Deconstruction or Destruction?

How Doubt Became the New Virtue

As we enter the Holy Season, I want to press into a conversation that cuts deeper than surface-level faith. Because here’s the deal: if my work in helping people thrive in their mental, emotional, and spiritual health only leads them back to themselves through some flimsy self-help modality dressed up in Christian veneer, I haven’t done my job.

So we’re going to get under the hood. Because when I talk about "spiritual maturity" in addition to my work around mental and emotional health, I’m not nodding in agreement with the sage-burning, Tarot-flipping, “Spirit”-conjuring, vibes-based “spiritual” folks.

We are talking about discipleship in the way of Jesus. We are talking about growing up into the full stature of Christ. And that is precisely why we need to talk about deconstruction.

Is it Really Deconstruction?

Somewhere along the way in our postmodern, post-truth culture, doubt became a selective virtue. Skepticism toward biblical authority is no longer just tolerated, it’s celebrated. To question historical Christian doctrine is to be enlightened, to deconstruct faith is to be courageous, and to hold firm to biblical truth is to be ignorant, arrogant, and oppressive.

But let’s be honest, doubt has not been universally embraced.

No one is praised for deconstructing secular progressivism, materialist atheism, victim identity narratives, or modern identity politics. If you question those frameworks, you’re not called brave. Instead, you’re labeled regressive, problematic, simplistic, and even dangerous.

The cultural momentum behind deconstruction is not neutral. It is a movement with an agenda, and that agenda is to dismantle biblical Christianity, not to pursue truth objectively.

No one is praised for deconstructing secular progressivism, materialist atheism, or modern identity politics. If you question those frameworks, you’re not called brave. Instead, you’re labeled regressive, problematic, simplistic, and even dangerous.

And that curates the real question: Where is this deconstruction leading?

To be honest, I think the term itself is misleading. “Deconstruction” is a euphemism. Now, to be fair, not everyone using the term “deconstruction” intends for total demolition. Some are genuinely trying to strip away man-made religion and cultural baggage in order to rediscover Jesus Himself. I get that. But let’s be clear: the way this term is most commonly used in culture today is not about recovering faith. It’s about rejecting the authority of Scripture and the Lordship of Christ.

By definition, deconstruction is about dismantling a structure. If you gut a house with the intent of reinforcing its foundation, that’s called renovation. But if you tear it down entirely, that’s called demolition. And that is precisely what is happening to the faith of many today. The vast majority of those who deconstruct do not reconstruct. They do not emerge with a more resilient, Christ-centered faith.

They abandon faith altogether.

And that’s because deconstruction, as it is commonly practiced, is not about purifying faith but about escaping authority. And that breaks my heart.

I honestly suspect that most who deconstruct aren’t discovering a solid foundation beneath the rubble. Rather, they realized that there was no foundation at all. Now, listen: that’s not an attack; that’s an opportunity. It’s an invitation to ask yourself, What was my faith really built on? Because here’s the reality: real faith does not need to be deconstructed. It needs to be refined.

The Crisis of Self-Directed Spirituality

We are living in an era where faith is no longer about submission to God’s authority but about alignment with personal preference. Instead of viewing Scripture as authoritative, many treat it as a flexible document to be reinterpreted based on cultural trends and individual desires. Just look at the political Left and Right over time for examples of this in action.

If a biblical command contradicts personal feelings, it is dismissed as outdated. If Scripture conflicts with the moral consensus of the age, we assume that Scripture must be in error because “times have changed.” If God’s ways seem offensive, we recast Him in our own image, redefining His character until He no longer confronts us but affirms us.

This is not discipleship to Jesus. It is theological relativism, baptized in Christian language.

But let’s be clear: this is not just a cultural problem. This is a discipleship failure within the church (we’ll talk about this in another post soon). Many of those who now deconstruct, I surmise, never had a solid faith rooted in Christ, Scripture, and historical Christian orthodoxy to begin with.

Instead, they inherited a cavalcade of goofy, consumer-driven, entertainment-loaded, name-it-claim-it, false prophet, private-jet-setting, “live your best life now” TED-talking cultural Christianity tropes and trinkets. They were habituated into absorbed moralism and were handed secondhand faith rather than a true encounter with the living God.

Their belief system was built on behavior modification, religious performance, or the social benefits of Christianity rather than on Jesus Christ Himself. And because they were never truly discipled, when pressure came (whether from suffering, intellectual challenges, or cultural opposition) their faith collapsed. This is exactly what Jesus described in the parable of the sower. Matthew 13:21 (ESV) says, “...Yet he has no root in himself, but endures for a while, and when tribulation or persecution arises on account of the word, immediately he falls away.”

Yet even deeper than a failure of discipleship, deconstruction exposes a deeper crisis: the rejection of God’s supreme authority. This is not just an intellectual shift; it is a moral one. The issue at the heart of modern deconstruction is not merely doubt but the refusal to submit to a God whose authority challenges human autonomy.

This is why deconstruction is almost always one-directional. It is not just about wrestling with theological questions. It is rather about placing oneself in the position of judge over God’s Word. Of course, this authority crisis is not new. In Genesis 3, the enemy’s first attack against humanity was not a denial of God’s existence, but a subversion of His authority. Genesis 3:1 (ESV) says, “Did God actually say…?” That same question echoes today, but now it comes in the form of progressive theology, cultural accommodation, and self-directed spirituality.

