Evidence Young People Are Turning To Christianity Isn’t Anecdotal — It’s Real
Even those who doubt the truth of Christianity should not be surprised at a religious resurgence. Here's why.Several years before my husband and I met, one of his friends told him, “Modern youth are hungry for truth, and they are looking to the oldest forms of traditional orthodoxy to find it. This leaves them with two main choices: Catholicism or Hebrew Roots.”
My husband hadn’t heard of Messianics before this, or he had heard just enough to scoff at the idea of marrying someone who “pretended to be a Jew.” Nevertheless, his friend’s statement stuck with him. Who were these Protestants LARPing as Jews that they could draw intelligent youth in search of truth away from Catholicism?
We were all encouraged to study our Bibles for ourselves and to test one another. When the family home-churched together, it was always lively.
Some would call us Judaizers.
We are certainly not ordinary Protestants. In fact, my family and most Messianics I grew up with believed that the Catholic Church is the whore of Babylon and the Protestant churches are her daughters. Most Christians were “too Catholic” in our opinion because they went to church on Sunday and celebrated Christmas, two practices instituted by Catholicism.
Despite how odd Messianics might be, they are too disorganized to be classified as a cult. There are somewhere around 200,000-300,000 Hebrew Roots people with no central figure, and there are countless groups within the movement. Some of them are self-identifying Torah followers who may lead isolated lives or fellowship at home with a few like-minded people. Others are members of organized Messianic denominations.
The movement has very few real Jews in it, and for the most part Messianic believers reject modern-day Jewish practices. Instead we endeavor to interpret the Old Testament as literally as possible. This, of course, is nearly an impossible feat and the main cause for disunity in the Hebrew Roots movement.
Perhaps what makes this expression of group interesting is the fact that it is a movement that can’t really be defined as a whole, and yet all the members of it believe that the truth they have is absolute, even though all their like-minded compatriots disagree with them on how to execute this truth. To those raised in the movement, the disorder and chaos are natural and even relished. To those watching from the outside, I can only imagine how bizarre we appear.
My mom chose my name because it was old-fashioned. Most of the rest of the family didn’t like it and tried to give me various nicknames. But my parents named me perfectly.
Keturah — meaning a sacrificial aroma/incense — may be strange-sounding, but it also uniquely fits in all the worlds I’m most interested in. It is both a Jewish and an Amish name and, oddly, has a deep Catholic meaning. It has served me well in the secular world, too, with its unique sound. My name has made it possible for me to blend in among both Christian hippies and woke misfits.
I never considered how odd it was that my great-grandfather basically invented the religion I grew up with (with heavy modifications made by my grandfather). What should have been a red flag — why did nobody figure this out before my great-grandfather? — was instead championed as proof of our righteousness.
My great-grandfather had been a Pentecostal pastor. But he started reading his Bible one day. This led him to preaching on things that his congregation was not ready for, because “the ways of the world were too comfortable.” He left his church, took another wife (his first wife left him with their three children because his beliefs were getting strange), and began a road ministry that my grandfather eventually took over.
I was often told the story of the Rechabites, a family who were saved from being utterly wiped out because they obeyed the words of their great-grandfather. My great-grandfather, too, had left us an inheritance, and if we cherished it, we would be saved from the horrors of the world. I believed this.
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I was neither brainwashed nor raised in a cult. There is nothing more American than leaving the beaten path to make your own way, especially when it comes to religion.
The women in my family are too mouthy and bratty, myself included, for the family to ever have fallen into true patriarchal suppression. We were all encouraged to study our Bibles for ourselves and to test one another. When the family home-churched together, it was always lively.
Even I, at the ages of 10 through 14, would get pulled into the heated dialogue with religious opinions of my own, carefully researched and passionately presented. I was obsessed with writing theological essays during those years.
We were not cosplaying as Jews any more than Amish are LARPing as peasants. We were more interested in what the Bible had to say than the traditions of modern-day Jews. In fact, anything that was “traditional” must be too much like Catholicism. We didn’t want to follow customs, but the law of Yahweh.
Although my great-grandfather and grandfather invented our faith, there was room for fluidity. It has changed much over the years. My great-grandfather kept the Saturday Sabbath and refused welfare for his family although they were poor and had 13 children. They did not eat pork, but ate according to Leviticus 11. We call this eating kosher, but it’s more accurately referred to as eating “clean.”
My grandfather started using the “Sacred Names” to refer to God when my father was young and warned against “calling upon the name of Jesus” because Jesus, he argued, was another form of Zeus. We argued over whether to spell the Messiah’s name Yahshua or Yeshua. We never referred to God as “God” or “the Lord” because those, too, were pagan names. It was always “Father” or “Yahweh.”
When I was 9 years old, my grandfather realized that Saturday was not the true Sabbath. He had discovered an idea called the Lunar Sabbath.
The Sabbath is determined by the phases of the moon. At the end of the month when the moon goes dark, the Sabbath is two or three days long until the new moon appears and resets the Sabbath. And so Sabbath might be on a Tuesday one month and then Wednesday or Thursday the next month. If it were cloudy, it might be difficult to see the moon, and sometimes we would be keeping Sabbath wrong for a week or so until we were able to clearly see what the sky said. It was also difficult for making plans and having social relationships.
