Recommended Read: Surviving God: Through the Eyes of Sexual Abuse Survivors

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Surviving God: A New Vision of God through the Eyes of Sexual Abuse Survivors, by Grace Ji-Sun Kim (Author), Susan M. Shaw (Author)

Who is God when we see God through the eyes of survivors? Many books have dealt with sexual abuse scandals in the church and the role of pastoral care for survivors. Others have provided liberatory readings of biblical texts to support survivors of sexual violence.

Surviving God takes a new approach, centering the voices of sexual abuse survivors while rethinking key Christian beliefs. Starting from experiences of oppression, beliefs that contribute to oppression are challenged, and new, hopeful, and healing beliefs take their place.

Groundbreaking theologians Grace Ji-Sun Kim and Susan M. Shaw, each a survivor herself, demonstrate how traditional ways of thinking about God are highly problematic, contribute to the problems of sexual abuse, and are not reflective of the God of love and justice at the heart of the gospel.

These long-held theologies often perpetuate the problem of sexual abuse and fail to promote healing for survivors. Drawing from their own experiences and the experiences of other survivors, and centering the ways gender intersects with race, sexuality, class, and religion, Kim and Shaw lead us to deep healing and a transformed church that no longer contributes to the devastation of sexual abuse. In these inspiring pages, you will discover new ways of thinking about God that are surprising, challenging, and empowering.

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"Any church leader who feeds themselves

rather than feeding the sheep is a counterfeit shepherd.

Anyone in a position of power within the body of Christ

who abuses a lamb or hides the abuse

done to the one the Good Shepherd knows and calls by name

has profaned the name of our God."

- Diane Langberg, PhD

ADULT CLERGY SEXUAL ABUSE SURVEY

Over 7,000 claims of sexual abuse by church staff, congregation members, volunteers, or the clergy were made to just three insurance companies over a 20-year period (Seattle Post-Intelligencer, 2007). Recently, a study of over 300 alleged child sexual abuse cases in protestant Christian congregations found the overwhelming majority took place on church grounds, or at the offender’s home, most frequently carried out by Caucasian, male clergy or youth pastors (Denney, Kerley, & Gross, 2018).

• More than 3% of women who had attended a congregation in the past month reported that they had been the object of CSM at some time in their adult lives; 92% of these sexual advances had been made in secret, not in open dating relationships; and 67% of the offenders were married to someone else at the time of the advance.

• In the average American congregation of 400 persons, with women representing, on average, 60% of the congregation, there are, on average of 7 women who have experienced clergy sexual misconduct.

• Of the entire sample, 8% report having known about CSM occurring in a congregation they have attended. Therefore, in the average American congregation of 400 congregants, there are, on average, 32 persons who have experienced CSM in their community of faith.

• 51% of pastors say that Internet pornography is a possible temptation for them Approximately 20% of the monthly calls to Focus on the Family’s Pastoral Ministries Division are because of sexual misconduct and pornography. More than 30% of pastors are functionally addicted to Internet pornography. More than 15% of pastors engage in sexual behavior that they consider inappropriate. 10-14% of pastors have sexual contact with someone other than their spouse while employed as a minister.

• ​A survey of 6,000 United Methodists found: Half of all laywomen and one-third of laymen witness or are victims of some degree of sexual harassment or misconduct in their congregations, from inappropriate comments by the pastor or laity in leadership to physical assault and stalking.

• ​​​Clergy sexual misconduct with adults is a huge problem, prevalent across all denominations, all religions, all faith groups, ​all across the country. Rev. Pamela Cooper-White, former director of the Center for Women and Religion at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, California, and currently Ben G. and Nancye Clapp Gautier Professor of Pastoral Theology, Care, and Counseling at Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur, Georgia, estimates that of the vast majority of victims of sexual exploitation by clergy, more than 95 percent, are women.

• One in 8 Protestant senior pastors say a church staff member has sexually harassed a member of the congregation at some point in the church’s history. One in 6 pastors say a staff member has been harassed in a church setting.​

• ​More pastors say they are addressing sexual and domestic violence from the pulpit. Still, half say they lack training in how to address sexual and domestic violence.

• According to the late A. W. Richard Sipe, the sexual exploitation of women by priests is not uncommon. Other researchers have argued that misconduct by clerics toward women is even more prevalent than their sexual abuse of children. According to research cited in When Pastors Prey, a publication of the World Council of Churches, 90 to 95 percent of victims of clergy sexual exploitation are women. This book also cites a 1984 survey of clergy in various Protestant denominations that found that 39 percent admitted to having sexual contact with a congregant and 12.7 percent had had sexual intercourse with a congregant.

According to this article, there are 2.7 church shootings a year. There are an estimated 378,000 congregations in the United States, which means the likelihood of any congregation being involved in a shooting in any year is approximately one in 126,000 or 0.0000079 percent.

You are more likely to be abused by someone in the church, than your congregation ​being involved in a shooting. Joshua Peace says in this article, "Diagnosing the scope of the problem [sexual abuse in church] isn’t easy, because there’s no hard data. The most commonly referenced study shows how difficult it is to find accurate statistics. In that 2007 report, the three largest insurers of churches and Christian nonprofits said they received about 260 claims of sexual abuse against a minor each year. Those figures, though, exclude groups covered by other insurers, victims older than 18, people whose cases weren’t disclosed to insurance companies and the many who, like Denhollander, never came forward. In other words, the research doesn’t include what is certainly the vast majority of sexual abuse." ​

• There are studies that demonstrate that the faith community is even more vulnerable to abuse than secular environments. The Abel and Harlow study revealed that 93% of sex offenders describe themselves as “religious” and that this category of offender may be the most dangerous. Other studies have found that sexual abusers within faith communities have more victims and younger victims.

• 50% of pastors admit to using pornography and 37% report inappropriate sexual behavior ​with someone in the church.

• 40% of married pastors have ​had an extramarital affair (clergy abuse) ​while serving as a pastor​​.

• Abel Harlow Child Molestation Prevention Study: This study found that pedophilia molesters average 12 child victims and 71 acts of molestation. An earlier study by Dr. Abel found that out of 561 sexual offenders there were over 291,000 incidents totaling over 195,000 total victims. These are enough victims to fill 2 ½ Superdomes! This same study found that only 3% of these sexual offenders have a chance of getting caught.

