The Emotions of Deconstruction
By Jonathan Brink
What does it feel like when some of what you’ve been taught to believe to be true doesn’t quite feel true anymore? Fear. Wonder. Betrayal. These are the emotions of deconstruction.
I grew up in a Baptist church and at nine moved to a non-denominational church that pretended it wasn’t Baptist. And very quickly I was taught that God was once mad at me and now He’s not. And that I was supposed to accept that He wasn’t mad at me so I could be with Him in sixty years (or after I died), or go to hell. I chose the former. In the meantime my responsibility in this life was to be good and tell people how to avoid hell.
Yes, this is a caricature. I was six and very impressionable when I first heard it. Yet isn’t this what we’re all taught in some form or other? And who are we to question those who come before us? Greater minds than us have gone through every nook and cranny, deciphering every clue and context to come to one great conclusion. Problem is, the older I got the more I realized that there isn’t really one great conclusion. There’s several conclusions. And what even cosmically happened on the cross is a mystery. It’s called the Paschal Mystery to be exact. What do you mean you don’t really know?
And great minds come to conclusion that leave gaping holes in the fabric, ones that if we read enough, we begin to say, “Hey, there’s a hole in your coat.”
“What hole? I don’t see a hole.”
“The one right there in the hem of your fabric.”
“There’s no hole.”
You see, the more I walk down the path of deconstruction, the more I’m beginning to see the holes in the fabric. And this moment often feels like the little boy in the Emperor’s New Clothes. Is it just me, or does anyone else see that the emperor has no clothes on?
And who am I to question what those before me have offered? Who am I to ask questions? But these questions nag at me. If this thing is not right, then what about that? Good people are asking great questions. And we’re not doing it because we want to be jerks. We sense a deep dissonance within our own hearts about the story that we have been told. And the more we ponder
the dissonance, the more we begin to listen to those who are asking the same questions and coming to decidedly different conclusions. And these conclusions begin to resonate.
And to be clear, I’m not talking about deconstructing Scripture. Oh what a beautiful gift is Scripture. I’m deconstructing human attempts to understand Scripture. There’s a difference. And I’m rejecting the wholesale approach to blindly accepting everything I’m told. I’m not a child anymore.
And not everything is wrong. Most of we hold about Jesus and what happened on the cross is right and true, in fact glorious? But my concern has always been rooted in the desire to get to a whole picture, one unfiltered by all the baggage great minds have lopped on in the historical process of theology. I don’t want to just talk about Jesus, which is what we seem to do. I want to follow Jesus. Show me that.
At some point the dissonance begins to get to those who are willing to ask the questions. We have to abandon certain things we’ve been told, simply for our own sake. We need to step away from the traditional process of our youth. So many good people who love us come with deep concern, asking us to abandon our questions. But I’m left with the question, “If what we hold is so true, then why do I still have these questions? And if it’s true, is it
true enough to answer my questions in a wholistic way?” And their concern leads me to wonder, “Why are people afraid of questions?”
Sadly, the answer back from the crowd is usually anger, which typically and immediately ends the conversation. And so I am left wondering, questioning my own resolve to continue down the path that I hope, and have always intended, would lead me to an unfiltered knowledge of my true Daddy.
I don’t want to quit. But to be honest I have thought about it. It would be easier just to ignore the dissonance and tuck it away. And this is the moment that I step back from the dissonance to the one great truth that I have learned: to place my life back into His hands, resting in His grace to carry me, lead me, restore me, and resurrect me.
Jonathan Brink is Managing Director of Thrive Ministries, a missional discipleship agency. He lives in California with his wife and three kids.
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Great post Jonathon! I feel like I’m going through some of that “deconstruction” now too. It’s not comfortable or safe, but I think in the end, if I let it, it will be good for me… and others.
Hi Jonathan,
Lovely piece. I like your comments regarding deconstruction of human understandings of Scripture, versus deconstruction of scripture itself, and learning to place our selves in God’s hands. Those are threatening concepts for people who, like me, have for too long knelt in reverence before the altar of self-sufficiency and independence erected to the idol of theological constructs rather than the God Who Is. God’s hands are always a much better place to be than our own, but that does not mean letting go is easy, just that it is necessary if we want to experience God’s work in our lives rather than doing it all on our own.
Thanks again for your words.
Is there really such a thing as “Scripture itself?”
Joel/Alan/Henry, thank you for your kind words. And Henry, thank you for your honesty.
