Demolition, Deconstruction, Construction, and Incarnation
In the early days of our family life, before we could afford a purpose built MPV, we had to make do with an old, but loveable, yellow transit minibus. It was in the days before the girls had developed a sense of embarrassment. Back then they would happily hold my hand as we walked down the street. They would run out of the school gates and greet both parents with a hug and a kiss. Well before high school days arrived, however, they had discovered that whenever they saw their parents, a rush of blood would fill their faces and they would blush with a high summer redness.
Our yellow people carrier, for that is what we called it in an attempt to make it sound posh, was fitted with all that we needed. Seatbelts on every seat, tow-bar for trailer or caravan, radio cassette (it was a long time ago) for travelling entertainment and even a 12-volt kettle for refreshments on longer trips. A couple of chickens and a goat would have given us new-age traveller status in most counties.
In an attempt to remove the need for regular shouts of ‘I need the toilet’ we took with us a potty that we kept under one of the seats. I insisted on calling it a 'guzunder' because it is a funny word and I wanted the girls to know some of the words that my mother had taught me. ‘Because it guz under the bed’ I would reply whenever asked and laugh as if I had never heard the joke before. I think it must be a genetic disposition that causes dads to tell, repeat, and continually laugh at the same bad jokes over and over again.
As the bus was longer than the average vehicle the children had to learn hand signals in order to get my attention in the front seat. This would mostly concern the need for a toilet break. On one such trip across the Pennines one of our girls had, having signalled her need, dutifully filled the receptacle with recycled orange juice and my wife was pleading with me to find a safe place to stop so that she could empty the contents. This being the Snake Pass there was very little chance of that happening for several miles, so I gave instructions for her to keep the guzunder steady for another twenty minutes.
She was not happy with this reply and decided to take the matter into her own hands on this sunny Saturday morning. Sliding open a side window she readied herself to empty the potty. Seeing what she was doing in the rear view mirror, I shouted for her to stop because I knew that nothing good could come from this episode.
‘It’s OK’ she said, ‘I will hold it low so that none of the contents will come back into the minibus’. My bride had mistaken the meaning of my outburst, as she had failed to see a gleaming open top car directly behind us. The driver and passenger were enjoying the summer wind blowing through their hair as they travelled through the beautiful Peak scenery.
Ignoring all of my garbled protestations, my wife emptied the guzunder and the contents moved from our possession to the smiling faces of the couple behind.
When I informed my wife of the kindness that she had shown to the strangers following us, she ducked out of sight and screamed ‘go faster’. I informed her that Ford had not fitted this model of 2-litre diesel with go-faster stripes and so I could not travel any quicker, especially as we were going up hill.
I knew that I should have pulled over as soon as the road allowed so that we could have apologised, but you could have fried an egg on my face at the embarrassment of it all!
It wasn’t long before the open top sports car overtook our big yellow minibus and the driver and his companion showed their appreciation by teaching our children several hand signals that were not to be found in the Highway Code.
It seems that it isn’t enough to get rid of things you no longer want to carry, without realising that your actions have an effect on those who are following.
So it is with the journey of leadership within the church. In following the call to lead, one accepts a level of responsibility that is, at times, at odds with one’s own need for full autonomy. There are people following and we are called to be aware of how our lives affect them. Beverley and I have been on a twenty five-year journey of church planting; that is to say, over two decades of deconstruction. It started, as these things often do, with a general dissatisfaction with the status quo. It became apparent that, along with Bono and the boys (3), we still hadn’t found what we were looking for.
Initially, our inexperience drew us to employ demolition tactics in our eagerness to make changes. We soon learned, however, that our response needed to be subtler; perhaps a little more grown up. We knew that we had a responsibility to those who might follow to deal with our complaint in a way that didn’t adversely affect their journey.
Those of a more theologically conservative disposition might see deconstruction as a negative idea; often feeling threatened by any notion that comes close to questioning the basics of their faith. I would suggest, however, that there is a difference between demolition and deconstruction.
In our discussions with others we have often been treated to responses that are versions of ‘we shouldn’t question God – He is sovereign’ as if that would satisfy our curiosity and silence us.
This seems odd given that the very nature of an incarnational faith is life, death and rebirth as the gospel is fleshed out in every new generation; a kind of deconstruction and reconstruction. Even though the death of Christ appeared to his followers as a form of demolition they were soon to discover God’s purpose in the story.
As previously noted, however, there is a significant difference between demolition and deconstruction.
Our local town had a new road built through it several years ago in order to reduce the flow of traffic through its historic central streets. During the project houses were demolished, canal systems re-routed, and farmland was built upon in order to complete the project. A member of our congregation, Bill, worked on the project and reminds me that it is a 'relief road' and not as 'bypass' as most of the local inhabitants refer to it. It seems words matter in all disciplines of life.
This meant that some things were demolished. There was no longer any trace of what had been there previously. It is a permanent change without any reference to the past. The old is dismissed as having no or little value. Other areas, however, were deconstructed and reshaped in order to preserve areas of wildlife habitat. This exercise involves assigning a correct value and meaning to all of the materials and components of the construct. For sure, some of the components will be identified as not having a current significance and duly laid aside, but they will still be treated as having had value. It means taking a different approach and level of care with the landscape. So what might the marks of deconstruction be over and above that of demolition?
It is interesting to note that the rerouting of the canal was a major part of the project. In this undertaking the engineers made substantial changes, but the community was still left with a canal. Rerouting is not the same as removal.
Deconstruction is about dealing with the component parts of our faith and ecclesiology whilst demolition deals with the removal of the building as a whole. Perhaps the fear of those with a more conservative view might be due to any act of deconstruction being misconstrued as demolition.
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