• In her book, Dr. Anna Salter revealed that her own interviews of sexual offenders found them admitting to having perpetrated between 10 and 1250 victims. She also writes that every offender she interviewed had been previously reported by children, and the reports were ignored.

Study: Child Sexual Abuse in Protestant Christian Congregations ​Utilizing data from 326 cases of alleged child sexual abuse that occurred at or through activities provided by Protestant Christian congregations between 1982 & 2014.The overwhelming majority of identified offenders were male. Specifically, male offenders were represented by 98.8%. Specifically, offender ages at the time of the alleged sexual abuse ranged from 18 to 88 years of age.

The overwhelming majority (80.1%) of offenders were employed in an official capacity within their respective churches with a substantial minority (19.9%) being volunteers. Pastor 34.9% - Youth Minister 31.4% - Youth Volunteer 8.3% - Associate Pastor 5.4% - Music Minister 4.8% - Volunteer 3.2% - Sunday School Teacher 2.9% - Deacon 2.2% - Church Member 2.2% - Church Camp Worker 0.6%. The most frequent male offender role was a Pastor at 34.9%

Five specific location-types of at the church, the offender’s home, off-site, off-site church-sponsored activity, and the victim’s home emerged.​​​

​An overwhelming majority of the pastors surveyed (75%) underestimate the level of violence experienced within their congregations.

​Additionally, two out of three (66%) pastors speak once a year or less about the issue — and when they do speak out, the poll shows they may be providing support that does more harm than good.

And though 81% of pastors said they would take appropriate action to reduce sexual and domestic violence if they had the training and resources to do so, the "Broken Silence" report generated from this research highlights--at best--a significant blind spot within our churches in recognizing, responding to, and preventing gender-based sexual violence.

​In 2015 the first national survey of adult survivors of clergy perpetrated sexual abuse was conducted (March-May 2015). 280 survivors participated in the study. We are so grateful to the courageous survivors who agreed to participate. This project was directed by David Pooler, Ph.D., LCSW. Below you will find a summary of some of the salient findings.65% of survivors were married 88% of perpetrators were married.

• Only 4% of perpetrators were prosecuted.

• Only 8% Agree or Strongly Agree that their church supported them after the abuse occurred.

• 8% Agree or Strongly Agree that the perpetrator apologized to them.

• 50% Agree or Strongly Agree that their experience with the church after the abuse negatively affected their relationship with God.

• 80% Agree or Strongly Agree that their experience with the church after the abuse negatively affected their spiritual life.

• 7% Agree or Strongly Agree that their church had a policy in place to help support them.

• 9% Agree or Strongly Agree the church was helpful when they reported the abuse.
• 15% Agree or Strongly Agree that their church/denomination thoroughly investigated the report.

A 1984 Fuller Seminary survey of 1,200 ministers showed 1 in 5 theologically conservative pastors admitted to some sexual contact with a church member outside of marriage.

More than two-fifths of “moderate” pastors and half of “liberal” ones acknowledged the same.

A 1993 survey showed 6 percent of Southern Baptist pastors acknowledging sexual contact outside of marriage with someone in the congregation.

Websites devoted to reporting about clergy sexual abuse of both children and adults.

• The Wartburg Watch

• ​Watchkeep​

• Stop Baptist Predators

• ​No Eden Elsewhere

• Bishop Accountability - Abuse Tracker

• ​Baptist Accountability Database Site
• A crowd-sourced database for Baptist predators and their enablers.

​

Other Important Articles

• ​Crouching at Every Door - Sexual Abuse is a problem in both Catholic and Protestant churches -- Here are three environments in which Protestants are particularly vulnerable,by by Marvin Olasky, Sophia Lee, Emily Belz​ -- World Magazine.

• Child Sex Abusers in Prominent Christian Churches: An Offender Typology

Thomas Jay Oord: Reviewing "The Deconstruction of Christianity"

Reviewing “The Deconstruction of

Christianity”

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by Thomas Jay Oord   |   February 16th, 2024

In their book The Deconstruction of Christianity, Alisa Childers and Tim Barnett help readers “stand your ground and respond with clarity and confidence” in the face of deconstruction.

In what follows, I review the book. Overall, I find it unhelpful. But there are a few aspects I like.

Apostasy

The book starts on a sour note: the first word is “apostasy.” Readers like me will immediately wonder if this book aims to help those asking hard questions or defend the Christian faith against the “heretics.” In many ways, it opts for the second. The opening pages are not welcoming.

Childers and Barnett didn’t write this book for questioning people who are deconstructing. It’s for the friends and family of deconstructors. It’s “primarily written for Christians who are experiencing deconstruction from the outside.” The authors’ goal is to “walk you through what deconstruction is and how it works, and give you practical advice on how to relate with friends and loved ones going through it.” (6)

The authors acknowledge some people see deconstruction as compatible with Christianity. Childers and Barnett disagree. “Deconstruction is as old as humanity itself,” they say. “It began with Satan—the father of faith deconstruction—and continues today.” (47 ) In fact, “people have been abandoning the standard of God’s Word and engaging in a process of rethinking—and often abandoning—their faith since the beginning.” (61)

It’s Ultimately About Authority

This book has many problems, and I’ll list some later. As I see it, the fundamental problems are two:

1. The authors want a fully trustworthy authority (the Bible).

2. The authors think Christians must choose between the Bible as that authority and the authority of the individual person.

“The heart of the deconstruction explosion is a rejection of biblical authority,” say Childers and Barnett bluntly. (26) The Bible provides truths that the method of deconstruction and deconstructors abandon.

Appealing to the Bible as the only trustworthy authority won’t convince those who deconstruct, of course. Most (rightly) doubt that the Bible is fully reliable, saying it is neither inerrant nor infallible. Childers and Barnett dismiss this doubt, in part, by saying deconstructors have shallow faith, are rebellious, fight on the wrong side of a spiritual battle, follow culture instead of Christ, are captive to Satan, get seduced by vain philosophy, are broken and sinful, and so on (see chapter 10 and elsewhere).

At least in this book, the authors don’t address realities that undermine belief in the absolute authority of the Bible. They don’t address people like me and others who 1) know the many errors and discrepancies in scripture, 2) know the original languages and differences between the oldest known biblical manuscripts, and 3) know that biblical passages receive a wide variety of plausible interpretations.

