God masterfully utilizes all the ways he has made us so that we can minister‚ help‚ and pour into others.

Prayer isn’t about changing God’s mind. In many cases‚ prayer is about changing our minds.

You may not be the next Billy Graham sharing the gospel with millions. But you may be called instead to give loving attention to just one other person.

George Mueller is one of the saints from church history who has most inspired me to trust God. He’s famous for his work with orphans and his dependence on the Lord in prayer. His autobiography is filled with hundreds of pages of prayers and the record of God’s faithful answers (he reports over 50‚000 answers to prayer). He has been the subject of many biographies‚ and for good reason. Mueller’s life of faith was characterized by a deep trust in the goodness and sovereignty of his God. He trusted God to provide in ways many would call foolish and presumptive. And yet Mueller never lacked what he needed. God was good to him. But God’s goodness to Mueller didn’t excuse him from heart-wrenching trials. He suffered the loss of three children‚ endured seasons of unrelenting physical pain‚ buried his father without seeing him come to know Christ‚ and outlived two wives he loved greatly. Mueller’s response to that suffering is a powerful example of gospel hope. Pain Refines Faith Pain strips us down‚ exposing our frailty. When sickness or strife or betrayal or the death of loved ones comes‚ normal comforts lose their luster. Comfy couches and bursting bank accounts can’t compensate for the sense of dis-ease we experience in suffering. In those dark hours‚ all we’re left with is the God Almighty. And it’s there‚ standing alone with God in that dark place‚ that we’re forced to wrestle with what we believe about him. If God is good and sovereign‚ as Mueller believed‚ why would he permit such suffering in my life? We don’t often question God’s goodness in days of ease. We easily see his benevolence when the sun shines and flowers bloom. But when wintry woes blow in‚ God’s goodness seems extinct. Dark clouds turn everything to gray. Cold winds of affliction bite and sting us. Our souls become numb in ways that tempt us to give up and withdraw from everyone‚ including God. The good news is that even when we doubt‚ our God holds us fast. We easily God’s his benevolence when the sun shines and flowers bloom. But when wintry woes blow in‚ evidence of his goodness seems extinct. Yet none of us is exempt from suffering. It’s part of this life. Throughout hard times‚ one particular story from Mueller’s life has long stayed with me as a buoy for my faith. Mary Mueller’s Death After 39 years of marriage‚ Mueller’s first wife‚ Mary‚ contracted rheumatic fever‚ which was a known mortal illness. During the last minutes of Mary’s life‚ her husband read Psalm 84:11 to her: “The LORD God is a sun and shield: The LORD will give grace and glory. No good thing will he withhold from those who walk uprightly” (KJV). Mueller said of the last phrase‚ “No good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly”—I am in myself a poor worthless sinner‚ but I have been saved by the blood of Christ; and I do not live in sin‚ I walk uprightly before God. Therefore‚ if it is really good for me‚ my darling wife will be raised up again; sick as she is. God will restore her again. But if she is not restored again‚ then it would not be a good thing for me. Mary died shortly afterward on February 6‚ 1870. Within a few hours of his wife’s death‚ Mueller went to an evening prayer meeting in Salem Chapel‚ where he lifted up prayer and praise to his God. Someone in attendance was struck by Mueller’s words and recorded them: Beloved brethren and sisters in Christ‚ I ask you to join with me in hearty praise and thanksgiving to my precious Lord for His lovingkindness in having taken my darling‚ beloved wife out of the pain and suffering which she has endured‚ into His own presence; and as I rejoice in everything that is for her happiness‚ so I now rejoice as I realize how far happier she is‚ in beholding her Lord whom she loved so well‚ than in any joy she has known or could know here. I ask you also to pray that the Lord will so enable me to have fellowship in her joy that my bereaved heart may be occupied with her blessedness instead of my unspeakable loss. Mueller’s Powerful Sermon On February 11‚ some 1‚200 orphans and thousands of grieving friends joined Mueller in mourning at her burial. After recovering from a bout of his own sickness‚ Mueller preached her funeral sermon. His text was Psalm 119:68: “You are good and do good.” As he preached‚ he laid out three simple yet stirring points: “The Lord was good and did good . . .” 1. “in giving her to me . . .” 2. “in so long leaving her to me . . .” 3. “in taking her from me.” Reflecting later on Mary’s passing‚ Mueller said‚ “My heart was at rest‚ and my heart was satisfied with God. And all this springs . . . from taking God at His Word‚ believing what He says.” Do you believe God is good and does good—to you? There’s no more important question for us to answer in this life. And there’s no more certain truth to rest in during the dark days that are coming or are here even as you read this. God’s Goodness in the Cross I know of no better way to settle this matter in your heart than to consider how God has loved us in his Son‚ Jesus. Romans 8:32 says‚ “He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all‚ how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” Jesus is the proof that God is good and does good. In Christ‚ God displayed his goodness by sending his Son to die for our sins and raising him from the grave. God loved us when we were unlovable in the most wonderful of ways. Jesus is the proof that God is good and does good. God didn’t spare his own Son‚ who did him no wrong‚ so he could spare us‚ who did him no right. God was against Jesus so he could be for us forever. He was forsaken so we could be forgiven. If God gave us Jesus‚ what good would he ever withhold from us? Mueller knew that through the sorrow of grieving loss‚ there was a sovereign and good hand guiding everything—even the pain. May God give us grace to believe the same.

