Turning the Corner of Deconstruction

If you haven't read the other installments of my Deconstruction series, this post will make more sense if you do.

Dark Night of the Soul 

I Deconstructed, but Kept My Faith

The Dark Night felt like being lost in the wilderness. Deconstruction felt like realizing I might not find my way out. 

I didn't find a lot of resources for people experiencing a Dark Night of the Soul. I read a couple of books, but most didn't help. I did the things I listed in I Deconstructed, but Kept My Faith instinctively. 

There are a million apologetics resources, but my issue wasn't needing evidence that the Bible is true. I picked up After Doubt about 3 years into this journey. It confirmed the practices I had already committed to and gave me insight into what deconstruction is and the purpose it serves.

I couldn't have named it at the time, but what I really needed was to realize that God isn't other people. That I had been hurt by people who make up the church, not The Church and not God. I needed to separate the actions of people from the directive of God. 

A turning point (that I only recognize as a turning point retrospectively) came when I gave up. I stopped looking for resources. Stopped listening to people. Just stopped trying to figure it out. 

I leaned into the rhythms I knew I could trust. I went to church without feeling the need to volunteer, I went to bed earlier, took walks outside, read for pleasure, spent time with my family, went back to school, read my Bible, sang loudly, deleted my Facebook account, went to therapy. 

Instead of trying to find my way out of the wilderness, I stopped walking. I stopped wallowing in self pity and fear, started a fire, built a shelter, stayed alive and waited to hear the sound of my name being called through the trees. 

I eventually did hear it. It ended up being more of an unfolding than immediate relief. And it's taken a while to trust that it is the rescue and not another breakthrough mirage. 

If you've been hurt, please know that God isn't other people. You've been hurt by people. The actions of people do not equal the directive of God, even if they claim it does. It has to pass a stricter test than that. 

Reach out. I may not have answers, but I can help you tend your fire, build a shelter and listen for your name being called through the trees. 

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

15 Things I Learned During my Dark Night of the Soul

1. I had relied too much on other people’s biblical interpretation and spiritual experience. I didn't trust myself. I took scriptures that talk about seeking advice too far, and I trusted people to lead me. I was a sheep following someone other than the Shepherd.
2. I had quieted my own intuition in order to seek the approval and attention of people who I valued those things from. There were times when I should have spoken up, and I didn't.

3. There is value in standing alone. I have to be able to stand alone in order to be a productive member of a group and to show up for other people in a meaningful way. 

4. It’s okay to be misunderstood. People don't have to understand, and I don't have to explain. Some things are just for me.

5. Things can be two things at once. I can receive positive help, and harm at the same time. Things can be both good in some ways and bad in others.

6. There is value in waiting. In holding space. In continuing to walk even when I don’t know where I’m going. In trusting God. 

7. I don’t always have to find a solution, or meaning. I'm not responsible for figuring everything out. Taking a sabbath is a good reminder of this. The world will continue without me.

8. I can test the truth of what people say by the fruit they bear. If words don’t match actions, they aren’t true. 

9. Leaders who hide things and get angry when they are questioned is a red flag. 

10. True friends are always friends regardless of who is around, acknowledge issues in the relationship and own their part of things. 

11. People don’t belong on pedestals. 

12. Love bombing is when one person or a group bombards another person with attention and love in order to draw them in. It's a manipulation tactic.

13. Intimate relationships can’t exist when I won’t be honest. 

14. It can be easy to mistake my desires with God’s. 

15. I can be open minded, but eventually I have to make a decision about what I’m going to believe and do.

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

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.

Dark Night of the Soul

It felt different from depression. 

I've struggled with depression, I know what it feels like. 

This "not depression" started in the summer of 2018. I felt burned out, and distant from God. 

All of the ways I typically connected with God left me feeling alone, and purposeless. I searched my soul for sin. I reached out to others. I tried to share what I was going through, but each contact point left me feeling unheard and misunderstood. 

My recovery journey had taught me the value of community and growing alongside other people - people who are further along, some who are in a similar place and others who aren't as far along on the journey as I am. 

But none of these people who had walked with me through previous parts of my journey were able to show up for me in this one. They didn't understand, and no amount of explaining could change that. I got tired of trying. 

I had previously experienced a rich and fruitful prayer life, and I felt held in God's bosom. 

During this period of "not depression" I continued my spiritual disciplines, even though it felt empty. I sifted through my life trying to discern whether I was caught in a sin. 

