When Faith Unravels

Today, I’m going to step into a deeply personal space and talk about faith crisis. Over the past few years, I’ve seen a lot of people struggling with this and it’s a very distressing place to be. And I want those struggling to know – you are not alone. And if you are a loved one of someone going through a faith crisis, I’ve got some thoughts for you a little bit later in the article.

I recognize that my experience with faith crisis is unique, but through it I have learned some things that may be helpful to others walking a similar path.

I’d like to share with you how my faith crisis began so you can kind of understand the thinking behind this article. I acknowledge that all triggers that instigate faith crisis are unique. This is just my story and how it unfolded for me.

Just before the COVID chaos began in early in 2020, I had three separate spiritual experiences that led me into what is commonly called a faith crisis. I prefer to call it a deconstruction and reconstruction of my faith, but for brevity I’ll use the term “faith crisis”.

This crisis had nothing to do with my belief in Jesus Christ, and everything to do with how I’d been taught and understood my religion. It wasn’t triggered by church policy, church history, politics, rebellion, unresolved sin, or anything like that. Rather, it was internally triggered in very customized way.

And you might have caught that I said three “spiritual experiences” triggered this crisis. And you heard me correctly. I said it that way on purpose. Because that’s how it happened. You might argue that God would never trigger a faith crisis in someone. You could also argue that God would never ask someone to take a life, and yet that’s exactly what he asked both Abraham and Nephi to do, albeit different outcomes, but the same request. We cannot place God in a box, nor do we understand all His ways and works with mankind.

At the time this all occurred for me, I felt completely wrecked. I was already going through some major life transitions and now my whole identity and foundation were in shambles. I didn’t know what to believe. But I did believe in Jesus. This was the one constant. I’d built a relationship with him through decades of deep adversity, so, I tried to keep that relationship going. I asked hard questions of him. I expressed my anger and feelings of betrayal to him. And I kept seeking for answers to my questions, even though it felt like I was speaking into the void for years.

Over time I was reminded that I had asked God a very specific question back in 2018 that I refused to lay down. I had paid the price to learn everything I could through study, trying to understand the answer to that question and, in hindsight, realized I couldn’t have received the answer to that question with the mental framework I had at that time. Milk-based Sunday experiences, and even my meatier independent scripture studies throughout my life, weren’t enough to open my mind to the answer because I didn’t realize I was in a box. The beliefs I had about the way things worked were too ingrained. I was too certain of certain things. And God can’t reveal greater things to a fixed mind. In fact, freeing the mind from the box was exactly what Jesus tried to do when he shared his doctrine during his life.

And his invitation still stands.

In hindsight, I now understand that there was no way I could have received the greater light and knowledge I was tirelessly seeking within the confines of my religious understanding at the time. So, I was educated by painful wrestling, burning purification, and serious realignment of my faith brought on by this crisis. Whereas I had always understood my faith to be rooted firmly in Christ, I began to see that it was also rooted in the institution of my religion, in the leaders, and other things. Needless to say, my allegiance shifted over time to Jesus alone, as the only one worthy of it.

Now, I don’t know how all faith crises go. And I’m not saying that what I experienced is what everyone experiences. Like I mentioned earlier, I believe each faith crisis is unique, and that mine was a bit unusual in how it presented. But even with their different beginnings and endings, all faith crises have a similar middle, which we’ll discuss in a minute.

But first, let’s start by defining what a faith crisis is and then move through the ugly to the potentially beautiful that’s available, if we choose to pursue it.

Defining Faith Crisis

According to Google:

A “faith crisis” refers to a period of deep doubt, questioning, or distress experienced by an individual regarding their religious beliefs or faith. It’s a time when an individual’s understanding of God, religious doctrine, or their personal relationship with their faith is challenged or disrupted, often leading to feelings of confusion, fear, or uncertainty.

I would define it as a journey of all-encompassing heartache, where beliefs burn to ash and rebuilding from the wreckage isn’t optional, and no one can fix it for you. For me, I didn’t realize how deeply my self-concept was tied to the culture of my religion. You might have experienced this too, even if your story is different. Identity and religion can be deeply intertwined. Faith crisis feels like a loss of self, and for many, the next steps are filled with anger, grief, confusion, and more questions than answers.

