Here’s the thing about deconstruction: eventually, you are finished.
At the end of my deconstruction, I panicked. There was very little left for me to hold onto, and I was terrified of letting go. The idea of deconstruction became my armor, my answer, my reason for not moving forward.
I was hanging there, swinging from a vine of every question I’d ever asked and every doubt I’d ever entertained.
I knew the next step was reconstruction. That was always the goal, right? Take it all apart so I could put it back together… better? I wanted to pull all of the stuff out of the closet so I could determine what was useful and what was junk. I needed to hold each belief in my hands and decide whether to discard the concept or add it to the stack of building materials.
It felt like a never-ending process. It lasted years and years. I was already years into the journey before I acknowledged I was on the journey at all. And then I was at the end, swinging from that vine, terrified of letting go.
What if I fell onto hard concrete and broke every bone in my spiritual body? What if there was nothing left of me… no way to begin rebuilding?
My fingers were slipping.
I had to make a choice.
I chose to let go.
I fell, but I didn’t hit concrete. I didn’t break my bones. Instead, someone caught me. A group of someones, actually.
I bounced first, the Liturgists podcast community and some Internet-based friendships slowing my descent, and then…
My own real-life church community caught me. They caught me and held on, because they are not the normal pretend-we’ve-got-it-all-together, here’s-the-church-and-here’s-the-steeple, kind of group.
Some of them are in the deconstruction process themselves. Some have already rebuilt. Some have never admitted to a doubt in their life, and some just naturally balance faith and doubt without falling apart how I did. Regardless, when I let go of everything I ever believed, I found myself cradled in this community.
What do they have in common?
They love Jesus. They love their neighbor.
I’m their neighbor.
I’m finished deconstructing. It’s time to rebuild, and I’m standing here on an ancient foundation.
God is relationship. God is community. God is the mystery of Trinity, the metaphor of incarnation, the Spirit of creativity…
God is so many things, and my need to stuff God into a church-box is finally gone. Whatever I build on this foundation will be open to the world that originated in the heart and mind of a God bigger than any of us can ever dream.
My walls will always be made of doors.