Objective vs. Subjective Truth?

Childers and Barnett believe Christians face an either/or choice when it comes to truth. They can 1) place their trust in the Bible, which is an external authority. Or 2) trust themselves and their own subjectivity.

The Bible “communicates objective truth that isn’t meant to be interpreted subjectively,” the authors claim (34). In the deconstruction movement, “biblical interpretation becomes subjective.” (35) “Deconstruction isn’t just about questioning beliefs,” they say, “it’s about rejecting Scripture as the source of objective truth and authority.” (121) Deconstructors reject God’s Word.

This objective vs. subjective scheme, however, makes little sense. Long before “deconstruction” was a word in the academy or popular culture, people realized no one has a fully objective, unbiased, and uninfluenced perspective. Histories, cultures, perspectives, preferences, biology, and feelings influence those who read the Bible. Because personal subjectivity inevitably influences our interpretations, good and wise people interpret scripture in ways.

Sometimes those in the deconstruction community encourage people to “make up their own minds,” instead of following a church, pastor, or influencer. But this doesn’t mean people are entirely free of influence from others. We’re always affected by forces, factors, ideas, and actors external to ourselves. Objective causes influence our subjectivity; interpretations have external influences.

People like Jacques Derrida are right when they say that words—including biblical words — have no timeless and absolute meaning. But you don’t have to be a philosopher to know this: just look at how many biblical translations and interpretations are present today and throughout history. A more accurate view says objective factors outside ourselves always affect our subjectivity. And one of those factors may or may not be the Bible.

Authoritative Mindset

Two overarching issues came repeatedly to mind as I read The Deconstruction of Christianity. The first has to do with what in cognitive science is called the “Authoritative” mindset. Childers and Barnett write from it, and their frequent appeals to biblical authority illustrate this.

Cognitive sciences describe three primary mindsets among people at least in the West: Authoritative, Nurturant, and Permissive. Evangelicals like Childers and Barnett typically operate from the Authoritative mindset. They need authorities more than most people. So Authoritatives put their confidence in a book (Bible), group (church or denomination), leader (pastor), government (USA), or person (Donald Trump). They also prize obedience, order, certainty, hierarchies, coercion, and more.

As I read The Deconstruction of Christianity, I found oodles of evidence that Childers and Barnett operate from an Authoritative mindset. Deconstruction annoys them because it does not. In God After Deconstruction (coming out in April 2024), Tripp Fuller and I argue that the Nurturant mindset better reflects the message of Jesus. Sociological studies show that those with a Nurturant mindset are healthier in various ways than those with Authoritative mindsets. They also live well without the strong need for external authorities.

Complexity Stage

The second theme continually coming to my mind as I read Childers and Barnett is what many call the “stages of faith.” Brian McLaren offers a rubric with four stages and names them “simplicity,” “complexity,” “perplexity,” and “harmony.”

Childers and Barnett fit nicely in the complexity stage. Like simplicity people, they seek clear categories of black and white, us and them, in and out, right and wrong. The authors make strong distinctions between Christ vs. the world, church vs. culture, and scriptural truth vs. societal opinions. But unlike simplicity people, Childers and Barnett offer sophisticated versions of these distinctions, realizing there must be some nuance.

Those who deconstruct fit in either the perplexity or harmony stages of faith. The connection between deconstruction and perplexity will be obvious. But even in the harmony stage, the methods of deconstruction are not abandoned. Harmony people recognize the falsity of strict binaries, in part, because they cannot capture well the God present to and revealing in all creation.

Should Christians Question?

Childers and Barnett repeatedly tell their readers that questioning is normal and has always been part of the Christian faith. Christians should ask questions about the Bible, God, and life. Test the Bible, they say, and the church.

But the questioning Childers and Barnett advocate can’t get too radical. We should not question the ultimate authority: “God’s Word” (or what is better called “Christian scripture”). Questioning harms if it undermines this ultimate standard for truth. Some who ask questions are really just looking for ways to exit the faith.

Although deconstruction is bad, reformation is good. According to the authors, “reformation is the process of correcting mistaken beliefs to make them align with Scripture.” (125) Notice the priority of the Bible again. The message: question… but don’t abandon scripture.

To return to McLaren’s faith formation language, Childers and Barnett seem to encourage questioning if it moves the Christian from a simplistic faith to a complex one. But questioning that might move the person toward perplexity and harmony goes too far. Such questioning might, and usually does, undermine trust in the Bible as fully trustworthy. And it might lead people to doubt doctrines the authors consider essential, even the existence of God.

To illustrate his willingness to entertain tough questions, Tim Barnett briefly brings up the problem of evil. The authors earlier (rightly) noted that questions about evil are the primary reasons people deconstruct. When asked why God doesn’t stop evil, Barnett says, “I don’t know.” He doesn’t have an answer to why God sometimes permits evil, but other times intervenes. He knows this isn’t satisfying, but he’s trying to be honest.

I wonder why the Bible—Barnett’s authoritative source and “God’s Word”—doesn’t provide an answer to the problem of evil that satisfies him. To the #1 question asked by people who deconstruct, why doesn’t the alleged ultimate authority offer a satisfying answer? Barnett thinks the Bible’s clear about issues like penal substitutionary atonement, although that issue keeps far fewer people up at night.

Despite the encouragement to ask some questions, The Deconstruction of Christianity claims that those who deconstruct are deceived, rebellious, disingenuous, etc. See the list above. This encouragement rings hollow.

Reasons to Deconstruct

In the first half of the book, Childers and Barnett address reasons people deconstruct. They don’t offer answers to these issues. And they give mixed messages.

At one point, the authors claim that “most people don’t make a conscious choice to enter into deconstruction.” This fits the experience of most people I know. The authors say that deconstruction is “often triggered by a crisis that initiates the process. It’s typically not something people choose. In many cases, it happens to them.” (78) Elsewhere, however, the authors blame deconstruction on “rebellion against God” (193).

Among the reasons people deconstruct, the authors list suffering, doubt, politics, purity culture, the Bible, toxic theology, and abuse. They don’t offer rejoinders for these reasons. And they say that people of shallow faith struggle with them. The message seems to be those who truly trust the Bible can handle issues that might tempt other people to deconstruct.