Worse, when you try to reach out, you may be met with suspicion, shame, rejection, or considered an apostate or heretic for entertaining contrary thoughts. Family may panic, friends may scoff or lecture or bear down in testimony. Whatever the case, it leaves you feeling completely alone, like an outcast in the very community you once found comfort in. It can even be a source of trauma as you lose all that once felt safe to feelings of abandonment and betrayal. There are really no words to describe the emotional turmoil a faith crisis causes.

Let’s address some of the common mental and emotional challenges that come with faith crisis. Nobody in my religion ever talks about these things, but they are very real across all religions and need to be understood.

Mental & Emotional Challenges of Faith Crisis

Research reveals that the following are the common mental and emotional challenges associated with a faith crisis. So, let’s acknowledge the real weight someone who is going through this might be carrying:

1. Loss of Identity – When your religion has shaped your values, relationships, and worldview, questioning it feels like losing yourself.
2. Anxiety & Fear – Foundational questions can trigger intense spiritual anxiety. What happens if you’re wrong?
3. Isolation & Alienation – You may feel disconnected from your community—even when no one knows what you’re going through.
4. Shame & Guilt – Especially in traditions that emphasize obedience, stepping outside expected behavior can trigger deep self-judgment.
5. Existential Crisis – Without clear moral frameworks or a dependable divine source, life itself can feel unmoored.
6. Cognitive Dissonance – Conflicting beliefs cause inner tension and confusion as you try to reconcile old truths with new insights.
7. Depression & Low Self-Worth – The disorientation can cause sadness, a loss of hope, and even spiritual despair.
8. Relationship Difficulties – These shifts often strain or fracture relationships with people who interpret your growth as betrayal.
9. Reconstruction of Meaning – You may need to rebuild your entire worldview—one brick at a time.
10. Grief – The death of an old self, belief, or way of life brings grief, and that grief may come in waves over time.

For these reasons, you can’t simply throw a checklist at faith crisis and expect it to resolve. We are talking about psychological, emotional, and physiological reactions of the nervous system that need support, processing, and resolution that standard religious habits can’t touch.

IF Someone You Love is Going Through Faith Crisis

And, if you are not going through this, but someone you care about is, please realize that the list I just read describes the things they are likely up against. And It’s HUGE. Bearing down in testimony is not helpful. Telling them to just keep reading their scriptures, and other standard answers to problems, is not going to resolve this. People need time to grieve and feel their emotions. It’s a death of sorts. Invalidating their experience by arguing, criticizing, trying to correct, etc. only drives the wound deeper. Adding additional panic, fear, or other negative emotions to the environment is a weight that often pushes people over the edge.

The real questions to ask are of yourself:

• Do I want this relationship in my life, even if we no longer believe the same things?
• Or is it more important for me to be right and for them to agree with me?
• Why is their uncertainty a threat to my certainty?
• What am I afraid this will actually mean?
• And do I need to discuss the issue with a therapist so I can give space for someone to have a different experience than me?

I am not a therapist. I cannot give clinical advice. But I can share with you what helped me begin healing—and what allowed me to stay connected to the divine even as my faith recovered. But I do recommend therapy, if only for a supportive ear that can help guide and assure you on your journey and help you work through that list of psychological, emotional and even nervous system responses. Just be careful that your therapist is neutral and well-chosen.

How I Worked Through My Faith Crisis

With that, here are the things I did to keep moving forward as I began to rebuild. They are not prescriptions, simply my experience. Again, each journey is unique.

