Chantal McKinney is an ordained Episcopal priest, spiritual author, speaker, coach, and consultant based in North Carolina, whose work sits at the uneasy intersection of institutional faith and lived spiritual experience. She founded Root Thrive Soar in 2021 after nearly two decades of ministry within the Episcopal Church, where she served in a range of roles, including as a church planter and the founding pastor of Christ’s Beloved Community/Comunidad Amada de Cristo in Winston-Salem. Over time, her vocation has come to emphasize a practice of following Jesus beyond the physical and cultural boundaries of the church itself, rooted in community listening, compassionate action, contemplative discipline, and a consciously decolonized approach to faith.

McKinney holds a Master of Divinity from Virginia Theological Seminary and a Doctor of Ministry from Chicago Theological Seminary, academic foundations that inform her blend of pastoral care and critical engagement. Her book, Following Jesus Beyond Church Walls, takes up some of the most urgent and unsettled questions in contemporary Christianity, including the entanglements of faith with trauma, the demands of accountability, and the possibilities for spiritual growth in a fractured religious landscape.

In this conversation, McKinney reflects on the complicated terrain of church hurt, faith deconstruction, Christian mysticism, and the prospects for reform within traditions that often resist it. She recounts her own movement away from a strictly institutional Episcopal framework toward a more expansive and personally grounded spirituality, a shift shaped in part by her experience reporting sexual harassment and confronting what she describes as a deeply damaging institutional response.

For McKinney, church hurt is not an abstract or singular phenomenon but a pattern that can manifest through sexism, homophobia, racism, retaliation, and structural exclusion, often operating in ways that are both visible and insidiously normalized. She contends that meaningful accountability cannot emerge from institutional self-protection, but must instead begin with transparency, the amplification of grassroots testimony, and sustained solidarity with women who have been harmed. The interview also turns toward questions of inward, Christ-centered authority, the possibility of healing outside rigid hierarchies, and McKinney’s insistence that individuals can pursue a serious and grounded commitment to Jesus beyond traditional church walls, without relinquishing either the pursuit of justice or the need for community.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: You remain an ordained Episcopal priest, yet your work has clearly expanded beyond traditional institutional boundaries. What prompted that shift, and how would you describe the evolution from a primarily church-based role to a broader, post-institutional spiritual vocation?

Chantal McKinney: I am still ordained. I have not relinquished that status, nor have I been removed. What prompted a spiritual expansion? I was raised in a family that, although we attended an Episcopal church, was also deeply spiritual. My godparents were Brazilian and practiced Spiritismo, and my Mexican-American family included several members who were intuitive and open to broader spiritual dimensions of faith.

When I became ordained, I ended up narrowing my perspective to the traditions of the Episcopal Church and viewed faith through that single lens. The turning point came with what I describe in the opening of the book as The Shattering: my reported experience of severe sexual harassment and the institutional response to it. That experience disrupted my worldview, which had equated the church with God.

The process of reporting the incident was deeply traumatic on top of the harassment, the culmination of which compelled me to encounter God beyond the walls of the church. It was a period marked by hardship and spiritual surrender.

Jacobsen: In recent years, there has been a growing trend toward re-examining faith—not necessarily as a rejection, but as a process of personal rediscovery. More intentional forms of this are often described as faith deconstruction. How do you define faith deconstruction, and in what ways does it differ from other forms of spiritual re-evaluation?

McKinney: When an individual undergoes church hurt or trauma, the process is not solely cognitive. It is experienced at the level of the soul. It entails a form of spiritual surrender, as though an entire paradigm has collapsed and must be reconstructed.

A useful metaphor is that of a snake shedding its skin when it no longer fits. For many who have experienced church hurt, deconstruction is a deeply vulnerable and often painful process. Letting go of former frameworks can feel like a significant loss. For some people, it can also be liberating to let go of oppressive frameworks.

