Throwing the Baby Out with the Holy Water: Reclaiming Forgotten Treasures of Our Faith

The Fear of Becoming Catholic 

Protestants don’t want to be Catholic. 

That statement, for many, is a reflex. It’s how some define their faith — not only by what they believe, but by what they do not want to become. To be Protestant is to protest, after all. For centuries, that protest has not only shaped doctrine; it has also shaped imagination. When the average Protestant thinks of the Catholic Church, the images that come to mind are as much emotional as theological: indulgences, hierarchy, mysticism, bureaucracy, incense, ritualism, robes. In our collective mind, “Catholic” still equals corruption — and “Protestant” still equals purity. 

Of course, we know history isn’t that simple. Most of us would never say the Reformation was about rejecting everything Catholic. It was about the gospel. It was about salvation by grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone. It was about rooting the Church again in Scripture, not in papal decree or ecclesial tradition. And that was right. It was necessary. The Reformers didn’t start with a spirit of rebellion; they started with a longing for renewal. 

Over time, that longing solidified into division. Lines were drawn, sides were chosen, and identities were formed — not just based on what we believe, but also on who we are not. And that suspicion lingered. 

We inherited that suspicion. Many of us didn’t grow up reading the Church Fathers. We didn’t hear about Mary unless it was in the Christmas story. We didn’t talk about confession unless it was to say we don’t do it. If someone quoted Augustine or Aquinas, it came with a warning label. If someone lit a candle or crossed themselves, we felt uncomfortable. It wasn’t necessarily because we had thought through those practices — it was because they seemed too Catholic. And too Catholic meant too close to error.  

We feared compromise more than we valued depth. 

This book is intended for those who feel something is missing. For those who cherish their Reformation heritage but experience the lack of a rooted faith. For those who crave spiritual depth yet have been cautioned against looking too far back. For those who rightly suspect that the ancient Church holds treasures we’ve overlooked, and who wish to recover them without compromising the gospel in the process. 

I am one of those people. I am Protestant. I am grateful for the clarity, conviction, and gospel urgency that runs through the best of the Reformation tradition. However, I have also learned that the Reformation was not a blank slate. It was a return — a return to something already present in the early Church, long before the medieval corruptions that the Reformers rightly challenged. 

That Early Church is ours too. The wisdom of the desert fathers is ours. The profound thinking of Catholic theologians, when in step with Scripture, is ours. The reverence of liturgical worship is ours. Mary’s example of discipleship is ours. The practice of confession is ours. These are not “Catholic things” that we’re borrowing. They are Christian things we left behind. 

The goal of this book is not to argue for reunion with Rome. It’s not to flatten doctrinal differences or pretend that the Reformation doesn’t matter. It does matter — deeply. However, recovering lost wisdom does not betray the gospel; instead, it deepens our experience of it. It anchors us more fully in the historical Church and strengthens our present discipleship.