When I was 14, I sat down and did a long study on the Sabbath using encyclopedias, various Bibles, and concordances. After three months I presented my research to my family. I explained the pros and cons for the Lunar Sabbath, Saturday Sabbath, and Sunday Sabbath. I had become convinced that Sunday was still not the true Sabbath and that we should stop doing the Lunar Sabbath and revert to Saturday. My parents and siblings could not argue with my evidence. We voted. After five years of living by the moon, we unanimously agreed to revert back to Saturday Sabbath.
This situation taught me several things: We were not a cult, but most of my family was intellectually incapable of interpreting scripture for themselves. It was cool that my family changed after my research. But also why hadn’t they studied this properly at the start? I was 14 years old, and yet I had convinced my parents to make a major theological change. This both inflated my ego and left me feeling insecure and unstable because I was truly alone and could not go to my parents for answers about God.
This is part one of a two-part essay. Part 2 will appear next week. It was adapted and edited for length from an essay that first appeared on the Substack Polite Company.
After attending a somewhat run-of-the-mill novus ordo Mass with only a few redeeming qualities, my husband and I decided to visit another church in Nevada that is possibly one of the most hated and misunderstood Christian denominations — even with the Latter-day Saints and Seventh-day Adventists.
It was both his and my first time attending a Jehovah’s Witness church.
'I personally don’t want to go to heaven, but want to remain on Earth when we’re resurrected. I want to live among the animals and trees and plants and not rule over others.'
We walked 40-some minutes to the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah’s Witnesses and were greeted warmly, even though we were two minutes late and the congregation had already begun singing the first hymn. The setting might have been bland, but I felt I had achieved a bucket-list goal.
For years I’d tried to visit a Kingdom Hall. The Jehovah's Witnesses were one of the last churches to reopen nationwide after COVID, offering online meetings for nearly two and a half years, until summer of 2022. Even after that, many remained closed for another year, and a large portion still host hybrid Zoom/in-person gatherings for the immune-compromised.
To many, the inside of the meeting hall would appear no different from a conservative Protestant church. Most women wore skirts or business suits; the men were in full suits. The carpet was gray, the walls plain, decorated with a few pictures of flowers. There were no windows.
Rows of theater chairs faced a pulpit. Though the Jehovah's Witnesses do not have ordained ministers, any baptized man may teach from Scripture. On the day we visited, a guest speaker from Idaho — tailored suit, bright red tie — delivered a sermon much like any Protestant pastor’s, citing extensive Bible verses to support his points. There was no American flag, unsurprising given JW pacifism. Jehovah's Witnesses do not vote, and while they don’t forbid self-defense, they register as conscientious objectors during drafts. They believe that those who live by the sword will die by the sword (Matthew 26:52).
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The message, titled “Is There in Fact a True Religion from God’s Standpoint?” began with statistics: 85% of the world identifies as religious, 31% Christian, across 45,000 denominations — with a new one forming every 2.2 days. “But how does Jehovah want to be worshipped?” he asked.
He read from Mark 7:6-7 and James 1:26, then cited Solomon: True religion is to fear God and keep His commandments (Ecclesiastes 12:13). More verses followed — Isaiah 48:17-18, Micah 6:8, Matthew 7:16 — arguing that true belief and conduct must fit like a well-tailored suit, not mismatched pieces.
He condemned most Christian denominations for justifying slavery so that men might Christianize pagan souls for the kingdom of God. He pointed out that the Jehovah’s Witnesses never supported such horrid beliefs. (He failed to mention that slavery was already abolished by the time they came along.) He warned against fatalism, ancestor worship, and faith in human institutions. “If a religion permits or promotes practices the Bible condemns, it is not true,” he said, citing Colossians 3:10, John 8:32, James 3:17-18, and others.
“Truth is found in the word of God,” he concluded. “When we love the word, we are peaceable.”
The sermon ended with the JW hymn “My Father, My God and Friend (Hebrews 6:10)."
After the hymn, an elder read from "The Watchtower," the denomination’s monthly study magazine. Before the group was called Jehovah’s Witnesses, it was the Watch Tower Society, founded by Charles Taze Russell in 1881.
The article that day was “Jehovah Heals the Brokenhearted” (Psalm 147:3). The elder read each paragraph aloud, then passed the microphone for congregants — men and women, in person or on Zoom — to share reflections.
Here are some highlights.
It was repetitive but sincere — an hour-long group meditation on comfort and resilience.
The service ended with another hymn. There was no tithe, and communion is held only once a year for those who believe they are among the 144,000 destined for heaven.
Afterward, several congregants welcomed us. One woman, Linda, about 70, explained that she had converted from Protestantism before marrying.
“There aren’t many differences between us and other churches,” she said, “except that we don’t teach what other places teach.”
“Such as?”
“We teach that Jehovah is Almighty God and that Jesus is His son and our Messiah. And we don’t believe in hellfire,” she said. “You can’t really find that idea in the Bible.”
I asked her if that meant that she believes everyone goes to heaven or if they just die.
She said, “The Bible says 144,000 go to heaven to be kings and priests to be the government of the kingdom of heaven that will come to Earth. I personally don’t want to go to heaven, but want to remain on Earth when we’re resurrected. I want to live among the animals and trees and plants and not rule over others.”
Linda gave me a small Bible — I gladly accepted it because it was lightweight and would fit perfectly into my backpack, and until now I had only been able to carry a New Testament. She explained to me that the Jehovah's Witnesses didn’t approve of many of Scofield’s notes in the KJV and that their version had more accurate cross-references. I love having various versions of the Bible to read through, so there was no complaint from me!
