You don’t just wake up and decide to question your faith. It sneaks up on you. The songs that once gave you goosebumps now feel empty. The sermons sound rehearsed. You notice who has the microphone, who doesn’t, and what never gets said.
You’re not trying to walk away. You’re just not sure it still fits.
That’s where what is called deconstruction often starts. Not with rebellion, but with a quiet discomfort. And if you’re there, you’re not alone. Across Australia, more Christians—especially younger ones—are pulling apart what they’ve been taught to see what still holds. Some stay in church. Some leave. Some lose faith for a while. Others find it again, on new terms. But the process is messy, deeply personal, and often misunderstood.
“Deconstruction is the process we go through to lay everything out and examine our beliefs and why we believe it and how we ended up here,” says Nish Weiseth, author of *Speak: How Your Story Can Change the World*.
Sometimes this leads people to walk away. Sometimes it leads to rebuilding faith in a new way. But Weiseth is clear: “It’s not the same thing.”
That difference matters. In some churches, asking hard questions is seen as dangerous. Weiseth doesn’t agree. “Deconversion is the walking away,” she says. “But deconstruction? That’s just the honest work of asking hard questions. And for a lot of people, that work actually leads to a deeper connection with God.”
She uses the image of a game of Kerplunk. The marbles are your beliefs. The plastic sticks holding them up are your church background, culture, and expectations. Pull out a stick—maybe a shift in your views or doubts about doctrine—and the marbles wobble. That’s small-scale deconstruction. But sometimes, one question pulls everything apart. The marbles fall. That’s the deep kind. And after that, it won’t look the same again.
Why does this happen? Sometimes it’s personal hurt—a betrayal in church, or how the church treats LGBTQ people. “I’ve seen people start the process because they felt a restlessness by the spirit of God that something wasn’t right,” Weiseth says. “They went to investigate that in good faith and ended up in a process of deconstruction.”
Weiseth says 2016 was a turning point for many Christians in the US, where faith and politics became tangled in ways that forced hard questions. In Australia, it can look different—maybe triggered by the treatment of women, Indigenous voices, or the church’s role in politics. But the spark is the same: seeing something that doesn’t match what you believe faith should be.
Social media changed it too. It gave people language for doubts and showed them they weren’t alone. Once you see others asking the same questions, it’s hard to unsee it.
And doubt isn’t new. Job demanded answers from God. Thomas questioned the resurrection. Even Jesus cried out, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” Church history is full of believers challenging the status quo to get closer to God. Martin Luther’s 95 Theses were an act of deconstruction. In 1 Thessalonians 5:21, Paul says, “test everything; hold fast to what is good.”
But it can feel lonely when faith unravels. That’s why Weiseth says it shouldn’t happen alone. “It is deeply individual and personal,” she says, “but it should never be done in isolation.”
Support doesn’t have to come from church, especially if the church was part of the pain. It can come from a trusted friend, a mentor, or a spiritual director—someone who won’t rush you to fix it but will sit with you in the questions.
Eventually, most people feel ready to rebuild. But reconstruction isn’t flashy. There aren’t podcasts or conferences about it. It’s slow. It’s about wanting something real.
Weiseth often asks people a simple question: What do you want? It sounds basic, but it matters. “When I do ask that question, most people respond with, ‘I want to feel a deep connection with God,’” Weiseth says. “That is a God-given desire.”
Then comes the real work: What practices help you feel close to God? What kind of faith community feels healthy now? What beliefs still feel true? What new truths have you found?
Reconstruction doesn’t mean going back to the way things were. It means building something honest after loss. It’s not about restoring the old, but keeping what matters most.
If someone you know is going through deconstruction, don’t panic. Don’t lead with fear. Lead with curiosity. Ask, “How can I support you right now?” or “What do you need from me?” Simple questions help someone feel less alone.
“You don’t have to understand this process to love someone well,” Weiseth says. “To feel seen and heard— isn’t that what we all want? To be seen, heard, known and loved for who we are.”
Maybe that’s the heart of it. Deconstruction isn’t about tearing faith down just to watch it fall. It’s about making space to be honest. Making space for God to meet us in what’s left. And slowly learning, piece by piece, how to believe again.
