Deconstructing Faith, Friends, and Family

After launching His public ministry, calling His first disciples, healing the sick, driving out demons, and running afoul of the religious leaders, Jesus goes home. But instead of receiving a hero’s welcome, his family thinks he’s nuts: 

Then Jesus went home, and once again a crowd gathered, so that He and His disciples could not even eat. When His family heard about this, they went out to take custody of Him, saying, “He is out of His mind. And the scribes who had come down from Jerusalem were saying, “He is possessed by Beelzebul,” and, “By the prince of the demons He drives out demons.”…Then Jesus’ mother and brothers arrived. Standing outside, they sent someone in to call him. A crowd was sitting around him, and they told him, “Your mother and brothers are outside looking for you.” “Who are my mother and my brothers?” he asked. Then he looked at those seated in a circle around him and said, “Here are my mother and my brothers!  Whoever does God’s will is my brother and sister and mother.”

Three chapters into the Gospel of Mark and Jesus is already in trouble. Conflict followed Him wherever He went, mostly because He refused to allow the religious leaders of His day to continue oppressing and dehumanizing the masses with distorted views of God. Thinking Jesus is taking things just a little too seriously, His family comes out to “seize” Him, a word Mark uses elsewhere to describe political detainment. We can’t know their motivations, but their attempt to silence Jesus must have been motivated by fear, or at least a desire to protect Him and their diminishing family reputation. 

On a personal level, this happens to me more than I care to admit. Whether it’s the President at my alma matar Milligan University banning me from speaking on campus because “Gary Alan is too liberal,” or a friend’s pastor I’ve never met warning her not to listen to Holy Heretics podcast because it’s not safe, the people you’ve left behind on your journey out of evangelicalism are often the most harmful and hurtful. And when it’s family, it makes it even more painful.

My dad recently called me, “concerned” about my affirmation of LGBTQIA+ individuals, my support of CRT, and my general concern for social justice in the public square. As a MAGA Christian, he couldn’t understand my public support for the victims at Club Q, the unjust imprisonment of Brittany Griner and my growing disgust at the unholy union between Christianity and the Republican Party. But five minutes into the conversation it was evident his concern was simply code for control, for an attempt to dominate my beliefs and force me back into compliance. I resolutely refused, and we haven’t spoken since.

As unfortunate as the conversation turned out to be, it was revelatory, opening my eyes to something universal. Sometimes the most oppressive, controlling, and domineering forces in life are close friends and family, or at least the folks who knew you when. They know your story, who you are, and where you come from. They know who you used to be, how dare you have the audacity to mature beyond them! How dare you question what everyone in your past life just accepts as normal. So instead of encouraging your new found walk, they talk about you behind your back, label you a heretic, and let you know in not so passive aggressive tones that they are “praying for you.” One of the truths of faith deconstruction is that those people you left behind will do everything in their limited power to derail your spiritual journey. A prophet really has no honor in her home town does she?

So it shouldn’t surprise us to see Jesus’ family and friends then—and ours now—strongly reacting to behavior and beliefs foreign to familial origin. If your sacred journey causes you to disagree with cultural Christianity, to befriend socially unacceptable people, to fight for the poor, to challenge the marriage of Church and political party, and to liberate those suffering under spiritual abuse, your family and friends are probably going to take umbrage with you. They might even label you a heretic, or in today’s vernacular, WOKE!

But as we see with Jesus, the alienation between Him and His family is mutual. He refuses to see them and instead creates a new community, a new family free from oppression, domination, and control. The new family Jesus creates isn’t based on blood, but rather on the common pursuit of love, justice, compassion, and freedom. And in so doing He reveals this liberating truth: Your faith journey is between you and God. Nobody has the right to interrogate its validity. You did the work, you went on the journey, you found the Holy Grail. Don’t allow your friends and family who have never had the courage to set out on the faith seeking journey to minimize your new life.

When you have been transformed, and your family or community have not, they will often attack you because they perceive your new life to be a judgment on them. If anyone ever needs you to change your behavior or prove why you believe something, it's likely coming from a place of fear, not one of curiosity, encouragement, or love. No amount of proving or persuading will ever be enough to convince them you aren’t crazy, so let them go. Wipe the dust off your shoes and move on. It’s okay to simply decline to engage, to mute, or unfriend especially if conversing will only reopen old wounds and spiritual traumas. And let’s just be honest: If someone thinks you are “taking things too far,” odds are you are actually on the right path!  

Fear, fundamentalism, and an unflinching refusal to grow are sure signs of a spiritual community in decay. “Ask of your community—does it vampire me, or does it nourish me? And if it's vampiring me, I have to get out,” warns Irish philosopher John Moriarty.

So, get out! Don’t look back. Flee your former community and refuse to give them the power to define who you are becoming. And like Jesus, you just might find a new community just waiting to embrace you as you journey deeper and deeper into the heart of faith.

Gary Alan Taylor