1. I recognized my own arrogance – This was one of the first things I learned in the classroom of faith crisis. I had judged others who doubted. Now, I saw my own pride in painful detail. I was humbled.
2. I recognized what I still believed – I still believed in God. That relationship had been tested, but I had earned that belief through real lived experience. Jesus was my personal Savior and that had not changed.
3. I kept reading my core scriptures – Not because I should, but because I wanted to—because it’s who I am. Even when disillusioned, I studied, and interestingly enough, I began to see truths that had been invisible before.
4. I kept going to church – But differently. I gave myself permission to disengage when needed, to walk out if something triggered me, to process in private, and to ignore checklists.
5. I defined the problems – I clarified things I was actually wrestling with and sorted through them one at a time, which helped me avoid emotional chaos. I wrote, a lot.
6. I prayed—and also gave myself permission not to pray – I honored the ebb and flow of my relationship with God during the confusion.
7. I sat with discomfort – Yin yoga taught me this. No quick fixes. No rushed answers. Just presence.
8. I opened my mind – I continued to allow myself to read things outside my faith (as I had always done). To hear the hard questions. To realize that certainty is often pride in disguise.
9. I questioned everything – Including my own questions.
10. I felt everything – Anger. Sorrow. Relief. Shame. I let it all move through me. Yin yoga, breathwork, crying, journaling—all of it helped.
11. I grew up – I saw that I had been emotionally adolescent in my religion. I recognized that to be an adult in spiritual matters meant deciding for myself, with God as my co-creator, what was appropriate for me, rather than outsourcing my life to culture and leaders and checklists.
12. I gave myself space – I distanced when I needed to. I let myself stay home, walk out, reflect, or disconnect. And I released the shame that told me I couldn’t.
13. I received – Wisdom, insight, correction, grace. I let new knowledge reshape me.

Again, these are things that have worked for me as I have listened to, and honored my needs through the process. Others I know, that have also gone through faith crisis, have chosen different paths, moved on to different churches, or away from church altogether. I have watched some flourish spiritually, and others grow bitter as they navigated this process. As stated before, each person has a unique journey to experience life through. We are not all here to experience the exact same thing in the exact same way. And when we don’t honor our emotional needs while processing challenges, we do more damage than good.

Faith crisis creates chaos. But chaos always precedes creation. Breakdown is not always a bad thing. This is why we cannot judge another’s experience or choices. We don’t know what they need to learn or how they need to learn it. The journey is, oh, so personal!

The Nervous system and Faith Crisis

Faith crisis changes you, as all adversity should. You cannot just assimilate back into the old ways of thinking and doing without losing a major opportunity for both growth and deeper relationship with God – which brings us to the beautiful part of faith crisis. And, let me be clear, it took me a long time to find the beautiful in this journey.

Many experience faith crisis as a fight or flee situation. In the face of so much loss, and the familiar sense of safety failing, the nervous system naturally gets activated into fight or flight mode. Responses are often instinctual, out of self-preservation. People often do one of two things—they begin warring against God or institutions of religion to fight against the pain they feel, OR they leave them behind, fleeing their influence so the pain is left in the dust. Either way, resolution of pain and escape are the goals.

My experience has shown me a third option. It’s the option of calming the nervous system, and waiting to make any major decisions until you feel consistently calm rather than a sense of needing to escape. Not everyone can do this, and I’m not saying everyone should. We’re all on very personal ground here. But even though a faith crisis feels like a major threat, it’s not usually an actual physical threat. If the nervous system can recognize that it’s not in any physical danger, then it can take the time it needs to sort through the mess and make the best decision – and perhaps even begin to see the experience as something God can use to propel them to next-level spirituality.

Faith crisis is a trial that can allow opportunity for you to understand growth in a new way, as an endless cycle of breakdown and breakthrough, followed by new understanding. It’s like building muscle through workouts. If you stop lifting weight, or return to previous habits, you atrophy. If you press forward, you grow – which is why God gives us trials. Trials prepare us for the bigger breakthroughs and bigger growth. That growth can come through things like a faith crisis. The practice of yoga perfectly illustrates this.

In yoga you learn to move to the edge of your stretch. The edge of your stretch is where you feel discomfort. To move through this state of discomfort, you practice breathing through the stretch, enabling you, over time, to go further and deeper into the movement–or the next edge, or level of growth – whether that’s in the body, mind or spirit. Many people, when faced with faith crisis, cannot sit with the discomfort long enough to reap the benefits. In order to escape the pain, they chuck it all and ditch their faith or religion. Maybe that’s the experience they need at the time; we can’t judge. But I have learned, for me, that as I move through the stages of spiritual maturity, I will inevitably continue to come up against my edge, and it will be uncomfortable. But as I breathe and receive, and open up to what God has waiting for me, and what I can learn from the experience, I am enabled to continue moving forward – even without clear answers.