She invited us to join her husband and friends at a cafe for a late lunch. And so we went with about 20 other congregants. I sat by a woman just a little older than I. Ozzy had been raised in the Jehovah's Witnesses and had spent much of her youth as a traveling nanny. She told me that nearly six years ago she had married a Grace Baptist Church man and had a daughter with him. They eventually divorced. “I’m just grateful my daughter is learning about God in both homes she’s raised in," she said.
Although Ozzy did not speak ill of her ex-husband, it was clear that she thought her expression of faith was more valid than his. So I asked her what was different between the two theologies, in her opinion.
“That’s a good question," Ozzy said. "Not much."
Then she added:
Except how we define the Trinity — you know, you can’t find that word in the Bible. I’ve searched every translation of the Bible, so I know. We both believe in the concept, though JW is more literal and bases their definition on how the Bible describes it. We believe that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are three separate entities united by a common will. Grace Bible Church is more Catholic when they talk about the Trinity.
After a day with them, I found them sincere and Bible-focused, hardly cult-like. They loved God, quoted Scripture freely, and treated us with warmth — even when I somewhat aggressively asked about one of their more infamous beliefs.
“I have heard that your church does not allow people to get blood transfusions and that this has caused many people to die.”
"Yes, we believe blood is sacred and not to be spilled in war nor ingested for any reason," Linda responded. "But blood can be divided into four components, and it is okay to receive any of those minor fractions.
"Most people don’t even need blood transfusions as much as they used to," she added, noting that "scientists have discovered that there are healthier ways to fill a low blood count with supplements and iron.”
I’m not sure what makes a group a cult any more. Some say it’s when people follow a man rather than the Bible — but the Jehovah's Witnesses have no central figure. They encourage personal Bible study.
Interestingly, 65% of members are converts — adults who join by conviction, not birth. While many leave, those who stay do so deliberately. Angry ex-members exist in every religion, and that alone doesn’t define a cult.
Much of JW doctrine is nothing your average Protestant would quarrel with: anti-abortion but pro-birth-control, personal responsibility for family size, and no institutional oversight (beyond guidance from JW Broadcasting in New York). There’s also no enforcement mechanism for rules on blood transfusions or holidays.
There are 8.6 million Jehovah’s Witnesses worldwide, compared to 15.7 million Jews, 17 million Mormons, and 22 million Seventh-day Adventists. Many Protestants single out the denomination's rejection of transfusions, but the Jehovah's Witnesses are neither faith healers nor anti-medicine. They are pacifists but politically moderate and scientifically literate.
Jehovah's Witnesses founder Charles Taze Russell was raised Presbyterian. At age 13 he left his church to embark upon a kind of quest for the truth, for a time backsliding into unbelief.
Known for writing Bible verse on fences as a way to evangelize, he founded a group called the Bible Student Movement in 1879. Much like Mormons, the Two by Twos, and the Jim Roberts Group, his group grew by sending out pairs of men to preach the word of God directly from the Bible.
Despite Russell's zeal, his life was riddled with scandal. He divorced his wife after she demanded a larger editorial influence on "The Watch Tower." He sued for libel often, occasionally winning — one time the jury mockingly ruled in his favor but gave him only one dollar, and so he filed an appeal and received $15,000.
After wrongly predicting the end of the world numerous times, Russell died in 1931. The group split apart. Approximately a quarter of the members remained faithful to Russell’s successors and began calling themselves Jehovah’s Witnesses.
Their use of the name “Jehovah” also irritates critics, though it appears in the King James Bible (Exodus 6:3; Psalm 83:18; Isaiah 12:2; 26:4).
Their rejection of the Nicene Trinity remains the sharpest point of division — a doctrine codified by the Catholic Church and later adopted by nearly all of Protestantism. It’s an irony of history: Protestants who define themselves against Rome still use Rome’s creed as the boundary of belief. Disagreement with that doctrine, however, does not make a faith a cult.
One striking point from the sermon stayed with me: Every 2.2 days a new denomination is created.
Until the 16th century, Christianity had only a handful of branches. Now there are 45,000. The JW speaker said it is because everyone seeks truth; I think it’s because we’ve forgotten love.
As Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 13: “If I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing.”
What merit is truth without love? God does not honor self-righteous division. This, perhaps, was Martin Luther’s and Henry VIII’s greatest sin — their pride tore Christ’s body into pieces.
Protestants readily maintain friendly regard for Judaism, which does not accept Christ’s divinity, while showing far less tolerance for groups such as Jehovah’s Witnesses, Mormons, or Adventists — who profess Jesus as Lord and Redeemer.
For this reason, I urge believers: Visit all churches. Seek unity where possible. Not to follow fads, but to love the whole body of Christ — even the Jehovah’s Witnesses.
On a recent special episode of “The Steve Deace Show,” Steve, a devout evangelical, interviewed former Protestant pastor turned Catholic apologist Keith Nester about his decision to convert to Catholicism.
In this fascinating and educational interview, Steve and Keith dive headfirst into the turbulent waters of the core issues that separate Catholics and Protestants with openness and sincerity.
The son of a United Methodist pastor, Keith gave his heart to Jesus at church camp when he was just 11 years old. Catholicism wasn’t even something on his radar until his young adulthood, when he got the opportunity to serve as a youth pastor at a small church in Iowa. The youth program started with just 12 children, but two years later, it had grown to 250. Many of these children’s parents then began coming to the church, and the congregation exploded.
