Welcome to the deconstructionist podcast. I'm your host, John Williamson, and thanks for coming back and listening to the podcast. And hopefully you've been enjoying this little series that I've been working on. most of it based on topics and things that people have asked about for a very long time over, over the years. And, and again, just to reiterate the point, like I finally had time to sit down and do them justice. So I felt like now is a good time to put forward this series, but don't worry. more guests are coming.
And so if you, if you prefer sort of the interview format, don't worry, that is not going anywhere. And that will be coming back in the coming weeks. But for a long time now, I've watched the public conversation around deconstruction unfold. Ever since we started this 10 years ago, we've always felt like certain people kind of nailed what we felt deconstruction was and certain groups, not so much. so, you know, sometimes the conversation unfolds with empathy.
But often with fear, suspicion or outright dismissal. We encountered that a lot when we first started. Still encounter that today. And so that's why we've always had sort of a love hate relationship with the name. And felt like we had to defend ourselves and say, no, no, no, no, we don't mean destruction. We mean deconstruction. And that's why we put the brackets around the D and the E at the beginning of our name at the suggestion of Rob Bell years ago, because then it forms the word kids.
construction, that's really part of, part of deconstruction, at least in our opinion. And you'll hear a lot of different theories and a lot of different definitions and way of defining the term in the public forum, especially now. 10 years later, there's so many more voices out there in the public, YouTube channels, TikTok channels, you know, X everywhere. and so, I want to take the opportunity to sit down and, and kind of define it.
As we define it again, so some of you have heard this before, this won't be new, but this will be more of a direct response than we've done previously. so the longer I've listened to sort of those conversations in public, the more I felt like it was overdue time to respond. So that's what we're going to do today. And this episode again, is part of the series that we're right in the middle of where I take on topics that have been requested again and again over the years. And a few have come up as a few, I should say have come up.
John Williamson (02:27.15)
as often as this one. So deconstruction. So sometimes we like to come back to the very basics. We started off back in 2016, the very beginning of 2016 with the very first episode, literally defining as we define it deconstruction. So it's always good to kind of come back to the root and kind of spell it out for folks, especially if there's new listeners out there, which I know there are. So despite what many of you have heard, deconstruction isn't a bad thing.
It's not the enemy of faith or slippery slope to nihilism. It's a process and it's often a painful one, but also necessary and deeply human one. And it's episode I want to push back on some of the misconceptions, share why I believe this work matters and remind us that asking hard questions has always been part of a life of faith. So let's get into it.
Over the last 10 years of hosting the deconstructionist podcast, I've had the privilege of speaking with hundreds of people who have gone through this process that we call deconstruction. And here's the truth, almost none of them actually wanted to. They didn't set out to jump into this process that we call deconstruction. For many, it wasn't a choice. It wasn't because it was trendy or because they wanted to be rebellious or because it seemed like fun. Quite the opposite in fact, for most,
deconstruction has been a highly traumatic life-altering experience. The common thread I hear again and again is that people begin questioning their faith not out of arrogance or apathy, but because the theology that they were given, sometimes from the very beginning of their lives, was harmful. It hurt them, it hurt people they loved, or it left them unable to reconcile their faith with reality. And so, deconstruction often begins not with celebration, but with heartbreak.
And yet, despite how painful this process is for many, the way deconstruction is talked about in evangelical circles couldn't be further from reality.
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Leaders like Al Mohler, the longtime president of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, have dismissed deconstruction as nothing more than apostasy in disguise. Which is kind of funny actually, because someone said those words to me almost verbatim. Nothing like parroting someone else's thoughts. Or how about the good old John Piper, who has warned that questioning the church's teaching is evidence of a hardened heart. Matt Chandler.
a little bit of a younger generation there has called deconstruction sexy, as if it's just a trend that people chase for attention. And publications like Christianity Today have printed op-eds that frame deconstruction as a cultural contagion rather than a legitimate struggle of faith. And these are not fringe voices. These are the voices that shape evangelical culture. And their message to those who are already hurting is clear, that you are the problem.
The arguments repeat, unfortunately, like a broken record. And you've probably heard one, if not all of these at some point in time, that deconstruction is just doubt and doubt is the enemy of faith. Deconstruction is dangerous because it leads people astray. Deconstruction is just a cultural fad. It's not real. It's just people trying to be cool. And then my favorite one, deconstruction is unbiblical. But here's the problem.
