Ministering in the age of deconstruction will likely involve attentiveness in conversation, sensitivity to the Spirit, and the risk of investment—knowing the person might end up bailing anyway. Good doctors take time with their patients, and as ministers of the gospel we must too. 

Deconstruction is a symptom, not the root cause.
A proper diagnosis is important because—to continue the medical analogy—each underlying condition has a different cure.
I’ve walked as a pastor with many wrestling with deconstruction. While not exhaustive, these are the four most common root causes I’ve seen. Let’s look at the gospel’s treatment plan for each.
1. Church Hurt
Many who deconstruct have been wounded by abusive or manipulative church leaders, or generally unhealthy church cultures. Often these relationships were intimate and formative: the pastor you grew up with, the mentor you trusted. For others, the relationships are more distant. You grew up under the influence of leaders like Ravi Zacharias, Carl Lentz, or Mark Driscoll—whose teaching and charisma powerfully inspired you and formatively shaped you—but then the curtain got pulled back. The betrayal can make the whole thing look like a sham. The pain can be excruciating and disorienting.
It’s easier to throw the baby out with the bathwater when you feel like you’ve been drowning.
Church hurt is real. But deconstruction is a false cure.
The gospel’s remedy is lament. The psalms often protest mistreatment at the hands of God’s people and petition for his justice. David—who wrote a majority of the psalms—experienced abusive leadership firsthand from King Saul. Yet he sought the Righteous Judge with lament, groans, and tears.
You don’t need to ignore the church’s problems to protect its reputation. Instead, bring the problems boldly to God—like David did—and encounter a deeper intimacy with him as you’re honest about your wounds. Deconstruction bypasses this deeper healing. It’s a shortcut that internalizes grief rather than bringing it before God.
We’re not good at grief today. Much of deconstruction exists because it’s easier to move on than to be sad. But the only true and eternal cure for these deeper wounds is Christ.
The solution to bad community isn’t abandoning community; it’s good community. A healthy treatment plan will eventually involve rebuilding a good church community with good boundaries and good leaders. No community’s perfect, but trust can be rebuilt on the other side of lament, in healthy relationships centered on Jesus and life together as his people.
Diagnosis: church hurt
Cure: grief and lament
2. Poor Teaching
Some Christians have been led to believe they must choose between faith and science, because of poor teaching on Genesis 1. Others have been led to believe God is a vindictive sadist, from a popular caricature of hell. Best abandon Christian faith entirely on account of some dubious or sloppy teaching, right?
But if the problem is bad teaching, the solution is good teaching. There are great resources out there (such as TGC’s recent book, Before You Lose Your Faith, and video series “Gen Z’s Questions About Christianity”) and many wise pastors are walking patiently with those who wrestle with hard questions. Good teaching and good teachers exist.
Jesus is the best model of replacing bad teaching with good teaching. I love his refrain in the Sermon on the Mount: “You have heard it said…but I say” (Matt. 5–7). Jesus deconstructs bad teaching in order to reconstruct good teaching. Not all deconstruction is bad.
The bad form of deconstruction, as my friend Seth Troutt pointed out, is epitomized by the serpent’s question in the Garden: Did God really say? (Gen. 3). The enemy wants us to break trust with God and distance ourselves from him and his people. This is the way of most deconstruction today.
Jesus shows us a better way. In contrast to the serpent’s question, Jesus proclaims: You have heard it said …but I say. The serpent’s goal is to break trust; Jesus’s goal is to build trust. The serpent’s goal is to distance us from God; Jesus’s goal is to draw us closer to God.
Some mistakenly think Jesus is critiquing the Old Testament when he says “You have heard it said.” But Jesus loves his Hebrew Bible. He’s constantly saying things like, “It is written,” “Have you not read?” and “I have come not to abolish the Scriptures but to fulfill them.” Jesus has a higher view of the Old Testament than most of us do.
Jesus is critiquing not the Scriptures, but faulty traditions and insufficient interpretations. Not much has changed. Inaccurate caricatures and misreadings of Scripture are everywhere today, even promoted within some churches. 
We need to take good teaching seriously. Our refrain should be, You have heard it said, but Jesus says… I’ve written books on hell, judgment, holy war, sacrifice, wrath, and atonement, and I’m writing one on sex and gender. I’m often trying to confront popular caricatures of the Christian faith and replace them with a healthy, biblical, historic understanding. That’s one of TGC’s goals, too.
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However, if they put their case in such clear terms, it couldn’t do the other thing that such assurances are designed to do: to ease the consciences of the chosen members of the NP that they are not doing anything wrong. As a result, the NP emails almost all sound like this: the PCA is wonderful, and everyone is wonderful, and we are the most wonderful, and our cause is worthy of tireless and sacrificial advocacy.

