Words Matter series - Jeremiah's Vow

When we talk about deconstructing, what are we saying…

Are you even in the “church world” in 2021 if you don’t hear the term deconstruction at least every other day?

This past year and a half has proven difficult for a variety reasons. One of the main ones is how rapidly language is coming at people. Especially complex philosophical concepts that come out of very specific worldviews.

This is only compounded by the reality that most people don’t have the time to research these things. And thus sometimes don’t fully understand things before they decide whether it’s a helpful concept to describe their life or not.

Which is one of the reasons why I’ve started this Words Matter blog series.

If you didn’t know, the term deconstruction wasn’t made up this past year – though it may feel like it was to some. And it would take far more than this one short blog for me to explain it fully.

I’ve spent much of my adult life wrestling with philosophical concepts, especially those related to communication – like how we explain the experiences of our life. And the biggest tension within these conversations is that they all (whether someone likes it or not) come from a particular worldview.

[A worldview is a way someone thinks that helps them make sense of the world and then is ultimately determinative for how they will live in the world with others.]

In the case of the term deconstruction, especially in how it’s being used in popular Christian circles today, there are multiple problems. But the biggest is that if we look at the dictionary definition of the term, then we will see that what many are calling “deconstruction” in popular Christian circles is not likely deconstruction at all.

Deconstruction can be defined as “the breaking down of an idea or concept into smaller parts to look at how it can imply things that it may not overtly state.” I did this kind of work (though not expressly called deconstruction) in my undergraduate degree. I understand the point of a process like this, how to do the process, and the importance of doing it from a healthy place and not a place of pain (or anger, or dissatisfaction, etc.).

Deconstruction as a philosophical construct and a means of analysis is one thing.

“Deconstruction” as a word Christians are using to explain a more generalized “question everything” mindset seems to be quite another thing.

Basically, whether intended or not, it has become the catch-all term for people wanting to “flip tables” or “burn everything to the ground” or whatever other colloquial phrase we want to use. I get that desire. Believe me, I do. But in my estimate it is not the intention of such an analysis, nor a healthy mindset with which to enter into such a process.

[Spoken as someone who has entered into such a process in an unhealthy way before, and it was very unhelpful and actually caused me to be unable to see the very things I needed to see for the process to be helpful.]

While some are correctly using the term, many are using it in ways that not only doesn’t fit the basic definition but more important doesn’t describe what it is they are actually experiencing (likely unintentionally).

What I’m about to say Christians know better than anyone: Sometimes what someone describes as the reality is not actually what the reality is. We as humans struggle many times to find the words to completely describe what is happening inside us or around us. We may be trying our best, and yet we can miss the full picture.

Therefore, we have to continually try to get at what people are actually experiencing. What are they trying to describe? Not just what word they are using because they’ve heard others use it to try and say “this is what I’m going thru.”

[This blog is way too short to get into this in an in-depth way, but deconstruction is also hugely impacted by someone’s worldview. If you’d like to do some more reading on stuff like this I suggest looking into books on worldviews like James Sire’s book “The Universe Next Door.”]

Which brings me to the main point of this blog: When we talk about deconstructing, what are we saying?

What is the actual experience we are attempting to explain to other people?

Are we just using a word others are using because it’s the word we’ve been told explains what is happening? Does it accurately describe what we are going through?

As a Christian, this should also include us asking 2 other specific questions as followers of Jesus:

Does God (in the Bible) provide me with language to understand what I am going through?
Are there Christians in previous generations that have gone thru this experience before and have tried to explain it?

[An observation: I find much of this is happening in “protestant” circles where people have mostly disconnected themselves from the historic Church. There are those who have gone before us who have wrestled with the things we are currently wrestling with. It’s typically helpful to have “spiritual guides” who have walked the path we are walking who can help give us language to understand it. Too often today Christians are looking to words and concepts that come from those who have not walked the path we are walking (and it typically means that language will inevitably be describing quite a different journey or will be an incomplete description of the journey). I know we love to use “new language” for things in our American culture today. But many times the “old language” is the best way of explaining what it is people are going through.]

