Let me start with a little context. I pastor what may sound like a theological contradiction in terms: an independent Reformed church. Yep. Let that settle in.
We’re also dual practice when it comes to baptism—which I already unpacked in my blog post “My Unpopular Stance on Baptism” (linked here, if you want to see both Baptists and Presbyterians question their life choices).
We don’t subscribe exclusively to the Westminster Confession or the 1689 London Baptist Confession, though we respect and learn from both. Why? Because we serve Reformed believers of both stripes in a region where you can drive sixty miles in any direction and still not hit a confessional church.
But make no mistake—we are confessional in doctrine. We hold to:
- Total depravity
- Sovereign grace
- The sufficiency of Scripture
- The Five Solas
- A high view of God, a high view of the Word, and a high bar for discipleship
What we don’t do is act like church is a blank whiteboard and the pastor is just winging it with the Holy Spirit and a Spotify playlist.
Which brings me to today’s topic: why the modern church’s allergy to creeds and confessions is spiritually suicidal.
Because let’s be honest—we’re living in a time where:
- Every church wants to be "authentic" but not accountable
- Everyone wants to be "Spirit-led" but not Scripture-bound
- And way too many pulpits sound more like startup pitches than sermons rooted in 2,000 years of faith
We’ve got pastors saying, “I don’t do theology—I just preach Jesus,” as if Jesus isn’t, Himself, theology wrapped in flesh.
And we’ve got churches proud of having no creed but the Bible—which usually means they haven’t read much of it.
So in this post, we’re going to unpack why creeds and confessions aren’t ancient baggage we need to shed. They’re anchors that keep the boat from drifting off into heresy, novelty, and a thousand different flavors of spiritual nonsense.
Because your faith isn’t a startup. It’s a cathedral.
What Are Creeds and Confessions Anyway? (And No, They’re Not Boring)
Let’s clear the fog: when I say creeds and confessions, I’m not talking about medieval relics, theological red tape, or stuffy documents for guys with Latin tattoos and horn-rimmed glasses.
I’m talking about the historic scaffolding of the Christian faith—the framework that’s kept believers grounded in truth long before your church’s coffee bar was installed.
What’s a Creed?
A creed is a short, distilled statement of essential Christian belief. Think of it like the backbone of orthodoxy—a rally cry for what the Church believes at its core.
Famous examples:
- The Apostles’ Creed – the ancient baptismal creed, uniting Christians across the globe.
- The Nicene Creed – formulated in A.D. 325 to declare that Jesus is truly God and truly man, co-eternal with the Father (take that, Arius).
Creeds are the hill we die on. They’re not trendy. They’re not optional. They’re the universal baseline that separates Christianity from cults and chaos.
What’s a Confession?
A confession goes deeper. It’s the systematic unpacking of theology across doctrines like:
- The nature of Scripture
- Salvation
- The sacraments
- Church government
Examples:
- The Westminster Confession of Faith (1646) – beloved by Presbyterians, theologically robust, and sharper than a double-edged sword.
- The 1689 London Baptist Confession – same Reformed precision, but with a splash zone warning when it comes to baptism.
- The Belgic Confession, Heidelberg Catechism, and Canons of Dort – the three-headed theological juggernaut for Dutch Reformed believers.
Confessions don’t replace Scripture—they guard your reading of it. They don’t box you in—they keep you from wandering off the theological cliff wearing a WWJD bracelet.
But Aren’t These Just Man-Made Documents?
Yes. So is your church’s vision statement, your favorite commentary, and your PowerPoint slides.
The question isn’t whether they’re man-made—the question is whether they’re faithful to the Scriptures.
And creeds and confessions have stood the test of:
- Time
- Persecution
- Heresy
- Generations of believers who died rather than deny what’s in them
You trust the brakes in your car more than some Christians trust the theological legacy of 2,000 years of Spirit-led believers. That’s a problem.
Why the Church Ditched Them (and Why That’s Dumb)
Let’s not sugarcoat it: we didn’t lose creeds and confessions—we ditched them. On purpose. Like theological hipsters who thought they were too cool for grandma’s hand-me-downs.
Only in this case, grandma fought off heresy, bled for doctrine, and gave us the Nicene Creed... and we traded it for Instagram devotionals and 3-point sermons titled, “You’re Enough.”
Here’s how it happened—and why it was a catastrophic downgrade.
