Four Kinds of Faith Deconstruction (And How to Respond)

Introducing a Better Conversation

You probably know this by now, and if you don’t, it’s time: the American Evangelical church is facing the largest mass exodus from the church ever recorded. It would not be an exaggeration to say that millions of people have left the church over the past decade. If you’re reading this, you might be one of them. In their book The Great Dechurching, Michael Graham and Jim Davis observe:

More people have left the church in the last twenty-five years than all the new people who became Christians from the First Great Awakening, Second Great Awakening, and Billy Graham crusades combined. Adding to the alarm is the fact that this phenomenon has rapidly increased since the mid-1990s¹.

So it’s no surprise that lots of ink has been spilled, in the past two years, trying to address this phenomenon, commonly called “deconstruction”, due to the popularity of this term on online platforms describing the #exvangelical experiences of folks like Joshua Harris, Abraham Piper or Rhett and Link. But often, “deconstruction” is a slippery - and sometimes dangerous - term to define. Is everyone who has dechurched “deconstructed?” Is everyone who is “deconstructing” dechurched? Is there such a thing as “good deconstruction?” Hip Hop artist Lecrae suggests the answer is yes, in a recent twitter thread:

Many don’t realize there have been healthy Deconstructions throughout history…There are generations of believers who have been thru this and we can learn from them versus destroying our life and faith trying to figure it out alone…Many movements from the reformation to the civil rights movement involved deconstruction using scripture and then reconstruction. I offer this as an encouragement to those struggling. My faith is stronger than ever. I’ve been there and healing is possible.

But Alisa Childers and Tim Barnett’s popular book, “The Deconstruction of Christianity”, rejects this idea with a firm: “No.” There is no such thing as “good deconstruction”, they note, because deconstruction always involves postmodern presuppositions. They define “deconstruction” this way:

Faith deconstruction is a postmodern process of rethinking your faith without regarding Scripture as a standard².

I understand why Childers and Barnett define deconstruction this way: they are trying to be true to the way the most virulent online opponents of Christianity using the term. Childers and Barnett cite several popular #exvangelical memes and articles, expressing skepticism of conservative evangelical pastors trying to use the word ‘deconstruction; to “lure you back into the fold”. And so, Childers and Barnett conclude: “When Christians co-opt the word, redefining it, the deconstruction community thinks we’re being deceptive³.”

But there are two issues with this. First, we shouldn’t be letting the most radical deconstructers become the word police for the movement. They don’t represent the majority of deconstructers, who, in my experience, tend to be far more laissez fare with where anyone ends up after they’ve deconstructed. For instance, Childers and Barnett quote at length deconstructing social media influencers on this point:

This is the thing with deconstruction that I really think it’s important to understand. Everyone lands wherever they land. There is no right place to land with deconstruction. Some people land away from faith. Some people land in a different type of faith. Some people become agnostic. Some people become a different type of Christian. Some people become atheists. And all of those routes in deconstruction are valid and to be respected⁴.

Second, Childers and Barnett themselves aren’t consistent on this definition of deconstruction. In fact it’s a bit of a strange take to say that all deconstructers are setting themselves up against God’s authority in the scriptures, since later in the book, Childers and Barnett warn that we shouldn’t treat deconstructers this way at all!:

On the one hand, some assume all deconstructors are just “truth suppressors.” If someone is deconstructing, then they must be in “rebellion against God.”…these characterizations are too simplistic⁵.

Wait a second…so everyone who deconstructs is rejecting scriptural authority…but we’re not to treat them like “truth suppressors” or like they’re in “rebellion against God”, since this would be a simplistic extreme? I think the truth is, Barnett and Childers recognize, at some level, that their original definition isn’t really correct. To place “deconstruction” under one simple category doesn’t do justice to the movement. In fact, in a pretty striking admission, they write:

When we use the word deconstructionist, we are talking specifically about the most influential voices online who are actively attempting to dismantle historic Christianity, discredit the church, and promote an atmosphere of faith deconstruction…We are not talking about your sons, daughters, coworkers, friends, and loved ones who are critically examining their beliefs and are wading in the confusion of doubt. These situations would require a different response⁶.

