Every once in a while, a book lands in your life at the exact moment you’re finally ready to read it. For me, Brady Goodwin’s Let There Be Gaslight was that book.
When it was first released, I wanted nothing to do with it, even though I played a small role in financially supporting its research. I’d known Brady through the Christian hip-hop world for decades, and I initially felt betrayed that he had written something questioning the faith that shaped so much of our lives. Back then, I saw his deconstruction as a warning sign—the product of unbelief, unanswered questions, or (as the church often says) some secret sin.
But now, years later, as I’ve been walking through my own season of questioning and reexamining everything I once took for granted in the Christian faith, I found myself drawn back to Brady’s book. And reading his words now—with open eyes, an open mind, and a deep commitment to truth—was an entirely different experience than my immediate knee-jerk reaction.
This is not just a review of Let There Be Gaslight. It’s a reflection on what happens when certainty gives way to honesty… and how deconstruction is often less about rebellion and more about integrity.
Throughout this review, I’ll reference my notes and highlights from the book. All citations are from the Kindle version of the book.
The Courage of Honest Questions
Brady opens the book with a simple but disarming assertion:
“The truth of the matter is that the truth matters. Honesty matters. Integrity matters.” (Location 72)
This sets the tone for everything that follows. And it also perfectly captures why so many people—myself included—eventually find themselves stepping beyond the doctrinal boundaries they once held so tightly.
Faith that cannot survive scrutiny isn’t faith—it’s fear.
Much like Brady, my own journey didn’t begin with hostility toward Christianity. It began with honesty. With noticing the places where my lived experiences, spiritual insights, and intuitive nudges no longer aligned with the rigid, literalist framework I was handed. With confronting the fact that “holding the tension” often meant ignoring cognitive dissonance rather than addressing it.
Brady names this psychological pattern clearly:
“If we are not faithfully mapping our beliefs onto the reality of the situation… we opt for cognitive dissonance that threatens to undermine all our efforts to face life.” (Location 72)
Deconstruction, in this light, becomes an act of love—toward truth, toward self, toward God (if you still believe in a deity after deconstruction).
The Problem of Certainty in a Fragile System
One of the most compelling aspects of Let There Be Gaslight is how Brady unpacks the fragility of evangelical certainty—especially around texts that were never meant to carry the theological weight modern believers place on them.
For many Christians, the Bible must be historically, scientifically, and morally perfect. Anything less creates panic, because the system depends on absolute certainty that these are God’s words and they are truth.
The book confronts this head-on:
“Doctrines of inspiration and inerrancy… are impossible to maintain without adding so many qualifications that they become almost meaningless.” (Page 18)
That line hit me hard. I remember defending inerrancy with all the passion in the world—even when I struggled with stretching logic to make it work. I didn’t have the courage (or wisdom) then to admit that maybe the problem wasn’t the questions… but the assumptions.
Brady describes this same turning point:
“The only thing compelling me to accept the defenses being offered was my theological presuppositions and commitments.” (Page 13)
This is the crux of modern presuppositional Christian apologetics.
The answers only work if you assume the conclusion.
And the conclusions are never wrong (because God spoke it).
Genesis, Myth, and the Weight of Literalism
A major portion of the book explores the creation narratives in Genesis, and here Brady is at his sharpest. He doesn’t attack the Bible; he simply compares it honestly with science, comparative mythology, and internal literary analysis.
He points out contradictions between Genesis 1 and 2, the presence of mythic themes, and the influence of earlier Mesopotamian and Canaanite stories. None of this is new to scholars—but it can be shocking for many evangelicals because they’re rarely exposed to this side of the conversation.
For me, this section overlapped heavily with my own faith journey. Like many, I once dismissed evolution out of hand—not based on scientific understanding, but because it disagreed with the biblical narrative.
Brady captures this perfectly:
“‘The Bible says different’ cannot be our sole reason for rejecting scientific discovery.” (Page 77)
As he shows, treating Genesis literally creates enormous theological problems. If Adam and Eve didn’t literally exist, then the entire structure of Pauline theology built on “a historical Fall” collapses. This becomes even more problematic when genetic science shows:
“The calculations indicate that the amount of genetic diversity in the world today could not have come from just two people in the amount of time that humans have been on the planet.“ (Page 106)
The ripple effects are enormous—not because science disproves God, but because it disproves certain interpretations of God’s story.