“We Just Follow Jesus” – The Creed of Lazy Christianity
It sounds holy. It plays well in pulpits. But it’s theological mush.
Newsflash: so did Arius. So did Pelagius. So did every cult leader who ever twisted Jesus into their own image.
“Just follow Jesus” without defining who He is and what He did is like saying, “Just eat food” while ignoring poison labels. It's not harmless—it's deadly.
The Rise of Revivalism – Feelings Over Frameworks
The 18th and 19th century revivals had some beautiful fruit—and a whole lot of emotional wildfire.
- Theology was replaced with testimonies.
- Doctrinal catechism was replaced with altar calls and anxious benches.
- The creeds were replaced with, “I feel led to say...”
Revivalism gave us an overcorrected pendulum swing: burn the confessions and ride the Holy Ghost rollercoaster instead.
The result? Generations of Christians who can quote their favorite worship bridge but can’t define the Trinity.
The Rise of Liberal Theology – The Great Hollowing-Out
By the late 1800s, European and American seminaries were infested with higher criticism:
- Miracles? Myths.
- Virgin birth? Symbolic.
- Bodily resurrection? Metaphor.
The creeds were now "embarrassing artifacts of primitive thought."
Liberal theologians gutted the faith like a fish and called it progress. Creeds were tossed because they were too clear, too supernatural, too... biblical.
And instead of fighting back with doctrinal conviction, many churches just... adapted.
The Seeker-Sensitive Movement – Marketed, Not Confessed
Fast-forward to the 1980s and 90s: church became a brand.
- Sermons became motivational talks.
- Theology was deemed too “divisive.”
- And creeds? Definitely too churchy.
When your main goal is to attract unbelievers, clarity becomes a liability. And the Nicene Creed doesn’t exactly vibe with fog machines and coffee bars.
So we dropped our doctrinal anchors to chase cultural relevance—and we got doctrinal drift as the price of admission.
Modern Individualism – My Truth > The Faith
We now live in a world where the only creed that matters is: “You do you.”
Creeds and confessions require:
- Humility
- Submission to historic truth
- Saying, “I am not the center of the universe”
But that doesn’t play well in a world where TikTok is a theological training ground and everyone’s personal spirituality is a curated brand.
We don’t like dead guys telling us what to believe—even if those dead guys were saints who held the line against heresy with blood, ink, and flame.
Ditching Creeds Wasn’t Brave. It Was Stupid.
We didn’t get freer—we got fuzzier. We didn’t get more Spirit-led—we got more self-led. We didn’t get purer—we got shallower.
Ditching creeds and confessions didn’t protect the Church—it weakened it.
And now we’re catechizing our people with YouTube shorts, deconstructing exvangelicals, and bumper-sticker theology.
Maybe it’s time we repented. Not just for bad doctrine—but for abandoning the very tools the Church used to guard the truth once delivered to the saints.
What We Lose Without Them (Spoiler....A Lot)
So you’ve tossed the creeds. You’ve ghosted the confessions. Congrats! You’ve officially launched your church into a theological fog machine. The worship team sounds great, but no one knows what the Trinity is.
This is what happens when we value vibes over vows. When the ancient paths are traded for spiritual improv night.
Here’s what we lose when we toss aside 2,000 years of doctrinal clarity:
Doctrinal Clarity: Gone. Replaced by Doctrinal Whiplash.
Without confessions, doctrine becomes whatever the lead pastor felt during his 6 a.m. devotional.
- One church says Jesus is God.
- Another says Jesus is a vibe.
- And neither one has a clue they’re in theological quicksand.
Confessions draw the line in the sand: This is Christianity. That over there? That’s heresy with a tambourine.
Historical Continuity: Shattered
Without the creeds, you lose your spiritual heritage. You're not a descendant—you’re an orphan with a fog machine.
Christianity becomes a new invention every generation. And surprise: everyone thinks they're the first to get it right.
But here’s the truth:
If your faith can’t trace its roots to the early church, it’s not Christianity. It’s a spiritual startup with a cross logo.
Discernment: Absolutely Annihilated
No creeds? Cool. Now no one knows how to smell theological garbage until the whole house is on fire.
This is how:
- Prosperity gospel slides in.
- Oneness Pentecostalism gets a free pass.
- "Jesus was just a moral teacher" starts sounding deep instead of demonic.