Just take in that last paragraph: we are writing a book that is not going to be helpful to the people in your life who are deconstructing their faith. That would require a different response. The truth is, this is a book for the loyal evangelicals who want to hear critiques of the most extreme people on the online spectrum. The definition, above, fulfills that purpose: it’s so much easier to avoid introspection when every deconstructer is yet another apostate. But is the characterization of deconstruction as being a full-throated rejection of scripture fair, or accurate? Well, first, it’s true that folks who are “deconstructing” may question scripture, they may even be skeptical of it. But probably…they don’t. In fact, in their monumental book, “The Great Dechurching”, Michael Graham and Jim Davis observe that just the opposite is true of the dechurched on the whole:

Dechurched evangelicals are still largely orthodox in their faith. When it comes to our primary doctrines, 68 percent of those we surveyed still believe in the Trinity, 64 percent believe in the divinity of Jesus, 65 percent believe Jesus’ death on the cross paid the penalty for the sins of those who believe in him, 67 percent believe in the resurrection, 62 percent believe that Jesus is the only way to God, and 61 percent believe the Bible is a reliable document for all matters of faith and practice⁷.

This would strongly suggest that “deconstruction” is not a one-size-fits-all description. So who are the millions and millions of folks who still have orthodox beliefs, but have left the church? Are they not really “deconstructers”?

I think a better approach would be to see deconstruction as a spectrum, with at least four different postures (the Loyal won’t identify as deconstructers):

Let’s look at each.

1. The Loyal

The Loyal are folks who tend not to question the cultural assumptions of American Evangelical subculture. Or, if they do, they see this as the problem of some extreme outliers, rather than a culture that permeates American evangelicalism on the whole. They feel happy and at home in the evangelical church, and assume the deconstruction movement is coming from progressive influences on the next generation.

There are plenty of faithful evangelical Loyals that I know and love. There’s nothing wrong with it per se. Being conservative is, after all, at least partially a genetic disposition. I do think, however, that those who have a more conservative bent need to recognize their bent toward loyalty isn’t necessarily the “Christian” way. It’s just their way. You can be loyal to Jesus without being loyal to the subculture of the evangelical movement in America as such. Maybe more loyal.

2. The Doubting

Still somewhat loyal to American Evangelicalism, The Doubting may have some serious questions about the Bible and Christianity, causing them to tug at - but not reconsider - some of the beliefs and practices they grew up with. They may feel some discomfort, but feel ready and motivated to hear the Loyal’s answers to their questions. They may even question some of the cultural norms of American Evangelicalism, but don’t feel so much discomfort that they’re ready to take a hike. Some of them will pull back into “The Loyal” crowd, but others will continue to untangle the knots of American Evangelicalism and end up in the third category, below. In fact, I think Childers’ other book, “Another Gospel?” articulates pretty well the journey of someone who experiences doubt, but who largely stays within the categories and boundaries of American Evangelicalism. But neither of these books address what I think is probably the largest category of dechurched folks:

3. The Disillusioned

The Disillusioned are – according to my own experience, and Graham and David’s research – a huge swath of the dechurched and “deconstructing.” The disillusioned are folks who still hold to orthodox Christian beliefs, but feel disenfranchised not by evangelical convictions but by American Evangelical subculture. They aren’t questioning orthodoxy. What they are questioning is what evangelical historian Jon Dickson calls the “Bully Evangelicalism” that tends to characterize American evangelicalism. Dickson notes that many evangelicals around the globe have stopped using the term evangelical, thanks to us:

Every teacher will tell you, the bully on the playground is usually the most insecure boy. It’s a compensation mechanism. If the boy were truly confident, he wouldn’t need to throw his weight around. It’s the same with the Church. The bully Church is the insecure Church…Evangelicals in Britain and Europe and Australia are very different from evangelicals here [in America]. And I’ve noticed, in the last ten years, lots of Australians who used to be happy going by evangelical, because they meant British evangelical—that gentle Anglicanism of William Wilberforce, socially engaged, happy to be in public, keen to see people evangelized with the Bible—they don’t want to go by evangelical anymore⁸.

Evangelicalism, originally, was a global alliance of historically protestant churches, working together for spiritual and societal renewal up until the late 19th century. But that’s not the way we use the word “evangelical” today. Today, as Dickson describes, American evangelicalism is largely known as a certain type of white, American subculture within the global evangelical movement. This kind of American evangelicalism is much harder to define. But, to borrow Supreme Justice Stewart’s definition of pornography: “I know it when I see it.” And I have seen it. I’ve lived it. American Evangelicalism has a certain ethos: entitled to power. Cynical. Insecure about the future. Afraid. Apocalyptic in its outlook. Angry. Personally, I was unfazed to see that evangelicals in January 2021 were spearheading an insurrection. It wasn’t a group of outliers. It was a group of people taking the American evangelical ethos to its logical conclusion. I found it hilarious that prominent evangelical leaders tried to “disavow” the insurrection. That, to me, was a like someone who ate fried foods their whole life disavowing a heart-attack.