Reading this section, I found myself saying, “Yes—this is what I’ve been seeing too.” My own spiritual experiences, the exploration of quantum consciousness, and the non-literal revelation of mystical texts have all pushed me beyond the simplistic “either/or” worldview I once held.
The creation stories are rich, meaningful, and deeply human. They just aren’t literal history.
And that doesn’t make them less valuable. It makes them more understandable, albeit less divinely inspired.
Revisionist History, Competing Voices, and the Evolution of Scripture
Another strength of Brady’s book is his exploration of how the Bible was edited, shaped, and influenced by surrounding cultures. This was an area I resisted for years—partly because I wanted the Bible to be as cohesive and divine as I was taught, and partly because I feared the consequences of admitting otherwise.
But the more I studied, the more I saw what Brady articulates. He shows that the Old Testament reflects layers of revision, redaction, and evolving monotheism—not a single unified theological voice.
This aligns with my own reading of texts like The Moses Scroll, and with what scholars have long known: Israel didn’t start as a monotheistic nation. That’s a later development, often retroactively written back into earlier narratives.
Brady even notes parallels between biblical stories and older myths—not to dismiss Scripture, but to show that Israel, like every ancient culture, was part of a larger literary and religious ecosystem.
This isn’t an attack on the Bible.
It’s context.
And context is liberating.
Jesus, Paul, and the Diverging Messages of the New Testament
For many of us, the moment we begin to question things is when we see that Jesus and Paul don’t always say the same thing about salvation.
The book highlights a significant tension:
- Jesus taught repentance, forgiveness, and entering the kingdom through transformed living.
- Paul built doctrines of universal sin, inherited guilt, and salvation through Christ’s death—ideas heavily dependent on a literal Adam.
As Brady notes:
“In Romans 5… Paul has theologically sidestepped the Genesis storyline.” (Page 220)
This was a turning point in my own journey. I realized that so much of what modern Christianity proclaims as “the gospel” is Pauline—not necessarily what Jesus preached. This doesn’t make Paul wrong; it just makes him… Paul.
A human being interpreting his experience.
A man creating theology in real time.
And for many, that realization becomes the doorway to a more honest faith—or, like Brady, a departure from Christianity & religion altogether.
When Deconstruction Isn’t Rebellion—It’s Integrity
This book repeatedly emphasizes that losing faith doesn’t require trauma, anger, or moral rebellion. Sometimes it’s just the reasonable conclusion of honest inquiry:
“Unbelief need not be the product of an evil heart… for some, it is simply the reasonable conclusion of a careful consideration of the evidence.” (Location 180)
This resonates deeply with my own story.
When I was younger, I assumed anyone who left the faith must have been hurt, deceived, or morally compromised. But now, on the other side of my own questioning, I can see how unfair and dismissive that assumption was.
Again, Brady says it plainly:
“Honesty matters. Integrity matters.” (Location 72)
Deconstruction is not about tearing down.
It’s about telling the truth.
About your experience.
About the text.
About the questions that won’t go away no matter how many sermons you listen to or theology books you read.
What I Found Most Meaningful
A few core themes from the book will stay with me:
1. Faith shouldn’t require mental gymnastics.
If a belief system depends on avoiding questions instead of answering them, something is wrong.
2. The Bible is a human text with divine echoes—not divine dictation.
This doesn’t degrade it; it grounds it.
3. Spirituality isn’t limited to ancient texts.
Goodwin opens the door to a wider spiritual imagination—one I’ve been exploring through mysticism, quantum consciousness, Human Design, and intuitive practices.
4. People leave faith for honest reasons.
And those reasons deserve respect, not suspicion.
Final Reflections
Reading Let There Be Gaslight at this point in my life was the perfect convergence of timing, courage, and readiness. If I had read it years ago, I would have rejected it outright. But now, standing outside the rigid frameworks that once defined my entire worldview, I can see the sincerity, depth, and validity of Brady’s journey.
We’ve walked different paths, but our questions overlap in surprising ways. And reading his words helped me better articulate my own.
For anyone beginning to question—not because of rebellion but because truth matters—this book offers language and clarity for things you may have felt but never been able to say.
Deconstruction isn’t the end of faith.
It’s the end of pretending.
And sometimes, that’s where real spirituality begins.