When you hold those claims up against the Bible, against history, and against the lived experiences of real people, they collapse. Not only are they built on bad theology, but they're rooted in lazy history and often a desire to preserve control rather than protect the truth. So let's talk about the word deconstruction. And this is one thing that Adam and I used to bring up my old podcast host.
on this podcast and we were sort of wrestling with the word, the word deconstruction is, know, the philosophy guys like to get after us about this. Cause it originally had nothing at all to do with Christianity. It was sort of co-opted to sort of describe a process or an experience that people were going through. But so, you know, looking at the term deconstruction in and of itself, that's kind of recent in terms of using that particular term.
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to describe this experience, but the experience itself is by far not a new thing. The word deconstruction might feel new, especially in church settings. And again, only recently has it become shorthand for this kind of spiritual reevaluation, but the act it describes, the questioning of assumptions, the dismantling of unhealthy beliefs, the evolution of one's faith, and the rebuilding of something more faithful is as old as the Bible itself. You can call it Reformation.
renewal, repentance, or even just wrestling with God. Whatever language you use, it's not new. And you can throw that term out. It doesn't matter. The act or the experience itself will still be there as it always has been. And it's certainly not dangerous. In fact, it's a vital part of what it means to grow into a mature faith. Think about it. The psalmist cry out and lament, questioning God's goodness in the face of suffering. Job.
a pretty clear one, argues, protests, and demands answers. The prophets rail against empty religious systems, calling people back to what matters. And even Jesus himself says again and again, you have heard it said, but I tell you, confronting the religious assumptions of his day and reframing them. This process of questioning and refining isn't a modern danger, it's a biblical pattern. It's how faith has always matured. But here's where it gets especially tragic.
In many restrictive religious environments, questioning itself is painted as evil or a sign of weak faith. I'm sure some of you listening have heard this before. Doubt is treated as failure. Deconstruction is labeled as dangerous or even shameful. And yet, it's precisely those systems that often create the very outcome they claim to fear. Because if you're told you only have two options, to either stay locked inside a system built on bad theology,
or abandon faith altogether, then eventually there will be people who choose to walk away. Not because they wanted to, but because they were never given the space to wrestle honestly with the faith that they were taught. Ironically, by trying to crush doubt, these systems create more atheists, more ex-evangelicals, and more disillusioned former believers. The choice they offer isn't faith or doubt. It's faith on their terms.
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or nothing at all. And it's not just pastors or theologians who rail against deconstruction. Increasingly, the loudest critics are people who have built platforms in evangelical culture, but have no real theological training. Take one of my favorites, John Cooper, the front man of the Christian rock band Skillet, or as I like to call them, Christian Nickelback. Actually, I take that back. That was kind of rude to Nickelback and I apologize. But anyway.
He's become one of the most vocal opponents of deconstruction, framing it as cultural decay and outright rebellion against God. Or there's our friend, Alisa Childers. If you've seen the documentary that Adam and I appeared in years ago, American Gospel, then you saw her immediately after anything we said, which is kind of funny now that we think about it. But anyway, she's a former member of the Christian band Zoey Girl, who has rebranded herself as a discernment voice.
writing books and recording podcasts, announcing deconstruction as if it were some kind of spiritual disease. But the problem here isn't just that their arguments are simplistic or uninformed, it's that their celebrity status gives them influence that far outweighs their expertise. They speak with the authority of experience, but not the authority of theological grounding, historical awareness, or pastoral care. And yet, because of their reach, their soundbites are repeated in pulpits.
shared on social media, and consumed by people already struggling. The result is predictable. More shame, more fear, and more harm. But let's be honest, this isn't just about musicians, it's about evangelical culture itself. For decades, the system has elevated platform over wisdom, charisma over character, and reach over responsibility.
Whether it's best-selling authors, megachurch pastors, or conference headliners, the dynamic is the same. Celebrity becomes authority. And in that environment, the loudest voices get amplified, whether or not they have the depth to guide people faithfully through doubt and struggle. One of the most common accusations thrown at people who deconstruct is that they, quote, don't take the Bible seriously. You've heard it. If you really love God's word, you wouldn't question it.
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If you really trusted scripture, you wouldn't doubt it. I've even heard those in the evangelical camp say they take a higher view of scripture as if those who disagree do not. But here's the irony. In almost every case I've seen, people start deconstructing precisely because they do take the Bible seriously. They study it deeply. They wrestle with its original languages. They dig into the historical context and they notice when the interpretations they were handed.
Don't hold up.
