My Deconstruction is Like a Game of Jenga

People ask me what started my deconstruction, or why I don’t believe in god, or what was the final straw in leaving Christianity? And I don’t know. It was all these little pieces pulled out one at a time. When one piece was pulled out–one belief lost–it wasn’t a big deal. My faith didn’t crumble. It didn’t even really waver. In fact, I felt this incredible urge to point out all the places where it was strong. “See? It’s still standing.”

But as I pulled more and more pieces out, the whole thing felt a little more wobbly… a little less stable. It didn't crumble, but I certainly wouldn’t lean on it. Piece after piece. One belief after another. Until finally, it did all crumble. And I couldn’t blame it on one thing. It was a series of losing piece after piece that made the structure lose its stability. It couldn't stand. Except for those few pieces at the very bottom. Those few pieces that never moved are love and kindness and humanity. Those are the beliefs that never fall.

The other pieces can go fuck themselves. The piece about burning in hell. The one about women being submissive. The one about being inherently evil. The one about how our western Christian religion is the only one in the world who got it right. The one where we love the sinner hate the sin all in an attempt to change who people are. The one that isn't affirming of LGBTQ+ friends. The one that justifies not supporting Black Lives Matter. The one that controls our sexuality and our bodies.

Those are the pieces I’m happy to lose. I’m happy to pull them all out and let them crash on the floor and never pick them up again. It wasn’t just one of those, although it could have been. All the beliefs are so tightly connected that they lean on each other; so often one needs to be true for the other to stand. Once I started unpacking that framework, it all came toppling down.

Eventually.

But I watched it hold on for a long time. I played a good game of Jenga.

I’m not left picking up the pieces. I’m not broken. I didn’t crumble to the floor. I just took out the pieces I didn’t want. My love and kindness and humanity–the pieces at the base that didn’t move–they are the ones I want still standing. They helped me take out all the other pieces. And they are enough for me.