Most of these new congregants, however, were Catholics. “They were coming over to our church going, ‘This is the greatest thing ever. I've never seen anything like it before. We're learning about Jesus here,”’ says Keith.
This engrained the idea that Catholics “don't know anything about the Bible” into his mind as he began his ministry as a Protestant pastor.
But this mindset started to unravel soon after he met a graphic designer who was an on-fire-for-Jesus Catholic. The two quickly began trying to convert each other. Keith, who at the time was in seminary school, consulted his Bible professor to give him the information he needed to “defeat this Catholic.”
“She just said to me, ‘Well, we believe that because we're Protestants,”’ says Keith, who was forced to go on his own “wild goose chase” looking for the “silver bullet” that would prove his Catholic friend wrong.
But after years and years of searching, he never found it. It wasn’t long before he felt the Lord calling him to convert to Catholicism, but he was resistant — not because he didn’t fully believe in Catholic doctrine but because he had built a life as a Protestant youth pastor. His wife, who converted from Catholicism to Protestantism, and his children were devoted to the Protestant church.
For years, Keith dodged the calling he felt God had put on his heart. “Life got pretty dark. Things went kind of crazy for me,” he admits.
In 2015 the Methodist Church, which Keith had been part of since his childhood, began unraveling. Heated debates over same-sex marriage and the ordination of LGBTQ+ people started to fray the edges of the denomination. Keith, committed to scripture, found himself in heated arguments with other Methodists, who contended that scripture could be interpreted in different ways.
“I started to think, okay, well, if I can't argue from scripture alone, from tradition, then I have to argue from authority, right?” he recalls.
“That got turned back on me pretty hardcore. I even had someone say to me, ‘Well, if you believe in all this church authority stuff, why aren't you a Catholic?"’
This sent Keith back to the dusty Catholic apologetics books his old friend had given him years prior. “Through a series of just deep dives into things and … semi-mystical experiences, where I just had things that happened to me experientially around things related to the Catholic faith, I became convinced that the Catholic Church was what it claimed to be: the one true church … the church that Jesus Christ started,” he tells Steve.
But there was still the issue of his family and established career as a Protestant minister. One night Keith cried out to Jesus: “If you want me to become Catholic, I will do it. But you've got to make a way.”
“And I'm not kidding around, Steve, from the crucifix, He spoke to me and He said, ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life. You don't need me to make a way, you just need me.’ And I realized in that moment that there He was in the Eucharist and that there He was with me, and He was calling me to lay it all on the line for Him,” he recounts. “I had never felt something more strongly when it comes to my faith in all my life.”
He went home that night and told his wife, and the next day he told the senior pastor at his church. “It was tough … but I knew in my heart that this is what it meant for me to follow the Lord,” Keith admits.
In the second half of the interview, Keith and Steve dive into the individual issues that distinguish Catholicism from Protestantism: the authority of the Catholic Church versus sola scriptura, the role of Scripture and tradition, the veneration of Mary and saints, and the nature of church unity and historical continuity.
To hear their compelling and heartfelt discussion on the core differences between Catholicism and Protestantism, tune in to the full interview above.
To enjoy more of Steve's take on national politics, Christian worldview, and principled conservatism with a snarky twist, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution, and live the American dream.
The New York Post recently caused a stir in the Christian world with its article, “Young men leaving traditional churches for ‘masculine’ Orthodox Christianity in droves.”
To those of us in the Orthodox world, nothing in this article came as a surprise.
Where can a young man lost in the world find the truth, a solid rock upon which to build his life?
Most of us attending Orthodox churches in the United States are used to a swarm of new visitors every Sunday, often families and — as the article specifies — single men. Our own parish has nearly doubled in size in the two years we’ve been attending, and we’re scrambling to expand. You can read about my family’s conversion story in the fall 2024 issue of Frontier magazine.
While the New York Post article did not surprise us Orthodox, it caused a stir in the Protestant world, with pastors and apologists suddenly awakening in a panic that young men are fleeing their denominations for Orthodoxy.
First, let me make this very clear: For many, Orthodoxy was their “last stop” in their spiritual journey before abandoning God entirely. Visit our small parish in Kentucky, and I’ll happily introduce you to many converts who attended all manner of churches before looking into Orthodoxy.
Perhaps, the more interesting question isn’t, “Why Orthodoxy?” but rather, “Why Christianity?” especially in an age where it’s so much easier not to be Christian at all.
I believe the answer is fairly simple: Young men are desperately seeking structure in a time of chaos and upheaval. Many young men these days simply have no idea what the rules of society are — something as simple as asking a woman on a date can be a risky proposition, leading to the dire state of dating and the incel crisis. We saw this come to a head with the cancel culture and #MeToo phenomenas, where once-accepted behaviors were suddenly grounds to be expelled from polite society, with the rules sometimes changing from day to day.
For nearly 2,000 years, the glue that bound Western civilization was Christianity. Yes, there were often bitter — and bloody — theological struggles, but we generally accepted what was and wasn’t permissible in daily interactions. For many young men, that desperate need for clarity and stability draws them to church.
But then the question becomes: Which church? Where can a young man lost in the world find the truth, a solid rock upon which to build his life?
Christ did not leave us with sacred scripture. In fact, when he ascended to Heaven to sit at the right hand of the Father, much of it was still to be written. Rather, he left us with the church (Matthew 16:18): A mystical organization established by Christ to guide the faithful. Furthermore, he promised that “the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.”
