I’m going to tell you a true story, and I’d like you to gauge your reactions to the story along the way.

Wednesday evening, while I was eating dinner at a local restaurant in Midland, someone vandalized our car. I didn’t see it happen – the car was out of my sight for a period of time – but when I left the restaurant, I immediately saw the 18-inch-long scrape running horizontally along the driver’s door, between the window and the door handle.

What are your reactions so far?

This car is a Tesla. We bought this car two years ago and have really enjoyed the EV experience. We have taken the car on longer trips without fueling problems, and we have even gone camping in it from time to time. We can just plug it into a campsite’s electrical outlet, fill the inflatable mattress, and sleep under the glass roof with a view of the stars above.

Of course, Tesla is very much in the news these days because of its CEO, Elon Musk, and his role in the new presidential administration this year.

What’s your reaction to the fact that our Tesla was keyed?

No, we didn’t have Sentry Mode enabled at the time. If it had been enabled, we would have a video recording of the incident. We might be able to identify the perpetrator and file a police report. But that doesn’t really matter. The damage has been done. It will cost us (and our insurance company) nearly $1,000 to repair the door.

There is one more crucial element to this story. For the past month, we have had a bumper sticker on the rear of our car. The bumper sticker reads, “I bought this car before Elon decided to be a supervillain.”

What’s your reaction now?

I took our car to a body shop this morning for an estimate on repairs. Both the owner of the shop and another customer commented to me about this cultural moment. They recognized that many Teslas are being vandalized these days, and some people have very strong political opinions which are at the root of these incidents. But they both said the same thing to me: “we can disagree, we can have different opinions, but that doesn’t mean people should go around destroying other people’s property.”

That’s a nice idea.

But do we really believe it?

I am not really upset about this act of vandalism. I wish it hadn’t happened, of course. I wish I could talk with the person who did this. I wonder what I have in common with this person. I wonder if this person would have acted differently if they knew who Tara and I are. I wonder if they do know who we are.

But in the end, this is just an inconvenience. It’s just a scratch. It’s cosmetic. The car still drives like it always has. In the grand scheme of things, this is not that big of a deal.

That realization gives me pause, though. It’s one thing for us to deal with a petty act of vandalism like this. It’s one thing for us to declare to the world (or at least to the people driving behind us) that we are not fans of Elon Musk and the damage that he and his DOGE team are wreaking on the United States, its various governmental agencies, and the lives of the people who are affected directly and indirectly by the massive cuts that he is causing.

(We can have different opinions, right?)

But it’s another thing for us to harm other people because we think we are right. It’s another thing for us to cause other people to suffer to fulfill our notions of justice and righteousness.

I’m not talking about Teslas.

I’m talking about Gaza. I’m talking about Yemen. I’m talking about Ukraine. I’m talking about student protests here in the United States which have resulted in arrests and attempted deportations. I’m talking about those places in the world where we, as the United States, have said to ourselves, “There’s a difference of opinion between us and them, perhaps a difference of political perspective or religious background. And we’re going to inflict massive suffering anyway – either directly or indirectly.”

More than fifty thousand Palestinians in Gaza have been killed during Israel’s retaliation after the October 6, 2023, attacks by Hamas. Virtually all of the remaining two million residents of Gaza have been displaced multiple times, have endured eighteen months of bombing, have experienced an extreme lack of humanitarian supplies for longer than anyone in the outside world wants to admit. What’s your reaction?

The United States has been bombing various sites in Houthi-controlled areas of Yemen for the past several days (and weeks and years). We are backing away from our support of Ukraine in its three-year-long war against the invading forces of Russia. We are arresting students at American universities and transporting them to detention facilities because of their roles in protests against the devastation being wrought in Gaza. What’s your reaction?

Tara and I are fine. Our car will be fine. We are privileged and fortunate to have good insurance.

This moment in our cultural life is a moment in which we have to decide if we really believe that people with different beliefs and perspectives can live together in peace. We have to decide if we really believe that community is important, or instead that might makes right. We have to decide if our reactions to local and international events are appropriate and are based on the ethics of love.

For me, as a follower of Jesus, I choose the way of love – for my neighbors, for my enemies, even for strangers I will never meet.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” – Jesus, Matthew 5:43-48 NIV

But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. (Jesus in Matthew 5:44-45)

Or those eighteen who died when the tower in Siloam fell on them—do you think they were more guilty than all the others living in Jerusalem? I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish. (Jesus in Luke 13:4-5)

Last Saturday, a gunman opened fire at a Trump rally in western Pennsylvania. One attendee was killed, and a few others were injured, including former President Donald Trump, who was hit by a bullet in his right ear.

