What’s Wrong with the Protestants?

In the past decade, I have been forced onto a journey of considering my Protestant faith against the Christian traditions of my family.

For starters, I have a sister who converted to Roman Catholicism about twelve years ago, and recently her entire family joined the very conservative Latin Mass tradition. When I was confronted with this new tradition, I dove in. I listened. I bought books. I read books. I ordered the over 1,000 page Catechism of the Catholic Church. I listened to the arguments of Scott Hahn and others like him. We attended Mass. At one point my wife asked me, “Are we converting to Catholicism?”

Then, about four years ago, my in-laws converted to Greek Orthodoxy. How did I respond? In the same way, I dove in. I bought books. I read the early church fathers, digging and searching for anything that I may have missed about the “true church.” We attended Greek Orthodox services. I asked questions. And, again, because I pursued this knowledge with such zeal, at one point my wife asked me, “Are we converting to Eastern Orthodoxy?”

In each experience, after a period of research and study, prayer and meditation, I came to a point where I was no longer convinced of the others’ claims. Regarding Roman Catholicism, I abruptly realized that while one can be a Christian in the Roman church, one must wade through muddy waters to find that Christ – and he alone – is enough; and that while Christians may be in the Roman Catholic church, the Roman Catholic church, as a system, was not true to the earliest fathers of the church; namely, the apostles themselves. I also found it ironic that my sister and her husband would tell me stories of their priests’ response to the waywardness of Rome and the Pope. Their priests would tell them, essentially, “He’s not shepherding us well right now; therefore, we don’t need to listen to him in this matter.” (Therefore, I deduce that some in the Roman Catholic Church are, ironically, Protestant.)

In regards to the claim of Eastern Orthodoxy being the “true, undefiled church,” I wrestled with it for a time, times, and half-a-time. That was a serious claim that the Eastern Orthodox church was making. I wanted to be part of the true, unadulterated church! I didn’t want to miss out on the ark that could bring me safely through the flood. However, it was after reading Clement, Iranaius, Ignatius, and Polycarp that I abruptly concluded I wasn’t missing anything. These men taught the same gospel that Christ and his apostles taught – the same gospel the Protestant Reformation uncovered in the 1500s and 1600s. While the Eastern Orthodox mystics claimed John Chrysostom, Clement, and the like, there were some fathers they were forgetting; namely, the apostles themselves, whose writings have been recorded for us in the Scriptures. (I’m totally glossing over the fact that Eastern Orthodox traditions generally deny Penal Substituionary Atonement [PSA] and hold to other, ironically, unorthodox atonement theories.)

Don’t misunderstand me: I believe one can be a Christian in these older traditions. But don’t believe the lie that these other traditions haven’t changed or undergone reformation in one way or another over the years. Additionally, some of their teachings can be downright heretical to the testimony of Scripture, such as the perpetual virginity and sinlessness of Mary. On the other hand, I have gained more charity and grace for some of the practices of these other traditions. For instance, I have gained an appreciation for liturgy, a greater acknowledgement of the special call of Mary as the mother of our Lord, even the use of the visible means of grace in worship (i.e., candles, incense), and the intangible means of worshipping a holy God with reverence and humility. I even “cross myself” from time-to-time as a reminder of the grace of Christ that is at work in me.

Recently, I read an issue of Tabletalk magazine that put flesh and bones to my experience in Protestantism. The entire issue was dedicated to the Ancient Faith: “Rome, The East, and the Ancient Tradition of the Church” (December 2025, Tabletalk, Ligonier Ministries). Particularly, an article written by Jonathan Landry Cruse entitled “Beauty, Tradition, and Faithfulness” grabbed my attention. In the article, Cruse cites a study conducted in 2024 which “showed that in the previous ten years, more than 65 percent of converts to Eastern Orthodoxy were former Protestants. There have also been some high-profile converts to Roman Catholicism, propelling an increased interest in the tradition from evangelicals” (24).

These statistics prompt the probing question that Cruse then poses: “Why are people leaving the Protestant faith?” (24). Why, indeed?

Cruse answers his own question by positing that “[m]any have grown tired of the celebrity-pastor model that is popular in evangelicalism” (24). This is true, based on my experience. In the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox traditions it is the liturgy and aesthetics of worship that are at the center. The man leading worship is of little consequence since he is not on display; he is merely performing the ministry of the sacraments week after week that are meant to direct the church to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit (and Mary, some might add).

Compare this with the “celebrity-pastor model,” as Cruse calls it, which is so common in Protestantism. For instance, it’s not “Grace Community Church”; its “John MacArthur’s church”. To be fair, John MacArthur is rolling over in his grave to hear us talk like this. He knew the church was bigger than one man – other than the God-Man, Jesus Christ – and he never set out to build an empire for himself; however, that much cannot be said about the Steven Furticks, Oral Roberts, or Andy Stanleys of the world.

I don’t get out much, but when I do it can be dangerous. We recently were visiting a friend who attends a large church in a big city. On our Sunday morning drive from our country home to the city, we passed a high school softball practice, a youth flag football league, farmers harvesting crops, and an entire baseball complex filled up with players and spectators of all ages. I was outraged and deeply saddened. Our fellow citizens (both legal and illegal) think these things will satisfy them; in reality, they are digging themselves a deep grave, heaping upon themselves piles of condemnation.

When we arrived at the big, city church, I grabbed my Bible; we met our friend, walked into the building, and found our seats. There were announcements on the jumbo screens in the front of the church with a little timer to announce the start of the main event in a few minutes. One girl showed off her youthful stomach with a fashionable shirt; one girl’s purple hair screamed for attention; two men wore baseball hats; and only one parishioner – a little girl – was carrying a Bible.