Childers and Barnett insist that abuse and injustice are not reflections of Christian doctrines. “There certainly are valid examples of abuse in the church, such as sexual assault and abuses of power,” they say. “But many deconstructionists go further, saying that some historic orthodox teachings of Christianity—such as penal substitutionary atonement, the doctrine of hell, and complementarianism—are abusive by nature.” (96)

Although the authors preach the importance of good theology, they will not admit that some of what they consider “historic orthodox teachings” leads people to deconstruct.

Toxic Theology?

In a chapter titled “Toxic,” Childers and Barnett further address the claim that traditional Christian practices and doctrines sometimes harm. These claims about harm draw primarily from research in sociology and history, they say, rather than Scripture.

Beth Allison Barr’s book The Making of Biblical Womanhood garners the authors’ attention. Barr argues that Christian views have often harmed women and restricted them from some roles. Childers and Barnett also cite Kristin Kobes DuMez’s work on Christian nationalism as an example of history and sociology trumping theology.

The authors say arguments like Barr’s and Kobes DuMez’s begin by identifying a problem in society. Then they show how the church endorsed or allowed this problem. Finally, they argue that theology (especially white evangelical theology) should be rejected or reimagined.

Because Barr and Kobes DuMez address women’s issues, I was eager to see how Childers and Barnett would respond. I assumed the authors would give an argument for complementarity. Instead, they say, “The extent to which women can take part in church leadership roles has been hotly debated among faithful Christians for millennia. The point… is not to settle the correct biblical teaching on the topic.” Instead, they argue that history and sociology cannot “discover true doctrines and rule out harmful, false ones.” (150)

To settle disputes about the role of women and how they’ve been harmed, say the authors, we need “an objective standard to appeal to. This requires the Bible.” They add that “while neither of the authors of this book would fault someone for coming to an honest position on biblical grounds regarding the egalitarian vs. complementarian debate, we would fault someone for rejecting complementarianism simply because they didn’t like where those Bible passages lead.” (150)

Not the Bible Alone

In their discussion of Barr and DuMez, Childers and Barnett are blind to the problem they’ve created.

If “honest” people can come to differing views about gender roles while studying the “objective standard” of the Bible, that standard isn’t the clear authority needed to decide this issue. Childers and Barnett seem to admit that the Bible is open to more than one legitimate interpretation of what it says about women. This means other standards are needed.

Barr, Kobes DuMez, and others cite sociological, historical, psychological, and even medical data as offering apparent fruits of various Christian practices and doctrines. They’re pondering the consequences of particular beliefs and practices and making strong cases that some produce bad fruit. And because the Bible can be interpreted in various ways, we need other sources for deciding which beliefs and practices are healthy or true and which are not.

The role of women is just one among many issues in which the Bible cannot be the sole resource for Christian doctrines and practices. The need for multiple sources applies also to questions of sexuality.

In fact, I laughed out loud when I read the “Homophobia” section of the book. Childers and Barnett say that Scripture describes sexual immorality as any act of sex other than “between one man and one woman in the context of marriage.” This is laughable! Don’t they know about Solomon’s wives? Or are only some passages of the Bible authoritative on this issue? I laughed again when they wrote, “It’s not just a few so-called ‘clobber’ passages that teach this. It’s the narrative of Scripture cover to cover.” (37) What Bible are they reading?

What I Liked

There wasn’t much I liked in this book. But here are some in bullet form:

* I liked the authors’ empathy for family and friends of those who deconstruct. Of course, I think the lion’s share of empathy should go to deconstructors. The authors express relatively little of that compared to criticisms. But Childers and Barnett rightly note the anguish that parents and friends of those who deconstruct sometimes endure. It’s painful to teach a child your cherished beliefs, only to have that child call them harmful. To illustrate this point, Childers and Barnett write, “When deconstruction leads to a rejection of faith, that can feel like a death both to the one deconstructing and to their loved ones.” (66) They’re right.

* The authors quoted books and social media from some of the leading voices in deconstruction. Sometimes critics ignore what their opponents actually say. While Childers and Barnett made some missteps, I thought they were pretty good overall. I even found a few sources for the book Tripp and I are writing!

* The authors believe ideas matter. Like me, they think theology makes a difference, because our views of reality make a difference. While I disagree radically with many of their theological claims, I appreciate their dedication to exploring ideas, their truth and impact. Theology is more than sociology.

* I think critical race theory and its reflection on power should be one tool in social analysis. I affirm it. But I agree with the authors that sometimes those who use critical race theory put all their cards on issues of power without addressing issues of truth. Most times, the two overlap. But I think both must be addressed.

Conclusion

My notes on this book extend far beyond what I have written here. Although I disagree fundamentally with the authors and disagree on most points of the book, I’m glad I read it.

This book also helped with writing the book Tripp Fuller and I are doing called, God After Deconstruction. If these issues interest you, I hope you consider buying a copy when it comes in April 2024. And here’s a graphic for the upcoming Denver conference on the subject.

The Agony of Moving Through Personal Deconstruction

The Agony of Moving Through

Personal Deconstruction

R.E. Slater

I have a number of articles on deconstruction on this website having once entered a spiritually dark period in my own life. It was a personal space in which I did not wish to go when called by the Spirit into an unformed space filled with personal agony and disillusionment.

When entering into this unsettling space it immediately filled up with a definitive solitude which became a seemingly endless wilderness of striking aloneness. I remember it lasted a little over eleven months and felt distinctly uninhabited by the God I knew of everywhere presence. But here, the heavens were brass and answers were not to be found. I was in an existential space of personal abandonment and aloneness. More curious was the emotional fact thst I found I had no interest in ever leaving this space.

As the days and weeks came and went I began writing of my despair and struggling with the failings of my Christian faith as I looked out across the once familiar religious landscapes now seeing the shadowed ruins lying across the empty hills where crosses once stood and lives once lived and loved with a vibrancy of faith fresh and new as the fallen rain.