In the days since that horrific incident, I have observed various reactions, both private and public. Most importantly, we should all agree that (a) political violence has no place in the United States of America, and (b) it is a good thing that no one else was killed, aside from the one man who, tragically, died.

However, some widely divergent responses are evoking a response from within me. These responses come from people on opposite ends of the political spectrum: those who are strongly opposed to Donald Trump and those who are strongly supportive of him. Each response is troublesome in its own ways.

Response #1: What if?

First, this attempted assassination has caused many people to ask the “what if?” question. Probably all of us can ask it on some level: “What if the bullet had been just an inch or two to the right?” But for those who oppose Donald Trump, this can be a very dark question to ponder. It’s not a question that many are willing to ask out loud. We know that we should not wish harm on those whom we dislike, but there is a very real temptation to wonder what would have happened if the assassination attempt had been “successful.”

This is not a healthy thing to consider, of course. Yet it’s important to acknowledge when our baser instincts would have us wish harm upon others. That kind of darkness must be recognized and rooted out, so that we might live in the light of God rather than in the darkness of our worst impulses. Jesus said, “Your eye is the lamp of your body. When your eyes are healthy, your whole body also is full of light. But when they are unhealthy, your body also is full of darkness. See to it, then, that the light within you is not darkness” (Luke 11:34-35).

Every person is created in the image of God and is deserving of God’s love and of our respect as fellow human beings. This goes for the neighbor across the street, the stranger at the store, the driver on the highway, the immigrant crossing the border, the person sitting on Death Row, and the politician of the “other” party. There is no room within Christian faith and practice for wishing another person to be harmed – especially by the wretched evil of public assassination.

Response #2: Thank God!

A second response to Saturday’s attempted assassination is equally troubling to me. This response tends to come from Christians (and pastors) who support Donald Trump. Many people see this event as an act of God’s grace, even an act of divine intervention. God spared Trump’s life. The Holy Spirit intervened and moved that bullet just far enough so that it did not seriously injure the former President.

There are problems with this kind of thinking, too. Let me ask a simple question: What if we changed the name “Donald Trump” to “Joe Biden” in the headline about the attempted assassination? Would the survival still be seen by the same people as an act of divine intervention? Would it feel the same? I rather doubt it.

This second response is an example of confirmation bias: we believe something to be true if it confirms or supports our preexisting beliefs. For those who support Donald Trump and view him in a very favorable light, it is easy to interpret his survival of this assassination attempt as an act of God. It’s a sign that God has chosen Trump and has big things in store for his future (and, consequently, for the nation’s future).

It is problematic when we use our religious beliefs to support and validate our political beliefs. God is not a Republican. God does not vote in our elections. God loves all people and does not want any of them to perish. It’s bad theology to say that Donald Trump is more important than other people who have not survived gun violence – such as the man who was killed at the rally last Saturday, or any of the thousands of people per year who have died due to gun violence (self-inflicted or otherwise).

Response #3: Fight, fight, fight!

This third response was, of course, spoken by Donald Trump himself just moments after the shooting took place. It has become something of a rallying cry in the past few days, and I understand why he said it in the moment. Yet the posture of fighting – and, perhaps, seeking revenge – is troublesome to me, too.

In my social media feeds, I came across these timely words from Wes Granberg-Michaelson, a minister and former General Secretary of the Reformed Church in America. I encourage you to read his thoughts as well: https://www.facebook.com/share/p/jn5vNitKHaxqG8Bv/

Response #4: Introspection and pursuit of peace

These two actions are how I think we should respond to an attempted assassination of a high-profile figure like Donald Trump.

Introspection. Let’s examine ourselves, our motives, our impulses, our desires. Let’s compare those to the way of Jesus. Let’s ask hard questions of ourselves. Let’s make sure we are not idolizing our political allegiances. Let’s not allow this tragedy to make us any more or less likely to vote in any particular way in November. Let’s root out any desire for violence or vengeance.

Pursuit of peace. Let’s be peacemakers, not just peace-wishers. Let’s respond to violence with compassion and empathy, not with retribution and more violence. Let’s pursue peace, because we know that peace is still some distance ahead of us and we haven’t reached it yet.

Most of all, for those of us who are Christians, let’s make sure our primary allegiance is to Jesus and his kingdom, not to a political party or presidential candidate and the nation to which they belong.

“Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves. By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles? Likewise, every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them.”

Matthew 7:15-20

These words from Jesus get to the heart of the matter: our attitudes and intentions are of utmost importance. The results of our actions are significant. Knowing Jesus, really knowing the heart of Jesus, is the crucial test of our discipleship (see verses 21-23).

A serious phenomenon has been taking place within Christianity, and specifically American Evangelical Christianity, over the past several years. This phenomenon is called “deconstruction,” a word that is often tossed around without much concern for either the people experiencing it or the reasons for which they are experiencing it. In this sense, “deconstruction” is much like several other words in modern society – words which have real meaning for those who describe themselves with these terms, but words which have been twisted and misused by others. (Another example is “woke,” but that’s a different discussion.)

To experience deconstruction is, according to one Baptist Reformed theologian, “apostasy.” A newly published book calls deconstruction “a postmodern process of rethinking your faith without regarding Scripture as the standard.” (Ah, there’s another twisted word: “postmodern.”)

There is much, much more nuance to the experience of deconstruction than this definition lets on.

Deconstruction is not a bad word to me. It is not apostasy (wandering away from the faith). It is not the practice of jettisoning the Bible and determining one’s own truths.

Deconstruction can be a faithful response to spiritual growth. Deconstruction can be a faithful response to poor construction.

Here is a technical definition from Merriam-Webster. Deconstruction is:

a philosophical or critical method which asserts that meanings, metaphysical constructs, and hierarchical oppositions … are always rendered unstable by their dependence on ultimately arbitrary signifiers

In a sense, deconstruction in the Christian world can be compared with a reaction to the song lyric “for the Bible tells me so.” Yes, Jesus loves you and me, and it’s certainly appropriate to believe that truth because it is scriptural. But building a spiritual system on certain principles simply because the Bible says so – or because a parent, a pastor, or a denomination says so – is not always satisfactory. For those who deconstruct, these authorities appear to be “ultimately arbitrary signifiers.”

It’s as if a house of cards has been built, and up to this point the house has been pretty sturdy. But after inspecting the foundation carefully, people who deconstruct are finding that the structure is not stable. It needs to be rebuilt in order to meet the challenges and opportunities of a new day.

Part of My Story

I know deconstruction is a real experience for many people in the Christian world, because I am one of them. I have experienced deconstruction and, I believe, a reasonable amount of reconstruction in my Christian faith over the years.

This process began for me back in my early adulthood, especially after I graduated from college and then continued my education, first as a student of mathematics and then as a seminary student preparing for ministry. I never stopped loving Jesus or the message of scripture. I just began to peel away the layers of a Christian worldview that revealed itself to be built on shaky assumptions. Truth be told, the signs of this deconstruction were evident even in my high school years.

Let me give one example. When I was a teenager, my high school youth group went on a trip to a week-long youth retreat in another state. On the way there, we stayed overnight on a Saturday at another church and then participated in their Sunday morning activities. During the Sunday school hour, we attended that church’s class for students our age.

I have a vivid recollection of the discussion led by the teacher that morning. She asked, “How long did it take God to create the world in Genesis 1?” We all knew the answer: “six days.” Then she asked, “And what does the Bible say about what a day is like to the Lord?” This one was a little tougher, but the answer was: “With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day” (2 Peter 3:8). Then the teacher made her main point: “So then, six days of creation, and a day is like a thousand years. That means the world is only six thousand years old!”

My mind reeled. This was silly. This was not scientific. This wasn’t even logical. This wasn’t what the Bible was meant to be used for – somehow proving a “young earth” theory. This was not a good foundation for a Christian worldview.

That moment was, perhaps, the beginning of my process of deconstruction.

One of my most beloved Christian teachers, Father Richard Rohr, often speaks about three movements in the spiritual life: “order, disorder, and reorder.” Deconstruction is related to that “disorder” movement. It’s what people experience after their initial system of “order” proves to be unsatisfactory. It is very much possible to move from there into “reorder,” or reconstruction, on a more firm foundation.

Back when I first began serving as a pastor, a dozen years ago or so, I attended a presentation at a local Christian high school. This presentation was about creationism and, more broadly, how Christians need to interpret the Bible literally, in every instance, in order to be real Christians. The presenter spoke for quite a while about the impossibility of evolution. Toward the end of his talk, he set up several large Styrofoam dominoes, one in front of the next, in front of the next. He said that if we take away the literalness of the creation story in Genesis 1, then we take away the literalness of the next passage, and the next story, and the next book of the Bible. Pretty soon, we take away the literalness of Jesus himself. To demonstrate his point, he then knocked over the first domino, and they all fell down one after the other.