When I became a Christian in 2005‚ the Emergent movement was near its apex. That loose-knit group of church leaders‚ writers‚ and provocateurs embraced a new kind of Christianity for the postmodern mindset. I didn’t see the appeal‚ but many who grew up in the church did. An entire cottage industry developed around the movement’s high-profile voices‚ with book deals and speaking tours to help them share their “bold vision” with the world. Through skillfully employed rhetorical questions‚ they chipped away at the foundation of their hearers’ faith. Many of those same voices abandoned their own faith along the way. Today’s conversation around deconstruction feels like a repeat of those heady days of the early 2000s‚ but now we have TikTok influencers and deconstruction coaches ready to guide people through the process for a fee. Though there are similarities between the Emergent movement and deconstruction‚ there are substantial differences. The Emergent movement’s aim was reimagining Christianity; the goal of deconstruction is its repudiation. Alisa Childers and Tim Barnett understand this distinction. They’ve experienced it as they’ve walked alongside those who are deconstructing‚ those pushed toward it‚ and those left picking up the pieces in deconstruction’s aftermath. In The Deconstruction of Christianity: What It Is‚ Why It’s Destructive‚ and How to Respond‚ they seek to describe what deconstruction is and help believers respond to those whose hearts are prone to wander. Shared Definitions Some people use “deconstruction” as a synonym for “apostasy‚” the rejection of historic orthodoxy. Others approach it as synonymous with “refining” or “reformation‚” appending a modifier like “good” or “bad” depending on the outcome. The latter approach is much closer to how Childers‚ apologist and former CCM artist‚ used the word in her earlier book‚ Another Gospel? There‚ she used it to describe the doubting and questioning she experienced under the teaching of a progressive pastor—doubts and questions that led her to the Bible for the answers. Childers has since rejected this use of “deconstruction” because it can lead people with honest questions down a social media rabbit hole of animosity toward the historic Christian faith. Tim Barnett‚ an apologist with Stand to Reason‚ joins Childers to offer a third definition‚ arguing deconstruction is “a postmodern process of rethinking your faith without regarding Scripture as a standard” (26). Defining it as a process and not simply an event is exactly right. This creates clarity around the who‚ what‚ and how of deconstruction but avoids creating a hostile environment that might push away deconstructors. It leaves room for discussion. Key to the definition is the rejection of Scripture as the primary source of authority. Deconstruction replaces the Bible’s authority with personal experience‚ something that collides with every historic Christian tradition. But for many deconstructors‚ historical orthodoxy and biblical authority‚ as they understand them‚ are the problem. Doctrine is harmful or “toxic‚” an instrument of power and control instead of a guide to truth (144). Using the Bible as the arbiter of truth is the source of the problem for some who deconstruct‚ especially if they’ve experienced Scripture being weaponized against dissent. They argue that doctrine and biblical authority are ways to silence dissent. Here’s the irony: many deconstructors will decry evangelicals as dogmatic fundamentalists who allow no room for disagreement. But many deconstructors are just as dogmatic as those they reject. They’ve only redirected their dogmatism‚ with orthodoxy taking the role of heresy. When the Bible is no longer the standard of faith‚ personal autonomy takes its place—and no one can say otherwise. Underlying Crises If deconstruction is a process‚ how does it start? Often with a personal crisis. The authors write‚ “If deconstruction is the explosion‚ the crisis is the burning fuse that detonates it”—for example‚ the sudden loss of a loved one‚ Christians treating any expression of doubt with hostility‚ or sexual or spiritual abuse within the church (79). These are all real issues experienced by real people and lie at the heart of the church’s credibility crisis. Many deconstructors are just as dogmatic as those they reject. They’ve only