What is this ethos exactly? I think John Stackhouse and Michael Bird (both non-American evangelicals) put it well: Bully Evangelicalism is the particularly American Evangelical subculture which assumes an entitlement to status in American society. I’d add to this that it has an apocalyptic view of the future, so the threat of status removal is always imminent. These impulses are, simply, unChristian. This evangelical subculture/ethos is what so many millions of dechurched Americans are deconstructing: they are disillusioned with this toxic, apocalyptic atmosphere particular to us. They may have read “Jesus and John Wayne” or “The Color of Compromise” or Tim Alberta’s “The Kingdom, the Power and the Glory.” They may have read Russell Moore’s “Losing Our Religion” or Beth Moore’s twitter account and memoir or Mike Cosper’s “The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill” podcast, and felt a sense of haunting familiarity, and then unmooring (sorry can’t help it). It’s not that the Disillusioned are ready to jump ship on faith, but they sense - and I think rightly - that something is rotten in American Evangelical Denmark, and they’re not sure where to turn.

Who is giving the Disillusioned a way forward? Who is affirming their concerns, then drawing them deeper into the scriptures and the global, historic church? If we want to understand why so many folks move from Disillusioned to Deconstructed, it’s in part because progressive authors like Richard Rohr and David Gushee and Rachel Held Evans are willing to name the rightness of being disillusioned with the uniquely American evangelical ethos of fear, anger and entitlement (which comes from a very specific American theological framework unshared by global evangelicals), and we evangelicals won’t.

Now, imagine if you are a somewhat orthodox, dechurched believer who’s felt disillusioned with the “Bully Evangelicalism” of American culture. Then, your uncle - who is a Loyal evangelical - reads a book which tells him that when you question the American evangelical subculture, you are just yet another apostate who has rejected scripture as your authority. As a prominent evangelical in the intro puts it:

The current problem with apostasy is not fundamentally different from the problem in the past. Demas rejected the faith for the same reason the TikTok apostate does: He loved the world more than he loved Christ.

Not only is that going to be an unhelpful approach…it’s likely going to push you into the fourth category below, because now, you’re angry. It sure sounds like the evangelicals in your life feel threatened by your questioning of their culture. And it sure sounds like, rather than listening and understanding your frustrations with Bully Evangelicalism, they’re trying to shame you into alignment. And so, repelled in the opposite direction, you head into a more angry stage four:

4. The Deconstructing

The Deconstructing are folks who have experienced both doubts and disillusionment over Bully Evangelicalism. But they’re also, very often in my experience, people who’ve been personally abused by it: spiritually, emotionally, sexually, etc. Unlike Childers and Barnett, I actually did go through a deconstruction process: I’ve stepped away from the church for years, had a very skeptical, “post-Bible” view of Christianity, and I felt like the American Evangelical faith I’d grown up with was impossible to reconcile with the Jesus I read about in the four gospels. I didn’t just experience doubt or disillusionment. I felt hostile to the Christian framework that I’d seen used as a tool of abuse in my life and in the lives of others.

I wasn’t deconstructing because I “loved sin more than Jesus” (thank you so much for your take on my life, though)! For me, I stepped away because of the different ways evangelicalism was tied, for me, to abusive experiences. I wasn’t just “confused” by Bully Evangelicalism. I was furious. But I was still searching. I hadn’t closed the book on Jesus. The process of healing, for me, was going to be much longer than it was for the “doubting” or even the “disillusioned”. But I did find healing, slowly, in safe and thoughtful communities, over time.  

My friend Ian Harber, author of the forthcoming book “Walking Through Deconstruction” (which you need to pre-order!), once asked me how long it took me to find healing after deconstructing my faith.

    “About twelve years,” I said. There was a long silence on the phone.

    “That tracks,” he said.

    “How about for you?” I asked.

    “About ten years.”

This, for the deconstructing, is generally true. I think the fastest process I’ve seen a true deconstructer go through, to feel renewed in their faith, is seven years. But that’s because my friend - we’ll call him A.J. - is such an intense personality and truth seeker that honestly, walking through deconstruction and renewal, for him, was like doing it on steroids. I’d also like to think it was, in part, because he and I met regularly through this process, and after having fumbled my way through working with deconstructers for about a decade, I finally had a somewhat clear idea of what A.J. needed.  