When I talk to many Christians today who would consider themselves “deconstructing” (and I’ve found it’s actually less people than gets portrayed on social media), I find that most are experiencing what other Christians who have gone before us have described as a “dark night of the soul” (John of the Cross), or “the wall” (Hagberg & Guelich), or “the second half of life” (Richard Rohr). And there’s several other descriptions that seem to fit in various ways.

This experience that people are attempting to describe as a part of the Christian journey is not unknown to Christianity. While we may be experiencing it as a new thing, it is also not actually new at all. Which shouldn’t surprise us since the Bible teaches us that there is “nothing new under the sun.”

God is not caught off-guard by it.

We are not the first generation of Christians to experience it.

We likely only didn’t see it coming because no one informed us that it would.

And it’s not actually the process of deconstruction for most.

Since words matter greatly, because they shape the way we navigate the world around us, I am suggesting we reframe the conversation using different language. Deconstruction does not seem to fit what many people are trying to describe as their experience. There are those who are actually participating in a genuine deconstruction, but most seem to be experiencing something else and need more helpful language to describe it.

[I know, because until I explored this experience more deeply, I would have used the word deconstruction to describe what I had gone thru multiple times in my life up to this point.]

The reality is also that we ultimately need to more often use Biblical language to talk about a Biblical faith journey.

That we should look to the language that is used in the Old Testament and in the New Testament.

And that we should look to the language that is used by Jesus.

So, after much thought about my own experiences and much time spent listening to people attempting to describe similar experiences, my suggestion would be to focus on the concept of refining or purification.

Specifically a refining by fire.

Whether it’s in Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Isaiah, Zechariah, Malachi, 2 Corinthians, 1 Peter, Revelation or even in Jesus’ own teachings that direct us toward the imagery of the “refiner’s fire,” this seems to be a much more helpful imagery and concept for describing what many are describing that they are going thru in this season (and what I’ve gone thru several times in my life at this point, including a pretty serious one this past year and a half).

Why does this matter? Why would this language and imagery be more helpful?

And why do I think it’s unhelpful to use a term like deconstruction to describe what most are going thru during this season?

Because in a relationship with Jesus we have a foundation upon which everything is built. We have valuable frameworks that are built upon that foundation. And simply demolishing the entire thing (including the framework and foundation) will not actually produce the result some may think it will. It usually isn’t even what they say they want and is certainly not God’s desire based upon what we read in the Bible.

But refining fire language will help us navigate these things.

One important reason why a refining fire is more helpful language is that it places the emphasis of the process upon the fire itself (a consistent Biblical image for God) instead of on ourselves. Which is the reality of what we go thru anyways…whether we acknowledge it or not.

God is the one directing or allowing the process to happen. So we might as well just name it up front.

A refining by fire certainly does mean questioning whether things belong (are they actually framework or foundation, or are they easily burned up by fire?).

But it also means you acknowledge from the start that there is a foundation and a framework (made of stone and precious metal) that will remain when the questioning is over.

Which is why listening to Christians who have described this experience historically is also important. Because they remind us that this is an experience God actually meets us in and walks with us thru (and maybe even initiates). Even if it doesn’t seem like He’s there. And that the foundation and framework will remain (even though much of this experience may be disorienting).

It’s also helpful language because going thru a refining fire is evidence of faith.

It actually requires faith to enter the difficulty of the fire and come out the other side purified.

Philosophy and faith are not diametrically opposed. But that doesn’t mean all philosophical language is always helpful in navigating faith.

In this instance, I would say that the philosophical language of deconstruction is not helpful in describing this experience of the faith journey that many are currently going through.

So maybe we could try using the language of refining fire instead, and see what happens.

I mean, what do you have to lose? If you are someone who is already “questioning everything” (I’ve been there, so I’m not speaking negatively about doing that), then you might as well question the word you’ve been using to see if it accurately describes what you’re going through anyway…

If you’re interested in exploring this more, feel free to reach out. It’s a journey I’m on. Maybe you’re on it too. And it’s always helpful to have companions on this kind of journey.

Burn out is not failure.

The amount of comments, blogs, posts, books, videos, and opinions about burn out that have been shared this past year is overwhelming. I likely have burn out from those more than the real aspects of my life…

But nonetheless it feels necessary to address the topic as a part of this Words Matter series.