The Missing Piece: True Repentance

So, how do we respond to this moment with a pastoral heart that’s aimed at healing, restoration, and maturity? Well, one thing’s for sure, and that’s that a reactionary, legalistic, condemning posture definitely won’t help remediate this issue or restore people.

Here’s what’s needed: repentance. Allow me to explain.

The biblical word for transformation is not deconstruction. It is metanoia, or “repentance.” But repentance is not simply an adjustment of beliefs. It is a total reordering of allegiance. It is a fundamental change in direction. It is not a call to reevaluate God’s Word but a call to surrender to it.

The problem with modern deconstruction, in my estimation, is that it rarely leads to genuine repentance (read: change). Instead of saying, “Lord, change my heart,” it demands, “God needs to change His mind.” Instead of submitting to Scripture, it sits in judgment over it. And instead of submitting to a life of sanctification and transformation by the power of the Holy Spirit at work in us, it insists that God accommodates human reasoning.

Instead of saying, “Lord, change my heart,” deconstruction demands, “God needs to change His mind.”

But here’s the truth: you cannot be transformed by the Word of God while simultaneously standing over it as its critic. Hebrews 4:12–13 (ESV) reminds us of this very truth: “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword... discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart... and no creature is hidden from his sight.” The Word exposes us. It reads us. We do not stand over it. We kneel before it.

That might sound reductionistic and lacking nuance, but it is fundamentally true. And this is why so many who deconstruct never return to a life of discipleship to Jesus. For them, the experience was never about seeking truth; it was about escaping authority.

But here is the great irony: there is no true freedom outside of submission to the Lord. His commands do not oppress us; they liberate us and empower us. His truth does not enslave us; it sets us free. The moment we reject His authority, we do not become more enlightened. Instead, we become enslaved to our own emotions, cultural trends, and self-justifying narratives.

Moreover, the issue is not whether we will submit to authority at all. The issue is which authority we will submit to. And if I can be so bold, it’s glaringly clear that the endgame of modern deconstruction is the enthronement of the Self; you know, “to become your best, highest, most authentic Self.”

Author and pastor Jon Tyson offers a razor-sharp analysis of this moment:

“The problem with deconstruction is that you're putting yourself above the Word of God and judging it like you are God. And you will never receive favor, comfort, anointing, or healing for your trauma when you stand in judgment of the Word of God. When you come under it with reverence, when you submit to it with humility, that's when you'll begin to receive the healing, restoration, that you desire.”

That’s the issue.

The Choice Before You: Walk Away, or Press In

So, where do you go from here?

I really love people. I have given my life to the work of transformation from the inside out; to help people get free, stay free, and walk in maturity. And so, if your faith is unraveling (and because you’ve made it this far in the post), let’s make one thing clear: Jesus is not afraid of your doubts. Not one bit. And the issue is not whether you ask hard questions. The issue is where you take those questions.

A lot of folks who deconstruct are often not seeking God’s truth; they are seeking confirmation of their skepticism, fueled by fear and shame, anchored in deception, and dressed up in self-protection and self-promotion.

And as such, they don’t take their doubts to Jesus; they take them to an echo chamber of cynicism.

Of course, they don’t apply their skepticism equally to secular ideologies, progressive morality, or the assumptions of their cultural moment. They question Christianity while granting their new belief system immunity from critique.

But here’s the real question, and please take a moment to answer it honestly: What will you do when Jesus’ answers do not align with your expectations or paradigms? That is where many turn away, not just today, but throughout history. Allow me to explain.

In John 6, after Jesus gave a hard teaching (one that shattered every assumption about the kingdom) many of His followers abandoned Him. Here’s John 6:66 (ESV): “After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him” Why? Because He did not fit their framework. He did not affirm their assumptions. And so, they walked away. But Peter stayed. And when Jesus asked if he would leave too, Peter responded, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68, ESV).

That is the choice before us.

I do not intend to be harsh, but I do intend to be as clear as I know how:

You can stand over Scripture, treating it as something to dissect and judge, or you can stand under it, allowing it to shape you even when it confronts you.

Jesus does not need to be made relevant. He does not need to be rescued from His own words. We don’t need to protect people from Scripture. And while there’s certainly a bunch of bad exegesis coming from inside the church, despite what one popular preacher has said, there are absolutely no “clobber passages” in the Text itself. And so, if your faith is unraveling, the answer is not deconstruction; it’s metanoia.

The answer is not to tear down what was always meant to stand. It is to return to Christ, to His Word, and to the foundation that was never meant to be uprooted. Because in the end, deconstruction is not the goal. Truth is.

And truth is not something we shape to fit our desires. It is not something we modify to make it more comfortable. Truth stands, unmoved, whether we acknowledge it or not. It is the lighthouse in the middle of the ocean, centering us on an objective reality from which we gain perspective and position. And the paradox of faith is this: we do not possess truth until we submit ourselves to it.

Listen, Jesus did not say, “You will know your truth, and it will set you free.” He said, “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free (John 8:32, ESV). But freedom only comes to those who abide in His Word and submit to the truth, not to those who stand over it in judgment.

So, the real question is not whether you will wrestle with doubt. Bring your doubts. Bring your questions. Bring your frustrations and hurts.

The real question is whether, when confronted with the Truth, you will humbly submit to it or walk away.

Come home. Sit at the table. Rebuild. Because the door’s open.