As I read the now public emails of the secret society called the National Partnership (NP), I was not at all perturbed by their occasional willingness to speak ill of their enemies (people like me). It was obvious from the structure of the group that I stand in the way of what they view as a healthy Presbyterian Church in America (PCA). That they would call me “unhealthy” or “dry bones” makes perfect sense. In fact, I would be disappointed if they didn’t say it because it’s clear enough that we are on entirely different teams, perhaps down to the very bottom of our souls.
What first bothered me about the emails was the sheer number of times that one of the NP leaders reminded his colleagues that what they are doing was not wrong. I thought about it like this: If I told my elders at every meeting that we were not doing anything wrong, could they be faulted if they concluded that I was giving them such assurances because things were really not as rosy as I was proclaiming? It may be that NP members are weighed down with guilty consciences if the leaders must assure the members frequently that their cause is noble.
What also troubled me is that men listed in this group were their repeated accusations of others breaking the ninth commandment. I have heard it from so many and in such varying circumstances that I have wondered why they talk about it as often as they do. For example, a minister with stature in my presbytery, who apparently is some kind of minor director within the NP, has personally threatened me and my session that we would be breaking the ninth commandment if we were to say something is a sin which our confessional documents bluntly call a sin, namely, attempted suicide (cf. WLC 136).
The reason I find their appeals to the ninth commandment so troubling is because their involvement in a secret society designed for the purpose of consolidating political gains is itself one of the most obvious breaches possible of this commandment.
The first thing WLC 144 says is this:
“The duties required in the ninth commandment are, the preserving and promoting of truth between man and man, and the good name of our neighbour, as well as our own; appearing and standing for the truth; and from the heart, sincerely, freely, clearly, and fully, speaking the truth, and only the truth, in matters of judgment and justice, and in all other things whatsoever…”
In other words, what God requires of us most of all in the ninth commandment is truthfulness. A truthful representation of neighbors, ourselves, and in all other things whatsoever.
However, the first requirement of membership in a secret society is that members misrepresent themselves to others. Recall the first rule of Fight Club: Don’t talk about fight club. Other people are not allowed to find out who we are or what we are up to. That is the essence of a secret society, and it is why those who desire to keep the ninth commandment do not join secret societies.
NP members must misrepresent themselves to those outside of their society, because they know that Presbyterians believe that secret societies are impermissible in a denomination that depends upon open discussion and debate in order to promote the general welfare of the church and its mission.
The second requirement of a secret society is that members misrepresent themselves to each other. If they see themselves correctly, then they will realize that what they are doing is wrong on its face and their consciences will suffer dearly for it. Therefore, secret societies wind up misrepresenting themselves to themselves.
It’s striking how often in the emails the NP leaders reassure the members that they are in the majority, and that they are fighting for a grand future which they alone can bring to fruition. We read for example, “If we are clear in advocating for greater health in the Presbyterian Church in America, we will all be part of a more beautiful, more orthodox denomination for Kingdom work around the world. But as always, it will require dedicated and sacrificial efforts” (p. 288).
On the face of it, such sentiments sound noble and virtuous. But only until we realize what it implies about those who are outside the inner circle. It means that those outside the circle are the enemies of beauty and orthodoxy, and the secret members must work tirelessly to defeat them.
However, if they put their case in such clear terms, it couldn’t do the other thing that such assurances are designed to do: to ease the consciences of the chosen members of the NP that they are not doing anything wrong. As a result, the NP emails almost all sound like this: the PCA is wonderful, and everyone is wonderful, and we are the most wonderful, and our cause is worthy of tireless and sacrificial advocacy.
Someday in the not-too-distant future, when the PCA has been splintered, everyone will know that it was the NP who charted the course. The NP will secretly applaud themselves when they are victorious, meanwhile reassuring the losing party that they had no idea that becoming “more orthodox” would make anyone want to leave the denomination. But they will seethe if they are the ones who are cast out.
The members of this secret society clearly perceive that another public group, the Gospel Reformation Network (GRN), is their rival for the future of the PCA (p. 347). However, their leader goes to great lengths to remind the members of the NP that they are not in fact rival political parties, but merely groups that are always opposite sides of the direction of the PCA and the issues related to it.
What is a rival political party if not a group that all of the members of your secret society are always to oppose in votes, committees, etc.? So we find that the destruction of the ninth commandment runs very deep in the National Partnership. Deception to others, bolstered by willful self-deception.