5. The Deconstructed

The “Deconstructed” are not the same as the “Deconstructing.” They are a loud, online minority who have publicly slammed the door on faith. They openly mock Christianity and evangelicalism. Part of their schtick is their adamancy that Christianity is not to be taken seriously. And so although I was “deconstructing” I was never “deconstructed”, because I never closed my mind to what the ancient, historic and global church had to say about Jesus. I kept reading through the four gospels, intensely curious about the radical vision of life that Jesus presented, even when it crossed my sensibilities. But what’s important to understand about this crowd – the Joshua Harris’s, Rhett and Links, and Abraham Piper’s – is that they are a very loud minority. When I call them “deconstructed”, I’m not saying I’m giving up hope for them. But I am saying that the way they present themselves - as cocksure, optimistic, happily deconstructed folks – is not the way millions and millions of people doubting, disillusioned and deconstructing their faith feel. In fact, I very much doubt it’s how these social media influencers feel…social media algorithms love extreme takes, and these career influencers, of course, know that.

There are, of course, plenty of stories I could tell you about people without a social media influence who have deconstructed their faith. These days it seems to begin with reading Richard Rohr - a popular proponent of modern gnosticism - and a year later, they’re out the door of the church, smoking weed and doing essentially whatever it is they wanted to do in the first place (and generally, sadly, getting very depressed and burned out with all their nihilistic openness and embittered). Here’s where Trueman’s critique partially lands: they do love sin more than Jesus. But at the end of the day, without loving and patient intervention…we all do, don’t we? We should rightly condemn modern heretics, of course. But who is doing the work we’re called to do in response to the wavering: “Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness. Keep watch on yourself, lest you too be tempted. Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:1-2)

Sadly, rather than restoring the deconstructing in ‘a spirit of gentleness’, our toxic evangelical response to deconstructers tends to accelerate their process, catapulting the doubting - who’ve been missed or dismissed - into the“disillusionment” and “deconstructing” phases which sadly end with: “Deconstructed.”

Moving Forward

These categories, I think, are a sharper lay of the land. Maybe you identify with one of them. Maybe you’re the Loyal evangelical, but you care very much about your deconstructing niece or nephew, and so you’re willing to listen and acknowledge you’re not there but it’s okay for them to be there. Maybe you’re Doubting: you still feel like you belong in evangelicalism, but you’ve seen some chinks in the armor. Maybe you’re Disillusioned: you feel like the Bully Evangelical culture has left you out, but you don’t know where to go. Or maybe you are Deconstructing: you feel skeptical of the scriptures, and the church, but you’re still searching for answers and haven’t quite closed the book. Hopefully, less name-calling and labeling and scare-quoting of the scriptures could at least keep folks in the box they’re currently in, rather than driving them further down the scale. In fact, if I knew of a dechurched or deconstructing friend, I’d start by asking where they are on the scale above (and maybe that’s an email you need to be pausing and sending!).

Let me close with something surprising: I don’t believe The Great Dechurching is all bad news, or even bad news at all. In fact, one of the reasons I love Redeemer Presbyterian in Indy, where I’m an Associate Pastor, is that Redeemer has a unique track record of helping the deconstructing and disillusioned find real healing and help. You’ll read a bit about our work in Ian’s book. Of course, if you walk into our church, you’re not going to find a typical evangelical atmosphere. We exist in downtown Indianapolis, and our church is filled with weird art, songs you’ve never heard, and quirky people of all ages. But it’s also been a haven for many who’ve felt left behind by the second kind of evangelicalism, Bully Evangelicalism. I’d guess half our congregation - at least - are folks disillusioned with American evangelical subculture, and have probably been through some kind of deconstruction process. But largely, they still maintain the convictions of “born again” evangelicalism of the 18th century, committed to Jesus’ atonement, the authority of the scriptures, and social activism. Many of them have left church for a short time, or a long time, because they were hurt, burned out, or tired of trying to live faithfully in the Bully Evangelical culture. Yet, by God’s grace, they’ve found a home here at Redeemer…a (classically) evangelical church.

Why are people disillusioned with American evangelicalism attending Redeemer? First and foremost, it’s because of God’s Spirit. But it’s also because our church has a couple of characteristics they simply don’t find elsewhere.

1. We’re (way) out of step with American evangelical subculture.

2. We’re hopeful about the historic, global, evangelical future.

In other words, we allow people to experience their disillusionment and deconstruction, and in some measure, nearly all of us on staff share that. So rather than seeing people move from “disillusionment” into the most radical phase - “deconstructed” - we’ve seen a new process take place:

This is of course not true in everyone’s story. Apostasy is real, and sometimes, it can’t be stopped no matter how gracious, winsome or truthful we are. But certainly there is a measure of wisdom that can, gently, invite folks beyond American evangelicalism into the global, historic church, where they can experience - not “re”construction, since this bears all the same individualistic assumptions of deconstruction - but renewal, and restoration.