First, to talk about burn out we have to attempt to define burn out – or at least discuss what the experience is that people are trying to talk about when they use the words burn out.

In listening to how people talk about it, I would say burn out is the feeling of exhaustion experienced because of an unhealthy striving. This phenomenon seems to be what most people are referencing when they say they have burned out. It’s emotional, mental, & physical, and almost always related deeply to their spiritual lives.

[The World Health Organization defines it this way: “Burn-out is a syndrome conceptualized as resulting from chronic workplace stress that has not been successfully managed.”]

When people talk about it, they almost always do thru negative language. And it’s pretty much always discussed as a failure.

Which leads to needing to understand what people define as success and failure – whether consciously or unconsciously. Which has deep implications for their lives and how they talk about life thru those lenses.

Since burn out is mostly talked about as failure from what I’ve seen, I find myself asking the question “Why?”

Why is burn out almost exclusively talked about thru negative language as an experience of failure?

Does this have to do with a correct understanding of life or our definitions of success and failure?

Must we classify burn out in such binary terms, or is it possible to see burn out through a less binary lens?

I would suggest that it’s always pertinent to look to the Scriptures in our attempts to understand life, and describe our experiences. There are likely many places we could go to look for examples of what we might call burn out today, but I will reference one: 1 Kings 19.

[I suggest clicking on that link and reading the entire chapter before continuing.]

Here is a portion:

Elijah was afraid and ran for his life…He came to a broom bush, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, Lord,” he said. “Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.” Then he lay down under the bush and fell asleep.

All at once an angel touched him and said, “Get up and eat.”…He ate and drank and then lay down again.

The angel of the Lord came back a second time and touched him and said, “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.” So he got up and ate and drank. Strengthened by that food, he traveled forty days and forty nights until he reached Horeb, the mountain of God.
1 Kings 19:3-9

If you read the whole chapter, then you also know what comes next is the famous “the Lord is in the whisper” story. It’s quite powerful. But even more so when we know the part of the story that precedes it.

Elijah had likely experienced burn out. Ready for his life to be over, he was emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted. It took sleep and food, as well as the intervention of an angel for him to continue on.

And yet the angels response, and even God showing up in the whisper later, gives us insight into how to understand this moment in Elijah’s life. The angel is not surprised by Elijah’s limitedness, and neither is God. He is human after all. God does not seem upset, nor taken back by Elijah’s needs – emotionally, mentally, and physically. And all of that ultimately leads to a deeply formative spiritual reality for Elijah.

Without the burn out would Elijah have been able to know God in the same way?

I think it’s a valid question. And my opinion would be no.

The burn out – or the reaching of the necessary end of his limits – provided the context for Elijah to know God truly in the way He desired to be known.

Personally.

Tangibly.

Fatherly.

God provides for Elijah’s most basic needs in the moment of his greatest exhaustion: food, rest, and relationship.

Where is God in Elijah’s burn out? Right there with him.

Not waiting on the other side.

Not in the miraculous moment the burn out was preparing him for.

Not in the successful moments before the burn out.

This was not an issue of Elijah failing. This was simply an issue of Elijah being human. And God treated it as such.

Most of us today struggle to hold our experiences of life open-handedly. We rush to classify them in temporal ways. Maybe in order to make sense of them.

What if whatever version of success that leads you to strive to the point of burn out is not success at all, and thus burn out actually becomes the most successful thing you do in the process?

Because success for God is defined by closeness in your relationship with Him. And if your “goals” are getting in the way of that, He has built in an amazing thing to us as humans that help us reorient ourselves: limits.

And those limits mean you will burn out. It’s not really if you will burn out. It’s just when.

And when you do, God will not come to you like a boss to talk to you about being a failure.

He will come to you as a Father to talk to you about being His child.

And experiencing God like this is powerful. Because He has your full attention. You (and your actions) are no longer the center of your life. Your striving has stopped. And thus God can show you how much your life is actually worth, how much He cares about you, and how loved you truly are. And all of that requires a willingness to receive, which almost always only comes after we feel we have nothing else to give.

Viewing burn out as failure mostly comes from the modern business culture of our day – which views productiveness as the highest goal of life. God is concerned with your being before He is concerned with your doing. He wants you to be productive in your doing, but only insofar as you are connected to Him in your being.

