My dad knelt with me beside my bed at age 6, and helped me say the sinners’ prayer.
Two decades later, he sat beside me on a cast-iron bench and revealed that he had been committing the most heinous of sins in our framework of faith… since before I was born.
It broke me.
Now, I need you to understand something before I share more about this thing called conscious reconstruction. You have to know who and what was sitting there, otherwise my collapse is just another story about a dude who lost his religion, and there are thousands of those. So hear this context:
This is about what it costs when you were very, very good at it, and absolutely nothing could EVER rock your foundation.
When you’re a fish, all the ocean is air.
If you really knew me, you would know that the first 20+ years of my life were, honestly, pretty great. I grew up in a semi-affluent area, had a loving, caring, and complete family, and never really wanted for anything.
One major reason for my positive childhood? The church.
My parents were both born-again, evangelical Christians. My dad’s family grew up in the charismatic tradition of Assemblies of God (yep, no smoking, drinking, dancing, playing cards, etc… and yes. before you ask… speaking in tongues was common in that church).
Growing up, we found a wonderful community in our local nondenominational church, and that community became my world. Sunday school. Youth group(s). Heading to Chili’s or The Old Country Buffet with several other families after sunday services, game night at the Gruen’s.
My world, excepting the time I spent at public school, was church. By the time I was a senior in high school, I was attending some form of church-related activity 5-6 times a week. And I loved it.
Because of my early aptitude for music, that became my gift. I sang in choir. My dad played piano and organ, and I eagerly followed in his footsteps. I helped run the worship band, and we toured around New England supporting church camps and retreats. In college, I lead 1,300 students in worship twice a week for four years. I was the one welcoming my peers into communion with the Holy Spirit from the stage.
I also took to heart one of the great commandments of our community: being Christian yourself wasn’t enough - we needed to be constantly on the lookout for non-believers to save. So, I prayed at the flagpole every year. I led a very visible bible study in our high school hallways. I helped found and run an evangelical outreach concert series every summer, capped off by an altar call. I invited my friends to youth group, and was overwhelmed with pride when the first one of them accepted Jesus. I was GOOD at this.
If you grew up like me, you know the feeling: this wasn’t a choice - and when it was presented as one, there was really only one right answer - keep the faith. As a naturally non-conflict human who also had a strongly held sense of perfectionism, any deviation from the common path of this faith community felt impossible and destructive.
Then, there was the foundational truth underpinning everything: from the moment I was conceived, I was broken. A sinner. A heavy dose of the original sin coursed thru my veins. I had no choice but to rely on the grace of God if I wanted to experience anything other than eternal hell and damnation.
And so that’s what I did… with gusto! A good Christian boy. Doing good Christian things. Relying on the cross to save me from my terrible innate nature.
By the time I was old enough to ask whether any of it was true, I already knew every answer. That is how it works: the answers arrive first.
You just get to react and repent, you dirty sinner…
Life in the Ocean
Here is the thing about that framework: it worked.
Not in a vague, comforting way: it worked like the machine it was designed to be.
Every question had an unbreakable answer, and all the answers connected to each other, and the whole structure held.
Why do bad things happen? Answer.
What is my purpose? Answer.
Who am I? Answer.
What happens when I die? Answer.
Why do I feel this way? Answer.
How should I approach this funny feeling I have about that girl in class?
Well, God has set aside a perfect partner for you. She’ll be the answer to all your hopes and dreams - and of course, she’ll be smokin’ hot too. So, until you find her and God confirms it (somehow you’ll know!), you’d better go right ahead and kiss dating goodbye. (My parents gave me that book shortly before a 6th grade dance. It became a second bible to me.)
What about my secular friends?
Well, just know that you need to be really, really careful around them. Don’t get too close, or else they’ll use Satan’s power to lead you astray into things like sex, drugs, or (gasp) rock and roll… or emo music, as was the day’s trap. Listen to more Switchfoot or Stephen Curtis Chapman instead.
And ohhh lord. You can forgive most sins… but what about being anything other than a straight man, waiting patiently for that God-fearing housewife and 2.5 kids?
That’s excommunicable.
How are we supposed to multiply the kingdom of God if the world becomes overrun by Adams and Steves?
There was a gay kid in my class, and not only did I actively avoid him… I eviscerated him among friends behind his back. Real Housewives style. My 11th grade brain saw him as anathema.
To be clear: I’m not confessing this so you will absolve me. I’m telling you because you can’t understand what exploded my faith unless you know that I had already answered the question. Years before it was ever asked…
The framework had a verdict. And I had delivered it. Out loud. More than once.
You’re gay? Fuck you.
Life is actually pretty simple when you only take what’s been preached to you and never take agency or need to make an important choice. Everything about the hard questions in life was already solved! All I needed to do was just… go along. And going along in that ‘to me’ mindset was amazing.
I have never since had that… certainty. And let’s be brutally honest: it was not a burden. It was a gift.
It was the most secure I have ever felt in my life.
Waves on the Surface
Of course, there were moments that defied the structure.
The porn I downloaded (line by excruciating line) over dial-up on the living room computer was… awesome.
Those kids in youth group who smoked weed behind the sanctuary? They were the funniest, most popular guys in the crew.
The creeping sense of deep sadness late at night - that I would later understand as major depressive disorder - shouldn’t be there if we were made in the image of God, right? Must be just another instance of my natural-born sin-ness breaking through. Time to pray…
So sure, I bumped into issues with the framework. But I didn’t do anything with any of them. Just keep swimming…
When the structure is holding, why make waves? A hairline crack in a wall you are standing inside of is not important. Its still just a wall.
Then came… The Kraken
And with that depth of life and belief surrounding me, there I was:
Fresh college graduate. Embarking on my adult mission for Christ. I had a stage, an answer for everything, and a framework that had never once failed me.
I had never been wrong about anything that mattered.
And then, I was.
The person, the program, and the structure that underpinned the entirety of my life and identity… imploded.
Up next? The wreckage, unconscious deconstruction, and moving from a “to me” to “by me” state of being.
Subscribe, and let’s find the next part of the journey.
One note - did any of this experience resonate with you? I’d love to hear your story. Comment below, and let’s get the discussion started. ❤️
Okay. I'm dying to know who smoked pot behind the church! :) (This is your old Y.P. by the way)