Thank you for sharing your journey in deconstruction. I love that you are embracing the mystery of Christ and the Cross. I recently attended a church conference that was fairly “anti-emergent” and was struck by peoples’ unwillingness to admit that their interpretation of scripture was colored by their own perspective, biases, cultural context, and history. To approach the word with humility and understanding that we, as humans, cannot grasp the full complexity of God or truth or God’s word is a great and exciting journey, and one that I am personally glad to be on. Thanks again for your words.
I’m serious about my question – what is the difference between deconstructing Scripture and deconstructing humans’ attempts to understand Scripture? That reads to me like you are making a distinction between Scripture as such and people’s interpretations of Scripture. Your use of the word “unfiltered” also leads me to believe that this is the distinction you are making. If that is indeed the distinction you are making, then I would suggest to you that you re-read your Derrida.
Brad, yes I am making a distinction between Scripture and people’s understanding of it. Much of what I have been working to deconstruct is there very interpretation of what has been historically given to me. And some of it just doesn’t work.
I’m not sure what your concern is.
Well, my concern is that if you are going to take deconstruction seriously (and I hope you are) and not just use it as jargon (which I hope you aren’t), then you have to confront Derrida’s deconstruction of the “metaphysics of presence.” And much of that project involved the idea that there is no such thing as a non-interpretted text (and therefore no such thing as a text itself). Essentially, Derrida has shown that one of the things that “has been historically given” to you is that as an unmediated, uninterpretted text.
The distinction that you should be making is between different understandings of Scripture.
What I am looking for is one that the Holy Spirit gives me. This is for me wisdom.
I pray that all Christians are looking for that. But a Holy Spirit filtered knowledge is much different than an unfiltered knowledge.
Brad, to a certain extent I think you might have missed what this post is about. It’s not about Derrida, but about the emotion of tearing down what was once held as true.
My comment about Scripture was specifically there because people are very weary of what exactly we are deconstructing. You may have a deep knowledge of Derrida and his thoughts. Well done. But understand the concept goes beyond Derrida. It’s not just jargon. It’s people putting into language what they are experiencing.
Jonathon,
I admire your search and your questions. In your quest for truth, always ask questions that have answers.
If you’re a parent, you know that any 3 year old can ask questions that no adult can answer. Also, the Bible does not attempt to provide answers to every question – for instance, what was going on before creation? The Bible is fairly quiet on the question.
However, on the important questions of man’s duty and the question of, “what must I do to be saved,” the Bible sounds a clarion call.
It must be. How could God create moral beings with intellect, and give them a duty and responsibiily. A duty that if they fail to fulfill, they do so at penalty of eternal death in hell.
Certainly God must be crystal clear to men about their duty – otherwise, he would not be just. How could God possibly comdemn one soul to perdition, who was not fully aware of his duty? The answer is, he couldn’t and wouldn’t. We could find no approbation in such an unjust Being.
But thanks be to God, that even though there has been a lot of misinfomation throughout the ages, we know that somehow God has clearly communicated his will to every man. So that no man will be able to claim ignorance at the Judgment.
Jonathan-
I wonder if you have an example of the difference between not deconstructing Scripture while deconstructing a received understanding of Scripture?
And maybe you could relate that to the Scripture, Jude 3, “I…appeal to you to contend for the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints.”
No desire to be contentious, just understanding of the position.
Jonathan,
I thought I replied a couple days ago, but I guess my comment was eaten.
I think I understand the main point of your post – in fact, I believe that what I was saying is directly related to the point of your post.
Let me explain more fully what I was trying to say. When we think there is such a thing as Scripture itself or a non-interpretted Scripture, then 1 of 2 things is going to happen. The first possibility is that we are going to become frustrated that we can’t get to Scripture itself – we question and question and question but never arrive at what we are seeking. This path ultimately leads to loss of faith. The second possibility is that we will believe that we have already found Scripture itself. And we will become rigid and sectarian and very much like the people you describe in your second paragraph. As you say, this path ends conversations.
Essentially what I’m saying is deconstruction can help you with the “dissonance” that you feel. I think you fall in the first group, the one that is searching for (as you say) “unfiltered knowledge.” But, as I said in a previous comment, much of Derrida’s work “involved the idea that there is no such thing as a non-interpretted text” or “unfiltered knowledge” or Scripture itself. And once we reject the idea that there is such a beast, then it frees us up to view interpretation as a created good. And once we view interpretation in that way, then we should no longer feel a dissonance in not being able to “arrive” at our destination of “unfiltered knowledge” since we will realize that such a destination doesn’t even exist.
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Jonathan,
You voiced my recent journeys well!
Thank you