Paradoxically, through these early days and weeks of darkness and despair, of abandonment and steely heavens, the Spirit came to abide without leaving to comfort by broken heart. My ruins hung in my soul like Jesus' Cross on Golgatha's hill, or like Jeremiah's famed pit of despair. Here I sat in a wilderness I did not wish to leave. And when multiple opportunities came to grant a way out, I did not leave. Nor would I leave unless my Father God came to me with the direction and answers I yearned. Otherwise, I remained in spiritual limbo quite disinterested in my ashes having none come and sit with me to disturb, disrupt, or mock. Those malicious gigures would come later. For now, I was alone seeking my God.

I had said in my heart I would only leave my disillusionment with my faith when God was done with me so that I could know from God where-and-how to proceed. Otherwise, I would stubbornly remain, praying, thinking, reading, writing.... I needed direction and needed to allow the fellowship of God's Spirit time to work in my heart a new way of faith or none at all. I refused all other misdirections. I needed clairity and discernment. What came was most curious of all... not answers but the manigold blessings of uncertainty and doubt to sit with me as my newest companions around tge ashes of my faith.

Here, with my companions I began to learn the value of asking questions I was never taught to ask of the Chtistian dogma I was taught to accept. My dialogue with my shattered faith began to resurrect. As it rose I began to see the work I was commissiined to do on behalf of those I once sheparded. Now this commissiin left the Sunday School rooms for those who came like mysrlelf broken of faith bearing spiritual grief and disillusionment.

Because my experience of solitude and brokenness was so extreme, I would never recommend this kind of deconstructive experience to anyone. It was extremely hard in every way... and spiritually dangerous because of the many misleading paths leading out of it. Paths offering forms of help and answers which I rejected. The path ahead of me didn't offer answers but required me to ask harder questions of my faith. The path I chose was uncertainty and doubt and when completed would save me from leaving my faith.

At the last, my Spirit world was re-forming and I knew exactly what I was being called to do when falling headlong into a pit of darkness. The Spirit's vision was requiring me to deconstruct my past faith and thereby reconstruct it again in a totally radical way. It took many years of breakage and rebuilding as it couldn't be done in a moment. I was to reform and remake my emergent faith into a contemporarily progressive faith. But to do this required removing its very foundations on which it stood. In those moments, my ministry turned from the caretaking of traditional Christians to the caretaking of shattered faith communities. More specifically, to the ministry of the older Nones-and-Dones and to the younger audiences under 35 years of age. My focus was to center on the Spirit of life and a renewal of faith practices in loving speech and action by creating a "Theology of Love" rather than theologies of separation and hate.

To this vision I also was guided by the Lord to build a new theological foundation built upon a better, more expansive philosophic foundation than those the church has been clinging to over tge past 2000 years. Such a foundation was forcing bad Christian theology, beliefs, rituals, practices, worship experiences, and missional policies and practices. Again, this was not a task I wanted from God, but it was God's burden which became my own. I knew it would be hard, unwanted, and rejected by my former faith. And frankly, I was too old and worn out from years of bible study and ministry, work, and family to start over again. I did not want this Spirit burden but accepted this mantle to walk the desert lands of faith composed of seared hard hearts, indifference, ignorance, mockery, rejection, and unrepentant souls.

It also would limit my activity in promoting the much-needed earth policies of green (habitat) and blue (water) organizations to political groups who were activrly ignoring these subjects of vital currency to their messages of economic reform and betterment. After earning a Master Ecologist Certification from MSU's extension program the need to address-and-instate better ecological and clean water policies (known as "green infrastructural practices") became my other unpaid, fulltime job. Thsnkfully, after retirement, the Lord gave me 15 years in participatory environmental politics and at the same time 12 years in developing a post-evangelical process theology built upon Whitehead's earlier ((Hegelian) process philosophy.

Fifteen years ago I couldn't have done this. I had no grand vision nor ability to remake a better form of Chridtisn faith. Nor any vision on which to build a vision for vibrant ecological societies and embracing communities. Yet God had other plans and directed me into a (1) post-faith resurrection of Christianity and towards a (2) reinforcing democratically balanced socio-ecological political organizations both of whom I needed to learn from. Along the way, I discovered their heart beat as my own; that we each beat together in re-visioning the presence of our future. That I was not alone but had joined communities of deconstructionists looking to rebuild betters ways of living and believing together. I also found a God I could preach again and a more proper ecological response commensurate with my new faith vision for community and world.

The Spirit had broken my heart in rejecting my older, out-of-date faith, and healed my soul out of this same spirit-darkness of personal deconstruction. Within this intense year-long arrangement between God and mysrlf I was being prepared to speak of a better God than the one my faith once believed. A God who had become an idol. An idol I was to break, like Moses did to Aaron's golden calf, and to reconstitute back to a living God for all peoples. Not just to the lost flocks of the church - but to the non-churched, religious and nonreligious, broken, dismayed, and spiritually lost. It all began with deconstructing my perceived beliefs, my arguable dogmas and fsith tenets, my misleading apologia, and my refusal to admit uncertainty and doubt as my Spirit guides.

For those interested in my ongoing ramblings and lessons learned check the topics list found on the right side of my website labeled "deconstruction". All topical discussions had once started with deconstruction as the Lord helped me to resurrect each topic towards more uplifting iterations of non-dogmatically reconstructed forms of themselves by the loving Spirit's illuminating breath forming a new, living gospel which is equally consistent in its message to the church and the world.

To this efffort I have layered each article on top of all previous articles as I build upon each thought and topic towards a fuller range of faith encompassing processually based Christian structure centered in Jesus and in love. I think of it as a theology - or compendium - of love which Christianity has lost sight of... which then broke me... and has motivated me to question all the bad, dead doctrines which have missed all the good, living doctrines formed from a loving resurrected Creator God.

R.E. Slater

August 29, 2023

*I attached the CT article below to share how those churches or church associations which have not deconstructed themselves but have placed the onus of repentance on the other rather than doing the hard work of introspection and repentance amongst themselves. The CT writer thinks of deconstruction by the unhelpfully incorrect name of "burnout" as a way of socio-religious avoidance. I would rather see his editorial efforts to the evangelical church focus on throwing off the chains of hate to follow Jesus in his atoning crucifixion and redemption to life eternal in practices of love. - re slater

* * * * * * *

The Most Dangerous Form of Deconstruction

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by Russell Moore

February 9, 2022

What if some evangelicals are so burned out on church that they don’t even know it?

With all this talk of deconstruction these days, one problem is that very few people mean precisely the same thing when they use that word.

