What Does ‘Deconstruction’ Even Mean?
So, what does deconstruction even mean? It means different things in different contexts. It is a postmodern philosophical label that has been adopted by current and former evangelicals to sometimes mean navigating a faith crisis, to sometimes mean identifying harmful cultural influences that distort the true gospel, to sometimes mean questioning and rejecting traditional evangelical doctrines and authority figures, or to sometimes mean departing the Christian faith altogether.
“Deconstruction” is a term that has increasingly been used in evangelical circles, especially over the past decade. But it is a confusing term, because there’s no single or simple definition for “deconstruction.” It has different meanings in different contexts. It has technical meanings in certain academic contexts and various informal meanings when current and former evangelicals use it to describe their (or others’) faith experiences.
It’s not surprising that many are asking some form of, “What does ‘deconstruction’ even mean?” It’s an important question and needs clarifying answers — certainly more answers than I can adequately cover here. But I hope to provide something of an introductory overview.
First, we’ll examine briefly where the term, “deconstruction,” came from, so we can, second, understand the primary ways evangelicals are using the term today.
Where Did ‘Deconstruction’ Come From?
In the 1960s, a French philosopher named Jacques Derrida (1930–2004) began to advocate for a postmodern philosophy of language and its relationship to our conceptions of meaning that he called “deconstruction.” It is an abstruse philosophy and notoriously difficult (some say impossible) to summarize. In fact, Derrida himself refused to summarize deconstruction, claiming that his whole life’s work was a summary of his philosophy.
Nevertheless, I’ll take a shot at summarizing it as I currently understand it — and stick with me, because knowing something of where “deconstruction” comes from will hopefully give us insight into why some Christians have adopted and adapted it to describe their experiences — and why many find it confusing.
- A fundamental assumption undergirding Derrida’s philosophy is that humans, through biological evolution, developed the capacity to impose psychological constructs of meaning upon their world as a survival mechanism. In other words, meaning — as in the ultimate meaning of things — is a human psychological creation, not a discovery or divine revelation of absolute truth.
- Therefore, deconstruction asserts that human language at best communicates, not absolute truth, but how a certain individual conceives of truth at a certain moment in time, in the contexts of his cultural, political, religious, environmental, and experiential influences.
- Therefore, deconstruction asserts that philosophers (or theologians) consult written works of the past in vain to discover absolute truth or meaning, since all they’re encountering are other authors’ constructs of truth or meaning. And not only that, but the more distant a reader is culturally, linguistically, and historically from an author, the less the reader will understand what the author actually had in mind when he used terms like truth, justice, good, evil, etc.
- And therefore, the philosophy of deconstruction asserts that in an effort to understand as much as possible what an author actually meant by the language he used, sophisticated methods of textual criticism must be employed to deconstruct the author’s words in order to decipher the conceptual constructs that shaped that author’s understanding of truth and meaning.
Let me try to simplify it even more. If I understand Derrida correctly, deconstruction is
- A literary philosophy arguing that we’re wrong to assume that by merely reading an author’s words we can understand something about absolute truth, since our conception of truth — our constructs of what everything means — will be significantly different from the author’s; and
- Deconstruction is a method of literary criticism that takes apart and analyzes an author’s use of language in effort to discern his construct of meaning.
For Derrida, there is no meaning outside the text of a philosopher’s written work — no absolute truth that the writer is shedding light on for the reader. There’s only the writer’s construct of meaning, of truth, represented in the text he wrote.
Which means that there is no absolute truth inside the philosopher’s text either. Just a reflection of how the author interpreted what the world means. Which, according to Derrida, is what meaning is for all of us: a human psychological construct shaped by multiple influences.
Why Have Christians Adopted ‘Deconstruction’?