redirected their dogmatism‚ with orthodoxy taking the role of heresy. One common theme is that deconstruction begins as a reaction to political idolatry by conservative Christians‚ which a flood of books continues to highlight. While this is an equal opportunity sin‚ political conservativism most often bears the brunt of criticism. Childers and Barnett note there’s “genuine hurt and confusion over the political atmosphere within the church” (88)‚ which significantly understates the problem in some cases. But it also recognizes there are cases where politics functions as an excuse for a process already underway. As one deconstructing pastor wrote‚ “Before I got [my congregation] over to progressivism‚ I just wanted to get them into the throes of deconstruction” (72). The authors don’t defensively dismiss deconstuctors’ accusations against Christianity‚ nor do they unquestioningly accept them. Their approach is to condemn un-Christian behaviors and challenge assumptions in light of Scripture. While some will be unsatisfied by this approach‚ there’s wisdom in it. Childers and Barnett are speaking to a range of readers that will likely include some in the throes of doubt and others who misinterpret righteous anger over the church’s sins as cultural capitulation. Overall‚ the authors do well in their balancing act. Respond to Deconstruction The Deconstruction of Christianity shines in presenting advice for those ministering to people in the process of leaving the faith. Repeatedly‚ the authors challenge us to welcome questions‚ to be the kind of people with whom it’s safe for a person to share her questions and express her doubts. But we also need to learn to answer those doubts effectively. They write‚ Thoughtful questions demand thoughtful answers. When we respond with half-baked or pat answers‚ we communicate that we’re not taking the questions seriously—or even worse‚ that we simply don’t have any good answers. Bad answers shut down sincere questions. (209) We have to be willing to invest in exploring the answers with the person asking. “I don’t know” can be a great answer in itself‚ especially when followed by “How about we explore this together?” They recognize that walking alongside deconstructors can be challenging‚ and they offer needed guidance: pray‚ stay engaged‚ assess your role in reaching out‚ and set boundaries for interactions. This process is wise‚ but it doesn’t guarantee a positive result. Childers describes walking through this process with a friend who hasn’t yet returned to the faith. “Every deconstruction is unique‚” the authors remind us‚ so we have to “ask God for wisdom and surround [ourselves] with wise and godly Christians” who can encourage us as we help others (240). Deconstruction Isn’t Inevitable The book’s most significant takeaway is that “behind every deconstruction is a very real person with a complex web of wounds‚ desires‚ triggers‚ foundations‚ and experiences. Each one is seen and loved by God” (178). No one is a lost cause. Deconstruction isn’t inevitable. We have to be willing to invest in exploring the answers with the person asking. ‘I don’t know’ can be a great answer in itself‚ especially when followed by ‘How about we explore this together?’ Childers is proof of that. Instead of walking away from her faith‚ she leaned in and found the answers she sought not outside of the faith but in it—the answers that give life. And though she has said elsewhere that she walks with a limp‚ she walks still. Many things can drive people to give up on Jesus. But Jesus doesn’t give up on people. He loves them. That’s one of the beautiful realities of the gospel. Jesus‚ God the Son‚ entered into this world‚ adding humanity to his divinity‚ in pursuit of lost‚ broken‚ weary‚ and heavy-laden people (Matt. 11:28). He set the oppressed free (Luke 4:18). He died for the helpless so they might have life in him (Rom. 5:6–11). If Christ did all this and more‚ if he didn’t give up on people‚ then how can we? This book is a helpful resource for pastors‚ youth leaders‚ and parents. It reminds us that because deconstruction isn’t the end of a person’s story‚ we shouldn’t treat it that way. We must keep pointing people to Jesus as the One who has given all for them and love them like Jesus does. As we do‚ it may lead to a beautiful picture of spiritual renewal.