There is a children’s book I read to my youngest son every night, about a family going on a bear hunt. This nutty family—who must have the Mercedes Benz of Life Insurance plans—keeps going through rivers and forests and fields to find a grizzly bear. Bizarre, right? I do think they have some sound advice because when they get stuck, they sing:

We can’t go over it,

We can’t go under it,

We’ve got to go through it!

Conservatives have tried to go over the deconstruction movement by taking back control of the White House, trying to enforce policies that give them a sense of nostalgia and security, and devoting hours to “studying” the issues by reading books and articles written by people who just so happen to look, think and sound just like us. But this approach is actually accelerating secularism, not staving it off.

On the other hand, liberals have tried to go under the dechurching movement by adjusting their views on orthodoxy and ethics to accommodate the social moment. As Graham and Davis note, however, the mainline church in America is declining even more rapidly than the evangelical movement.⁹

We can’t go over deconstruction through coercion and power. We can’t go under it by catering to the cultural headwinds. We’ve got to go through it.

I’ve seen many people dechurch over the past several years, it’s true. It’s heartbreaking. But in that same time, I’ve also seen far more people come to Jesus than I’ve seen before. I truly believe that if we meet the moment right, this isn’t the end of something. It’s the beginning of something. My prayer is that all of us – The Loyal, the Doubting, the Disillusioned, the Deconstructing…and yes, maybe even the Deconstructed – can move away from the cynical dreams of Bully Evangelicalism, and embrace the dreams of Jesus. Evangelicalism, originally, was a grand vision of an alliance of historically protestant, confessional and global Christians working together on mission.

The dreams of Bully Evangelicalism aren’t too big. They’re too small. As Jon Dickson goes on to say about the current deconstruction movement:

I dare to think [The Great Dechurching] is more likely to be a positive moment than a negative moment. Because I think of American evangelicalism as a giant that’s fallen asleep in a bit of a fog. And if American evangelicals can pivot in this moment and work out the answers to those questions—What does it mean to lose well? What does it mean to be cheerfully confident without being brash and arrogant and manipulative and controlling? I think it will bless America, and I think it will bless the world¹⁰.

Dickson is critical of American evangelical subculture.

He’s also deeply hopeful.

I am too.

1. Davis, Jim; Graham, Michael; Burge, Ryan P.. The Great Dechurching (p. 5). Zondervan. Kindle Edition.

2. Childers, Alisa; Barnett, Tim. The Deconstruction of Christianity: What It Is, Why It’s Destructive, and How to Respond (p. 26). Tyndale House Publishers. Kindle Edition.

3. Childers, Alisa; Barnett, Tim. The Deconstruction of Christianity: What It Is, Why It’s Destructive, and How to Respond (p. 182). Tyndale House Publishers. Kindle Edition.

4. Childers, Alisa; Barnett, Tim. The Deconstruction of Christianity: What It Is, Why It’s Destructive, and How to Respond (p. 111). Tyndale House Publishers. Kindle Edition.

5. Davis, Jim; Graham, Michael; Burge, Ryan P.. The Great Dechurching (p. 27). Zondervan. Kindle Edition.

6. Childers, Alisa; Barnett, Tim. The Deconstruction of Christianity: What It Is, Why It’s Destructive, and How to Respond (p. 27). Tyndale House Publishers. Kindle Edition.

7. Childers, Alisa; Barnett, Tim. The Deconstruction of Christianity: What It Is, Why It’s Destructive, and How to Respond (pp. xiv-xv). Tyndale House Publishers. Kindle Edition.

8. Alberta, Tim. The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory (p. 128). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.

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• In 1990 the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America reported 5.25 million members. In 2020 the total membership was just over 3 million—a decline of 41 percent.

• The Presbyterian Church (USA) has seen its membership drop 58 percent during the same time period.

• The United Church of Christ is down 52 percent.

• The United Methodist Church has seen a decline of 31 percent.

• The Episcopal Church, which used to be one of the most influential denominations in the United States, has just half a million people in the pews on an average Sunday and just 1.5 million members total .

  Davis, Jim; Graham, Michael; Burge, Ryan P.. The Great Dechurching (p. 27). Zondervan. Kindle Edition.

10. Alberta, Tim. The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory (p. 139). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.