So, why have Christians adopted the term “deconstruction” from a philosophy based on principles of philosophical naturalism? I think we can make a connection from something theologian Kevin Vanhoozer has written about Derrida:
The motive behind Derrida’s strategy of undoing [deconstruction] stems from his alarm over illegitimate appeals to authority and exercises of power. The belief that one has reached the single correct Meaning (or God, or “Truth”) provides a wonderful excuse for damning those with whom one disagrees as either “fools” or “heretics.” . . . Neither Priests, who supposedly speak for God, nor Philosophers, who supposedly speak for Reason, should be trusted; this “logocentric” claim to speak from a privileged perspective (e.g., Reason, the Word of God) is a bluff that must be called, or better, “deconstructed.” (Is There a Meaning in this Text?, 21–22)
Over the decades since Derrida introduced his philosophy of deconstruction, the term has worked its way into the common vernacular where it now has come to generally mean “a critical dismantling of tradition and traditional modes of thought.”
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A Brief Word on the Explicit Endorsement of Side B in the PCA
Though it may be true that no court has formally endorsed Side B in the sense of issuing a resolution that says something along the lines of ‘We the session of Generic Presbyterian hereby commend the school of doctrine known as Side B to our members, to our follow presbyters, and to the denomination at large,’ yet still some of our courts have lent other forms of support to the contemporary movement to normalize homosexual experience among us. That support has been no less real just because it has not taken the form of endorsement.
When the apostle John gave instructions on how to interact with heretics he did not say to give them no endorsement, but rather to give them no greeting (2 Jn. 10-11); and it needs but little comment that there is a wide array of different types and levels of support between privately saying ‘Hello, how are you?’ to a traveling heretic and publicly declaring one’s support of him to the church at large. It is disappointing, then, to find Tim Keller forgetting this prescient fact in his recent opinion that because no Presbyterian Church in America (PCA) court has endorsed what is called Side B,[1] therefore any view of the present state of affairs that regards that school as ascendant is mistaken.[2]
On this point we must politely but forcefully demur, for though it may be true that no court has formally endorsed Side B in the sense of issuing a resolution that says something along the lines of ‘We the session of Generic Presbyterian hereby commend the school of doctrine known as Side B to our members, to our follow presbyters, and to the denomination at large,’ yet still some of our courts have lent other forms of support to the contemporary movement to normalize homosexual experience among us. That support has been no less real just because it has not taken the form of endorsement; if anything, considered solely from the perspective of practical consequence, that support has been more helpful than any mere statement of approval.
With all due respect to the gentleman, and much respect is due him, it must be pointed out that one of our churches has allowed its property to be used by the Revoice conference and by individuals in other circumstances, at least one of whom advertised his event with graphic homoerotic imagery.[3] Thus at least one session has given practical support to such things, and when others in the denomination have complained that session’s presbytery declined to reprove or restrain the behavior in view and even suggested that some of the complainants should examine their own hearts, whether there they might be guilty of sin.[4] Thus at least one presbytery has lent practical support to the movement by refusing to restrain it.
But lay this aside for a moment, relevant though it is, and consider instead two things. One, Satan is cunning, and when he first seeks to corrupt the church he does not do so with open claims that would reveal him, but rather with subtle, careful, intentional moves that aim to lay the groundwork for corruption without evoking too much opposition. Hence Paul says that “Satan disguises himself as an angel of light” (2 Cor. 11:14) and that “his servants, also, disguise themselves as servants of righteousness” (v. 15). In seeking to lure Eve into rebellion he did not begin with “your eyes will be opened and you will like God” (Gen. 3:5), but rather with the crafty, obfuscating question of “did God actually say you shall not eat of any tree in the garden?” (Gen. 3:1). So also when the devil tempts us on this matter we should not expect him to send his minions introducing constitutional changes that deny marriage is between one man and one woman, but rather with something more subtle that will let his minions begin the process of working apostasy without revealing their true nature.