The book of Acts tells the tale of the early church, and the Council of Jerusalem described in Acts 15 gives us the model for making decisions in the church: through a council of bishops.
While we Orthodox agree with our Roman Catholic friends that St. Peter was the first pope of Rome, scripture disproves the notion that the papacy was ever all-powerful. If Peter was an absolute monarch, why bother having a council? Furthermore, while Peter makes the winning argument, it is the apostle James the Just, bishop of Jerusalem, who made the final declaration (Acts 15:13).
For nearly 1,000 years, the pope of Rome was a central figure to the church, but much like the chief justice of the Supreme Court, he was a first among equals who acted as a stabilizing force in the church’s seven ecumenical councils. Unfortunately, what later became known as the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Churches separated in 1054, when Pope Leo IX and Michael I Cerularius, patriarch of Constantinople, simultaneously excommunicated each other for long-brewing grudges too complex to explore here.
Our Roman Catholic friends say that it is the Eastern Orthodox who are in schism. However, at the time, the church was chiefly divided into what is known as the Pentarchy, comprising the patriarchates of Alexandria, Antioch, Constantinople, Jerusalem, and Rome.
After 1054, and to this day, four of the five patriarchates remain in communion, with Rome being the odd man out. So which one is in schism?
Since the Great Schism, the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Churches have been on wildly divergent paths, with all attempts at reconciliation having failed. Our Roman friends have developed many innovations over the past 970 years, as so-called “traditional Catholics” can attest.
After the Second Vatican Council in the 1960s, the Roman Church forcefully abandoned the Tridentine Mass standardized at the Council of Trent — itself derived from the liturgy of Pope St. Gregory the Great (St. Gregory is a pre-schism saint recognized by both the Roman Catholics and Eastern Orthodox).
Instead, it was replaced with the Novus Ordo, the modernized Mass of Pope Paul the VI. The Tridentine Mass was briefly permitted under Pope Benedict XVI before being all but banned by Pope Francis in "Traditionis custodes."
To outsiders, the struggle appears to be a simple difference between using Latin or English in worship, but the aftermath of Vatican II brought many innovations to both worship and ecclesiology. Perhaps the most tragic change to the Mass is the quality of the music. After Vatican II, the beauty of Gregorian Chant has largely been discouraged, instead replaced with often sappy, insipid, and off-key music dating back to the 1970s.
If one man can suddenly change a belief that is thousands of years old, was it ever true in the first place?
The music reflects the more liberal and ecumenical nature of the post-Vatican II Roman Church. Many Roman Catholic priests take great liberties with the Mass. I’ve never seen the much-dreaded “clown Mass,” but I did attend one where the priest broke out a ukulele.
Perhaps most offensive was the fact that the post-Vatican II Roman Church expunged 93 saints from its liturgical calendar, including some of the most beloved saints of all time, such as St. Christopher, St. Nicholas (yes, Santa Claus!), and St. George (the great martyr and dragon slayer). St. Crispin’s Day, the inspiration for Shakespeare’s legendary speech? Gone. Funny enough, after Pope John Paul II was turned away by the Orthodox abbot of the Monastery of St. Catherine, the Pope added St. Catherine of Alexandria back to the calendar.
All that is to say: Those seeking stability and tradition won’t find it in Rome, as the Roman Church is at war with itself.
If you inquire into the Roman Catholic Church, as we did in 2013, the priest will readily tell you that the Catholic Church hasn’t changed in 2,000 years, but that’s laughably false. In fact, it’s changed radically over the past 60 years!
Part of the reason the Roman Church can change so fast is because of the absolute authority of the pope of Rome. Recently, Pope Francis edited the Catechism of the Catholic Church, which dates back to 1992, to declare the death penalty immoral. That, despite thousands of years of the Roman Church supporting — and often enacting — the death penalty.
Our Roman Catholic friends chide the Orthodox Church for our lack of a central authority figure, but I would argue that it’s one of our greatest advantages. Yes, it makes high-level doctrinal decisions difficult, but it also prevents any one person, or even a determined group, from hijacking the church. Many have tried.
Unfortunately, “traditional Catholics” have no choice but to take what the pope dishes out. As Pope Pius the IX declared, “I am tradition! I am the church!” Thus, why I have no choice but to put “traditional Catholic” in quotation marks because if you defy the will of the pope, you are rebelling against your own tradition.
But we must turn now to a more disturbing truth: If one man can suddenly change a belief that is thousands of years old, was it ever true in the first place? Did the men who taught these things ever believe them? If they did, were they wrong to do so? Was the church teaching error? Is the word of Christ eternal, divine wisdom, or does Jesus need to “get with the times"?
Sadly, our Protestant friends are in no better position.
Before we continue, I must apologize to our non-Catholic and non-Orthodox friends in advance for using the term Protestant as a generic term to encompass many diverse believers, such as Baptists, the Churches of Christ, Pentecostals, etc. — some of whom don’t appreciate being called Protestant at all, particularly the Landmark Baptists.
I’ll try to be specific where I can, otherwise I hope you can forgive my generalizations for the sake of brevity.
Protestantism, from the very start, was built on a foundation of sand.
The effective thesis of Protestantism is that the church fell to corruption at some point: either immediately after the ascent of Christ, during the reign of Constantine the Great, or at some later point. Regardless, the claim is the same: The church that Christ established somehow failed and therefore Christ lied when he said that the gates of hell would not prevail against it.
