A Presbyterian Falls for the CRC

As I Was Saying is a forum for a variety of perspectives to foster faith-related conversations among our readers with the goal of mutual learning, even in disagreement. Apart from articles written by editorial staff, these perspectives do not necessarily reflect the views of The Banner.

I never thought I'd serve anywhere but a Presbyterian church. Yet here I am, the new lead pastor of Trinity Christian Reformed Church in Rock Valley, Iowa, and I love it. So, what changed?

I grew up as a double pastor's kid, a rare and potentially disastrous circumstance, destined to make me either doubly good or doubly bad. Both my parents are Presbyterian pastors who met at Princeton Theological Seminary, and while I was growing up, they led their own churches about 10 miles apart in rural Kansas. That made for some interesting family dynamics between my two siblings and me, but my parents handled it beautifully. We were blessed to grow up between two healthy, loving churches.

Here's why that matters: they were both PC(USA) pastors, faithful ones, who had given their lives to a denomination that eventually stopped wanting what they were selling: the authority of Scripture, the exclusivity of Christ, and a traditional definition of marriage. Standing on those convictions cost them their credentials, their pulpits, and the churches they had built.

Thanks be to God, I watched my parents handle it with grace and unshakable trust in the Lord. Most of their congregants chose to leave with them, and together they found greener pastures in the Evangelical Presbyterian Church, where God has blessed the transition. Their story isn't unique; it's part of a trend within the PC(USA) and beyond that has persisted for decades.

In 1983, the two Presbyterian bodies that merged to form the PC(USA) brought 3.1 million members to the table. Within 35 years, that number had fallen by almost 57 percent. Last year alone, the denomination lost another 26,845 members and 128 congregations and is projected to dip below one million within a year or two, with many finding homes in the EPC, ECO (A Covenant Order of Evangelical Presbyterians), and PCA (Presbyterian Church in America).

Many mainline bodies have faced the same fork in the road: hold to historical views of Scripture and the confessions or reinterpret some of them into what seems like irrelevance—and most have chosen the latter, I believe to their detriment.

In God's time, he called me into pastoral ministry, and following my parents’ footsteps, I ended up in the EPC, a faithful, mission-minded denomination I was ordained into seven years ago and still love. Yet I had begun to assume there was only one road available to orthodox Christians who wanted a faithful future: leave (or get pushed out of) the drifting mainline, plant your flag in a smaller, sturdier denomination, and hold on tight. Theological liberalism seemed like a given. Then a CRC job posting landed in my inbox, and I had to reckon with a story I hadn’t heard yet.

Learning a New (Old) Tradition

My first reaction was to wave the posting off. “I can't leave the EPC,” I told myself. I meant it. Isn't the CRC just another established denomination that has drifted like all the rest? But something nagged at me, so I started digging through Synod sessions, denominational podcasts, and YouTube channels run by people with more opinions on church polity than is healthy. (I kid. I’m one of those people.)

I already knew some of the Dutch Reformed tradition on paper: Kuyper, Bavinck, and Vos had shaped my theology for years, but not the CRC’s recent history. And what I found wasn’t mere denominational politics; it was something closer to revival. Plenty inside the CRC would scoff at the comparison, and I don't want to trivialize how painful it was for everyone involved. But from where I stood, having watched one denomination come apart, what happened over the past few years looks like nothing short of a miracle.

The CRC came to that same fork and didn’t take the well-worn path. They reaffirmed their confessions and made them binding on every officebearer; that takes courage, and I was awed and grateful to God for such mercy. But what struck me more was what came next: instead of planting its flag and digging in defensively, the CRC this year used that firm foundation as a launching pad for mission. Suffice it to say, I took a second look at the position at Trinity CRC, and I'm glad I did.

One Foot Planted, One Foot Free

So, I'm excited about what I've seen: the 10-year vision for church planting, the work of renewal and disciple-making, and the leadership pipeline running through our church schools and university. I see creative thinkers and leaders across the CRC using, if I can borrow a basketball analogy, good pivot-foot technique: one foot planted firmly on Scripture, the confessions, and our Dutch Reformed heritage; the other foot free to move wherever biblically necessary to reach people.

I believe the CRC can hold both at once, and I've watched congregations try. But trying isn't the same as arriving. The churches that get this right over the next decade will decide what this denomination becomes for the next century. That's the opportunity in front of us, not merely to survive as a confessional remnant, but to lead: to show the wider Reformed world how to plant churches, disciple families, and cross cultures without compromise.

I doubt I'll be the last Reformed refugee to find my way here. If the CRC keeps its confessional nerve and keeps building its evangelistic one, I expect a small but steady stream of pastors and churches from tired corners of the Reformed world to come looking for what I found: a home that’s still home for leaders tired of what theological liberalism has done to the Church. God will build his church among the faithful.

I hope to encourage the CRC, and anyone watching from outside, to get excited about what God is doing. This isn’t a denomination limping toward relevance or bracing for decline; it's one that's reaffirmed what it believes and is now asking what to do about it. That’s rare, and it’s worth paying attention to. As the old hymn puts it, “Ponder anew what the Almighty can do.”