Deconstruct This
We would have been best friends. We come from the same background, read the same books, believe the same theology. Our identities and life purpose are wrapped up in the same faith. And I’m listening to him tear it apart with a pair of rational pliers until there’s nothing left.
I’ve heard testimonies before from those who left Christianity. But everyone else had a faith that was legalistic, intellectual, or in some way different than mine. This is why I’m now feeling threatened and defensive. Because Rhett McLaughlin is claiming everything I have: an understanding of grace, life of ministry, accurate theology, and a relationship with Christ. It’s possible our faith experiences are different and I have something he never did. But nothing he’s saying would indicate that, and if he no longer believes it’s true, why do I? This is when I start to wonder.
I know there is a Creator God, and His name is Jesus, because there’s no other way to explain Christ’s claims of divinity and the conspicuous presence of an empty tomb. But what else do I know with certainty?
I grew up with a very expansive, robust, systematic theology which filtered every new idea I encountered. I read books and listened to sermons reinforcing what I already believed, and even my reading of Scripture was informed by this theology rather than the other way around. When I read in Exodus about God changing His mind, it must be figurative, because that’s the only interpretation my theology allows. I fashioned elaborate excuses to let God off the hook for things He did and said that contradicted my understanding of Him, rather than change my understanding of Him.
How much of my faith is built on God and how much is built on other people’s interpretations of the Bible? Even an interpretation that has been shaped and expanded over centuries by scholars, is not, by mere virtue of that fact, true.
In some way, everyone’s theology is inaccurate. No creation can fully understand its creator. Though God has revealed much of Himself to us, He has also hidden much of Himself from us, as if to ask where our faith lies – in Him or in our understanding of Him? C.S. Lewis, who had a far deeper knowledge of God than I, prayed “Not to what I think Thou art, but to what Thou knowest thyself to be.” He understood the limits of human understanding.
This doesn’t mean the study of God is futile – that I shouldn’t try to know Him better because I can not know Him perfectly. But it means my faith can not be in the rational or intellectual soundness of my theology. If it is, than it is built on sand, and in time it will and should be deconstructed. Rather, my faith must be in the One whom my theology attempts to describe: a living God who is simultaneously mysterious and personal.
My faith is not in the Bible, but the One whom the Bible reveals. Jesus Himself said to the religious leaders, “You search the Scriptures, for in them you think you have eternal life; and these are they which testify of Me.”* The Bible is not a how-to manual or encyclopedia of cosmic answers; it is an avenue to encounter God, and if it doesn’t lead me to Jesus, I’m reading it wrong.
This feels less stable than a systematic theology that gives me all the answers. But maybe this is better than answers. Because the Pharisees had all the answers, and so did Rhett and I. But we aren’t saved by the accuracy of our answers or even how sincerely we believe them.
The truth is, as it has always been, that salvation is found in no other name than the name of Jesus.** So what do I believe in? A religious system, sacred texts, my own intellect? Or do I believe in God, not as I think He is, but as He knows Himself to be?
J.
* John 5:39
** Acts 4:12
July 8, 2020