For some people, deconstructing means losing their faith altogether—becoming atheists, agnostics, or spiritual-but-not-religious nones. For others, deconstructing means still believing in Jesus but struggling with how religious institutions have failed.

And there are also many for whom deconstructing means maintaining an ongoing commitment to orthodox Christianity, as well as a robust commitment to the church—but without the cultural-political baggage associated with the label “evangelicalism.”

On one level, these divergent meanings may suggest that the term deconstruction doesn’t signify any one thing specifically—not without a great deal of qualification, that is. This is true, come to think of it, of the word evangelical these days as well.

But that doesn’t mean that deconstruction is a lesser phenomenon than we think. As a matter of fact, I think the case could be made that all of American evangelical Christianity is deconstructing—at least in some sense of the word.

It’s just that I believe there’s more than one way to deconstruct.

At one level, we can see deconstruction happening in terms of institutions. Someone asked me a few weeks ago what percentage of churches or ministries I thought were divided by the same political and cultural tumults ripping through almost every other facet of American life. I answered, “All of them. One hundred percent.”

I don’t mean that every church is in conflict; many aren’t. But even the churches and ministries that are not descending into warfare are aware of the conflict, and many are vigilant—wondering if one word said, or an event scheduled, might set it off.

Beyond that, at the level of individuals and leaders, we are perhaps not aware that the most dangerous forms of deconstruction are not the people we know who are doubting, scandalized, or traumatized by what they’ve seen in the church. There’s a different form of deconstruction that that could actually destroy us.

I always thought of “burnout” as a rather banal way of communicating exhaustion from overwork. “Make sure you take a vacation,” one might say. “You don’t want to burn out.”

In his new book, The End of Burnout, though, Jonathan Malesic argues that burnout is something else entirely. It is instead “the experience of being pulled between expectations and reality at work.” To illustrate his point, he uses the metaphor of walking on stilts.

Walking on stilts, he writes, is the experience of holding both one’s ideals and the reality of one’s job together. When the two stilts are aligned, one can keep them together and move forward. That doesn’t mean it’s easy, but it’s possible for one to walk. However, when the stilts are misaligned—that is, when the ideal and the reality are radically different—people find different ways to cope, which can lead to a kind of burnout.

 

Some, he argues, might cling to their ideals while the reality swings away from them. In his case, the metaphor has clear limits—because his point is that we place too high of expectations on our work and careers, expecting them to give us meaning and purpose in life, which they cannot deliver.

In the case of the church, however, we have not expected too much, but too little. The church is meant to shape our character, and if not to grant meaning to our life, then to at least to point us toward the meaning—through worship, mission, and teaching.

Yet some have seen behind the veil to a kind of Christianity that does not even aspire to holiness, love, gentleness, Christlikeness, renewal of mind, bearing of burdens—the kind of church found in the New Testament. These people are often led to the point of exhaustion at the incongruity of it all, perhaps questioning if they were lied to all along.

For some, Malesic contends, the stilt walking falters when they ignore the reality and hold on to their ideals anyway. This is the sort of coping mechanism we see in those who wave away the current crisis in the church by saying, “Well, think of all the good things happening” or “Most people aren’t like that” or “The church was never meant to be made up of perfect people.”

Those things are easy to believe, because there’s a sense in which they are all true. But often, in times like these, what they really mean is “Don’t talk about these matters in public; we can handle them on our own in private, but we don’t want to give Jesus a bad reputation.” The problem is, Jesus never asked his church to protect his reputation, especially by covering up when something wrong or dangerous is done in his name.

But what’s more is that, as Malesic points out in the workplace, the “If we don’t talk about it, it will go away” mentality cannot hold. If our moral ideals are strong but we reassure ourselves with a false version of reality, we will end up seeing through our own delusions—and others certainly will.

And when that happens, it results in a different kind of burnout—frustration. That is, we begin to despair that anything ever can or will eventually be done to fix things.

The most dangerous form of deconstruction, however, is what we see happening in the lives of people who would never see themselves deconstructing. Many of them seem to believe what they’ve always believed, and they still belong to or lead the same institutions they always have.

In fact, they are often the ones heatedly denouncing those who are deconstructing—or the ones still left wondering how and why so much awful fruit could emerge from systems and institutions they presumed to be godly, trusted, and “confessional.”

For some of these people, there’s an entirely different kind of deconstruction or type of burnout.

Malesic argues that this form of burnout happens when their ideals and reality are so divergent that—having to choose one of the stilts on which to cling—they abandon the ideals to settle for the reality as it is.

At first, they can find all sorts of reasons why their former ideals are too unrealistic, even if these reasons are completely incongruent with what they once stood for. People who expect the church to live up to what Jesus demanded of it are said to be “currying favor with elites” or “not realistic about how the world works” or “not seeing what’s at stake if we don’t circle the wagons around ‘the base.’”

In following this strategy, people begin to depersonalize those around them. This leads to cynicism. Once the institution is all that’s left—or “the movement” or “the cause” or the “theology” or, even worse, their own position and platform—they have ultimately torn down their individual character, which is needed to protect and build those institutions.

Even worse, they have deadened the personal conscience needed to hear the call to repent. One can be a hack easily enough in the marketplace or in the political arena. But playing to whatever “the base” wants or expects from the church of Jesus Christ year after year does something far worse—and not just to the institution or the lives of those harmed, but to the very souls of those who play the game.

Once they have whittled down their moral principles to only those that are useful in maintaining their own place of belonging—they have essentially deconstructed themselves.

As we watch evangelicalism in the United States deconstructing in various ways, I wonder if what we should do is not avoid burnout but rather seek the right kind. After all, God’s most miraculous work seems to come at the point of our greatest frustration, helplessness, and even despair.

The prophet Elijah was not crazy to believe that he had encountered a hopeless situation. In his time, the people of God were captive to idols, and to vicious, predatory, narcissistic leadership. But Elijah had to get to the point where he could hear God saying to him, What are you doing here, Elijah?

John the Baptist was not being unreasonable when he sent his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?” (Luke 7:20) And when the disciples on the road to Emmaus said to their traveling companion, the recently crucified Jesus, “We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel” (24:21)—Jesus revealed to them that their hopes has been met in ways they couldn’t have imagined until that very moment.

