You’ve heard of deconstruction, it’s a term being tossed around increasingly frequently within Christian circles. But what exactly is deconstruction? It’s the trendy, intellectual-sounding label for what’s really just old-fashioned doubt dressed up in new clothes.

Deconstruction is the process of taking your faith apart, piece by piece, under the guise of “reexamining” or “reevaluating” what you believe. It sounds harmless enough—who doesn’t want to own their faith? But in practice, it rarely stops at asking questions. Instead, it most often becomes a full-scale demolition job, where every doctrine, every biblical command, and every truth is pried apart until the whole thing collapses.

Think of deconstruction as the spiritual equivalent of calling the fire department to come burn your house down. It’s presented as an intellectual exercise—a noble quest to strip away the supposed “man-made” elements of faith and find something pure underneath.

But the reality? Deconstruction isn’t about finding truth, it’s about running from it. And let’s not pretend otherwise. It’s about tearing down biblical authority brick by brick until the structure no longer says “No” to your desires.

And if you look closely, tear away the veneer, you can clearly see the rotting corpse underneath. The pattern is unmistakable. Deconstruction is almost always a thinly veiled highway to sexual anarchy.

I’ve watched it happen over and over again. It always starts the same way. Someone claims they’re just asking “honest questions,” just “wrestling with doubts.” Fair enough—questions aren’t the problem. But pay attention to where those questions always lead. It’s never just about the problem of evil or the reliability of the Gospels. No, it inevitably zeroes in on one thing: sex.

And why? I submit to you that it is because sexual sin is the one area where people want God to be silent. It’s the one area where they’re not looking for answers—they’re looking for permission. Deconstruction is the ultimate exercise in rewriting the rules to suit yourself, and the rules that get rewritten first are always the ones that tell you who you can and cannot sleep with or how you are to present your body before the Lord.

Think I’m wrong? There is plenty of anecdotal evidence. I don’t mean the big names who’ve taken their deconstruction stories public—though there are plenty of those. Whether it be Joshua Harris, who left his wife and abandoned his faith to march in pride parades, or Jars of Clay’s lead singer, Daniel Hastletine, who traded his platform of worship for the applause of homosexuals.

Or maybe you’re thinking of Jen Hatmaker, who conveniently “discovered” a more inclusive theology the moment her daughter came out as a lesbian, or the lead singer of Switchfoot, who couldn’t denounce biblical sexual ethics fast enough to throw his support behind the lesbian “Christian” artist, Semler.

Or perhaps the former frontman of Caedmon’s Call, Derek Webb, who exchanged gospel for a dress or any of the other dozens of popular names out there who have abandoned the faith to embrace some form of sexual immorality.

Deconstruction is the thread that ties it all together. It’s the common denominator in every story of compromise, every act of rebellion dressed up as enlightenment, and every attempt to baptize sin in the name of “love.” It’s not just a crack in the foundation—it’s a bulldozer, tearing through everything sacred to make room for whatever the culture demands next.

But again, I’ mot just talking about these, I am talking about the quiet stories you’ve seen and heard in your own circles. The pastor who suddenly “rethinks” his stance on homosexuality after one too many nights alone with his computer screen. The worship leader who decides God is okay with her moving in with her boyfriend because, after all, “Jesus is love.”

Or the parent—like those who attended and taught at Andy Stanley’s “Unconditional” Conference—who suddenly becomes a theological revolutionary the moment their child comes out as homosexual. These are all part of a pattern that starts with “deconstructing” the authority of Scripture and ultimately ends with the wholesale embrace of the culture’s sexual chaos.

It’s no accident that deconstructionists target biblical sexual ethics with surgical precision. God’s design for sexuality—one man, one woman, in the covenant of marriage—is a significant roadblock for anyone wanting to justify their own rebellion.

Yet the Bible is uncomfortably clear on this issue—it doesn’t “whisper” about sexual sin, it shouts. So what does the deconstructionist do? They begin by chipping away at the edges. “Does the Bible really say that?” “Wasn’t that just cultural?” “What about all the mistakes the church has made?” The questions aren’t asked to clarify—they’re asked to confuse and the goal is to erode the truth.

Theologically, this is nothing new. Paul warned about this very thing when he wrote that people suppress the truth in unrighteousness (Romans 1:18). Suppression of the truth is never an intellectual exercise—it’s a moral one. People don’t reject God’s Word because it’s unclear, they reject it because it’s inconvenient. And the inconvenient truth about sexual sin is that it enslaves. It promises freedom but delivers chains, plunging the deconstructor deeper into bondage.

Just look at what deconstruction leaves behind. The pastor who once preached about the holiness of God is now marching in parades celebrating sin. The songwriter who once penned lyrics about grace is now using their platform to affirm lifestyles that mock the very grace they once sang about.

And the former pastor and “Christian influencer” who once spoke about biblical marriage is now an evangelist for “love is love” rhetoric. They claim they’ve found freedom, but what they’ve really found is a new master. The chains may look different, but they’re still chains.

Ironically, deconstruction markets itself as the path to authenticity, yet it’s anything but. Authenticity requires integrity, and integrity means facing the truth—even when it hurts. Deconstructionists don’t face the truth, though. Like Adam and Eve in the garden, they try to sew together fig leaves to hide from it.

They run from the hard words of Scripture, from the clear commands of God, from the undeniable reality that sin has consequences. Instead, they create their own version of “truth”—one that lets them have their cake and eat it too. But the thing about lies is that they never hold up. You can call sin “love” all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that it still kills.

The cultural appeal of deconstruction is obvious when you understand that we live in a fallen world that worships autonomy, especially when it comes to sexuality. The highest virtue, we’re told, is self-expression. The worst sin is judgment.

Deconstruction fits perfectly into this framework because it allows people to discard anything in Christianity that makes them uncomfortable. It’s not about seeking God—it’s about reshaping Him into a more palatable image. And what could be more palatable to a sin-sick heart than a god who says, “Do whatever you want”?

But the God of Scripture doesn’t play that game. He’s not interested in being reshaped. His Word isn’t up for debate. And His commands about sexuality aren’t optional. They can twist and bend and redefine all they want, but they can’t escape the truth. God’s design for sex isn’t restrictive—it’s protective. It’s not about keeping people from joy—it’s about keeping them from destruction. Sexual sin, no matter how it’s justified, leads to brokenness. Always.

So why do people keep deconstructing? Because they believe the lie. The lie that freedom is found in autonomy. The lie that sin isn’t really sin. The lie that God’s Word can be twisted without consequence. But the truth is that deconstruction doesn’t lead to freedom. It leads to bondage. It doesn’t bring clarity, it brings confusion. It doesn’t lead to joy, it leads to despair. The highway of deconstruction may look wide and inviting, but its destination is the same as it has always been—death.

And that’s the irony, isn’t it? The deconstructionist thinks they’re escaping something oppressive, but they’re really running headlong into something far worse. They’re not breaking free from chains—they’re forging new ones. And in their desperate attempt to justify their sin, they end up proving the very thing they set out to deny … that God’s Word is true. Every word of it. Even the ones they don’t like.