Three Tips from a Pastor to Care for Those Deconstructing

They want us to know that they have questions, and they want us to affirm that it is ok for them to ask. And they want to know that they have someone who is suffering with them.

Some of those questions that are being asked (according to the 2016 Pew Research Poll) are concerning the compatibility of evolution and Christianity, as well as the scientific evidence for God, creation, and the resurrection of Jesus. The Church, according to a Barna research study, has not been listening to those questions, and has been “antagonistic” toward science. Often offering unrealistic answers to scientific challenges. This is the opposite of listening well.

Listening creates sacred time and space and communicates to the other person: you are valuable, your suffering is meaningful, your questions are important, and your presence here is desirable. Listening says to the sufferer, “you, your suffering, and your questions belong here.”

By creating a space for people to question and suffer, communicates to people that the world is not perfect, we are all questioners and sufferers, and you are allowed to question and suffer with us. Pastors are not exempt; we find ourselves questioning and suffering too. While listening is powerful, it is not sufficient. We need to show compassion as well.

Rather than quote Scripture, try to explain the “will of God,” or offer any answers, I tried something I had never tried before. I affirmed every single question she asked, and then I added a few of my own. I told her that I had questions that were similar to hers. Not only why was God doing this to Kelly and her family, but to other families in the church as well. Why was everything going wrong for all of us? What happened to “God is in control”? The pandemic caused church giving to take a sharp decline. Was I going to have a job in a year? What about all those years I spent in seminary? Would all of that time and energy and sacrifice from me and my wife be wasted? Didn’t God want me to be in ministry? Didn’t he call me to this? Did I make a mistake in thinking I was called to be a pastor?

And do you know what happened next? Kelly realized that she wasn’t alone. She realized that she had a fellow sufferer and questioner walking with her. I wish I could say that her questions stopped, and the pain ended, but it didn’t. However, our conversation did provide a moment of perspective adjustment. The questions that seemed so big got a little smaller. The pain that was so heavy, got a little lighter. And God who seemed so distant, got a little nearer. That’s the power of compassion. But being compassionate requires something that comes natural to so few of us. It requires honesty.

Nevertheless, as pastors with hearts that love those people whom we shepherd, we want to provide answers. We want to give healing where there is brokenness and comfort where there is pain. But sometimes, we have to admit: “I don’t know.” This answer can be really disappointing, I know. Pastors hate to see disappointment in other people’s eyes. You come to us for answers, we don’t want to disappoint you. So, it is really hard to admit that we don’t have the answers. But in truth, honesty really is the best policy.

In my conversation with Kelly, honesty looked like me sharing my story about how I changed my position from a young-earth creationist to evolutionary creationist. It wasn’t easy for me to abandon a theological position that I had held since I was a teenager. There were many points at which I could have abandoned my faith. I can remember sitting in class learning how to exegete Scripture and having so many questions come to mind. The challenge that sound exegesis presented to my understanding of Genesis caused me to “deconstruct” my young-earth creationism view. I could have been one of those who deconstructed from the faith entirely. Instead, armed with the truth and guided by compassionate professors, I emerged with my faith intact.