The question is not whether we will deconstruct, but what we will deconstruct.

Will it be the wood, hay, and stubble that is destined to burn up and burn out? Or will it be our own souls? Sometimes the people we think are “deconstructing” are just grieving and asking God where he is at a moment like this. That has happened before.

By contrast, sometimes the people who appear most confident and certain—who are scanning the boundaries for heretics—are those who have given up belief in the new birth, in the renewal of the mind, and in the judgment seat of Christ. For them, all that’s left is an orthodoxy grounded not in a living Christ, but in a curated brand.

And that may be the saddest deconstruction of all.

*Russell Moore leads the Public Theology Project at Christianity Today.

This piece was adapted from Russell Moore’s newsletter.

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When Your Theology Becomes A Problem

When Your Theology Becomes A Problem

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by Caleb Poston

June 20, 2022

When are your personal theological beliefs a problem? You might be thinking, “What I believe is none of your business!” In a way, you’re right. But when your personal beliefs go beyond the “personal” and affect my life — or anyone else’s — in a negative way, they become a problem.

My wife and I went into Hobby Lobby the other day — you know, because we’re not living through record-breaking inflation or anything — and I glanced at the bookshelf by the checkout line as we were checking out. They had about 10 books for sale. Three stood out to me:

Creation to Babel by Ken Ham

The Harbinger II by Jonathan Cahn

Fault Lines by Voddie Baucham

Do you know what these books have in common? One, they represent the fundamentalist-evangelical leanings of Hobby Lobby, obviously (no big deal — we know where Hobby Lobby stands). Two, and most importantly, they each influence evangelicals’ theology in such a way that they begin to negatively affect other lives.

These books represent the three doctrines evangelicals have used to become a nuisance to others: origins, eschatology, and ethics.

When Your Doctrine of Origins Becomes a Problem

The doctrine of origins, according to Ken Ham, is the foundation for all Christian doctrine. That means that if you don’t get Genesis right (translation: if you don’t agree with his modern interpretation of Genesis), you have no authoritative foundation for anything else you believe. Obviously, that’s preposterous. But I will say that he is on to something:

Your doctrine of origins does determine the importance you place upon truth.

If you accept or are at least open to the scientific realities of evolution and an old earth, for example, that means that you have decided to let truth dictate your beliefs. If you blindly reject the scientific consensus and accept the pseudoscience peddled by Ken Ham and his ilk just because you think it’s “biblical,” you have decided to let your beliefs dictate the “truth” as you want it. So Ken Ham is right: Your doctrine of origins is the foundation. But if you subscribe to his ideas, what a weak foundation it is.

His organization, Answers in Genesis, exists to spread his false doctrines throughout the world, and their ultimate goal (though they wouldn’t put it this way) is to scare Christians away from science. That is a very, very dangerous thing.

I’m a public school English teacher, and science teachers throughout the South have told me that they have to be careful using the term “evolution” in science class because they fear pushback from parents. While our students are learning about evolution in class, I have seen students’ parents share Ken Ham/AiG articles on their Facebook pages as a way to conflict with that is being taught in schools. So Ken Ham has empowered his followers in such a way that they are actually hindering science education in public schools. If this is you …

Your theology has become a problem.

I would argue that one’s beliefs about origins extend to other scientific beliefs as well. You saw it during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic. Who were the ones most likely to reject the advice from scientists about mask-wearing and the vaccine? Fundamental evangelicals who already had permission from their faith to reject science. If a scientist also accepts evolution (an almost certainty), why would evangelicals believe them about anything else? Actually, I remember seeing this happen on Facebook: Bill Nye posted a video encouraging mask-wearing, and a prominent faith leader commented with, “Bill Nye rejects God’s creation and accepts evolution, so why would I believe anything he says?” I fear that this phenomenon is common in evangelicalism, and your doctrine of origins has affected your trust of science so that you reject sound medical advice and spread that misinformation to others. If this is you …

Your theology has become a problem.

This mindset also extends to climate change. Indeed, Ken Ham himself said, “Bottom line: if scientists reject the events of history such as the Flood as recorded in the Bible, they will have wrong interpretations about climate change.” Ken Ham’s doctrine of origins directly affects his view on climate change, and since Ken Ham has the ear of millions of evangelicals, he is leading them to reject the threat of climate change for similar reasons. Therefore …

Their theology has become a problem.

When Your Eschatology Becomes a Problem

This presents a great segue to the next problem doctrine: eschatology. Now, to be fair, there are some eschatological systems that aren’t a problem most of the time: postmillennialism suggests that the world will get better before the return of Christ, so postmillennialists are at least trying to make the world a better place (as long as they aren’t part of the dominionist postmillennialists, like DeMar and others of that flavor); preterism teaches that the return has already happened and that the kingdom of Christ is here and is charged with making the world a better place for a future that could extend for thousands or millions of years, so that doctrine actually has positive potential. But the eschatology of fundamental evangelicals — the eschatology of The Harbinger, Left Behind, John MacArthur, Hal Lindsay, etc. et al. — premillennialism, especially dispensationalism, is a different animal; it basically forces its adherents to want the world to burn so their savior will return.

Piggybacking off of the climate change topic, John MacArthur — a devoted dispensationalist— once said regarding climate change, “God intended us to use this planet, to fill this planet for the benefit of man. Never was it intended to be a permanent planet. It is a disposable planet. Christians ought to know that.” In another sermon he said, “It’s just all going to burn up; it’s just rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.” John MacArthur doesn’t care about the world. Why? His eschatology teaches him that the world is going to burn up any day now, and it’s God’s plan, so why worry about it? In fact, we shouldn’t hinder God’s plans by trying to save the planet if he plans to destroy it anyway. And the problem is that he has the ear of millions of evangelicals who, likewise, reject climate change and choose to show indifference to the problems of the physical world. If this is you …

Your theology has become a problem.

Faulty eschatology, particularly dispensational premillennialism, also influences bad foreign policy. Ask any American fundamental evangelical what the most important nation on the earth is, and I would bet everything I own that the answer (other than, maybe, America) would be Israel. In the American South, where evangelicalism is the leading faith tradition, you’ll see plenty of Israel flags flying alongside the American flag. You’ll see plenty of “I Stand with Israel” bumper stickers. A large church in my area, World Outreach Church in Murfreesboro, TN, is basically free PR for the Zealous Zionists who back an Israel take-over of the Middle East.