When the screen timer hit zero, the man with the guitar said something like, “Ok, hello everyone. We’re going to get started. If you’re a visitor, we want to welcome you, and we want to let you know that we’re going to start off with a song or two this morning.”

A song or two? This was the call to worship our risen Lord: a casual invitation to stand and sing a couple songs? No reading of the Word? No prayer of confession, no being led to repentance, no reminder of the grace of Christ which covers our sins by his bloody sacrifice? No reason offered why we owe the Lord Jesus Christ our attentive worship?

Nope, just “a couple songs.”

After two songs, an Elder came to the front to pray. His prayer was truth-filled and, thus, powerful. He immediately mentioned “Jesus, whose righteousness covers our guilt.” He essentially prayed through the Nicene Creed. It was the first time – and pretty much last – that Jesus’s name was mentioned.

Then, a lady got up and read to us ten verses from two different Psalms that the pastor was going to preach through. Her reading was very, uh, dramatic, and I couldn’t quite picture David writing it with that much feminine emotion.

Then the man of the hour stood up, proceeded to never crack his Bible open, but did a lot of pacing on the stage and clicking through his PowerPoint, which was a presentation about how we can psyche ourselves into a happier life. To be fair, he was a guest preacher who had once been an Elder at the church. He also did a lot of guilt-tripping about how we don’t smile enough to show the joy of the Lord. It reminded me of similar blackmailing I’ve heard from Protestant pulpits. I once heard a sermon from a Baptist preacher called “Get Giddy for God.” You can imagine how that one went.

After the pep rally – I mean, after the worship service was over, a young man came up to ask some follow-up questions to the pastor. Congregants could text a phone number, which was periodically flashed on the screens during the sermon, with questions. One of the questions went something like this: “You were talking a lot about how we need to thirst for God in this Psalm. What about when I don’t feel close to him? Will I ever get out of this dry spot?” My heart broke a million different ways. If the pastor had actually unpacked Psalm 42 (where he was preaching from), that question would have been answered, I thought.

The pastor and the guy with the guitar also made us repeat things multiple times that morning. “Good morning! Are you happy to be here this morning?” When he didn’t get the enthusiasm he wanted, he repeated himself to get the desired volume in response. It reminded me of those awkward high school pep rallies.

After that, the preacher sat down, and we sang a couple more songs, both mainly focused on you, me, and I. One of the songs we sang, in closing, was the Christian pop song “The Blessing.” My wife pointed out how strange it was to sing that song. “Isn’t that a blessing we are to be receiving from the minister?” she asked. Indeed, she was right. Moses originally blessed the people by saying to them, “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine upon you and give you peace.” We sang “Amen” to the point of delirium. “So, were we singing that to each other or to God?” my wife further asked. Great questions from a godly woman.

When it was all said and done, could I blame the multitudes we passed on our drive to the church earlier that morning for thinking sports, business, and recreation were better and more satisfying than worshipping the risen Lord, the One who had given his life in the place of sinners?

If this is how the church worships him, then no, I couldn’t blame them.

Sadly, I’m not picking on one church because what I described to you in this snapshot of one worship service simply serves to illustrate the normal pattern across the Protestant landscape today. Protestantism is dying because the unchanging Word that produces the power of reformation is being exchanged for lighthearted, moral suggestions and longings for superficial, emotional experiences.

Or, if it's not this diagnosis, then it's that mainstream Protestant denominations have gone "woke" and have neutered the Word of God of all its power, conviction, and force. The PC-USA, ELCA, UMC, and many others have held to their old creeds and confessions, but redefined all the terms apart from what they actually mean in Scripture. Sin is no longer sin, but a mistake, etc., etc.

Either way, the Word of God in modern Protestantism has effectively been emaciated by human reason, human emotion, and human depravity.

With such an emphasis placed on emotion, feeling, and personal experience, it’s no wonder our Protestant churches are hemorrhaging and more are apostatizing daily. Disapprovingly, many of our Protestant church leaders are so concerned about people’s approval (revealed by their need for constant, emotional accolades and pep-rally-like crowd responses) that they make worship services dedicated to our risen Lord more about performance and show than about true devotion and a need to receive divine grace from the King of kings and Lord of lords.

So, what are we to do?

We must saturate our lives and worship services with the Word. Protestantism was built on the martyrdom of men, led by the Holy Spirit, who understood “the sufficiency of Scripture” (Cruse, Tabletalk, 25). Man of God: if you are in a church that does not depend on the Scriptures, then take counsel with yourself, gird up your loins, play the man, and with all composure ask tough questions to your church leaders. Reformation can start with you; therefore, feast on the Word daily for yourself, and lead your families through family worship to the well of living water – the Logos and Word of God – that never goes dry.

Secondly, we must recognize that assurance of salvation is exclusively a Protestant and Scriptural theme. “One of the greatest recoveries of the Protestant Reformation was the biblical doctrine that justification was by faith alone. We are made right with God – our sins are forgiven, our debt is paid, our righteousness is earned, and heaven is opened – not through any merit of our own but through the completed work of Christ on our behalf” (27). This is not something to take lightly; it is a great responsibility the church of Christ has to remain faithful to; namely, the penal substitutionary atonement of Christ and the proclamation thereof.

If the Protestant Reformation fails, then we will inevitably plunge back into the Dark Ages, and the gospel will again need to be uncovered by the blood of martyrs, which will be the blood of our children.