I just shook my head. His presentation did not describe how I had come to find reorder in my Christian faith. I had deconstructed and reconstructed, over the span of many years. Many teachers, many books, many conversations with friends, and many nudges by the Holy Spirit were involved in this process. I was not threatened by the idea that some parts of the Bible were not necessarily literal accounts of historical events.

I had learned that the world is more complicated than simple questions of “right” and “wrong.” I wanted to produce good fruit, not simply to have the right answers.

Deconstruction Today

Why have many people walked away from Evangelical Christianity in recent years? Why is there so much talk about deconstruction these days? The book and theologian mentioned above, for all their opposition to deconstruction, have done well to note five key reasons for this phenomenon. They say that many people today believe the church emphasizes:

1. A literal reading of the Bible
2. The belief that women are to be submissive to men
3. A belief in the sanctity of heterosexuality and the rejection of homosexuality
4. The assumption that the American way of life is best
5. Identification and partnership with political and social conservativism

These were not surprising for me, because I have heard these same reasons in previous books, articles, and research. For instance, in 2007 the book “unChristian” by David Kinnaman and others with the Barna Group identified several reasons young adults (who are now closer to middle age adults!) have left the Christian faith. Christians are often seen as:

• Hypocritical
• Too concerned with getting people converted
• Antihomosexual
• Sheltered
• Too political
• Judgmental

That was in 2007! Four years later, Kinnaman co-wrote another book called “You Lost Me” in which the authors identified several points of disconnection. Young adults (who, again, are more than a decade older now) view the church as:

• Overprotective
• Shallow
• Antiscience
• Repressive
• Exclusive
• Doubtless (rejecting all doubts)

These are all reasons for people to go through the process of deconstruction. The foundation of Christianity, at least as they have experienced it so far, has been shown to be faulty, shaky, not sturdy. The building needs to be rebuilt. The fruit is not good; the tree needs to be pruned.

Examining Assumptions

Let me take a moment to explore the five numbered items above and suggest why, through the lens of deconstruction, these items are not requirements for Christianity in the twenty-first century.

1. A literal reading of the Bible

Is everything in the Bible literally true? I sure hope not. Our church is reading through the “Chronological Bible” this year, and recent daily readings came from Leviticus 13 and 14. Let me just say that I hope no one approaches me to have me, as their pastor, inspect their skin diseases, unusual hairs, and open sores.

On a more serious note, earlier this year we read the book of Job. That was an interesting editorial choice by the publishers of the Chronological Bible, because the book of Job is undated and lacks any historical indicators. It’s surely a very old story. But is it necessary for Job to have been a real person? Is it necessary for us to believe that the accuser (the meaning of the name Satan) appeared twice in God’s presence in chapters 1 and 2, without anybody batting an eye? Is it necessary for us to believe in monstrous sea creatures because God spoke about Leviathan in chapter 41? Or can we, along with most biblical scholars, recognize that the book of Job is a different type of literature than an historical record?

My reconstructed faith does not require every last detail in the Bible to be literally true. The scriptures are full of lots of different types of literature. The way and message of Jesus is still true and valid and beautiful to me. Viewing scripture in this way has deepened my spiritual journey, not caused me to abandon the faith altogether.

2. The belief that women are to be submissive to men
3. A belief in the sanctity of heterosexuality and the rejection of homosexuality

These two items are more closely related to each other than they might appear. And they are controversial, each in their own way. I will simply say that I have come to realize that there are many honest, authentic Christians who firmly hold both of these beliefs. There are many honest, authentic Christians who reject one but hold onto the other. And there are many honest, authentic Christians who reject both of these beliefs.

What is true? What is right? How you and I answer those questions probably depends a lot on how we react to point #1 above: the question of whether or not the Bible is meant to be read literally in every instance. Suffice it to say that these two beliefs, regarding gender roles and human sexuality, are not always seen as requirements by Christians who have gone through the process of deconstruction.

4. The assumption that the American way of life is best
5. Identification and partnership with political and social conservativism

These two items go together, as well. Generally, it seems that someone who agrees with one of these two will likely agree with other one. On the face of things, it is not inherently wrong to identify with political and social conservatism. It’s also not inherently wrong to prefer the American way of life, although it does smack of ethnocentrism to claim that the American way of life is best.

