Deconstruction Chooses Me

I’ve spent many years deconstructing and observing other people–those who deconstruct and those who do not. Oftentimes, even within the same family, some siblings will deconstruct while others do not, staying entrenched in the ideology in which they were raised. I think this speaks to the complexity and diversity of humans and life paths, but the haphazard nature of who deconstructs or not, makes me believe there seems to be an invisible force that moves through the world picking out those destined to become heretics. The deconstruction elects, if you will. 

I know it feels ironic to have deconstructed the ridiculous notions of an old-man-in-the-sky authoritarian type of God to then turn around and believe in some external manipulation that dictates some to deconstruct and others to not. But I think what convinces me of this theory is simply my own experience. I always say, deconstruction chooses us, we don’t choose deconstruction. I didn’t seek to deconstruct my faith, it very much happened to me. I was chosen. 

I don’t say this to diminish our sense of agency. I know I made conscious decisions to cultivate curiosity about other people’s experiences and faiths, which led me to deconstruct. I chose to listen and believe marginalized people and when I saw that the status quo of my evangelical faith was hurting them. I chose to resist, react, and refuse to stay complicit. 

But there is also a very real sense that I didn’t have a choice NOT to do those things. I didn’t feel like I had a choice to ignore the injustices that I saw, or to continue disassociating my body from the lack of integrity between the evidence and my faith. Once I started down the slippery slope, gravity took over. And even though the costs of deconstruction - of losing friends and family, of facing discord, even losing my job - kept piling up, I was in a free fall and there was no stopping the pace of my deconstruction. 

So why hammer on the point about being chosen for deconstruction? I think because I see so many people who fight this inevitability. They’ll say, I don’t want to lose my built-in network of friends from church, so I’m going to stay. Or, my partner isn’t deconstructing, so I can’t deconstruct too much or my marriage will be in peril. Or, I’m dependent on my parents for financial support, so I cannot be “out” about my deconstruction. 

I would never hasten anyone’s pace of deconstruction, or compel them to pay the cost of deconstruction–it is their life, after all, I can’t dictate nor wish suffering upon others. It’s just that when I hear this, what I see is that it’s already too late. You have already started deconstructing, and yes you are coming to a head with what it’s going to cost you to be out, to be public, to confront what it means to be your authentic self, and there is always a choice to delay that until you’re ready. But your bodies have already given you the signal that you are deconstructing. You are chosen, and it sucks, because you can see the sacrifices you’re going to make on the horizon. 

For me, when I accepted my fate, leaned into what my body was calling me to do, I was able to grieve what I have lost or am about to lose, sooner, and let myself travel through the stages of grief to a sense of stability. So that I can live my authentic life with what precious remaining time I have left.

In deconstruction, things get hard before it gets easier. If you believe, as I do, that deconstruction chooses us and we don’t choose it, perhaps you’d gain the courage to face the hard with integrity.

You may not see it now, but there is peace to be found after the tumult. And it is more beautiful than you’d expect.