Somewhere along the way, doubt and deconstruction got tossed into the same bucket. If you’re questioning your beliefs or peeling apart parts of your faith, people often assume you’re headed in the same direction: straight out the church doors, waving goodbye.
But asking questions isn’t the same as dismantling your belief system. And even if you’re doing a little—or a lot—of both, it doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong.
If anything, it might mean you’re finally taking your faith seriously.
First, let’s get something clear: Doubt is not the enemy of faith. It’s practically a built-in feature. As theologian Søren Kierkegaard once noted, “To have faith is to have doubt.”
Doubt happens when you realize the world is bigger, harder and more complicated than the answers you were first handed. It asks, Is what I believe true? and stays around long enough to listen.
Deconstruction is a little different. It’s not just wondering about certain beliefs—it’s stepping back far enough to wonder if the whole system you were taught can hold the weight of real life at all.
Author and theologian likens it to the old game Kerplunk.
“Sometimes you pull out a straw and some of the marbles shift. That’s what I would call lowercase deconstruction — just a small shift,” she told RELEVANT. “But then someone, at some point, will pull a straw and all the marbles fall through. That’s deconstruction.”
Weiseth draws an important distinction here. Small shifts—changing a theological view, questioning a worship style—aren’t the same thing as a full-scale collapse. And crucially, even when a collapse happens, that doesn’t mean someone has abandoned faith entirely.
“Deconstruction is the process that we go through to lay everything out and examine our beliefs and why we believe it and how we ended up here,” Weiseth said. “Sometimes that ends in deconversion. Sometimes it ends in a rebuilding of faith, a growing of faith, a spiritual formation. It’s just different for everybody.”
Both doubt and deconstruction are part of a living, breathing, thinking faith. Both can be sacred. Both can go sideways. And knowing the difference between them can be the thing that keeps you from mistaking a necessary renovation for a full-blown demolition.
It’s worth noting that deconstruction doesn’t always lead to deconversion, despite the narrative some corners of the internet are pushing. Weiseth points out that conflating deconstruction with deconversion misunderstands the process entirely.
“The process is not the end result,” she said. “It’s not walking away from faith. It’s taking stock and asking if what we were taught actually holds up.”
Sometimes the process is sparked by something deeply holy. Weiseth notes that many people begin deconstruction after experiencing church betrayal, systemic injustice or even a restlessness “by the Spirit of God that something wasn’t right.”
There are a million reasons someone might find themselves questioning everything: disillusionment over the politicization of faith, frustration over the treatment of marginalized communities or the influence of social media amplifying these concerns.
In Weiseth’s view, much of today’s visible deconstruction movement is less about a sudden loss of faith and more about a public reevaluation that was long overdue.
“When people started to speak out about how they felt abandoned and confused and started asking questions about everything that they had believed or had been taught their whole life,” she said, “they were able to find other people who were experiencing the same thing, which created this perfect storm of conversation that we see in the mainstream.”
Of course, not everyone who starts deconstructing sticks around. Some do leave. And it’s not always because they hate God or want a “lifestyle of sin,” as the laziest critiques suggest.
Sometimes it’s because the version of Christianity they were handed was more tied to power, politics or personal preference than to Jesus himself. When the faith you were given feels shallow, brittle or abusive, walking away can feel like survival.
But here’s where it gets tricky: Doubt without curiosity can calcify into cynicism. Deconstruction without reconstruction can leave you homeless.
Spiritual maturity isn’t just about asking hard questions. It’s about sticking around for the hard answers—even when they’re slow, incomplete or painful.
Weiseth emphasizes that while deconstruction is deeply personal, it should never be done entirely alone.
“Find someone that you trust, that is a good listener, that can offer you compassion and patience and welcome,” she advises.
Whether that’s a mentor, a pastor or just a good friend, it’s critical to have community around you as you sift through the rubble.
For those walking alongside a friend who’s deconstructing, Weiseth offers simple but profound advice: “Be curious, not judgmental.”
Lead with compassion, not fear.
“Simple relational curiosity questions can speak volumes to someone who feels alone, isolated, disillusioned and confused,” she said.
The truth is, none of this is new. Weiseth points out that Martin Luther’s reformation could easily be described as an act of deconstruction—a reevaluation of core beliefs that led to a stronger, reimagined faith.
In the same way, deconstruction today doesn’t have to end in destruction. It can just as easily lead to rebirth.
If you’re doubting, you’re not broken. You’re human. And if you’re deconstructing, you’re not necessarily lost. You might just be starting to find the real thing.
Ask the hard questions. Pull out the straws. Watch what falls. And when it does, don’t panic. Be curious. Be patient. And when you’re ready, start building again—this time, on a foundation you can actually trust.
