This article is a summary from the following episodes: Why Are So Many People Going to Eastern Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism?
It’s happening more and more. People who once identified as evangelical are walking away—not to atheism, but to the incense and icons of Eastern Orthodoxy or the ornate ritual of Roman Catholicism. And they’re not necessarily doing it out of rebellion. They’re doing it because they’re looking for something they feel evangelicalism has failed to deliver: sacredness. Mystery. Stability. Weight.
If you’ve talked to someone who’s made that transition, you’ve probably heard phrases like:
“It just felt hollow where I was.”
“I wanted something ancient.”
“I needed something objective—something outside of me.”
We understand that impulse. We really do. And what we want to say as confessional Reformed Protestants is this: you don’t need to go to Rome or Constantinople to find the sacred. You don’t need to abandon the Reformation to encounter the spiritual, the mystical, and the transcendent.
Let’s talk about why people are leaving—and why Reformed theology has better answers than most people realize.
A Hunger for the Sacred
We’re not talking about superstition or blind ritual. What people are longing for is a kind of holy seriousness—a recognition that God is not just their buddy, but the sovereign Lord who inhabits eternity and meets with his people in glory and grace.
They’re weary of fog machines, TED-talk sermons, and church services that feel more like corporate pep rallies than encounters with the divine. They’re looking for something that doesn’t feel so shallow. Something rooted. Something real.
Eastern Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism present themselves as havens of this sacredness. They offer liturgy, history, and a profound sense of continuity. And they emphasize that worship is not entertainment. That’s attractive—especially for people who feel like they’ve been fed spiritual junk food for years.
But here’s the thing: what draws them in is not uniquely Orthodox or Catholic. The Reformers understood sacredness. They embraced mystery. And they took the spiritual realm seriously. We just stopped talking like they did.
The Reformers Were Mystical (In the Best Way)
It might surprise some people to hear this, but the Reformers weren’t just theologians of doctrine—they were theologians of experience. John Calvin was called the theologian of the Holy Spirit. Thomas Goodwin preached about cosmic spiritual realities. Martin Luther spoke of the sacraments as direct, tangible encounters with the risen Christ.
For them, the preaching of the Word wasn’t just information transfer—it was the voice of Christ to his people. Baptism wasn’t just symbolic—it was union with Christ, the washing of regeneration. The Lord’s Supper wasn’t just a memorial—it was real nourishment for weak and weary saints.
They believed Jesus was really present with his people through Word and sacrament. They believed the local church was a sacred place where heaven touched earth. And they believed in an objective gospel—one that brought comfort to people whose internal lives were falling apart.
Sound familiar? That’s exactly what people are chasing when they leave for Orthodoxy or Rome.
How We Lost the Sacred
So what happened?
A lot. But here’s the short version: the Enlightenment exalted reason and gutted the supernatural. Revivalism turned the faith inward and emotional. Rationalism stripped our worship of mystery. Pietism made Christianity about personal performance. And pragmatism—well, that made it all about results.
Over time, we traded sacredness for relevance. We traded the Table for TED talks. We traded gospel promises for moral to-do lists. We stopped talking about Christ for us and started talking only about Christ in us. We stopped treating church like the throne room of God and started treating it like a weekend event.
And people have noticed.
They’re looking for something ancient and durable. They want to hear about the power of God, not just the potential of man. They want the presence of Jesus, not just life tips with a Bible verse. And when they can’t find that in evangelical churches, some assume their only option is to leave Protestantism altogether.
You Don’t Have to Leave
Here’s the good news: the sacred is already here. The mystical, spiritual, rich theology that people are yearning for—it’s not hidden in Rome or behind a Greek iconostasis. It’s right here in historic Reformed theology.
When we gather on the Lord’s Day, Christ is really with us. When the Word is preached, he speaks. When the Table is served, he feeds. When the waters of baptism are poured, he unites sinners to himself. When we sing, we join the angels. When we pray, we approach the throne of grace.
All of that is supernatural. All of that is sacred. All of that is rich with history and weight.
The problem is not that Reformed theology lacks the sacred. The problem is we’ve forgotten how to talk about it. Or worse, we’ve been afraid to.
What About Rome’s Objectivity?
Another major draw to Roman Catholicism is its emphasis on objectivity. In a world of Instagrammed spirituality and endless self-examination, the Roman Church says, “Come and receive grace through the sacraments.” No performance. No feelings required.
That sounds comforting, especially to those who have been beat down by the never-enough culture of modern evangelicalism. But here’s what gets missed: in Rome’s system, grace is not a guarantee. It’s a drip. A hope-so. An if-you-do-enough kind of grace.
You participate in the sacraments, and you hope it’s enough to outweigh your sin. There’s no assurance. No final word of peace.
But the gospel gives us something better: Jesus himself. We don’t look inward. We look outward. Extranos. The finished work of Christ outside of us, for us, on our behalf. That’s our peace. And it’s delivered to us through the preaching of the Word and the sacraments—not because they work automatically, but because they deliver Christ to those united to him by faith.
Let’s Recover What Was Always Ours
People are leaving evangelicalism because they’re hungry. They’re tired of novelty. They’re starving for transcendence. They want something real.
As Reformed pastors, we want to say: it’s already here.
We don’t need to chase Rome or Orthodoxy. We need to reclaim the sacredness we’ve forgotten. We need to talk like the Reformers did—about the Holy Spirit, about the mystery of union with Christ, about the heavenly realities we participate in every Sunday. And we need to preach a gospel that actually gives rest to the weary.
Jesus hasn’t stopped being enough. We’ve just stopped pointing to him clearly.
So let’s recover the sacred. Let’s lift our eyes. And let’s help people see that they don’t need to leave to find what they’re looking for. Christ is here. And he is for us.
