I Deconstructed, but Kept My Faith

To read the first installment in this series, click here.

I couldn't name what was happening to me. I didn't know the phrase 'Dark Night of the Soul' until about two years into this experience. 

It seemed like everything I had worked for and all the relationships I had built were slipping away. 

It wasn't all at once, but more of a gradual process of letting go.

I questioned. I doubted. I berated myself for not being okay. I had made so much progress in my recovery and spiritual growth, but I felt at a loss for how to stop what was happening to me. I assumed that I had somehow gotten off track and God had left me like he did Samson.

I kept showing up in my recovery, with my husband and children. I just felt alone while doing it.

I shared pieces of what I was going through with my husband, but he wasn't in the same place. I felt inclined to move in a particular direction, but he wasn't ready to go there. So I prayed that if my husband was right, that God would help me to be content and re-engage. But if I was right, that He would help Michael to see. 

I begged God to let me feel close to Him again. 

There was a series of events where I felt hurt and let down by leaders, and not having my usual deep communion with God I struggled to cope. 

There were a lot of really low times. I couldn't understand and I felt desperate. 

As the days and years passed, my mental state spiraled. I had experienced the joy of the Lord and the peace that passes understanding. I felt empty and lost without them. It got really hard to pray and read my Bible. 

There were dark moments when my heart threatened to surrender to the gloom. It reached a crescendo when I lost hope that things would ever be different, that I would ever enjoy the relationship with God that I had previously sought refuge in. I felt hopeless, defeated, utterly forsaken. It seemed pointless to pursue a faith that eluded me since I had no understanding of why. 

This was at the height of what I call the Deconstruction Pandemic. It coincided with the other pandemic. Famous Christians seemed to be dropping like flies. Deconstruction content took social media by storm. 

Looking back - even though I felt alone, I can see that God had prepared me for this. He had taught me to hold space in the place in between where He had called me from and where He was taking me. 

I am surviving the Valley of the Shadow of Death. I deconstructed, but didn't lose my faith. 

Here are the things I did that helped me to hold on through the four years of my Dark Night of the Soul:

1. I kept going to church. I didn't always want to, but I did it.

2. I kept reading my Bible. I didn't devour entire books or testaments in one sitting, but I committed to the discipline of reading.

3. I kept praying. I didn't pray long, drawn out prayers. Some of them were silent, some were pleading, some were angry, but I kept the communication lines open.

4. I stopped consuming deconstruction content. I unfollowed people who were talking about their deconstruction. I didn't watch YouTube videos where people explained their deconstruction story, or how they had been hurt by the church. Even though I was curious, I knew it wasn't helpful to me.

5. I stopped listening to religious content, and relied on God for spiritual nourishment. I stopped listening to podcasts, other people or books written by humans. I confined my consumption of spiritual content to the Bible.

6. I asked for encouragement from someone I trusted. Every once in a while I would ask my husband to tell me why he has faith, or to remind me of things that God had done for us. I also messaged a friend who was secure in her faith.

7. I read a book that was helpful. After Doubt: How to Question Your Faith without Losing It by A.J. Swoboda. This is more of an explanation and insight into the psychological aspect of deconstruction. It's not an apologetics book. If you read it, please do so using your discretion. It was helpful to me, but might not be for you.

8. I reduced the number of people who had influence over me. I stopped pursuing relationships where I struggled to hold my ground.

9. I spent time with my husband and children. This was a clue that I was not experiencing depression. My symptoms were confined to a specific set of parameters. We spent a lot of time singing, laughing and just enjoying being together.

10. I took one day at a time. There were days when I wanted to give up or take action on my own, but I reminded myself that this was a time of waiting, of trusting, of not having to know the end of the story and of wanting nothing less than the blessings God has in store for me.

11. I quit things that were keeping me busy and burned out. This started in the fall of 2018. Leading up to 2020 I quit almost everything. Then in April of 2020 I was furloughed from my job. I had 2 months of complete rest and quiet.

12. I examined myself and was radically honest about my beliefs, feelings and actions. I acknowledged pain, my own flaws, and resentment that could be affecting my perception of God/the church/faith.

Some of these things were excruciating in the moment. My flesh and my spirit were at war. It was difficult to make these decisions and do these things. It was helpful to think of myself within a context, and how my actions affected my context. In order to be willing to give in to the questioning, I had to be willing to influence other people to do the same. I couldn't do that in good conscience.

I did not do everything right. In fact, I would say I did most things wrong. However, I think it is more beneficial to share what did work.

Right now I'm taking it slowly. I feel like a flowerbed in Spring time. Slowly coming back to life.

To Read the next installment in this series, click here.