Our ‘did God actually say?’ moment came when we were enticed to have these controversies at all. ‘Did God actually say that “sexual immorality and all impurity or covetousness must not even be named among you” (Eph. 5:3), or that this sin so displeases him that he names it by euphemisms (Lev. 18:22), or that this sin occurs in societies whom he has given over to licentiousness as punishment for their impiety (Rom. 1:24-28; comp. Lev. 18:27)?’ Yes he did, and by having this discussion at all we disobey him and disregard the testimony of his word, which teaches that the corruptive power of sin is so contagious and apt to pollute even its enemies that it must be handled, even in opposition, with utmost care (Gal. 6:1). I do not thereby say that all who have been involved are therefore apostates, for there is such a thing as stumbling into error that afflicts true believers (Matt. 16:23; Gal. 2:11-13); yet the sin is real, irrespective of whether it is done by a believer or by a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And it is a sin that many in our denomination have committed.
Two, the movement to normalize homosexual experience represents a moral revolution, and such things, in the nature of the case, move rather quickly. In 1996 another Presbyterian denomination adopted a change to their constitution recognizing marriage as between one man and one woman. In 2011they reversed their position and declared their support for so-called same-sex marriage, and as of today they seem to be straining with the utmost fury to ‘be on the right side of history’ (if not of its Lord) by embracing so-called transgenderism, a thing which was almost unheard of before several years ago. That denomination is the PCUSA, and those of whatever faction should pause and ponder the rapidity and completeness of her infidelity on this point before they entertain any thought that ‘We’re the conservative PCA: that won’t happen here any time soon.’ “Let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall” (1 Cor. 10:12).
In light of these two facts people like Tim Keller and others of like mind should not be hasty to dismiss any perspective that regards the PCA as drifting into error as regards sexuality and morality. Already it has become rather common to hear people describe themselves with terms taken from the LGBT movement (e.g. ‘gay’), whose hostility to our faith is obvious. Already concepts from that movement, including especially that of an effectively immutable orientation, are in use among us and have achieved a fair amount of acceptance. Already it is regarded as appropriate to give occasion for people to share their experiences of lust and how it affects their professed faith, as if their experiences, however emotional, are anywhere near as important in such matters as the objective authority of scripture. Already we have deemed this matter sufficiently important to warrant a study committee and report and have deemed it prudent to allow people who profess to experience homosexual lust to be a part of that committee.
The language, subjective emotional experience, and hamartiological and anthropological doctrine and framework of those that profess to experience same-sex lusts have all been effectively normalized, as evidenced by the fact that they are used even by many of the opponents of such concepts and that this use has nowhere been meaningfully resisted or judicially condemned. All of this has occurred without official endorsement by any PCA court, and in all of it there has been much harm done to the church’s fidelity, some of it by some of her erstwhile defenders. Weep and pray, dear reader, for God condemns not only those that advocate sin but also those that are derelict or halfhearted in their opposition to it (1 Sam. 2:22-36; Prov. 25:26), and we have been hitherto slack in meaningfully opposing the leaven that so rapidly spreads among us.
Tom Hervey is a member of Woodruff Road Presbyterian Church (PCA) in Simpsonville, S.C.[1] If indeed this school is errant in its doctrine, as I believe it is, it would be irreverent to affix this term to ‘Christianity,’ hence why I refrain from doing so.
[2] Keller, Tim. “What’s Happening in the PCA?” By Faith Online, March 21st, 2022, https://byfaithonline.com/whats-happening-in-the-pca/
[3] Pruitt, Todd. “Doctrinal Latitude and the PCA.” Reformation 21, March 14th, 2022, https://www.reformation21.org/blog/doctrinal-latitude-and-the-pca
[4] Shaw, Jim. “An Open Letter to the PCA Missouri Presbytery.” The Aquila Report, May 24th, 2019, https://theaquilareport.com/an-open-letter-to-the-pca-missouri-presbytery/
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Dealing with Death and Disease
Admit your fears to God and others. I don’t know all the reasons why the Lord allows us to suffer. I do know that He uses our pain to conform us to Christ. Confessing our fears gives people the opportunity to pray for us and encourage us to keep our eyes on Jesus, not our suffering. It allows us to bear one another’s burdens and fulfill the law of Christ (Gal. 6:2).