Burn out is an opportunity for us to evaluate our priorities. To evaluate our definitions of success and failure. To learn to live within our limits. And to learn to give ourselves grace when we reach them.

We’re only human after all…

May we recover healthier language and more complete understandings of what it is God is at work doing in our lives.

May we reframe how we talk about burn out and our own experiences of being human.

It’s these kinds of experiences that become crucial places God can most clearly teach you about who He really is and who you really are.

You are not what you do.

And burn out is not failure.

Words matter.

In just my relatively short time serving God’s people, I’ve grown weary of some of the language and categories that often times get used merely out of habit (or it’s just the inherited way people have always talked about things). Many times it is because of the burden that this language can produce, as opposed to what Jesus intends with an easy yoke or teaching (Matthew 11).

In my own life, I’ve spent countless hours learning to use correct language in order to help others do the same.

Because words matter.

You see, my undergraduate degree is in the study of communication, or rhetoric. And one major thing I learned, and now have seen time and time again, is how much we are shaped by the language and categories we use to describe our experiences. The way we talk necessarily “boxes us in.” Sometimes in good ways, sometimes bad. How you talk about things becomes how you think about them and experience them. And it becomes problematic when it then “boxes” God in – in ways that aren’t actually possible and yet happens because of how we talk.

In recent generations, many in the American Church have normalized modern “business language” and “leadership principles” as their baseline for discussing the organization of the church. This has also led many to use this same sort of language in order to understand their relationship with God as well. Overall, I must say, my assessment is it has de-personalized God – which is terrifying honestly.

Most times the language and categories being used are incomplete and unhelpful. They are modern attempts to describe things that have already been described in Scripture in ways that are far more complete and helpful.

Sometimes when I attempt to critique the use of modern language and suggest better ways to talk about things, I’m met by people who feel like I’m “nitpicking.” But since taking thoughts captive (2 Corinthians 10) is what we are encouraged to do, it is an important work to look at how we think and talk about our relationship with God (or the church).

And so that leads to the need to discuss an important question: Why does it matter?

Words matter (especially when talking about our relationship with God and the church) because they shape not only our own outlook on faith, but also how we directly relate to God and to others!

When someone tries to explain their own experience of God to another person, it is always an interesting process for them to try and translate that experience in a way the other person will understand. So then, translating those experiences across groups of people, cultures, generations, etc. gets even more interesting. And since words are powerful enough to shape people’s understanding of a relationship with God – it means we must take the words we use seriously.

James talks about this very thing in his letter in the Scriptures actually (though you may have never applied it this way):

“When we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we can turn the whole animal. Or take ships as an example. Although they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are steered by a very small rudder wherever the pilot wants to go. Likewise, the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark.”
James 3:3-5

Our words are very powerful. And so how we talk about God must be done carefully, and with great reflection. Even more so if you are someone others listen to! Because how you talk about faith will influence how others talk about it. Which also means we must be willing to try our best to give complete pictures of a relationship with God right out of the gate. And we also must be willing to evaluate how well we actually did – and correct that language if necessary.

I never fault people for attempting to use language they see as culturally relevant in order to explain faith, the church, etc. I’m constantly doing the same thing.

But what I do fault us for is when we perpetuate the use of language without looking at whether it has been helpful or not.

Much of the modern business language being used in church settings has bugged me for a long time. But over the last several years I’ve become more outspoken about it because of how much I’ve seen it hurt my own relationship with God, others’ relationships with God, and overall the expressions of God’s people – or the church.

Thus, this blog series will address specific language that I have found particularly troublesome and problematic. Phrases, metaphors, and categories that have been mostly harmful and not helpful in attempting to give people the words they need to navigate faith, their relationship with God, and the church.

Whether it’s categories like burn out or deconstruction, or language like “leaving the ministry” or “excellence culture,” I will look to the experience someone is attempting to describe and compare it with how the Scriptures (and at times mothers and fathers of the faith who have gone before us) have described it. And hopefully you will find that I am trying to offer a way of thinking about this relationship with God we are all navigating using the language God uses in the Bible to describe such things.

Words matter.

Mine included.

So with a great deal of humility, here we go…