As individuals re-enter the world with a new perspective, they may feel cautious, ambivalent, or open. What often emerges, however, resembles a form of spiritual expansion—perhaps even a revival of their faith. People begin to seek experiences of God outside institutional boundaries.

This may involve practices such as meditation, nature engagement, sound baths, or forest bathing. It can also include faith communities in circles or house churches. It entails moving beyond doctrinal and governance structures to define, on a personal level, what God, love, and meaning represent.

The key distinction is that this process is not purely intellectual; it is also emotional, intuitive, and experiential.

Jacobsen: You use the term “church hurt,” a phrase that has gained increasing traction in contemporary religious discourse. In what forms can it manifest, and why should both institutional leaders and those outside formal church structures take it seriously—not only for the individuals affected, but for the broader credibility of the faith itself?

McKinney: Church hurt can manifest in various ways. In fundamentalist or conservative church environments, it may involve restrictive roles and the diminishment of individual identity. For example, women may be confined to subordinate positions, taught to perceive themselves as lesser, and discouraged from recognizing their full capacities.

As they mature, they may come to recognize those imposed limitations and reject them. That realization can itself be part of what is described as church hurt.

If you are LGBTQ and were raised in a church, imagine sitting in the pews and being told you are going to hell for whom you love, while your attractions feel innate and unchosen. Being told that this is wrong can itself be a form of harm.

There are multiple forms of church hurt. I was raised in a progressive church and did not experience that particular form of exclusion. I am grateful to have been part of a church that affirms LGBTQ people.

However, even in progressive churches, there can still be patriarchal and hierarchical structures. In Christianity in general, women are often treated as second-class citizens. Church hurt can also take the form of sexual harassment, sexual assault, retaliation for reporting, discrimination, and racism.

There are also broader structural issues, including what might be described as colonized expressions of the church. For example, in my tradition, the standard hymnal is from 1982 and draws heavily on hymns rooted in European traditions, many of which are centuries old. This raises questions about inclusion: who is represented, and who is left out? What assumptions are embedded when European, white-authored hymns are centred as the primary expression of the sacred?
Church hurt is therefore broad and best defined by the person experiencing it, rather than by those responsible for it.

Jacobsen: Beyond questions of leadership, why does this issue matter more broadly? Why should institutional leaders care, and why should individuals in less structured or non-denominational communities also see this as something that concerns them?

McKinney: Leaders should care because there is a significant decline in church participation. In the United States, tens of millions of people have left churches in recent decades. Estimates cited suggest that roughly 40 million Americans have left their churches over the past 25 years, with a substantial portion leaving more recently.

At the same time, many who leave still report belief in God or Jesus. This suggests that the issue is not necessarily a loss of faith, but rather a loss of trust or a sense of belonging within institutions. A significant proportion of those who leave report experiences of harm or discrimination within church settings.

There is also increasing discussion of religious trauma, with some surveys indicating that a notable minority of individuals identify their experiences in religious environments as traumatic.

For leaders concerned with institutional vitality, these trends alone should command attention. The church is failing at being a healthy, safe, and vital body of Christ for these millions of people who have been hurt. For those concerned with the church’s ethical and theological mission, the issue is even more pressing. If churches are not living in alignment with the teachings of Jesus—particularly those centred on compassion, justice, healing, and care—then that represents a deeper failure than declining numbers alone.

There is a huge opportunity for the church to cultivate a posture of humility as we seek to repair relationships and offer a healing presence to those who are hurting. Jesus was a healer, and that should be the church’s identity as well. When people leave the church and obtain healing outside of the church while the church does nothing to aid that healing, it raises important questions about whether the church is fulfilling their intended role.

Jacobsen: And for individuals who are not in positions of authority, what is at stake? Why should they care about the persistence of these dynamics within church life?

McKinney: Some people may already recognize these issues that persist in the church, while others may feel disconnected from them. However, many individuals remain silent about their experiences because of stigma. There is often a perception that speaking out about harm will damage the church’s mission or reputation.