Creeds and confessions act like doctrinal bear traps for heresy. Lose them, and every bad idea waltzes into the sanctuary with a smile and a Bible verse out of context.
Unity Gets Replaced by Bland Niceness
We confuse unity with uniformity. Or worse, with "let’s not rock the boat" theology.
But the historic confessions show us:
- You can have diversity in expression while still being unified in essentials.
- You can love your neighbor and correct their Christology.
Confessions let us say: “We believe this—clearly, deeply, historically.” Not: “Let’s agree to disagree because truth is awkward.”
Confidence in What We Believe: Eviscerated
Without doctrinal grounding:
- Believers grow unsure.
- Doubters deconstruct.
- Pastors tap dance around the hard stuff.
But when you stand on historic, tested, biblically faithful confessions? You don’t just believe—you know what you believe and why.
Creeds give you a voice when culture tells you to sit down. They give you backbone when doubt demands you melt.
When We Lose the Creeds, We Lose the Map
Creeds and confessions are not dead weight. They’re the GPS coordinates handed down by generations of faithful saints who walked through storms, heresies, councils, and martyrdoms to deliver them to us.
Without them? We’re all just driving in theological circles hoping we hit orthodoxy by accident.
What We Gain When We Recover Them
Alright, we’ve roasted the nonsense. We’ve poked at the modern church’s theological flabbiness. But let’s not stop at critique—let’s talk about what happens when we stop winging it and start reclaiming the creeds and confessions like the treasure they are.
Because despite what your favorite spiritual influencer says, ancient doesn’t mean irrelevant. It means tested, refined, and worth standing on.
Here’s what we gain when we recover the backbone of historic Christianity:
Doctrinal Roots That Hold in a Storm
Life’s gonna throw punches. Culture’s gonna shift. Heretics are gonna keep publishing books with glittery covers.
But when your church is rooted in:
- The Nicene Creed,
- The Westminster Confession,
- Or even just the good ol’ Apostles’ Creed...
You’re anchored to something stronger than the trending heresy of the month.
Creeds don’t panic when the winds blow. They remind us: this is the faith once for all delivered to the saints (Jude 1:3).
Unity with the Global and Historical Church
You’re not alone.
When you confess the Nicene Creed, you’re joining:
- 4th-century bishops who stood against imperial heresy
- 16th-century Reformers who fought for Sola Fide
- Millions of saints across cultures, languages, and eras
That’s not just beautiful—it’s stabilizing.
You’re not making this up as you go. You’re standing in line with a Kingdom that stretches through time.
Theological Confidence Without Arrogance
Confessions give you clarity. They’re not the final authority (that’s Scripture), but they help you handle the Bible faithfully.
So when someone says, “Well my Jesus wouldn’t judge anyone,” you don’t blink. You respond with:
- Chapter
- Verse
- And 400 years of believers who would’ve agreed with you
That’s not arrogance—that’s stewardship.
Heresy-Proofing for the Average Believer
You can’t hand everyone a seminary degree, but you can give them a creed.
Creeds and confessions:
- Give theological categories
- Sharpen spiritual instincts
- Raise red flags when someone says, “Jesus was just a great teacher”
In other words, they put some theological steel in the spine of your congregation.
Rich Worship That Isn’t Just Emotional—It’s Theological
You know what deepens a worship set? Knowing what you’re singing—and why it’s true.
Creeds shape:
- Liturgy
- Lyrics
- Preaching
- Prayer
They take us beyond sentimental fluff and into substantive, soul-stirring, God-exalting wonder.
Confession Isn’t Chains—It’s Freedom
Recovering the creeds doesn’t mean chaining yourself to the past. It means joining a legacy.
It means:
- Less spiritual drift.
- Less DIY theology.
- More clarity, depth, and joy.
It means you stop being a theological tumbleweed and start becoming an oak.
So yeah, creeds won’t make your church cooler. But they will make it faithful.
And in a world chasing relevance, faithfulness is what actually lasts.
Objection Handling (a.k.a. FAQ for the Spiritually Skeptical)
Alright, let’s address the holy eye-rolls and theological side-eyes. Because you can’t bring up creeds and confessions without someone squinting suspiciously like you just tried to sneak in a papal bull.
So let’s tackle the usual objections—boldly, biblically, and with just enough snark to make it fun.
🚫 “Aren’t creeds just man-made?”