Furthermore, many Protestants insist that holy scripture is all that is needed for religious instruction, with no interpreter required — what they call "sola scriptura." However, the idea of sola scriptura is bankrupt. If sola scriptura were true, and scripture were so easy to understand outside of the church, why do so many Protestant denominations draw wildly different conclusions?
No one reads scripture without an interpreter, whether that’s holy tradition, a commentary, or a Sunday morning preacher. Chances are, you read the Bible in English and not in its original language, and anyone multilingual knows that a translation is itself an interpretation, as many foreign words do not neatly translate into English. For instance, the Greek language acknowledges many different forms of love. You hopefully love your spouse (eros) in a different way than you love your children (storge).
Our KJV-only friends understand this all too well, as many newer English versions feature radically different translation choices, or omit entire verses.
If you are willing to compromise on your church’s beliefs for worldly reasons, you never truly believed them in the first place.
This again illustrates why holy scripture — as precious as it is — cannot be the sole foundation for one’s faith. Holy scripture must be interpreted through the accumulated wisdom of Christ’s church, through the apostles, the councils, and great saints that we call the holy fathers. Many of the issues hotly debated today in the Protestant world were settled long ago in the church.
And this very much matters because as much as the Roman Catholics have changed doctrine over the past few years, many of our Protestant friends have radically overhauled everything including their preferred Bible translations, their music and worship style, and essential social teachings, such as those on abortion, gender roles, and the sanctity of marriage.
Our Protestant friends have the same problem as our Roman Catholic friends: If your beliefs change so easily to suit the world, did you ever believe them?
In fact, Anglican convert Ben Christenson basically said so to the Post: “All of that stuff was basically fungible, which gave me a sense that the theological commitments are kind of fungible, too.”
To be fair, the Anglicans have been much more fungible than other denominations.
Here’s a simple but unpleasant truth: If you are willing to compromise on your church’s beliefs for worldly reasons, you never truly believed them in the first place.
To shrug your shoulders and give up on fundamental Christian belief is a slap in the face to the thousands of Christian confessors and martyrs who suffered persecution under the Romans, the iconoclasts, the Ottomans, and the Soviets. Read a Synaxarion (a collection of the lives of Orthodox Saints), and you’ll read horror story after horror story of Christians who refused to compromise, even when faced with being mauled by animals, dismembered, mutilated, raped, set on fire, and all manner of horrors unimaginable to the American mind.
It is a shame that many of our Protestant friends have largely rejected the stories of the saints. Every time I read them, I’m inspired by their courageous faith, something we desperately need in this age.
I recently asked Grok — Elon Musk’s freewheeling AI — to roast the Orthodox Church, and the result was funny but also true.
Even my priest chuckled at this:
The Orthodox Church – where tradition isn't just a suggestion, it's the whole damn rulebook. Here, change isn't just resisted; it's actively hunted down like it's the last heretic in Byzantium. Imagine a place where the liturgy hasn't had a facelift since the time monks were the original hipsters with their beards and robes.
Come visit an Orthodox Church any given Sunday, and you’ll witness the Divine Liturgy written by St. John Chrysostom in the 4th and 5th centuries. The one exception is during the season of Great Lent, when we celebrate the even-older Divine Liturgy of St. Basil the Great. And that has largely been the case since the reign of Justinian I.
We do not budge on the truth, even if it’s painful.
There are no surprise rants, spontaneous guitar solos, or random ukuleles. The priest will not show up in a football jersey or attempt to re-enact a "Marvel" movie. We recite the Nicene Creed, as was formulated long ago by the holy fathers, not the Sparkle Creed or some other bizarre variant.
We have a good sense of humor. We often laugh about the beards, our stubbornness, and overall incomprehensibility. But the Divine Liturgy is deadly serious. There is no tolerance for improvisation or irreverence. It is the beating heart of the church and the center of our Christian lives. Every Sunday, we welcome the Lord into our spiritual home and our very bodies. The Divine Liturgy is the very glue holding the world together. It is not a joke or a game.
We do not budge on the truth, even if it’s painful. If you challenge us on our teachings on abortion, female clergy, gay marriage, or any number of controversial stances, there is no argument to be had, even if we sometimes struggle with the church’s teachings ourselves. Those matters were settled long ago in holy scripture, through the collective teachings of the holy fathers, and the church’s seven ecumenical councils, which decided everything from the nature of God to the proper role of iconography. These issues have been thoroughly examined, debated, and settled.
The challenge for us as Orthodox Christians is to learn to accept and understand them.
While we stand firmly for the truth, we do not make a point of beating others over the head with it as many so-called fundamentalists do. We are far too busy repenting for our own sins or at least should be. As Christ asked, “And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?”
Every Sunday at liturgy, just before we partake of the holy Eucharist, the congregation prays: “I believe, O Lord, and I confess that Thou art truly the Christ, the Son of the living God, Who didst come into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief.”
I, chief among sinners and a new convert to the Orthodox faith, am no theologian. I don’t expect my worldly reasoning or historical trivia to persuade you. Instead, I would encourage you to come and see.
If you want to know why young men are joining the Orthodox Church, join us for a Divine Liturgy some Sunday morning, and perhaps you will understand.
If you’ve been online, you’ve seen the memes.