For example, public figures such as Dolores Huerta (co-founder of United Farm Workers) have spoken about remaining silent in the past to avoid harming the mission they were a part of. This reflects a wider pattern in which individuals suppress their experiences out of concern for institutions and organizations.

This should matter because those who identify as followers of Jesus are called to act with compassion, pursue justice, and serve as agents of healing. That mission is undermined when individuals within those communities are harmed and unsupported.

In my own work, including planting a church in Southside Winston-Salem, I have focused on community engagement: knocking on doors, building partnerships with nonprofits, supporting tutoring initiatives, and addressing food insecurity.
That work depends on the well-being of the people involved. Faith communities cannot effectively serve others if their members are themselves harmed and not receiving care.

Ultimately, I support collaboration across belief systems. Whether someone is religious, agnostic, or atheist, what matters is a shared commitment to improving the world. However, when those who seek to serve others in the name of Jesus are harmed or harming others without accountability or healing, it compromises that shared mission.

Then that becomes a problem for the compassionate action we seek to do in the world.

Jacobsen: There is now a wide spectrum of “ex–” faith identities—exvangelical being one of the most visible. Within that broader landscape, how do deconstructionist communities differ from exvangelical ones? Beyond the obvious distinction that some leave belief altogether while others remain engaged in reinterpretation, how would you characterize the deeper differences?

McKinney: I do not think it’s easy to clearly define those differences and distinctions. But I can speak from personal experience.

There was a period when, as I wrestled with what I had gone through, I was uncertain whether I could still identify as a Christian. I have always experienced what I would describe as a deep and meaningful relationship with Christ, but I questioned whether the label still applied to me, particularly when I saw the way the institutional church treated me when I came forward to report harassment. It felt like church as business.

I know that some exvangelicals and individuals engaged in deconstruction no longer identify as Christian. In my case, after reflection and prayer, I concluded that I would continue to identify as a Christian while also recognizing that my spirituality extends beyond the institutional boundaries of the Episcopal Church and even beyond traditional formulations of Christianity.

My experience of harm disrupted those boundaries and expanded my understanding. At the same time, I have chosen to maintain my commitment to Christ while affirming that it is possible to follow Jesus outside institutional structures—in nature, in small gatherings, and in everyday life. I’m also not willing to walk away from the church without trying to reform it to bring it/us more in alignment with the values of Jesus Christ.

This raises broader questions about the relationship between institutional religion and Jesus’s teachings. What does it mean to distinguish between forms of church shaped by historical power structures and those that seek to reflect the life and teachings of Christ? What does it look like to separate institutional legacy from spiritual practice?

While I cannot provide a comprehensive analysis of deconstructionist categories, I personally wrestled with questions of identity: who I am, and how I name my faith. In my work, including my book, I explore themes such as the integration of the divine feminine and a more mystical approach to spirituality—dimensions that are often less visible in more programmatic or consumer-oriented expressions of Christianity in the United States.

Jacobsen: People often grow through ordinary life experiences, but many also encounter profound trauma—whether through personal actions, external events, or harm inflicted by others. These experiences can lead to psychological or existential rupture, yet they can also become sites of healing and transformation, not because of the harm itself, but despite it. In your practice, how does Christian mysticism support that movement toward growth in the aftermath of such experiences?

McKinney: That is a strong question. My experience of church harm disrupted my sense of authority and trust in those in positions above me. I saw what happens when the church operates more like an institution or business rather than a community that cares for those who are wounded.

For me, the distinction within a mystical understanding of Christianity begins with the idea that Christ abides within the individual. As I revisited scripture during my healing process, I noticed themes that are often underemphasized. One recurring idea is that the divine presence dwells within: “Christ abides in you,” and “as the Father abides in me, so I abide in you.”

This shifts the locus of authority inward. It means that when I draw near to God in quiet reflection, meditation, or a walk in nature, I can attune myself to what I understand as the presence of divine love. I am no longer dependent on external sources for validation or direction. I remain open to learning from others, whether through books, conversations, or in community, but ultimately I trust my own alignment and relationship with God. That shift has been transformative.

