Losing Faith Without Losing Yourself

by Lonnie King

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Editorial note: I’m in the process of attempting to write a book (insert chuckles here) about my journey–something to leave behind for the people I love, especially the one who is too young to know much about me yet. This reflection will ultimately make its way into those pages. I’ll let you know when it’s done.

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I never thought I’d question my faith.

Not because I was naïve. Not because I had all the answers. But because faith was the lens I saw the world through. It shaped how I loved people, how I made decisions, how I coped with heartache and tried to find purpose.

But lately… something’s shifted. And I don’t think I’m alone.

It’s not just personal pain that rattles belief—it’s what happens when the very institutions claiming to speak for God seem more invested in power than in people. When grace is replaced by performance, compassion by culture war, and hope by control.

I’ve watched people I love walk away from the church. Not because they stopped believing in something sacred—but because they couldn’t reconcile what they were told about God with what they were seeing in His supposed messengers.

Truthfully? I get it. I’ve done it, too. And I’m still working through that journey.

There’s a word for this kind of experience: deconstruction.

It gets tossed around a lot—sometimes praised, sometimes ridiculed. But here’s what it I think it really means: taking apart what was handed to you so you can rebuild something honest. Something that still holds up when your world falls apart.

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Where’s the beef? Not where you might think…

For me, the struggle has never really been with the idea of God.

It’s with what people have done in God’s name.

The marriage of religion and politics—especially within American evangelicalism—has become suffocating. I’ve seen more people pushed away by fear, shame, and moral superiority than drawn in by love, empathy, and hope.

And when you’re already hurting, the last thing you need is someone telling you it’s your fault—for not believing the right way, not saying the right things, not aligning with the right people.

If faith becomes a litmus test for who deserves help, kindness, or dignity… it’s no longer faith. It’s something else entirely.

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The Landing Zone

So here’s where I’ve landed, at least for now:

You can lose your religion and still hold on to your soul. You can walk away from toxic theology and still walk in compassion. You can reject spiritual abuse and still cling to a quiet, flickering hope that something good is still possible.

You don’t have to belong to a group to be grounded. You don’t need a label to have values. And you don’t have to say the right words to be heard by whatever mystery might still be out there listening.

If you’re someone who’s walking away from a faith community that once felt like home, I hope you know this:

You’re not lost.
You’re not broken.
You’re not betraying anything sacred by asking hard questions.

Honestly? Asking those questions might be the most sacred thing you’ve ever done. And if all you can do right now is unlearn what hurt you—while holding on to the few good things that still ring true—then that’s enough.

That’s not failure. That’s survival.

That’s faith, too.

Grace and grit to you! — LK