This issue, like others, also involves taking lives. American fundamental evangelicals will align with Israel on almost any issue — they are God’s people, after all. If Israel starts a conflict with an innocent nation, you better believe American evangelicals would side with Israel. In one of John MacArthur’s sermons, he taught that Israel is being guided by God right now to be the light of the world once again. Therefore, pretty much anything they do goes.

It causes American evangelicals to lose it when the U.S. government gives money to clinics that provide abortions but look the other way when they send money to Israel, who is very liberal on abortion; it causes them to make plans to usurp other faiths in the region in order to rebuild some fabled third temple (something they teach but isn’t found in the Bible); it causes them to disregard the tens of thousands of innocent people who have been killed or misplaced through Israel’s settlement expansion over the decades. If this is you …

Your theology has become a problem.

In my opinion, the saddest thing bad eschatology leads Christians to do is to avoid the problems of the world and instead look for escape. Dispensationalists — which is what the majority of American fundamental evangelicals are — believe that a secret rapture will remove Christians from the world before the Great Tribulation. That’s not found in the Bible, but it guides their approach to almost every bad thing that happens in the world.

A tornado wipes out a town: “Oh God, please return and take us away from this suffering.” A child dies from cancer: “Lord, please call us home.” America legalizes gay marriage: “God in Heaven, please return, remove us from this wicked world, and rain your judgment down upon it!” The list could go on and on and on. When a terrible thing happens — either actually terrible, like a devastating tornado, or terrible to evangelicals, like a Democrat being elected — find a news story on social media in an area dominated by fundamental evangelicalism and try to count the comments pleading for God to return and take them from this world. It’s a hobby of mine, but it depresses me.

It’s a problem when your theology leads you to ask God to remove you from the situation instead of helping to clean up a tornado-devastated town; it’s a problem when your theology leads you to ask God to take you away after a child dies from cancer rather than to contribute to the solution. I even saw one person on social media say that Christians shouldn’t try to end homelessness and world hunger because the world must get worse before Jesus returns. Whenever you ask God to give you an escape or to ignore the most vulnerable in the world rather than asking God to empower you to make a positive difference in your current situation …

Your theology has become a problem.

When Your Doctrine of Ethics Becomes a Problem

Asking God to escape from the world means you are choosing to ignore its problems rather than face them. That’s what I think of when I see Voddie Baucham’s Fault Lines sitting on the shelf at Hobby Lobby. What Fault Lines does is offer fundamental evangelicals a way to escape from the reality of racism in the United States. Using his teaching (which is shared by many), fundamental evangelicals have a way to distance themselves from the issues social justice advocates seek to address. By using terms like “woke” and “Marxist” loosely, Baucham helps create the “boogey-man” mindset many Christians have toward any secular solution to the world’s problems. Just as “the flood” is Ken Ham’s answer to any issue raised at his beliefs, “the gospel” is Voddie Baucham’s answer to any issue addressed by social justice advocates. To him, if the gospel can’t fix the problem, then the problem must not really exist.

To Baucham and others, any worldly solution is anti-Christ, and the problem it seeks to address often ceases to be a problem at all in their minds. For example, critical race theory is seen as a “woke” solution to the racist problem that, to them, isn’t much of a problem at all. Therefore, we see many evangelicals neglecting their role of displaying God’s love in the world by ignoring one of the most repugnant issues we face: racism. Even if you don’t agree with every aspect of CRT (like sociologist George Yancey, who approaches the issue differently but still approaches it seriously), you are putting a “gospel” mask on the problem and not actually addressing the root causes, so …

Your theology has become a problem.

Baucham’s family ethics are also affecting lives other than those that believe them. He teaches a level of discipline that borders abuse and feels that Christian parents must basically beat their children into submission. Sure, I received plenty of spankings (though I didn’t deserve any of them, obviously), and most of history has made use of this style of discipline, but modern advances in science, sociology, psychology, and other disciplines show that child discipline is not as black and white as that. Yet many Christians read his words and feel that they must engage in that level of violent discipline in order to please God, even if it isn’t right for their particular child.

Furthermore, Baucham has an archaic view of women. Check out Rick Pidcock’s article about this. Here are a few things he believes: like his friend John MacArthur, he believes that women in abusive marriages should suck it up, suffer for Jesus, and not tell anyone so they don’t bring shame upon the church; he believes that men should witness their potential wife submit to her father so he knows she’ll submit to him; he believes that daughters should stay at home and serve their fathers (often without furthering their own education) until they get married and go with their husbands to stay at home and serve them. Therefore, we see influential “celebrity pastors” like Voddie Baucham influencing Christians in such a way that they could very well end up traumatizing their children — physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually — and negatively affecting their ability to function as adults, as well as purposely holding women back from living out their dreams and potential. If you subscribe to this doctrine of family and gender ethics …

Your theology has become a problem.

The same could be said for guns and the LGBTQ+ community: fundamental evangelicals too often find themselves defending gun rights over victims (even child victims) of senseless gun violence when research confirms that gun control measures would save lives; fundamental evangelicals too often ignore the existence of LGBTQ+ members of society and vote for legislation that would remove their rights to enjoy the freedom all Americans deserve just because their personal interpretation of the Bible tells them that being gay is a sin. In both of these cases (check out this piece about how Christians misinterpret Scripture to support gun rights), these Christians elevate their personal beliefs to a level so that they actually believe they have a right to force their opinions upon others. If this is you; if you believe your personal opinions should dictate how others live their lives …

Your theology has become a problem.

Conclusion

If the single most important aspect of your theology is not loving others, then you’re doing it wrong. And if you truly love others — the way Jesus did — you won’t care about what they wear, where they live, what they believe, who they love, or anything else; you will just love them. And if you love others, you won’t let your personal beliefs get in the way of acting out that love.

If you don’t seriously believe that your faith empowers you to act in a way that brings justice, peace, and love to the world and to contribute to a future that could very well be positive for every one, you don’t really have faith — you have an excuse to do nothing.

In short, if your theology keeps you from pursuing truth, keeps you from trying to make the world a better place, forces you to treat anyone without the respect all people deserve, and doesn’t have true love as its central tenet …

Your theology is a problem.