The truth is, it's not the ones deconstructing who don't take the Bible seriously. It's the systems that silence questions. Evangelical culture often elevates a surface-level, proof-texting approach that treats the Bible like a weapon, while dismissing scholarship, history, and nuance as threats. And this isn't new, by the way. Evangelicalism has long been marked by anti-intellectualism, a suspicion of higher learning
a resistance to historical criticism, and an insistence that plain reading is all that's needed. But when you flatten the Bible like that, you end up with shallow theology that can't withstand scrutiny. And by the way, this is something that we will get way more into down the road. But when people do begin asking hard questions, the system collapses on itself. And rather than engaging scholarship, leaders label the questions as rebellion.
Rather than pointing people toward deeper history, they dismiss it as dangerous. And rather than allowing room for faithful doubt, they equate any challenge to their authority as sin. Which is why the charge that people deconstructing don't take the Bible seriously is not only false, it's projection. Because the real issue is that many evangelicals don't take the Bible seriously enough to wrestle with its depth, its complexity, and its humanity.
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So if you think that deconstruction is some kind of modern invention, well, history tells us a very different story. Take Augustine. He wrestled deeply with the faith he inherited, deconstructing his former allegiances before embracing Christianity in a way that was honest to his questions. Or Martin Luther, who didn't set out to start a new denomination, he simply began by questioning the corrupt theology of indulgences. His 95 theses were, at its core,
an act of deconstruction, or Soren Kierkegaard, often called the father of existentialism, who deconstructed the lifeless state-controlled Christianity of his time and insisted that faith had to be authentic, lived, and personal. Across history, the pattern repeats. Believers question, critique, and reform the systems that distort faith. Sometimes it leads to reformation, sometimes to new movements.
but always it reflects a faith alive enough to wrestle with itself. And here's the irony. Evangelicalism itself wouldn't even exist without deconstruction. Think about it. Evangelicals love to talk about being Bible-believing Christians, distinct from other traditions, but that identity was only possible because earlier generations questioned the very Christianity that they inherited. Every revival, every
reform movement, every denominational shift, has been built on people daring to ask, what if what we've been taught isn't the whole story? Which means this, what we call deconstruction today is just the latest expression of something the church has always done. It's not rebellion, it's renewal. So let's be clear here. The evangelical pushback against deconstruction doesn't hold up theologically. At its core,
It's built on three deeply flawed assumptions, so let's go through those. First, it equates faith with certainty. In many evangelical circles, you're taught that real faith means absolute confidence, no questions, no doubts, no wrestling. But biblically, that's never been true. Faith has always meant trust in the midst of uncertainty, not the elimination of it. Abraham, Job, David, doubting Thomas.
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The list of doubters who still get called faithful is long. The modern case study here is biblical inerrancy. Evangelicals are told that the Bible must be without error, every detail, every word, or the whole thing collapses. But that's not how most Christians throughout history have understood scripture. It's a 20th century invention, born out of fear of modern science and historical criticism. But because evangelicals confuse certainty with faith,
They cling to inerrancy like a lifeline, and anyone who questions is branded a heretic. Second, it confuses authority with truth. The evangelical model often treats its leaders and institutions as if they themselves are the guarantors of truth. Questioning them is painted as questioning God. But if your theology can't survive honest questions, it's not truth. It's control. The case study here is celebrity pastors.
We've seen it play out again and again. Platforms built on charisma, not character. The loudest voices, not necessarily the wisest ones, get amplified. And when those leaders are challenged, the system closes ranks because protecting the brand matters more than protecting the truth. And here's the kicker. Many of these pastors don't even have deep theological training. Unlike traditions that require years of seminary,
ordination and evangelicalism can be shockingly casual. Sometimes it's based on a personal recommendation, a mentor's endorsement, or simply fruitful ministry numbers like attendance or giving. As we saw on my other podcast, Spoiled Fruit Faith and Power, leaders often rise not because they have been rigorously trained, but because they're charismatic, well-connected, or effective at growing a church. That lack of formation matters.
Without theological grounding or accountability, these leaders lean on personality and platform. And when that becomes the model of authority, questioning them isn't just discouraged, it's treated as betrayal. Third, it treats inherited structures as sacred. Evangelicals are told that their particular way of reading scripture is the way Christians have always read it. And that's just historically false. Theology
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has never been static. It's always been debated, refined, and reformed. The case study here is gender and sexuality. Complementarianism, the belief that men and women have fixed, God-ordained roles, is often preached as timeless biblical truth. And if you asked my uncle, he'd tell you that the downfall of society is due to us letting women lead, but that's another story. But the evangelicals would say the same is true about excluding LGBTQ people.
