My Deconstruction story begins

 My first "deconstruction" experience was in 2003. It started, actually, in November of 2002; pregnant with a baby I was incredibly excited to carry, my heart was crushed when, at a regular OB appt, the midwife could not find a heartbeat. An ultrasound confirmed fears that our baby was dead. Hannah Joy was delivered later that night. Two months later, I was pregnant again, but instead of filling my heart with joy, it was a bitter reminder of the baby I'd lost. Hannah's death was the beginning of my descent into darkness. 

Just about four months after Hannah's death, another blow added to the "deconstruction" of my faith; my sister died. She was 30. She didn't know I was pregnant again; we were going to share that news when we visited. That would never happen. 

Ten days after my sister's death we found out we needed to move. Far away. The ministry we'd been part of for three years was being shut down and there were no options for us to remain.

We ended up moving from Idaho to Florida. Seven months pregnant with baby number five, tired, overwhelmed with grief and loss, ripped away from my beloved community and forced to sell my dream home, that drive took me deeper and deeper into a spiritually dark place. 

God was not living up to my expectations. 

You see, I believed God's promise in Romans 8:28, which says, bascially, that all things work together for good for those who love God and are called according to His purpose. My version was a little different; I took it to mean that God would fix up my mixups and make life feel good. Up until that point, I could generally tie painful experiences into my own "mixup," something I'd done wrong that required God to step in and fix it. My bad interpretation (reinforced, intentionally or unintentionally by the faith community I'd grown up in) made room for bad things to happen as a consequence of my broken humanity or selfishness. It made sense. But I found myself in a horrific situation that didn't tie back to any bad decisions I'd made. I hadn't done anything wrong. In fact, my consequences were the result of bad decisions others had made. Nothing was my fault. I was so confused. I was hurting. And I was far away from anyone who truly knew me or loved me well enough to speak into my pain. 

God, who is always faithful, even when we can't see Him in the dark, surrounded me with a very gracious and loving community. My "coach," who has become a beloved mentor and friend, gave me space to be broken, gave me permission to grieve, and was used of the Lord to help me see the fallicy of my interpretation of God's promise in Roman 8. 

The assignment that took us to Florida lasted for just under a year. We marked many momentous occassions, including the safe arrival of our fifth daughter, milestone birthdays, and the first day of school for two of our children. Even with the incredible support from my husband and my mentor, I was still in a very dark place spiritually. Shortly before our time in Florida was done, God crossed my path in a most unexpected way. 

Carolyn James spoke about the importance of good theology in her first book, When Life and Beliefs Collide. By God's grace, I was able to hear her speak, in person. And I was blessed with a copy of her book. It was transformational! God used James' book to gently and graciously reveal how my defective theology rested on a faulty faith foundation

Before I go on, let me take this moment to encourage you to pick up a copy of When Life and Beliefs Collide. It is a truly fantastic book. 

As I read Carolyn's book, I began to realize that I had been a bad theologian. I had created God in my image instead of recognizing that I am created in His. My bad theology had been a faulty foundation for my faith, and when the insufficiency of my bad theology was exposed by life, my faith really began to crumble. God, in His grace and infinite love, razed my faith to the ground, rebuilt my foundation based on His truth, and set my feet on solid ground. My life has neven been the same. 

But that is not the end of my deconstruction journey.