The Role of Doubt

Let’s talk for a minute about doubt. Isn’t doubt a bad thing? Faith crisis introduces doubt into the mind in a BIG way. And it serves a purpose. It can either consume your faith, or provide contrast for its growth. Faith doesn’t grow strong if it’s never challenged. The very act of approaching faith crisis through a growth-mindset allows us to use doubts to clarify faith, to refine beliefs, to expand understanding, to prepare to receive more of God’s mind than man’s fixed mind because doubts breed questions, and questions motivate seeking, and seeking brings answers. And if we’re looking to God and His word through all of this, we can’t help but find more of Him. But this approach requires space and time as we move through emotion and honor the healing process.

Let’s talk about scripture in the context of doubt. Scripture is not afraid of doubt. It’s filled with people who wrestled with God—Jacob, Job, David, even Jesus in Gethsemane. These moments of struggle weren’t punished—they were sacred. They deepened relationship. Questions aren’t a sign of weak faith. They’re a sign that you care enough to ask and seek. Even the church I belong to was founded by a young man who questioned all of the churches of his day and refused to lay aside deep, probing questions; He doubted their legitimacy, he asked for more and received. Questions open the windows of heaven.

Many fear that faith crisis will cause spiritual loss that is irreparable. But I don’t think this is true. God always knows where each of his children are and patiently waits for them to choose a relationship with him–however long that might take.

When Jacob came to Penuel, he wrestled with God. He feared that Esau, approaching with 400 men, would take his life. In that moment he likely doubted his actions years earlier in obtaining the birthright. Had his mother really been inspired by divine inspiration? Had he done the right thing? After the struggle with God was over, Jacob was given a new name. The act of receiving a new name symbolized a shift in identity and relationship with God. Isn’t that exactly what a faith crisis invites us into? We wrestle and remove the dross and impurities from our thinking, and are left only with Jesus. Our identity shifts, we become a new person, a new creature. Isn’t that the point?

I see faith crisis as a call—not to destruction, but to depth, maturity, and transformation. So, if you’re in one, realize that you are uniquely positioned for growth.

One Caution

The flip side is that faith crisis can breed feelings of anger and a sense of betrayal. When you stay in these negative emotions (after the natural and personal grief cycle) and start warring against institutions and other aspects of religion, or even God, you lose that window of meekness that opens you up to greater light and knowledge. Honoring the process of deconstruction for what it is—a call to growth (even if ugly)—creates space for next-level spirituality as we shift into a new experience (whatever that looks like for the individual).

So, if you’re faced with a deconstruction of faith right now, consider what it means for you. It is not the same for everyone, nor should it be. Your next steps are deeply personal, and between you and God. But no matter what, He loves you.

In the end, faith crisis doesn’t have to mean failure. It can instead be viewed as a portal, a door into a new way of being, new understanding and new growth. So, sit with your questions, honor your individual process, and let God work within you to create something new and beautiful. He is always waiting for a relationship with you, and is willing to meet you where you’re at with joy whenever you turn his way. Keep searching. Keep asking. Keep breathing.

And remember. . . you are loved.

Heart Habit™ Practice:

Sit quietly.
Close your eyes.
Breathe slowly.
Repeat this mantra:

“I give space for my doubts and questions, and I am held by grace as I do so.”

Let yourself feel both the tension—and the tenderness.

Disclaimer: The content of this article is intended for personal reflection and informational purposes only. It is not a substitute for qualified professional, medical, psychological, or spiritual advice. By engaging with this content, through any source—in person or online—you are agreeing to our terms and conditions and our liability and release waivers. The links of said waivers are posted in the footer of our website. All views expressed — including interpretations of scripture or spiritual practice — reflect the author’s personal experience and are not affiliated with any specific church or institution. Please take what resonates with your journey, and leave the rest with care.