war or hypocritically their fundamentalist attitudes, leave the church. According to the authors, they leave to find Jesus: “It is for Christ’s sake that people today are walking away from churches” (2).
McKnight and Phillips accurately capture the deconstruction experience, describing it as a dark night of the soul, a crisis that doesn’t always mean leaving the faith. They recognize the pain of those ostracized or silenced in their churches and rightly point out that many churches have lost the plot, centering the church on themselves or their leaders rather than on Jesus. Compromised churches, they argue, are a major catalyst for deconstruction, and a prophetic witness is needed to call them back to Christ. McKnight and Phillips are correct about some cases. But is this the only cause of deconstruction?
Incomplete Picture
If you only read Invisible Jesus, you’d think the answer is yes. McKnight and Phillips recognize how churches can distort the gospel, yet they give only a passing glance at how deconstructors might distort the gospel themselves. This tendency to adjust beliefs to be a better personal fit, rather than seeking what’s true, deserves scrutiny—yet it’s hardly mentioned.
Compromised churches, they argue, are a major catalyst for deconstruction.
The book presents deconstructors in two seemingly conflicting ways: as those who want a “Jesus-first religion” (49) and as those who put “everything . . . up for reexamination” (46). While deconstruction does involve being willing to question everything, these are contradictory portrayals. One is a prophetic call to return to Jesus, while the other is a willingness to challenge the core of the faith, including Christ’s divinity and resurrection. It’s unclear how someone can do both simultaneously. McKnight and Phillips appear to conflate these, labeling them both as “deconstruction” without attempting to reconcile them.
Undefined Doctrine
Confusion like this permeates the book. In the same breath, McKnight and Phillips advocate for a centered-set Christianity focused on Jesus, suggesting that doctrinal and ecclesial boundaries should be removed to avoid hindering faith, while also attempting to maintain the importance of these boundaries.
They write, “A centered-set approach to faith does not mean the only article of faith is Jesus, and Jesus alone. Beliefs about God, the Spirit, redemption, the cross, resurrection, justification by faith, and other beliefs are all still important. . . . But rather than defining the faith with clear boundary markers, we have something more akin to what C. S. Lewis called mere Christianity” (41). While a centered-set faith is good as far as it goes, even a “mere” Christianity has boundaries.
This confusion is exemplified when they discuss the voices deconstructors are listening to. They list figures like N. T. Wright, Dallas Willard, Rachel Held Evans, Brian McLaren, Anthea Butler, Rob Bell, and Richard Rohr. While these names are influential among deconstructors, presenting them without distinguishing their varying degrees of orthodoxy (or heresy) is baffling. These authors span a wide spectrum. The gap between people like Dallas Willard, an evangelical proponent of spiritual formation, and Richard Rohr, who has tried to redefine the Trinity, is vast. Treating them as if they’re all alike is misleading, if not irresponsible.
The authors acknowledge the need for doctrinal boundaries but fail to clearly define where they should be drawn. Their proposal of a centered-set faith with doctrinal limits seems more like a bait and switch than a genuine effort to remove stumbling blocks. A clearer framework, such as theological triage, would be more practical than a vague “centered-set” approach that pretends to have fewer boundaries than it does.
Narrow Ecclesiology
McKnight and Phillips criticize rigid ecclesial and denominational structures but don’t hesitate to prescribe their own. They write, “The church must find ways to become flatter, less hierarchical, and less institutional . . . more intimate, social, equal, participatory, relational, and transparent. It is time to stand face-to-face or in a circle and proclaim what we know is true about our King through laments, protests, choirs, and corporate prayers” (107). This call to stand “face-to-face or in a circle” critiques the traditional setup of rows facing a stage. The only model they explicitly endorse is the house church. There’s no acknowledgment that traditional church structures serve a purpose. Chesterton’s fence would serve us well here: It’s best to know why something exists in the first place before you tear it down.
McKnight and Phillips correctly diagnose part of the problem that influences people’s deconstruction, but their analysis is incomplete.
McKnight and Phillips correctly diagnose part of the problem that influences people’s deconstruction, but their analysis is incomplete.
They rightly call the church to listen to deconstructing people instead of writing them off, but they don’t invite deconstructors to reflect on other reasons they’re deconstructing besides the hurt they experienced in a church. They rightly want the church to be centered around Jesus but struggle to define what that means. While attempting to speak prophetically to the church, Invisible Jesus undermines the church itself. That is tragic, because good churches are the best place for deconstructors rebuild their faith.
Many of its diagnoses and some of its prescriptions hit the mark. However, this book is more likely to entrench the divide between the church and those who’ve been hurt by it than it is to heal relationships, strengthen the faith of deconstructors, and solve the problems they encounter in the church. In those ways, it greatly misses the mark.
The Gospel Coalition