BP19
Taylor met her quite serendipitously, some might say. Others would say it was an unholy rendezvous.
He had stopped at a restaurant to grab food with his co-workers, a Friday tradition at the office. Unfortunately, when Taylor looked at his calendar, he looked at the wrong Friday and so, off by a week, he showed up at the Italian restaurant instead of the biker bar. Deciding that he didn’t want to spend twenty minutes driving to join his buddies, Taylor decided to eat solo at the Italian place.
When the perky server showed up at his table, he noticed three things in as many seconds: the young woman’s playful smile, her ringless left hand and her name tag with a very familiar name printed on it. Taylor. What a coincidence! The encounter must be special. Instinctively, he slid his own left hand beneath the table.
One thing led to another over the next hour as the server returned to his table frequently. Random chit chat turned to pleasant smiles that triggered playful laughter that was followed by glances long enough to communicate desire that led to fingers that touched and tingled when she took his credit card.
Before Taylor left the restaurant, server Taylor gave him her phone number and asked him to call her. When she walked away, she turned and gazed at Taylor with eyes that reminded him of a Star Trek tractor beam.
As he walked out to his car, Taylor felt two things. He felt like he was walking on air, and he felt the heavy weight of the wedding ring on his finger. Feeling a surge of strong conviction that nearly delivered him from disaster, he opened the notes ap on his phone to purge Taylor’s number. Even as he deleted it, his hungry eyes—seemingly against his will—focused on the ten digits for a moment before they disappeared.
A part of him tried to interrupt his brain, but the other hungry part rehearsed the numbers like a climactic line in a play. He repeated them several times until, fatefully, they were transferred in his brain from short term to long term memory. The deed was done.
Despite the whisperings in his heart, two days later, he crossed the proverbial line of no return. In a sense, he didn’t enter a crime scene. He created a crime scene. He was about to kill his marriage. It wasn’t necessarily premeditated, but the end result was the same. Death.
He called Taylor to arrange a rendezvous. They met and immediately connected emotionally as if they were destined to be together. The chemistry was so powerful that both Taylors soon could focus on nothing else but each other.
Weeks went by. Initially only flirting with fire, Taylor eventually walked straight into the flames like a deer into the path of a crossbow. So, it was a foregone conclusion that the inevitable happened: the bridge from emotional affair to sexual affair was crossed and now both the hearts and bodies of Taylor and Taylor were bound with steel cable.
Only two things (actually three) stood between Taylor and complete surrender to the new woman in his life–his wife and his two-year-old son. How could he pursue another woman when he was tied to his family (the ball and chain)?
The dissonance Taylor experienced in his mind and heart was massive. On the one hand, he believed that he loved his wife and knew he should stay with her and little Clark. On the other hand, the siren named Taylor was singing to his heart and her intoxicating song was as alluring as cold water in the desert.
Not even Odysseus had been summoned by a sweeter voice.
Taylor woke up every night and agonized over the utter selfishness of his unfaithfulness to his wife. But soon, his thoughts invariably fled to Taylor and chemicals exploded in his body similar to the strong addictive drugs he had experimented with in college.
Then came the heavy guilt and the conviction that he should break up with Taylor. But on the heels of the guilt and remorse came the desire. The nagging, addicting desire that seduced him into a trance.
As week followed week and he kept on waking up every night, his thoughts slowly shifted. He began to think less of his unfaithfulness to his wife and more about the magical Taylor.
When he did think about his wife, he began to recite all the ways that she was not the same woman he had married. He thought about her nagging (he told himself it was constant), her refusal to have sex whenever he wanted it, and the fifteen pounds she had failed to shed after the birth of their son.
Although he was not conscious of it because to make it conscious would have been to be accountable, Taylor felt his dissonance begin to fade the more he meditated on his wife’s liabilities and the countless assets of the new woman. His wife gradually became the thorn while Taylor became the rose.
The Tragic Exchange was occurring—the justification of an affair.
Inevitably, the day finally arrived when he thought of his wife as all bad, and Taylor as all good. Now there was little to no guilt left–no clamoring dissonance about his affair. In his mind, he had successfully transformed his wife into an ugly, critical, boring, undisciplined woman who was the most undesirable female on planet earth.
Siren Taylor, on the other hand, had become the most desirable of women—the beautiful new woman with the angel face and the loving heart. She was perfect in his blind eyes. She could do no wrong.
Three months after he had met the tantalizing server, Taylor had totally deconstructed his marriage. His wedding vows dissipated like smoke and his loving bond for his wife and son were totally eclipsed by adulterous desire.
Abruptly, he moved out of the house one Friday night and never returned to the scene of the crime.
This post describes the anatomy of an affair. It addresses the power of dissonance. It focuses on deconstruction and how it destroys relationships.
Deconstruction. What does it mean, anyway?
The term has been associated with a method of critical philosophical analysis that seems deeply rooted in skepticism, scrutiny and criticism. It declares that the form and essence of things like words and truth are not as important as the appearance of things—how we see them, how we want to see them.