Next to the label “Catholic” is a world-famous tourist attraction, a European cathedral. Next to the label “Orthodox” is another world-famous tourist attraction, a Russian cathedral. Next to the label “Protestant” is a strip mall with a corporate-looking sign that says something like “Living Waters Church.”
If you haven’t been online, this is the perception that Generation Z has of the Christian landscape.
There is a conservative resurgence movement among Gen Z in reaction to the radical leftism and social decay that we grew up with. This flavor of conservatism isn’t simply “Republican” but is uniquely focused on tradition.
It is increasingly common among Gen Z males to support religion, monarchy, social hierarchies, and everything the Enlightenment destroyed. As a result, Christianity that looks or feels “traditional” is seen as attractive, and Christianity that feels “modern” — whether in style or beliefs — is seen as repulsive.
In some sense, this is a positive development because no society or religious identity can survive without rootedness in tradition. But the issue for Protestantism is that most young people see it as “modern” and therefore bad.
This is why, as a recent article from the New York Post observed, young men are leaving Protestantism in droves and converting to Eastern Orthodoxy, which they see as a more traditional alternative.
It is hard to blame them for thinking that.
The current reality is this: Only a small percentage of Protestant churches are holistically traditional.
A growing percentage of “Protestant” churches are actually “nondenominational,” meaning they have no connection to any particular Christian tradition. The overwhelming majority of such churches have very modern architecture and use contemporary worship music. They do not feel like traditional churches because they were specifically designed not to feel that way. Back in the 1990s, when tradition was seen as bad, they advertised themselves as “not your grandmother’s church.”
But now the tide has shifted — and it is coming back to bite them.
To make matters worse, the nondenominational style is making its way into mainstream Protestant churches. The New York Post story included examples of Christians leaving Protestantism because their churches switched from traditional to contemporary worship. They felt like Protestantism is always “changing” and that Orthodoxy “never” changes.
There is, in fact, a large group of Protestant churches that have mostly resisted stylistic changes. These are the mainline Protestant churches, which include the Episcopal Church, the United Methodist Church, and the Presbyterian Church USA (which I am a member of), among others. Most of these churches still have beautiful stained glass buildings, sing hymns, use choirs and organs, and feel very traditional on the outside.
However, despite not changing their style, these churches have changed their doctrine.
Most, though not all, mainline Protestant churches are very theologically liberal and simply adopt whatever cultural or political views are most common on the left at any given time. Their preachers are notoriously liberal, their sermons are often political rallies, and their churches often display Pride flags.
The current reality is this: Only a small percentage of Protestant churches are holistically traditional.
Most Protestant churches with traditional beliefs have a very modern style, and most Protestant churches with traditional style have very modern beliefs. There are some exceptions. For example, the Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod denomination is mostly traditional in belief and worship style.
There are conservative wings of all the mainline Protestant denominations. While most conservative offshoots from these denominations have a contemporary style, there are some churches that do not. However, these are the exceptions, not the rule.
Therefore, there is only one way for Protestantism to survive and harness this religious awakening among the youth: It’s to make Protestantism Protestant again.
People leave Protestantism because they believe they cannot find tradition, liturgy, beauty, or sacraments in Protestantism. This is not true, but on the surface, it may appear true because so many Protestants have abandoned their own religious heritage. Evangelicals, meanwhile, need to abandon the modern trend of nondenominational Christianity and return to the traditional Protestant institutions. Evangelicals need to abandon the watered-down pop-Christianity of televangelists and celebrity preachers and learn the traditional theology of the Reformation.
All of the Protestant Reformers — whether Martin Luther, John Calvin, Heinrich Bullinger, or Thomas Cranmer — cared deeply about the sacraments (baptism and communion). All of the Protestant Confessions (Westminster, Augsburg, Scots, and Heidelberg) confess the same apostolic faith as the early church as expressed in the Apostles', Nicene, and Athanasian Creeds, and they agree the sacraments are means of salvation under ordinary circumstances.
Protestant churches in America up until around 1960 were all beautiful masterpieces of carved stone and stained glass built by the hands of hardworking American Protestant men. Some of the greatest classical Christian music and hymns were written by Bible-believing Protestants such as Johann Sebastian Bach, George Frideric Handel, and Charles Wesley.
However, most modern Christians, whether Protestant or not, are unaware of this heritage.
Many people who leave “Protestantism” are not actually leaving Protestantism. They are leaving modern evangelicalism, which hardly reflects the beliefs and values of the Reformation. It is more similar to the religion of the Radical Reformation, which the mainstream Reformers like Luther and Calvin actually considered to be worse than Roman Catholicism.
It is good to leave evangelical and nondenominational Christianity, but doing so does not require leaving Protestantism.
In fact, leaving evangelicalism is often necessary for joining authentic Protestantism. The Protestant reformers did not see themselves as leaving Catholicism. They saw themselves as Western Catholics — but reformed by the word of God.
Part of the reason that American Christians abandoned traditional Protestantism is because Americans by nature have a rebellious mindset that demands the next “new” thing. Americans are not satisfied with what is tried, true, and has stood the test of time.
Many young Americans abandon their grandparents’ mainline churches because they’re “old” and “stuffy,” choosing instead to start new churches that are bustling with youthful energy. The consequence, however, is the death of tradition and long-lasting communities.
The previous generation of American Christians abandoned traditional denominations, worship, architecture, and theology, which caused younger generations to forget what traditional Protestantism offers. And now, they're choosing to leave it.