I processed each thought, practice, relationship, and decision looking for meaning and what I was supposed to learn. 

In all this processing and sifting I deconstructed my faith. I questioned everything I had ever believed and every person I believed in. My spirit was adorned by sackcloth and ashes. 

I'm not sure where I heard the phrase first, but it immediately clicked: Dark Night of the Soul. 

Bill Gaultiere (I don't know anything about his man) in the linked article calls this "desolation" and says: 

"Desolation refers to a certain kind of trial in which God feels absent.  We seek God through church services and spiritual practices but we don’t experience his blessings.  We pray and it seems that God doesn’t answer.  Our spiritual life becomes dry as dust.  We’re bored listening to sermons.  We’re not motivated to read the Bible or pray.

Desolation is different from depression. . . desolation is focused on our relationship with God and our spiritual life, though it is affecting our emotions, personality, and relationships.  And desolations cause is spiritual also.  It may be that God has intentionally withdrawn His felt presence in order to strengthen our character and teach us to rely on the reality of his person and presence and not only on our feeling sense of his blessings."

This lasted for me until just a few months ago. In some ways I'm still coming out of it. 

I learned a lot, and I am sure I will gain new insights as I continue. I'm going to share some of the things I learned in the coming days and weeks. 

For Part 2 in my Deconstruction/Dark Night of the Soul series click here.

The Magic Pill

Frantic, consumed by disappointment, at the end of a rope, I typed words into the text box and hit send. If I love God, if I am seeking Him, if I am who God made me - why am I still struggling with this? 

The answer came before I received a reply. 

I still reside on this side of “the day of Jesus” when God will bring His work in me to completion. (Philippians 1:6, ESV)

Struggling with this isn’t a sign that I don’t love God, am not seeking Him or that I am something other than who God made me. It is a sign that I am human.  The struggle draws me back to God. It reminds me to draw near, abide, rest. 

While it is my prayer to empower and provoke you to a richer life in the Kingdom, please do not mistake what I share for a magic pill. You are human as you begin reading, and unless Jesus comes back, you’ll still be human when you finish reading. 

With this in mind I would like to encourage you to rebuke any feelings of shame or guilt that you might feel while you read. Lean in to Jesus, trust Him in this process. Allow Him to love you, just as you are. Rejoice in his work in you, and allow reminders that there is still work to be done to drive you into His arms. 

I’m not an expert in anything, just a sister in the trenches of the Kingdom, following the call of God to provoke my fellow kingdom-dwellers to love and good works.

Flawed, Unlikable, Toxic

I experience life in stages. I won’t bore you with the many I’ve traveled through in my life. 7 years ago I started a new one. The new stage was filled with therapy, spiritual counseling and Celebrate Recovery. I naturally built myself a cocoon, which meant I stopped interacting with a lot of people. I needed to learn how to deal with myself. 7 years, lots of therapy, a lot of Recovery, a lot of growth later, and I’m feeling ready to break out of that cocoon. 

I’m still processing what this looks like. I’ve come to the conclusion that in order to have the deep, meaningful relationships that my soul longs for, I have to be able to allow people to be flawed and love them anyway - to be unlikeable and still like them - to be toxic sometimes and not let go. The reality is, I am all of those things too. If I were going to cut all the people out of my life who were flawed, unlikable and toxic, I would literally not even be alone because I would have to cut myself out too. 

I think the key to this is being able to talk about it openly and honestly with the person who is flawed, unlikeable or toxic. It’s not an elephant in the room. Also, there can be no gossip. I can’t talk about the flawed, unlikable, toxic person with anyone else. The relationship has to be totally safe. Of course, there also has to be space for violation of that because as I said before, we are all toxic sometimes. And again, we have to talk about it openly and honestly. 

So maybe the root is being willing to face my own flaws, unlikability and toxicity head on, so that I can be open and willing to hear from others when they need to address it. 

If I bring this to relationships, intimacy can’t help but take root. 

What do you think?

PS I am aware that relationships do need to end sometimes. Let's have that conversation another time.

Blooming

 In passing I said, "I'd like to clean out the flowerbed."

My sweet child, wanting to do something nice for me, cleaned it out in a very different way than I intended.

I came home from work to my beautiful, beloved peonies removed from their spot.

My friend Becky told me to leave whatever roots remained in the ground, and they might grow back.

Four years passed. I had lost hope. In fact, I had forgotten that I ever did.

