In John 6, Jesus’s hard teaching causes a large number of his followers to abandon him. After they leave, Jesus asks his remaining disciples, “Do you want to go away as well?” (v. 67). Peter, whom I assume is heartbroken and embarrassed from seeing so many he knows leave the one he calls Lord, speaks up: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God” (vv. 68–69).

This is my story, too. I’ve walked in both shoes: the shoes of those who deserted and the shoes of Peter who couldn’t leave, no matter how hard it seemed to stay. I was an #exvangelical who left the faith of my youth for “progressive Christianity.” Then I returned. Here’s my #revangelical story.

How My Faith Crumbled

The Christian tradition I grew up in—for all the wonderful things it gave me—was not prepared for a generation of kids with access to high-speed internet. Not that the critiques of the Bible we discovered online were new, but they were now at the fingertips of curious folks who grew up in evangelical bubbles. Like me. The answers given in church seemed shallow compared to the legitimate critiques that were a Google search or YouTube video away.

• What about the contradictions and scientific inaccuracies in certain biblical stories? 
• How have we shrugged at the passages where God commands Israel to slaughter their enemies and their enemies’ children?
• How could a loving God condemn his beloved creation to eternal torment? What about all the other religions? Aren’t they all saying basically the same thing?

These questions, among others, began to chip away at the authority of the stories I was handed as a child. Not only did I have questions about the Bible, I also had questions about how it squared with my faith’s political culture:

• Why did our policies seem to particularly disadvantage poor and marginalized communities?
• Why was it common in the church to see Christians degrade immigrants, made in the image of God, who were simply seeking a better life in my Texas town?
• As important as abortion is, surely we’re supposed care about those suffering after birth as well, right?

I couldn’t help but think it had to be more complicated than the story I was being told. So eventually, I left the faith completely. I wanted nothing to do with Jesus or the church.

Interestingly, it was in a time of mourning—when I learned that my mother, from whom I’d been estranged, had died—that God began to reenter my life. But my evangelical environment lacked a substantial theology of suffering. Suffering was something to avoid or suppress, not a means of God’s transforming grace in our lives.

This triangle of questions—about Scripture, politics, and suffering—laid the foundation for me to explore progressive Christianity.

Deconstruction Without Reconstruction

I read Rob Bell’s books Velvet Elvis and Love Wins. I read Donald Miller’s Blue Like Jazz. I still remember the paragraph from Blue Like Jazz that opened me up to a world of grace I hadn’t before experienced—but also to a world freed from orthodox doctrine. As a fan of Michael Gungor, I began listening to his newly launched podcast, The Liturgists.

The views I encountered were thrilling. Science did not have to be discarded because of the Bible! When prayer felt like a coin toss, mysticism provided a new way to encounter the divine! Faith could inspire politics that included care for marginalized groups! Most importantly, in hearing Gungor and “Science Mike” McHargue’s stories of deconstruction, I heard my own story. I found people who understood what it was like to deconstruct your faith and rebuild it from scratch.