Deconstruction through the lens of Grief

In the sphere of religious trauma, deconstruction comes up in nearly every conversation I have with clients. In the literary world, the term refers to the process of breaking down and analyzing word choices, reasoning, and meaning within a text. In the religious context, it’s a similar process—only here, the subject being examined is one’s belief system.

In some traditions, such as Judaism, deconstruction is viewed as a vital practice that deepens understanding and strengthens faith. In other contexts, particularly in contemporary evangelical Christianity, it is often seen as a threat—a “death sentence” for one’s faith. In many parts of Western society, especially within Bible Belt regions like Michigan, deconstruction is treated almost like an infectious disease, feared for its potential to “spread.” Those who begin to question their beliefs are often silenced or excluded to prevent their doubts from influencing others. I believe this tendency to isolate those with religious trauma stems from fear because they are the ones asking the most challenging questions. But what if deconstruction is not something to fear? What if it is, instead, an essential part of growth, spiritual and otherwise?

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, researcher and author of On Death and Dying, developed the model of the five stages of grief. Her work remains a crucial resource for normalizing grief and giving people a shared language to express and understand their feelings. But grief is not limited to death. We can, and should, grieve many kinds of losses, including the loss of religious beliefs that once gave our lives meaning.

Before exploring these stages, it’s important to remember that grief is not linear. We don’t move neatly from one stage to the next; rather, we may move back and forth between them, sometimes revisiting the same feelings multiple times. Everyone’s grief process and timeline are unique, even when mourning the same kind of loss. With that in mind, let’s look at the stages through the lens of religious deconstruction.

Denial involves difficulty accepting what has happened. Within faith communities, this might look like continuing to attend services while secretly doubting or disagreeing with what’s being taught which a far more common experience than many assume. Denial can also take the form of telling ourselves that we “still believe” without allowing space to explore what that really means.

Bargaining often appears as “if only” thinking: If only I had done this, or if this happens, then it won’t hurt as much. During deconstruction, this might sound like, “If I see seven red cars on my commute, that’s a sign that God is real,” or, “If I hadn’t been hurt by the church, I’d still believe.” These are attempts to negotiate away the pain of disillusionment.

Anger may be the most expected and, paradoxically, the hardest to fully feel. Anger is a natural response to being harmed. It’s a movement emotion, one that propels us away from pain and injustice. When we suppress anger, we risk staying in harmful situations, circling back into denial.

Depression reflects the loss of hope. In the context of deconstruction, this might sound like, “What do I believe now?” or “Who will I connect with if I no longer share the same faith?” Many people are drawn to religion for its sense of community, and questioning that belief system can result in isolation or rejection from the very group that once provided belonging.

Acceptance involves integrating new realities into daily life. It can take many forms: “I explored my beliefs and remain a Christian,” or “I explored my beliefs and no longer identify as one.” For some, it might mean pursuing an entirely new spiritual path—Buddhism, Islam, Shintoism, or another tradition altogether.

Although I’ve framed these stages through the lens of Western Christianity, they can apply to any process of religious deconstruction. Examining one’s beliefs can be daunting—it involves grieving what has ended while opening oneself to what might begin. If this is your journey, consider working with a therapist who can walk alongside you, help you find language for your questions, and offer support as you move through your own stages of faith and grief.