A few months ago I noticed something growing in the general area the peonies had occupied, but I assumed it was some kind of weed and went about my business.

Until a few days ago when I noticed this bloom. It looks suspiciously like a peony bloom.

Afraid to hope, I scoured the internet for pictures.

And guess what?! It's a peony bloom.

Four years. I waited four years. Actually, I probably only waited for one, maybe two.

This is a friendly reminder that even if you don't see any fruit from a seed you've planted or roots you've put down, don't give up.

So many of the stories in scripture involve waiting, doubting, wondering. Sometimes even trying to figure out what they were doing wrong or what they weren't doing at all. God made a promise and when it didn't happen in the way they expected or in the timing they wanted, they gave up or tried to help.

Until finally, what God had promised would happen, did.

Trust God. He's working.

Plant the seed. Lay down the root. Wait for God to give the increase.

The Next Step

She took the next step. 

I read a book recently where the author shared that it takes the brain 5 seconds to start protesting a change in habit. If I want to do something like get up earlier, I should get up when my alarm goes off within that 5 second window, before my brain builds a case that I shouldn't.

I realized that I have used this technique, without framing it in those terms, for a long time. When I'm walking and I don't want to walk another mile, I don't allow myself to dwell on whether or not I want to, I just take the next step. I focus my mind on something else to keep my thoughts from sabotaging my goal. 

But let's be real, there are many times when I forget to use this technique. When I believe I SHOULD do something but my heart isn't really in it, and I create space for my brain to talk me out of it. I tell myself, "I'll start tomorrow", "I won't be able to maintain the change", or "I can't do that".

The thing I've learned from reading biographies: People who do brave things don't do them because they aren't afraid. They are not blessed with a supernatural gift of self assurance. 

Every person I've ever read about who did something wildly brave, constantly questioned themselves. It wasn't one big choice they made to be brave. It was a series of small choices to take the next step. They made the decision right in front of them. Usually while questioning themselves and doubting their ability to actually do the thing. 

When something seems overwhelming, I break it down into smaller pieces. And then I take the first step before my brain starts to protest. Want to exercise? Don't think about how you'll feel while you're exercising. Just put your shoes on. Focus on that and do it. When you're done with that, start a song you love. Focus on that and do it. When you're done with that, open the door. Focus on that and do it. When you're done with that, take a step outside the door. 

Break whatever it is into pieces so small that it isn't at all intimidating. Don't allow your brain to defeat you by jumping 10 steps ahead to what feels overwhelming. Focus on the next step. And the next step. And the next step. 

Eventually all of those steps will add up to the overwhelming thing I felt paralyzed by. That momentum will propel me on to the next thing, and ultimately a life of courage and fulfillment.

Often in scripture God didn't call people who were self assured or an obvious "shoe-in". And he didn't reveal the whole plan all at once. He gave his people as much information as they needed to take the next step. And then the next step, and the next step. His plans are magnificent and eternal. Too big for our minds to grasp, and overwhelming for our finite imaginations. We don't necessarily need the ten point plan. Just the next step.

It comes down to faith. Having faith to take the next step.

What have you put off doing because it seems overwhelming? And what is the next step you can focus on?

Growth as an Expression of God's Beauty

I love beautiful things. People, art, music, nature, food, psychology...the list is endless. I love it all.

The thing all beautiful things have in common? Imperfection. In my opinion, beauty is perfected by flaws. Flaws proclaim uniqueness, reveal intimate details of the journey the object of beauty has taken to arrive where it is in time and space. It allows me to see the world through someone else's point of view. 

Growth is beautiful too. Not just the kind you see. The kind that comes from learning new things. New things that take root in my heart and produce a harvest. 

I feel most fulfilled when - 

• I am learning, growing, and sharing what I've learned and how I've grown. 
• I experience beauty in a new way and I can share it with other people. 

Maybe God put me here to find beauty, learn from it and share it with other people. Maybe. I'm still trying to figure that out. 

The thing I've discovered about learning & growth - I have to want it more than I want comfort, to save face, or be right. It has to matter more than my ego, or my right to place blame. 

It happens exponentially when I intentionally seek it, and live in a posture of openness. Openness to feedback, information and new perspectives. This involves listening without interrupting, and refraining from the instinct to be defensive. Allowing information to come in, without feeling the need to volley it back. It means continually turning toward others, instead of turning away when sparks begin to fly.

Iron doesn't sharpen iron because it's soft and frilly. Sparks fly. There is heat. Friction.