It says that the words of a text like the Bible are not decidedly and absolutely true but can be construed differently every time you read them. It seems, then, that deconstruction, at its core, does not hold to objective truth but believes that truth is dependent on the subjective observation or experience of each person.
Deconstruction looks a lot like the offspring of relativism which says that morality, truth and knowledge are not absolutely true for all time but are fluid depending on the changing cultural, societal or historical context. A person is not led by truth; truth is led by the person.
In the study of the Bible, we call that eisegesis. Instead of leading truth out of the word of God (exegesis), the individual leads his or her truth into the Bible. That’s akin to ignoring the directions of your GPS and telling the guidance system the way to go even though you’ve never been there before.
So, there is a philosophical deconstruction that is skeptical of objective, timeless truth and indeed declares that there is no such thing. But there is a form of relationship deconstruction that is especially popular in our current culture. Another word for it is divorce.
Many believers in God have grown skeptical and so have set out on a journey that they euphemistically refer to as the deconstruction of their faith in Jesus.
Maybe this deconstruction process could be a good thing if what we mean by it is winnowing out the chaff of religion like works righteousness or the belief that justification and sanctification are synonymous or false shame that is a major stumbling block to approaching God. It’s always healthy to dispose of falsehoods from the culture and the enemy and the family of origin, and to retain the truth about Jesus.
Remember what 2 Corinthians 10 says? “We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.” As believers in Jesus, we are called to deconstruct lies about God and His word.
But the process of being skeptical of our relationship with God turns dangerous when our journey is swept up in the tidal wave of deconstruction theory and relativism that says there is no objective truth. Instead, it’s all about your existential experience of it and what you decide is meaningful for you.
It’s the whole eisegesis thing. You lead your truth into God’s word instead of hearing His truth for you. In the process, God’s word becomes only the words of men and God Himself is reduced to the size of a kind grandfather who is a co-partner with you in the fight against evil.
So why do we deconstruct our faith?
There are many factors that prompt the dangerous deconstruction of faith. Here are a few: 1) the journey of deconstruction is viewed as a badge of intellectual integrity and courageous exploration; 2) suffering and evil and hell are such impossible, unjust realities that a person begins to question the believability of God’s word; 3) a person is deceived by Satan, the infamous liar and accuser, to question God’s character and possibly even His existence; 4) the tributary of a believer’s faith merges with and is swallowed up by the cultural river that says there is no authority or truth; 5) transference occurs, e.g., a daughter’s deeply buried bitterness toward her authoritarian alcoholic father is misdirected toward the heavenly Father and she begins to view God’s authority as unfair and controlling and must defy it.
These five examples represent a handful of factors that will be discussed in future posts. A sixth factor that might underlie the deconstruction of faith is one that will occupy the rest of this current discussion. To understand it, we need to take a closer look at Taylor’s story.
What happened to Taylor, anyway? He went from valuing his wife and son to devaluing them–not overnight, of course. It was a slow slide that ultimately eroded his commitment to his family.
Taylor’s story is an anatomy of an affair. In his journey with his namesake, we see how an affair begins as a brief titillating encounter that grows over time into a towering idolatry that overshadows his previous committed relationships.
The ingredients in the deconstruction of Taylor’s relationship were ones that frequently accompany the death of a marriage: desire, dissonance and divorce.
These same fatal ingredients are often found in the deconstruction of faith—the most common avenue toward the death of one’s relationship with God.
So, what then is the sixth factor relevant to the deconstruction of faith?
I Peter 2:9ff says about those who are in a relationship with Jesus, “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people . . . Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh which wage war against your soul.”
What is God’s word saying here that is relevant to Taylor’s deconstruction of his marriage? It’s saying that God chose us to be His people, His family so that we might enter into an intimate relationship with Him. However, there exists a threat to that committed relationship between God and a believer, namely, the passions of the flesh.
Desire.
We come into this world hungry. We all must find something to fill us (see the Two Things in BP13). A relationship with the loving Creator of the universe is the foundation on which we build the rest of our lives. It is the subterranean bedrock on which we construct the skyscrapers of our lives (see BP1).
An intimate, loving friendship with Jesus feeds us and fills our empty, restless souls with the satisfying goodness of God Himself. Nothing else can.
We are created for God’s family just as Taylor was made for a loving relationship with his wife. But something opposes these relationships. Factor six that often leads to the deconstruction of a relationship is desire.
Desire + dissonance = divorce. This is one formula that explains deconstruction.
When Taylor met the siren, Taylor, the passion of his flesh was awakened. Desire, the pilot light within his soul, was suddenly powered up not by God or his wife, but by a new igniting fuel. Taylor could have fended off this interloper to his marriage with firm boundaries. Instead, he allowed his passions to crash through the guard rails of his marriage as he pursued his newly aroused desire driven by unbridled lust.
What followed in the wake of Taylor’s desire that he willingly cultivated was dissonance. Dissonance, sometimes referred to as cognitive dissonance, occurs when an individual entertains two contradicting beliefs or desires.
In music, dissonance happens when there is a lack of harmony among notes. Tension arises when clashing notes, beliefs or desires occur within the same chord or inside the same person.