These emails are in fact a study in self and group deception. I accept that everyone who is or has ever been a part of this group are within the fold of Jesus Christ and committed Christians. However, it is striking to see the ways in which their leaders and members gather together to salve each other’s consciences, to the point where they apparently believe that the ninth commandment only forbids speaking poorly about people who are not in their non-secret society.
If you say it within the confines of an exclusive group, whose members are all known to one another, who all imbibe adult beverages too much at General Assembly, and laugh about the “idiot” conservatives, then it’s just words between friends, as Pastor Cassidy so kindly reminded us. On further reflection, I do recall having been to one NP fellowship gathering; I did not find it especially beautiful, orthodox, or sober. And we are to remember that we are not supposed to think critically of the several hundred PCA/NP members who believe that the rest of us are merely “dry bones.”
Mike Littell is a Minister in the Presbyterian Church in America and is Pastor of South Dayton PCA in Centerville, Ohio.

As we revisit the truths that Thomas Brooks discovered in 1652, let us be reinvigorated by them today. Let us make war with our sin. Let us avoid the veneer of virtue signaling and resist the temptation to tuck them away like poison without dealing with it adequately. Let us flee to the arms of our dear savior for comfort, and let us stand in the power of the Spirit to live differently in the days ahead.

One of the most helpful books I have ever read was Precious Remedies Against Satan’s Devices by the great Puritan Thomas Brooks. In that book, which is more like a handbook on how to avoid the schemes of hell, Brooks lays out common ways the enemy so quickly entraps us, along with precious Gospel remedies we can employ to avoid the temptations he brings. Last week, we began looking more closely at the first of these devices and remedies and will continue again this week, looking at how Satan paints sin with virtuous colors.
Painting Sin with Virtue Signals
In the deepest recesses of the human psyche, like a balrog sleeping in the depths of Moria, exists an unquenchable torrent of guilt that cannot be assuaged by the putting on of virtues. And yet, the madness of the human condition is this, although we cannot succeed in doing, surely we will try, try, again. In fact, virtue signaling exists to distract from the inherent guilt we all know is festering within us, like a boil ready to unleash its murky contents.
Imprinted upon the sickly soul of man is the unavoidable knowledge that all have sinned and fallen short of our creator’s glory (Romans 3:23). But, instead of reckoning with this Holy God, the brittle soul suppresses this embarrassing knowledge in abject wickedness (Romans 1:18). Faced with the foul pollution of our contaminated character, we pretend we are virtuous because we cannot stand the terror of how sin has mangled us.
This is why Planned Parenthood when referring to the grizzly murder of a million infants per year, uses the benign phrase: women’s healthcare. The human ego cannot bear the horror and culpability of creating the most extensive serial killing ring in human history. So, with euphemisms turned into ad campaigns, they disguise their awful corruptions and attempt to convince the onlooking world that they are, in fact, the righteous ones. And if you do not join them, you are the real monster.
This is why democrats in 2020 were wearing the “I can’t breathe” t-shirts commemorating the death of George Floyd. Because, with a tattered legacy of being pro-slavery, pro-racism, pro-Jim Crow, and the perpetrator of a litany of violence against non-white races, the democrats must constantly play moral whack-a-mole, to forget who they were, and to convince everyone else they are unstained. And should you defy their clever wordsmithing? You will be thoroughly canceled, tossed into a “basket of deplorables,” doxed, and then deemed unfit for polite society. Their guilt fuels their senselessness.
But let us not puff out hollow chests while doing a little conservative jig with the Pharisees. Everyone virtue signals to some degree or another because no one wants to face the dragons hiding within. We cannot, as Christians, pretend that this is just a game the pagans play. When we lie, we paint with the strokes called: “I was only kidding.” When we foment anger, it is their stupidity that causes it. When we are cut off by a reckless driver, we deem him unfit for the road or travel, and yet, when we do the exact same thing, we are the ones who have an excellent reason. Perhaps, the most constant and revolting aspect of our sin is that it is so morbidly hideous that our souls not only scramble to hide it, cloak it, or redefine it, but it also forgoes true repentance in exchange for pitiful excuses and virtue signals. Without Christ, we are truly hopeless.
The Death of Signaling and Dawn of Virtue
Two thousand years ago, the divine author we rejected penned Himself into His own epic, taking upon Himself the weight of the tragedy, His characters deserved. And unlike us, He didn’t participate in the charades or dawn the theater masks (Thalia and Melpomene). He did not feign righteousness or masquerade with contrived or pretended holinesses. Instead, he lived authentically as the God-man before us. Instead of pacifying guilt, which He had none, He assuaged the wrath of almighty God. For His elect, He came so that all who are in Christ could be set free from the toil of shame and misery to live in the glorious freedom of serving Him.
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