There are a lot of books out on deconstructing faith. The common premise is that the faith of one’s youth must be taken apart so that it can be rebuilt into something that works better for life as an adult. I don’t disagree with this notion. There is a lot to be said about the years where one reevaluates, thoughtfully considers, and makes the hard choices on what needs to stay and what needs to go. There are a lot of things that I believed as a child that I no longer believe as an adult. That is the way of growing up. Of maturing. Of recognizing that the faith of cartoon animals on the nursery walls does not hold up to the rigours of adulthood. Of recognizing that I misunderstood something with my childish knowledge. I believe that there is something healthy and productive about the teen/young adult/not-so-young adult doing the hard work of wrestling with the various beliefs that make up one’s faith. This is good work. Holy work. This is work not meant to be sidelined or mocked or demonized. This is necessary work done in conjunction with the Holy Spirit as an immature childhood faith becomes a maturing adult faith.
This holy work doesn’t let up. I distinctly remember a woman I greatly respect and love, coming to me to share how, after 85 years of living and loving Jesus, she had learned something life changing. Her words to me are etched in my brain- “I had it wrong. For decades, I had it wrong. But no longer.” The Holy Spirit had convicted her about the role of women in the church, and she was open and willing to learn. I want to embody that same spirit-
The spirit that refuses to believe that “having it all figured out” is the purpose of faith.
The spirit that recognizes the tug of the Holy Spirit in my heart and in my head.
The spirit that recognizes the mystery of God and that there are things I will never fully understand.
The spirit that recognizes that faith is a lifelong journey.
The spirit that remains teachable to other people and to the world around me.
The spirit that thirsts to be more like Jesus, knowing that I will never quite get there until the day I see Him face to face.
This deconstructing and reconstructing is not only a personal endeavour, it is also a communal endeavour. The working out of our faith was never meant to be done alone, or as my husband frequently says, “Alone in the broom closet with your Bible.” No, it was meant to be done surrounded by our faith communities, by others who are either not as far or are farther along on the journey of faith. The questions we ask are not new or uncommon, they are just new to us. And that means that others have been thinking and working through those same questions for years. Lucky us, when we realize that we are not alone and that there are others who are in the same process of building and rebuilding.
Every day we are working to build a faith that will stand the test of time and the ravages of our daily lives here on earth. Do not be disuaded if you are engaging in this work. This is holy work indeed.
The Grace Narrative 