Taylor’s dissonance was conceived when he entertained within him the tension of being committed to his wife while desiring Taylor.
This dissonance, this tension, cannot be experienced for very long before a person attempts to find a way to extinguish it. Taylor had two primary options to reduce or totally eradicate his dissonance: 1) squelch his desire for the siren and remaining committed to his wife; or 2) commit adultery with Taylor and distance from his wife. He chose the latter, as we know.
Taylor’s final step that followed on the heels of desire and dissonance, then, was divorce. He divorced his wife so he could keep his forbidden desire and resolve the dissonance. Of course, an action that helped to quiet his dissonance was what a person usually does to justify an affair and reduce the accompanying guilt. It’s a psychological phenomenon known as splitting.
In a process that we often find in domains such as politics, sports, and racism, Taylor totally idealized one woman (party, team or race) and totally devalued the other. He only saw the bad in his wife and only saw the good in his paramour. In so doing, he justified the passions of his flesh (desire) and reduced the guilty tension (dissonance) of being torn between two lovers, as it were.
Splitting often occurs in the deconstruction of one’s faith in Jesus.
We can be in the habit of going to church, reading the Bible, hanging out with other believers, and praying to God when–sometimes suddenly and sometimes slowly—a passion of the flesh awakens desire within us that opposes our faithfulness and obedience to God.
As with Taylor, this counterfeit desire may be strong partly because of the excitement that comes with coloring outside the lines. Initially, it will stir up strong guilt and the person will attempt to fight the desire off, to keep walking in obedience to Jesus.
But if a person does not resist this desire (or tries to fend off the desire alone), it will continue to grow until he or she must choose between loving the passion of the flesh or loving Jesus. Do you remember the scripture that says, “No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other” (Matthew 6:24).
What is an example of this desire that masquerades as a counterfeit to The Desire? It could be money, success, fame, pleasures. Often, it is a desire for another person.
In a marriage, we call this desire for the other person an affair—emotional or sexual or both. In a single person’s life, we see it when the believer listens to the siren call of sex and falls into a pattern of hookups or dating an unbeliever who seduces them away from Jesus.
In our relationship with God, we might call it idolatry—choosing someone over God.
Beware of deconstruction. It can be driven by many factors. But the result is the same: a growing skepticism of the authority of God’s word and the goodness of His character. Like Taylor, we will engage in a splitting process where God is devalued and His kind character twisted while the object of our affair is idealized.
God is portrayed in one’s adulterous mind as judgmental, angry, unjust and even boring while the tantalizing siren is viewed as kind, caring, exciting and much more appealing than a narrow-minded God.
God becomes the thorn, and the desire for the other becomes the beautiful rose.
I think it’s important to ask the question if humans create their counterfeit desires. Most often, no. Often, desires are like unplanted weeds that appear in the gardens of our hearts. Just like Taylor, we may not choose what our temptations are, but we do have the choice about whether we cultivate those weeds.
The philosophy of deconstruction and relativism would instruct you to pursue whatever your heart desires because life is not about absolute truth, boundaries and rules, but about feelings, desires and doing what feels right to your individual heart.
Deconstruction playing itself out through desire, dissonance and divorce, then, represent the anatomy of an affair. Many people deconstruct their marriage via this three-step process. Many believers deconstruct their relationship with God in much the same way. The desire for the creature surpasses the desire for God.
The anatomy of an affair with a spouse or with God are almost identical. Relevant to this axiom is the fact that Taylor didn’t just deconstruct his marriage and divorce his wife. He was also a believer in Jesus. To keep his paramour while engineering a clear conscience, he had to deconstruct his commitment to His faithful Creator and walk away from God and His loving truth to reduce his internal dissonance. Then he could have what he desired and live with a manufactured peace.
So, what’s the practical application of this post?
Keep your eyes open so you can identify the factors that might trigger the deconstruction of your relationships, whether with God or with others. Know that your growing doubt in God is often indicative of more than a genuine desire to resolve intellectual issues.
Your doubt and subsequent deconstruction of faith may have a lot more to do with counterfeit desires, transference of unresolved dynamics with other people in your life, and swimming in the current cultural river that tells you that your choice is much more important than obeying God’s truth.
And listen to your internal dissonance—it just might be the voice of the Holy Spirit telling you that you’re crashing through the guard rails on a mountain road. Quite possibly, then, you will avoid both justifying your sinful desire and divorcing the One who loves you perfectly.
So, keep your eyes open, listen to the dissonance and avoid divorce. Don’t throw out the baby with the bath water as the older generation says. There’s another option besides splitting–if you’re willing to seek Him with all your heart instead of settling for the alluring but empty counterfeit.
You can certainly avoid the total deconstruction of your faith. Instead, dig deeper into the bedrock of God’s love and truth. Make Him your best friend forever. Then your life will become the skyscraper mentioned in BP1!
My people have committed two evils: they have forsaken [deconstructed] me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed out cisterns [counterfeit desires] for themselves, broken cisterns that can hold no water ~ Jeremiah 2:13