“I see a spot we need to keep an eye on.” Cancer. It wasn’t a diagnosis that I ever expected to hear as a young man about to start a family. Immediately, my mind filled with questions: How will I tell my wife? How will she manage if I die? What will the treatment cost? Am I ready to die?
There were no words in the immediate aftermath. It helped that the cancer with which I’d been diagnosed has a 95 percent cure rate, but I’d be lying if I said that eliminated my worries. A 95 percent cure rate isn’t a 100 percent cure rate. Would I be part of the “unlucky” few? How would it be possible to maintain a straight face and tell my wife that “everything’s going to be all right” when I had no control over that? Sometimes things don’t turn out all right—at least in the short term.
As scary as that moment was, it pales in comparison to what I felt when I heard the news my wife and I received just after our fourth child was born a little over two years ago. “Your son has Pfeiffer syndrome, a rare genetic disease that affects one in one hundred thousand people. We don’t know what this means for him yet. He will certainly have developmental delays, but his prognosis could be anything from a normal life to severe mental and physical limitations to death.” I’m paraphrasing a bit here, for the doctors did not say things so matter-of-factly. But it was the most frightening moment of my life. How were we ever going to handle this?
People die every day. Babies, teenagers, young mothers, middle-age fathers, the elderly—death is no respecter of persons. It’s not exactly true that the only sure things in life are death and taxes. You can avoid taxes. If you’re willing to put up with jail time, you need not pay the tax man. Death, on the other hand, is certain. Apart from those who are living when the Savior returns to consummate His kingdom, no one gets out of this world alive. And long before we breathe our last, all of us are going to face disease and watch friends and family suffer, or even suffer ourselves. Right now, as I am updating this article, the whole world is dealing with the COVID-19 pandemic. Death and disease are very much on everyone’s mind.
Why do we fear death so much? For non-Christians, the answer is easy. No matter how they suppress the truth in unrighteousness, whether by atheism, agnosticism, or false religion, they can’t escape their God-given awareness that they’ve broken His law and deserve hell.
Christians also fear death and disease. Of course, we know that we’re not supposed to, and we’d never tell anyone that we harbor such fears. Certainly, we know all the right things to say about death: God is sovereign. He has a good purpose in my pain.
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Talitha Cumi
There will come a time when the graves will opened. And all of you ladies who are in Christ will hear: “Talitha cumi.” “Little girl, get up.” And all of you men who are resting in Jesus for the forgiveness of sin—you will hear: “Talay Cumi.” “Little boy, get up.” And you will be ushered into eternity—body and soul—by the one who conquered death.
Most of the Gospel of Mark is written in Greek, and when the reader is confronted with Jesus speaking Aramaic, it ought to give pause. Jairus’s twelve year-old daughter–an only child–lay dead and the Lord Jesus had been called to her bedside to heal her. The Gospel records:
Taking her by the hand he said to her, “Talitha cumi,” which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise.” And immediately the girl got up and began walking (for she was twelve years of age), and they were immediately overcome with amazement. Mark 5:41-42
With the quiet of the room and the mourning of the parents…
With Peter and James and John looking on…
With a twelve year old girl lying dead in her bed…
With all the wailing outside and the mockery of Jesus….
With the words of her death spreading around the small town….
Jesus, the precious savior, takes this little girl by the hand and whispers in Aramaic:
Talitha cumi.
These are two of the most precious words in all of the Word of God:
“Little girl, get up.”“Honey, it’s okay—rise up.”“Rise up, little girl.”
And she did.
She rose from the dead as Jesus brought her back to life through whispering two of the most precious words that have ever crossed the lips of humanity.
Talitha cumi.
Now go–if you will–with me into the next years and decades of life, along with this twelve-year old girl. Use your sanctified imagination.
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