A Divinity of Love

If you’re part of a Christian church in America, chances are you know people who have left the church, or you have heard of the term deconstruction, or you are in the middle of a questioning period yourself. Maybe this type of thing leaves you worried for the church or for yourself. If so, it’s worth reflecting on how deconstruction can be a positive thing for a faith community.

I’ve written here before about the spiritual abuse I experienced, and this experience led me to start deconstructing my religious beliefs. When I talk about these types of issues, I feel like I might be “too much” for some people. I realize abuse is not something anyone likes to discuss or think about. And writing about faith deconstruction might make me sound like I’m on a metaphorical slippery slope because the term is often misunderstood by those who haven’t deconstructed.

One of the reasons I keep writing about these topics is because I know how lonely and isolating it can feel to question your beliefs; I know how much the fear of being outcast can weigh on you. It helps to know you’re not the only one going through it, that thousands of Americans are going through a similar process with their faith.

Another reason I continue to write on this topic is that it’s important for anyone in a faith community to understand the dynamics of abuse, whether that’s spiritual abuse, clergy abuse, or child abuse. By deconstructing our ideas of hierarchy, accountability, gender, and repentance, we can build healthier communities that don’t enable or dismiss abuse of any kind.

I’ve been a part of churches for most of my life, and I can honestly say there have been some people who were truly kind and caring to me, even when they heard about my religious trauma. Unfortunately, I’ve also seen many church systems default to protecting leadership while failing to protect the vulnerable.

I’m not writing this out of a desire to destroy churches. Instead, I write with the hope to shine a light on a darkness many have decided to ignore. I write for those who are still being hurt in unhealthy church environments.

It’s not always easy to detect this darkness or to perceive an unhealthy environment. Certain toxic behaviors or norms become so common that we overlook them. Here are a few questions to start thinking about whether you are part of a safe community or an unsafe one:

Does your faith community require total conformity for you to feel truly accepted, or do you feel like you are able to be your whole self when you’re with other church members?
When you question a teaching in the church, are you given rigid answers that leave no room for debate, or are you welcomed into a conversation where you are free to voice your doubts?
When you talk to a leader about something you might find harmful in the church, are they dismissive and defensive, or do they listen and take appropriate action?

I’ve heard some say that it is better to stay in an unhealthy church and try to change it from the inside. Perhaps this may be true in some cases, but in my experience, one or two people trying to enact change does not usually succeed in shifting a well-rooted system. It’s often safer to leave that community.

In the past, I’ve had to make choices to leave unhealthy situations, and I don’t regret that, even though they were difficult decisions to make. But for my own safety as someone who has suffered spiritual abuse, I found it necessary to move on.

Jesus presented one way for discerning situations like this:

“Watch out for false prophets. They come to you dressed like sheep, but inside they are vicious wolves. You will know them by their fruit. Do people get bunches of grapes from thorny weeds, or do they get figs from thistles? In the same way, every good tree produces good fruit, and every rotten tree produces bad fruit” (Matt. 7:15–17 CEB).

If a faith community is enabling abuse, discriminating against people based on race or gender or sexual orientation, or controlling the behavior of its members, then those are good signs you’re dealing with some thorny weeds.

Perhaps some would argue with me about whether I’m correct in calling these behaviors thorn weeds, but that’s where looking at the fruit of the behavior comes in. Are survivors of abuse marginalized and disbelieved? Are abusers allowed to maintain power and unrestricted fellowship? Do marginalized people in the community have a higher rate of suicide? Do church members feel like they are wholly dependent on the church to meet all their needs, or do they lack the power to make decisions for themselves?

A yes to any of these questions means something is rotten in the system, and it’s important to call it out.

Having lived in the deconstruction space for quite some time, I’m not sure where I’ll end up, but something I am certain of is that it should be top priority to prevent and call out abuse, racism, sexism, homophobia, and other evils that I’ve witnessed in the American church. If we don’t make that a priority, I think we’re missing the whole point of believing in a divinity of love.

Cait West is a writer, reader, and publishing professional who lives with her husband in Grand Rapids, Michigan. After leaving the stay-at-home-daughter movement, she started over by studying creative writing at Michigan State University, working in education and literacy, and eventually finding her way to an editorial position in book publishing. Find her at caitwest.com and on Instagram and Twitter at @caitwestwrites.