Where Deconstruction Meets Nostalgia
My faith deconstruction began a few years ago, and I haven’t talked much publicly about it. It’s a tough topic for me, both because I’m still working through all of my feelings about and because I am, admittedly, nervous about people from my church seeing what I post and questioning me about it. However, with the holidays coming up, I’ve been thinking a lot about this topic and want to talk about a few things.
Christmas is, obviously, a huge deal in the Christian Church. It’s nearly all of what the church is based on (plus Easter), and as such, it is celebrated in a big way. At my church there are multiple services on Christmas Eve and one on Christmas day. In this piece I want to focus on one of my favorite traditions: the Christmas Eve candlelight service.
The majority of the service goes on as normal, but the end is what makes it special.
The last song sung by the congregation is “Silent Night”, and during the song every light in the sanctuary is turned off, leaving only the candles lining the window sills and the candles held by congregants. Two ushers walk down the center aisle, each with a lit candle. On their respective side, they walk by each pew and light the first person in the row’s candle, and that person continues the chain down the row.
There’s something about standing in the church, nearly in the dark, listening to the voices around you sing a classic Christmas hymn. As this is a German Lutheran church, the final verse of “Silent Night” is sung in German. Granted, almost none of us actually speak German, but it’s still a nice tradition.
The last time I went to this service was 2020, as I worked last year and will be working this year, too. 2020 was, unquestionably, a tough year. It was difficult to watch people within my church flat out deny what was happening in the world, arguing that it didn’t matter if certain people died of COVID. It was hard listening to them completely miss the point of movements like Black Lives Matter, chalking it up to violence in cities. The misinformation got to almost everyone, and that’s one of the reasons I have been reluctant to continue calling myself a member of this church.
It didn’t start in 2020, though. My deconstruction had been in the works for a couple years at that point. Things were said and done by people in authority positions that seemed to completely go against what I was taught, and that turned me away. I think it’s turned a lot of people away, but no one who works within churches like these want to listen to that.
I remember the feeling I had during that Christmas Eve candlelight service in 2020. I felt conflicted, sad, confused. I thought back to everything I had heard and seen and knew that this wasn’t the second home I grew up thinking it was. But I also remember the warmth and nostalgia of that moment. I had spent twenty Christmas Eves in that church. Twenty. Yet the feeling of singing “Silent Night” surrounded by people who had a hand in raising me cut deeper.
I don’t believe I have ever had a moment where I knew God was speaking to me. I’ve heard other people talk about those experiences, and I think God tries to reach me in a different way. I believe that nostalgic feeling, the feeling of wanting to find my true place, my true church home, was God leading me in another direction. It would be nice if God could just tell me where to go, but unfortunately I’m on my own with that. I’ve been wanting to visit other churches in my area, but school and work have me booked on weekends. Maybe 2023 is the year I let God lead me somewhere new.
If you’re feeling a similar way right now, especially with the holidays coming up, know that you are not alone. There are many of us who are struggling with our faith, no matter the religion or denomination. I may not have a lot of answers, but I do know this: There is a place for us in these spaces, and we deserve to find them.
Happy holidays and stay safe,
—Abbie