It is also, in some respects, subversive. It challenges the assumption that one must rely on institutional authority—whether that is individuals or hierarchical structures—to determine what is right or meaningful for me. I trust my own interpretation of scripture and my own listening to God and how God moves in others who are listening, while remaining open to dialogue and continued learning.

The belief that Christ abides within diminishes the perceived necessity of hierarchical layers, which, for me, has been both healing and empowering. I have been harmed by religious authority figures above me. Listening to the Christ who abides in me is safe, liberating, and grounded in love. I hope I can convince others who are done with institutional church that there are beautiful alternatives to following Jesus that are also rooted in Scripture.

Jacobsen: International human rights frameworks affirm the right to freedom of belief, conscience, and religion. At the same time, there are moments when accounts of church harm are used, particularly in some secular contexts, as a way to broadly discredit religious communities. That approach can flatten the issue and obscure its deeper emotional and structural dimensions. When harm does occur within church communities—whether through institutional practices, interpersonal dynamics, or doctrinal frameworks—what does meaningful accountability look like for those affected? And what might genuine reform look like within a more expansive vision of Christianity?

McKinney: Accountability and reform must begin with transparency. Meaningful reform cannot occur if institutions address these issues internally, behind closed doors, or solely through leadership-selected processes.

It needs to begin at a grassroots level, where individuals feel safe sharing their experiences. I have worked with both leaders and individuals—particularly women—who have experienced harm. Together, we have developed a letter of support intended as part of a broader, collective effort.

This initiative includes a platform where individuals can share their experiences and articulate which reforms they believe are necessary based on the harm they have endured. It also allows others to express solidarity with those who come forward.

One of the first aspects of institutional church culture is that women are often blamed when they come forward to report harm. They are treated as a threat to the church. That is incorrect. We are the church. There is a false equivalence in assuming that the church is the institution; the church is the people.

When someone comes forward to report harm, they should be met with compassion, and justice should be pursued. Instead, there are cases in which institutions prioritize protecting those who cause harm while treating those who report it as the problem. That may sound surprising to those outside the context, but it reflects experiences reported by many.

Addressing this requires consistent sharing of experiences and the creation of environments where individuals feel safe to speak.

I have ideas about what reform could look like, but many experiences still need to be heard. As more people share their stories, clearer patterns emerge, which can inform meaningful reform. Rather than define what reform looks like, I prefer to create the scaffolding so we can gather many ideas and then begin work towards a collaborative approach with church leaders who support our efforts.

In my current work, I facilitate a cohort of women who have experienced harm within church settings. Through structured sharing, recurring systemic patterns become visible. These include situations in which individuals accused of harm continue to advance institutionally, while those who report harm face professional and personal consequences.

Some report underemployment or unemployment, placement on short- or long-term disability, or pressure to relocate without viable opportunities for continued work. These patterns indicate areas that need reform and structural change.

Jacobsen: Which passages of scripture do you find most resonant when thinking about healing, growth, and the possibility of reform?

McKinney: Several passages in the Gospels (such as Luke 17:19) describe individuals seeking healing, and Jesus responds, “Your faith has made you well.” This framing emphasizes the individual’s agency in the healing process. It is an empowering message.

The idea that Christ abides within the individual in John 15:4-5 is also central to me. I also love 2 Corinthians 4:7, “But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God, and does not come from us.” These themes suggest that healing and transformation do not arise solely from the external but from one’s relationship to the divine found within.

I also find meaning in the idea that the scale of one’s faith shapes the scope of one’s actions. If one holds a strong belief in the possibility of growth and reform, then meaningful change becomes more achievable. Conversely, if one is disengaged or indifferent, the resulting impact is limited.

Jacobsen: Thank you for your time today.

McKinney: Thank you. I appreciate the conversation.