Mainline Protestantism is America’s religion.
Another reason why evangelicals are leaving mainline denominations is because they became liberal. But notice how liberals never leave institutions that are conservative. Leftists and marxists have a hijacking mindset. They are patient and spend years insidiously gaining influence in mainstream institutions for the purpose of taking them over — and they are usually successful.
Conservatives, on the other hand, have a retreatist mindset. They often leave institutions whenever they spot even the slightest hint of liberal drift.
Leftists never build great institutions — Christians do. Leftists just hijack them like a virus and turn them into leftist factories. Christians built Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and the great Protestant denominations. Leftists turned them into petri dishes of their ideology, and they were enabled by conservatives who always run away.
If conservative Christians are to reclaim their heritage, they need to leave their comfort zone and return to the institutions the left hijacked. If the left can hijack churches, Christians can take them back — unless we believe Christians are somehow weaker than the left.
There are many ways to make Protestantism Protestant again.
Replace “praise bands” with choirs. Replace guitars and drums with hymns and organs. Replace Hillsong with Bach. Replace new church plants with old historic mainline churches. Replace blue lights and smoke machines with blue stained glass and tall steeples. Replace nondenominational churches with institutional denominations. Replace “altar call” with the ordinary means of grace (word and sacrament). Replace celebrity pastors with the confessions of faith and catechisms.
Mainline Protestantism is America’s religion. It’s the religion of the majority of U.S. presidents. It’s the religion that inspired the Founding Fathers, and chances are, it’s the religion of many of your ancestors.
Go back to Grandma’s old mainline church. These churches are bleeding members, so it will be easier than ever to revive them.
Luckily there is a small, yet rapidly growing movement of young people aimed at doing this exact thing. It's called Operation Reconquista. It advocates for conservative Christians to return to the mainline Protestant denominations that liberals have hijacked for the purpose of retaking them.
Every offshoot from mainline Protestantism has abandoned tradition. This is the only way to recover traditional Protestantism.
Of all the divisions troubling Protestantism today, perhaps none is as hotly debated as women’s ordination.
All seven mainline Protestant denominations have adopted the practice, while evangelical and fundamentalist denominations have defiantly refused to entertain the notion on biblical grounds.
Even progressives in the church were apprehensive about this direct assault on the 'patriarchal' status quo, fearing that it would undermine the legitimacy of the church.
Scripture seems to speak quite clearly on women’s capacity for leadership in 1 Timothy 2:12. As St. Paul writes, “I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man."
But as advocates for women’s ordination argue, female religious leaders in the New Testament like Phoebe, Priscilla, Lydia, and Mary seemed to hold positions of greater respect than St. Paul suggests. Many point out that Phoebe is described as a deacon or deaconess (diakonos) in Romans, which would suggest that there was a model of female authority within the church.
However, the Roman Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church, which claim apostolic succession and a direct ecclesiastical connection to the apostles, are defiantly against the practice and defend male-only holy orders as the orthodox teaching of the church.
On July 29, 1974, 11 female priests were ordained in the Episcopal Church. The act was largely symbolic, but real change soon followed. Those ordinations became legitimate in 1976 when the House of Bishops conditionally recognized them.
In response, hundreds of parishes broke away from the Episcopal Church as part of the Continuing Anglican movement, paving the way for the founding of the rival Anglican Church in North America in 2009. Ironically enough, that denomination is now split over women’s ordination.
Margo Guernsey’s new documentary “The Philadelphia Eleven” commemorates the 50th anniversary of this watershed moment through interviews with several of the surviving 11.
It’s clear that Guernsey sees women’s ordination as a righteous act of liberationist defiance progress; these women, she writes, “provide a vision for what a just and inclusive community looks like in practice.”
The women in the film depict their quest for greater female participation in the church as inspired by the civil rights movement. It was also an act of “obedience to the Spirit,” which took precedence over adherence to tradition.
The film admits how radical this was. Even progressives in the church were apprehensive about this direct assault on the “patriarchal” status quo, fearing that it would undermine the legitimacy of the church.
In retrospect, it’s clear that their fears were justified.
The ceremony caused extensive turmoil within the Episcopal Church. Several clergy involved had their careers severely damaged. Dozens of bishops and priests condemned the ceremony as an illegal farce, even as the women publicly defended their ordinations as valid. One quoted St. Paul during a television appearance: “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28).
It did little good in the short term, as none of the woman were able to find positions. Ultimately, however, they won. By 1988, the Episcopal Church would even ordinate its first female bishop.
“Half of the human population was acknowledged as being important enough to take on one of the strongest institutions in the world,” said Philadelphia 11 member Nancy Wittig.
That’s certainly one way to look at it. Another way is to acknowledge that the institution Wittig and her cohort defeated is now but a shadow of its former self.
The Episcopal Church has continued down the path the Philadelphia 11 set it on, abandoning traditional Christian teaching on other issues like sexuality and abortion. It revised its canons to the point that bishops aren’t allowed to deny women’s ordinations.
The church now is deeply committed to social justice and tolerance, and it does much admirable work in trying to address many of the world’s wrongs. But it is also on the precipice of demographic collapse and will functionally cease to exist by 2040.
The Philadelphia 11 may have turned the tide against the patriarchy within their church and given women permission to be priests, but the resulting schism may prove too deeply wounding to celebrate their victory beyond the passing of this generation. It leaves a film like “ThePhiladelphia Eleven” balancing awkwardly over the abyss.