Openness has to co-exist with discernment. Not everything flung at me will be something I should soak in and take on. 

I've learned to 'try things on' in my head. To imagine putting it on like a garment and what life would be like to wear it. How would I feel? How would I treat others? What would my relationship with God look like? This allows me to think about it and process the information in more ways. Ways that I might not consider by just looking at it on the rack.

Slow down. If it's right, it will still be right tomorrow when I've had time to calm down, process and create space to discern. 

When I feel the instinct to do something RIGHT NOW, I take that as a sign to pick an appropriate amount of time to remain neutral. When that time is over, if I still believe the belief/action is right, I take the first step. While intentionally remaining open to feedback. 

All of this is done in the context of being connected to the True Vine. Being plugged in, fed regularly, nourished properly and filled with the Spirit, empowers me to make decisions in wisdom and discernment that comes from God. 

Growth is possible and beautiful. It's how I encounter God on a daily basis. It's how I experience beauty in the world around me. 

How a Freckle-Faced, Free-Spirit Bucked the System, with a Little Help From Mama Bear

Convinced that if we did it right - if I could be positive about it, never compare her, or imply she was less than - there would be no negative consequences, I enrolled her in 3rd grade.

Her twin brother advanced to 4th. 

It broke my heart that there was no accounting for all the ways she excelled that couldn't be reflected in the classroom. Her creativity, and horticultural genius. Her exquisitely riotous, free spirit that knit my soul to hers. 

But slowly, her confidence eroded. 

The thing about being a mama is, I can only work with the knowledge I have now, the advice of others in the moment, prayer and where I believe I am being led. But eventually I have to make a decision. 

It isn't possible to predict every outcome or encounter. I can't protect her from other children or interactions. There is no bubble suit for what happens when a sweet, freckle-faced girl doesn't fit the mold laid out for her.

I did my best. I made the best decision I could, and still had to watch my daughter become damaged by it. 

To this day, I don't know how I could have made another decision. I believe that we did the right thing. 

A couple of years ago, it became very apparent how all of this had harmed her and I made a commitment to her that we were going to figure out a way for her to graduate with her brother. 

At the time I imagined homeschooling her to accomplish it, but I did some research and learned about a program here in Irving that allows students who have been held back to catch up to their original grade level. 

We applied months ago, and were supposed to learn about whether she was accepted back in March, but the world went crazy and it was delayed.

We have waited VERY impatiently, and because of our tenaciousness, we got a call today...on the day the decision was made instead of having to wait for a letter... 

SHE GOT IN.

I don't know how all of this will shape her life, or mine. 

But for now, I'm happy with the twinkle in her eye and the spring in her step. 

Drowning and Letting Go

I swim in open water. 

Deep. Dark. 

I pray.

Desperately I scan the horizon for a sign, a marker, something to indicate this won't last forever. Endless ocean fills my visage. 

I pray.

My arms are filled with precious things. Good things. Beautiful things. 

I pray.

I kick my legs furiously, but my arms are full and the water is tempestuous and . . . I choke and bob and gasp for air. 

I pray.

I fight the panic that threatens to consume. 

I pray.

I hear a voice . . . let it go. 

I contemplate releasing the precious, good and beautiful things that impair my ability to navigate the deep and choppy waters. But the people around me tell me to hold on and kick more efficiently. They can't see that my lungs are full of water, so I hold on and kick my legs harder. 

I am asked what's wrong with me, why I can't keep up...but I am unable to even take a breath without filling my lungs with water...and I can't form a thought or speak a word asking for help. 

I fear. Will my relationships survive me letting go? 

So I kick harder. I hold on to the precious, good and beautiful things tighter. I pray. 

I hear a voice . . . let. it. go.

There is no amount of work that I put in, no amount of attitude changes or silent prayers said, that decreases the amount of water entering my lungs. I hear voices asking what I need and how they can help me...but I can't take a breath . . . and I certainly can't speak. I'm too busy trying to survive to be able to form a coherent thought. I pray.

I hear a voice . . . LET. IT. GO. 

My head spends more and more time under the water, until it is consumed by it. 

As I sink lower and lower and lower into the depths, I am about to die. I pray. And I hear a voice . . . 

LET IT GO!

So I release one of the good, precious and beautiful things . . . but I continue to sink. So . . . I release it all. As I watch them float away, I wave my arms, kick my legs and am drawn closer and closer to the surface.

I can't breath yet. But there is hope. 

I let it go.