Yes. So is your church’s mission statement. And your favorite worship song. And the sign outside your building.
The question isn’t whether creeds are man-made—the question is whether they are faithful summaries of Scripture.
The early Church didn’t pull the Nicene Creed out of a hat. They wrote it to protect the truth against heretics who were also quoting Scripture—just badly.
Creeds don’t replace the Bible. They guard the right reading of it.
🚫 “We don’t need creeds—we just follow the Bible.”
So did the Gnostics. And the Arians. And every cult leader with a King James and a YouTube channel.
This is the spiritual equivalent of saying, “I don’t need brakes—I just use the steering wheel carefully.”
Creeds help you not drive off a cliff in the name of Scripture.
🚫 “Creeds are too divisive. We just want unity.”
Unity around what?
- A fog machine?
- The vibe of the week?
- The pastor’s Twitter feed?
Creeds create unity—not by erasing doctrine, but by drawing clear lines:
"This is the Gospel. This is not."
If you’re more afraid of being divisive than being doctrinally clear, you’re already compromised.
🚫 “The Holy Spirit leads us—not dead theologians.”
And the same Spirit who inspired Scripture also worked in:
- Athanasius at Nicaea
- Augustine at Hippo
- Calvin in Geneva
- And a whole cloud of witnesses who handed us the doctrinal clarity we now treat like theological clutter.
Rejecting the Spirit’s work in history isn’t spiritual. It’s arrogant.
🚫 “My faith is simple. I don’t need all that theology.”
You’re right. The Gospel is simple.
But the moment someone asks you what you mean by God, Jesus, grace, faith, or salvation—guess what? You’re doing theology.
The only question is whether you’ll do it faithfully or sloppily.
Confessions Aren’t the Problem—Spiritual Laziness Is
You can’t build a deep church on shallow doctrine. You can’t make faithful disciples without defined faith.
And you sure as heaven can’t guard the sheep when you refuse to admit wolves exist.
Creeds and confessions are not optional add-ons for the spiritually nerdy. They’re the guardrails that keep the whole Church from careening into heresy, apathy, or both.
Your Faith Isn’t a Startup—It’s a Cathedral
Let’s land this plane—and not in the safe, polite, pat-on-the-back way most Christian blogs end.
Because this isn’t just about creeds. This is about identity.
Your faith—if it’s real, biblical, and centered on Christ—is not some trendy spiritual side hustle. It’s not a passion project. It’s not a 10-week series wrapped in fog and acoustic guitars.
It’s a cathedral.
Not made with bricks, but with blood. Not built by branding, but by burning—saints who stood firm when emperors, mobs, and councils told them to shut up or die.
You don’t inherit that kind of legacy by accident. You don’t steward that kind of truth by winging it.
The Modern Church Acts Like We’re the First Ones Here
We’ve got:
- A two-year-old church plant with no doctrinal statement
- Pastors who think church history started with Tim Keller
- Worship teams who’ve never heard of the Apostles’ Creed but can recite the Bethel setlist in their sleep
And we wonder why:
- Our people deconstruct when life gets hard
- Our theology falls apart under pressure
- Our kids leave the faith and think they’re being brave
It’s because we handed them a blank page and said, “Figure it out.”
Instead of handing them the creeds and confessions that say, “Here. This is what we believe. This is why. This is where we stand—and we’re not moving.”
You Don’t Need to Reinvent the Faith—You Need to Receive It
The Gospel doesn’t change. The Word doesn’t bend. The Spirit doesn’t contradict Himself.
And the Church—Christ’s bride—isn’t a new idea. It’s ancient, holy, and held together by the truth she’s always confessed.
So be bold.
- Read the confessions.
- Teach the creeds.
- Preach like you stand on something bigger than your sermon series theme.
Because this is not about being smart. It’s about being faithful.
And faithfulness isn’t flashy. It’s rooted. It’s steady. It’s beautiful.
Like a cathedral—standing tall through the centuries.
“The Church is the pillar and buttress of the truth.” — 1 Timothy 3:15
So stop building pop-up tents in a hurricane. Build something that lasts. Build something that stands. Build on what the saints before you already laid down with sweat, ink, and blood.
Confess the faith. Hold the line. Preach the Word.
And remember: your faith isn’t a startup.
It’s a cathedral. And it’s time we acted like it.
Thanks for reading.
