When I was a pastor of a congregation I used to worry about those who were deconstructing their faith apart from a community. I was concerned because there’s just so much information out there that just isn’t well-vetted. A 30-second google search or a few minutes watching a short from your favorite tiktok theologian does not embrace all the nuance and cultural context (both historic and contemporary) for life. We need more time and discipline to work through what we learn, and the conclusions one person makes from new knowledge may not properly apply to everyone.
When something as central as our beliefs/values is being questioned, we want stability as quickly as possible. As a pastor, I was worried because most people I knew who were deconstructing were diving deep into sources that, while sharing what may be true, were also touching upon (unintentionally, I believe) that insecurity/lack-of-stability that comes with the whole process. I knew the church hasn’t always been a safe place for many to come with their doubts. But as a pastor, I thought it was part of my work to cultivate a space where questions and doubts could really be explored. Community helps ground us as people; it helps us work through our questions at a pace that keeps our other human needs and relationships in check. In some ways I tried to be a community or a sounding board to those without community or discussion partners. I would not have thought that I would find myself without community as I worked through my own questions.
I can say that now, after being detached from a church community for several months, I definitely worked through my theological and doctrinal questions much faster than when I was constantly applying my work upon the community I was called to care for. I’ve been free to explore theories of atonement, perspectives on gender/sexuality, questions on the identity and mission of the church, etc. As mentally stimulating as these explorations have been, I’m not sure that faster is better.
Yes, my mind has been opened and I generally love to acquisition of knowledge and exposure to perspectives. But I’m learning that this commonly heralded “pursuit of truth” is not good for the soul on its own. Maybe I can uncloud my eyes from all the dogmatic assertions of my faith and see the world more “truly,” but what’s the point in that? The promise of truth as the way to enlightenment does not deliver a fulfilling life… it delivers something but knowledge, theology, and doctrine alone do not provide what the soul really longs for.
I think the Apostle Paul, despite the debates around his writing and practice, did get the heart of the Christian faith right when he critiqued the acquisition of knowledge: “If I have prophetic powers and understand all mysteries and all knowledge and if I have all faith so as to remove mountains but do not have love, I am nothing.”
The faith that I work out in my own study and learning is nothing without love expressed in community with others. While I have enjoyed the freedom I’ve had untethered from a faith community to explore my faith questions, I would trade that freedom — the speed at which I worked through those questions — to do it slower with others. What’s the point in being educated if you’re separate from others?
I admit there is a vanity aspect where I know more about something than others do. There’s a kind of satisfaction to knowing more than others in the same way that some value being different for the sake of being different. Knowledge is its own vanity. Paul’s words help again: “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” I’ve been untethered, but I hope not to be soon. As I seek to enlighten the path that we walk on, I want to keep pace with others.