But when you trace these teachings historically, you find that they're recent, culturally conditioned, and hotly contested even within the evangelical movement itself. So calling them eternal truths isn't theology, it's control dressed up as doctrine. And that's the heart of the issue. Evangelical pushback against deconstruction isn't about protecting faith, it's about protecting power.
Because when people start asking hard questions, they begin to see the cracks in the system. And those cracks don't threaten God. They threaten the authority of the people who have built their platforms on simplistic answers. So how do we reframe deconstruction? Because if deconstruction isn't a fad, and it isn't rebellion, and it isn't dangerous, then what is it? Well, at its heart, deconstruction is not about tearing faith down.
It's about clearing away the rubble so something more authentic can be built. And too often evangelicals frame it as destruction. But that misses the point entirely. When people deconstruct, they're not trying to burn everything down, they're trying to sift the gold from the sand. They're trying to hold onto what is real while letting go of what was harmful, shallow, or just plain false. And here's the truth. That process doesn't weaken faith,
It strengthens it. Because faith that has never been tested, questioned, or stretched may be comfortable, but it isn't mature. Mature faith comes on the other side of wrestling. Mature faith knows what it believes and why. Mature faith is strong enough to hold questions without falling apart. And in that sense, deconstruction isn't a threat to Christianity. It's one of the best things that could happen to it.
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It forces us to confront bad theology. It exposes abusive systems. It keeps us honest. And ultimately, it calls us back to the heart of what Jesus was always doing. Peeling back the layers of religion to reveal the love of God and love of neighbor at the core. So here's the challenge. If the church truly believes that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life, then the church should never fear truth.
And if God is real, then God is not threatened by our questions. Which means the real danger isn't people deconstructing their faith. It's churches that refuse to make room for them. If evangelical leaders want to stem the tide of people leaving, the solution isn't shaming or silencing those who deconstruct. The answer isn't to declare war against deconstruction as if you could wage war against an idea to begin with.
The answer is to create communities where questions are welcomed, where doubt isn't demonized, and where people can wrestle with integrity without being shown the door. Because here's the irony. People don't walk away from faith because they ask questions. They walk away because the church told them that they weren't allowed to. And so my plea is this. Stop treating deconstruction as the enemy. Instead, start seeing it for what it is. An opportunity
for honesty, reform, and renewal. Not destruction, but resurrection. And yes, I know, it's tempting to listen to your favorite Christian rock star for theology, but let me offer you a challenge. Maybe instead of building your theology off a skillet lyric like, am I the only one who ain't come undone, everybody's lost their dang minds, when you check your feed it's like Clown TV and you're waiting for the punchline. Maybe instead we look to the historians,
the biblical scholars, and the theologians who have spent lifetimes wrestling with these questions. I mean, don't even take my word for it. I'm just pointing to the faithful women and men who have been doing this work for centuries. And they'll all tell you the same thing. Deconstruction is not the death of faith. More often than not, it's where real faith begins. This is why I started the Deconstructionist podcast almost a decade ago. Because I believe these conversations matter.
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I've seen over and over again that asking hard questions doesn't end faith. It's often the thing that finally makes it real. Now, I don't expect this episode to change the minds of those evangelical leaders or influencers who rail against deconstruction. That's not really who this is for. And I also know that not all evangelicals believe the things I've critiqued today. But here's the reality.
Even when some of those leaders are confronted with the evidence, when they are shown alternative interpretations that are faithful to both history and to scripture, and they still refuse to budge, then we're left with only one conclusion. They are not ignorant. They are not uninformed. They are choosing to believe the things that they believe, even when they know better. And that choice isn't about faithfulness to the Bible. It's about protecting power, control,
in the systems that serve them. We see this in the way biblical inerrancy is defended, as if it's always been the Christian view, when in fact, it's a relatively recent invention. We see it in how complementarianism is preached as timeless truth, even though history shows otherwise. We see it in the way LGBTQ inclusion is dismissed, not because there's no faithful biblical case for it,
but because acknowledging that case would destabilize the system. This episode then isn't really for them. It's for those of you who have been hurt repeatedly by those messages, who have been told that your questions make you unfaithful or that your doubts make you dangerous. It's for the ones who have been lied to about the experience that you're going through and who need to hear a different word.
That way you're experiencing is not shameful. It's not rebellion and it's not the end of faith. So if you're in the middle of this process, know this, you are not alone. You're not crazy and you're not the enemy of God. You're part of a long faithful tradition of people who have wrestled, doubted, torn down and rebuilt. So keep questioning, keep wrestling, keep going deeper.
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because the faith that survives the fire is always stronger than the one that never faced the flames.