The trouble is when these become core beliefs of Christians, congregations, and church groups. Evangelical Christianity’s default stance of agreeing with these two items is deeply problematic, because the way of Jesus is neither culturally nor politically aligned with Americanism or conservatism. The way of Jesus transcends culture and is apolitical; the way of Jesus can and should be able to critique any culture and any political system.

If the American way of life is unquestionable, and if political and social conservatism are unquestionable, then they have become idols, gods, deities unto themselves. (The same is true of the Bible, incidentally. If the Bible is unquestionable, then it also has become an idol.) Faithful discipleship will allow for honest critiques of nationalism, political policies, and social systems.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Deconstruction is not a bad word. It doesn’t mean apostasy. It can be a faithful response to God’s movement in a person’s life, as they grow from order through disorder to a new reorder, a new way of following Jesus in the path of discipleship.

The process of deconstruction is necessary for many people to wrestle honestly with serious issues, because if they do not wrestle honestly, then they will produce bad fruit – or no fruit at all. I believe that deconstruction can be one of the tools God uses to help prune us so that we produce the good fruit associated with faithful discipleship.

Of course, not everyone who deconstructs will then reconstruct and resume the path of Christian discipleship. I know many people who have walked away from Christianity because of the above issues, and they have no intention of ever returning.

That’s not a reason to point fingers at them and blame them for walking way. That’s a reason for those of us who still follow Jesus to examine ourselves, our beliefs, and our assumptions even more carefully – lest we too become part of the reason others walk away.

My advice to my fellow Christians is this: When you hear someone talk about their deconstruction from Christianity, listen more deeply. They have a story to tell. They might have some wounds to share. They have a perspective that matters. Let your primary goal be to demonstrate the love of Jesus to them, not simply to “win them back” to Christianity. Read Matthew 7:15-23 again, and really ask yourself what “good fruit” looks like in relation to people who go through deconstruction.

Sometimes I am reminded of the smallness of humanity compared to the vastness of the universe and, in particular, the immensity of our solar system. I always catch my breath and pause in wonder when I remember that all of us humans exist on this tiny blue ball, tilted at around 23 degrees, orbiting around a relatively average star some 93 million miles away from us – a distance which in galactic terms is not very big, but is way bigger than any of us will ever travel in our lifetimes.

I saw two signs of this physical reality today.

First, on my morning run, I was running due west on Dopp Road, a two-lane road with white lines painted on either side. When there’s no traffic around, I will run pretty much on top of the white line on the left side of the road. On Monday morning, when I last ran, the sun was rising directly behind me. I noticed that my shadow fell exactly along the white line. This was unusual because all summer long, the sun has been further north in the sky, meaning my shadow has fallen off the road to the left.

But today, for the first time this season, I saw that my shadow just barely fell inside the white line, on the road itself. The season is changing, and the sun is on its southward quest for the next four months until it turns back north at the winter solstice.

Second, this afternoon, the sunlight came in my office window and shined directly on a little solar-powered mechanism that sits on my desk.

The solar panel converts the sunlight into electric energy, which makes the motor turn the small gear, which turns the large gear, which slowly brings marbles up to the top, where they drop into the spiral slide which brings them back to the bottom once again.

This toy was a birthday gift and has been sitting on my desk for about a decade, I think. And in this time of year (also the late springtime), when the afternoon sun shines directly onto this corner of my desk, this little mechanism goes crazy. It gets so much direct sunlight for a few minutes that a marble drops about every thirty seconds. Normally, with ambient sunlight, one marble might drop every five minutes or so.

We live on a tiny blue ball orbiting a larger yellow ball, and we can only sit back and enjoy the cosmic show as little reminders of our physical universe make their way into our awareness.

The sunlight is moving. The seasons are changing. Of course, the sunlight is always moving at the same speed in all directions, outward from our sun. It’s just that our perception, our reception, of that sunlight is changing because our orientation toward the sun is changing. The sunlight isn’t really moving; we are.

Our scriptures contain lots of celebrations of the created order and the God who created it. Take, for instance, Psalm 104. It includes such lines as “[God] made the moon the mark the seasons, and the sun knows when to go down. … The sun rises, and [the lions] steal away; they return and lie down in their dens. Then people go out to their work, to their labor until evening.”

I encourage you to read the whole psalm today, maybe while the sun is setting. Or tomorrow morning as the sun rises. God has created this universe with rhythms and patterns and routines, and we can rejoice in the beauty of this world in which we play an extremely tiny but extremely important role as its caretakers.