“Let us examine our ways and test them, and let us return to the Lord.” (Lamentations 3:40 NIV)
Again, I invite you to revisit the bridal salon where I work, only this visit might not be as pleasant as the last two. One of my regular tasks is seam-ripping. I’m not a tailor by any stretch of the imagination, but the two talented seamstresses we have on staff are continually overwhelmed with alterations. Gown modifications are a dying art and there’s a industry-wide seamstress shortage. (Turns out it’s far harder to reassemble than disassemble.) In our salon, we’ve found that the consultants can alleviate a bit of the burden on our seamstresses by ripping seams on their behalf.
Seam-ripping is a tedious business. It involves hours bent over fine fabrics (tulle, lace, silks and satins) searching for the right stitches to snip. It’s easy to tug on the wrong thread; resulting in a snag of precious materials. Even amidst gown deconstruction, there’s a right way to do it.
As I’ve hunched over these dresses in an effort to disassemble, I’ve thought a lot about the next generation and their quest to deconstruct their faith. Awareness of church hurt is at an all-time high and in it’s wake, many people have abandoned the belief system that has upheld humanity for thousands of years.
Perhaps there’s also a way to deconstruct faith rightly?
Ripping seams has allowed for considerable time to assess my own major faith alterations. I grew up in church. My mother was a Methodist minister and my father a devout Catholic. From infancy to adulthood, I traipsed back and forth between Mass and Sunday service, catechism and Sunday school, the rectory and the parsonage.
While I was still in high school, I began investigating the footings of my faith. There were aspects of the Catholic church I didn’t comprehend. The veneration of Mary and transubstantiation tripped me up, I wanted to know where those teachings found their origin. I also had deep concerns about the Methodist church. As far back as 1995, there were doctrinal statements that felt out of gait with the gospels. In those years, I distinctly remember wrestling with the authority of scripture; if some of it was applicable and some of it wasn’t, what parts do we pay attention to and who decides what is true?
In college, I wandered into a third denomination when a cute boy named Rob invited me to his youth group. Morningside Assembly felt like home from my very first visit. When Rob and I married, I settled into an expression of faith that seemed to match my enthusiasm for Jesus.
In my thirties, I experienced a call to ministry. I started attending the district school of ministry and set out into the arduous process of sorting through my personal doctrine. Twenty-seven courses forced me to examine my beliefs; retaining those supported by scripture and discarding those that proved superfluous. The undertaking started with bible courses but continues daily through scripture consumption and personal application.
By today’s vernacular, I deconstructed. I intentionally pulled at the stitches of my faith, picking it apart to find out what exactly what it was made of. But I didn’t leave it as a pile of scraps. I sat with an open Bible and the presence of the living God. Together, we intentionally reconstructed a faith more in keeping with the testimony of scripture and the leading of the Spirit.
At the bridal shop, when I have completed my part of the process, I’m left with a hole-y dress ready for reassembly. The seamstress must do her work or the gown remains unwearable. I deconstruct under careful supervision. Left to my own devices, the exquisite dress could be reduced to a pile of expensive scraps, useful to no one. Something with such intrinsic value could wind up in the trash, fit for nothing.
Turns out, the most crucial part of deconstruction is the reconstruction.
When we deconstruct rightly, it include reconstruction. At the end of reconstruction, we have a better-fitting faith, like a bride with a made-for-her gown. It’s a delicate process, but faith is too precious to handle callously. There’s far too much at stake.
As I prayed about this blogpost, I felt like it might be helpful to list some guidelines for deconstruction and reconstruction.
Consult the Creator often.
I do not rip stitches unsupervised. There is always a master seamstress within reach. It’s better to ask a question before the whole gown comes apart. We only rip seams with the end goal in mind.
Likewise, when we are picking apart our faith experience, it’s crucial to stay in contact with our Creator. He has the answers for all our questions. He can clearly envision the final design. He’s a living God who must be included in our deconstruction/reconstruction efforts if we are to experience any measure of success.
Let the pattern speak louder than the experience.
In the sewing room, we must be careful not to cut away something that is essential to the structure of the dress. Designers have built a gown with wearability at the forefront. In our zeal, if we fail to follow the pattern we may wind up with something unwearable. The pattern is critical to the function of the gown.
Similarly, scripture (the pattern) is crucial. Unchanging. Our emotions waver. We must give scripture greater value than our feelings.
Salvage as much as possible.
We retain almost everything in the bridal salon. Each appliqué, bead and button has potential for re-use. When we measure twice and cut once the discard pile is surprisingly small.
Likewise, God is sovereign and He’s allowed parts of our story on purpose. Oftentimes He has a plan for the pieces we would prefer to omit altogether. Refuse to discard apart from divine supervision; you may be surprised by what He can accomplish with what you already have on hand.
If anything, seam ripping has taught me that deconstruction doesn’t need to be scary. Deconstruction is a necessary means to reconstruction, and when it’s done rightly, we wind up with a better-fitting faith.
“They examined the scriptures every day to see if what Paul said was true. As a result, many of them believed, as did also a number of prominent Greek women and many Greek men.” (Acts 17:21 NIV)
Deconstruction followed by reconstruction yields belief. And belief, my friends, is surprisingly contagious.
Lord, we have questions. We’ve heard and seen things that don’t represent You well. Please assist us as we examine our faith. Speak to us through scriptures. Lead us by Your Spirit. Give us the stamina to disassemble the seams that don’t honor You. Help us know what to keep and what to discard. Show us how to reassemble our faith into something stronger. Amen.