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“Explaining Away” the Appeal of Catholicism

“Explaining Away” the Appeal of Catholicism

Last updated on: February 23, 2026 at 10:08 pm by Dennis Knapp

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“Explaining Away” the Appeal of Catholicism 2026-02-23T22:08:06-06:00 Dennis Knapp

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Recently, a good Protestant friend of mine — a Presbyterian pastor, no less — sent me an article by a concerned Presbyterian campus minister named Jonathan Clark, provocatively titled Resisting the Lure of Catholicism and Orthodoxy. My friend has known me for nearly thirty years. He walked with me through my conversion from Reformed Protestantism into full communion with the Catholic Church. We still go back and forth about Catholicism. When we speak, we speak candidly. I love the man. He stood as the best man at my wedding.

I offer that context before I critique Clark’s article — a critique I write just as candidly as one who supposedly “gave in” to the lure of Catholicism.

Clark’s thesis, in summary, runs along these lines:

Converts to Catholicism and Orthodoxy often react to aesthetics, stability, “vibes,” and historical ambiance rather than to truth.
Reformed theology stands as the obvious biblical, theological, and doctrinal norm.
Serious theological converts exist, but only as rare exceptions.

As one of those alleged “rare exceptions,” allow me to offer an alternative narrative — one that suggests I represent the rule, not the anomaly.

The Sociological Move: Explaining Conversion Without Engaging It

Clark attempts to explain the “allure” of Catholicism and Orthodoxy without engaging either tradition in any serious theological depth. He attributes their appeal to an attractive “aura” — the familiar “smells and bells” that offer seekers something mysterious and otherworldly. He points to a compelling “lore” that appears historical (though he labels it mythological): apostolic succession from St. Peter (which he reduces to “heirs of St. Peter”), devotion to the saints, and the claim to be the “one true church.” Catholicism and Orthodoxy, he suggests, also offer an alternative to Protestant fragmentation and satisfy a psychological need for authority. In the end, he portrays them as the latest theological flavor of the month — attractive largely because they are not modern Evangelicalism.

What Clark’s account lacks is any serious engagement with what Catholicism and Orthodoxy actually teach. To be fair, he did not set out to provide a systematic refutation of either tradition. I understand that. However, when he claims that the Reformed argument against Catholicism and Orthodoxy rests on the fact that their traditions “contradict Scripture” — and that this claim “should defeat any counterargument” — I pause.

Are the students under his care simply supposed to accept that assertion? And if they do not, do they automatically fall into the category of those who “simply do not care”? Why assume these students act out of emotion rather than conviction? Why treat their engagement as aesthetic instead of theological?

My Story Is Not an Exception

My journey toward Catholicism began at Iowa State University. In fact, I met my Presbyterian friend there. At the time, I aligned theologically with Reformed Protestantism. I affirmed the Westminster Confession of Faith as the clearest expression of biblical truth. I embraced five-point Calvinism and doctrines such as sola fide and sola scriptura. My Reformed convictions shaped my view of Catholicism. I regarded the Catholic Church as a corruption of authentic biblical faith. I saw her members as theologically and biblically illiterate, people who relied on works for salvation. In my mind, Catholics worshiped Mary and communicated with the dead.

In other words, I checked every Reformed box.

What I Discovered Unsettled Me

I engaged Catholic belief not out of curiosity or aesthetic attraction, but out of a strong desire to disprove it and rescue those poor, deceived souls within its grasp. This was the early age of the internet, so I conducted my research the old-fashioned way: I read books. I began with the Apostolic Fathers — those who wrote immediately after the apostles. Then I moved to the Ante-Nicene Fathers, then the Nicene Fathers, and then the Post-Nicene period. I wanted more than summaries. I wanted primary sources.

Seeking deeper understanding, I enrolled in Catholic theology courses at Iowa State, where the local parish, St. Thomas Aquinas, had endowed a Chair of Catholic Studies. I immersed myself in the material expecting to confirm my Reformed assumptions.

Instead, I found something that unsettled me.

I did not find five-point Calvinism in the early centuries. I did not find sola fide or sola scriptura. I found sacraments. I found apostolic succession. I found a Church that exercised real ecclesial authority — authority that resembled what I saw in Acts 15. I found a visible, structured Church that understood itself as more than a loose association of believers.

In time, after I entered full communion with the Catholic Church, I discovered that my path did not mark an anomaly. Many others walked it before me. We did not fall for “smells and bells” or Catholic “mythology.” We followed the evidence where it led, even when that path required significant personal sacrifice.

On Being Personally Challenged by Protestant Friends and Campus Ministers

Like the students Clark describes, I faced serious challenges from fellow Protestants who expressed concern for my soul. One friend — let’s call him Matt — invited me to his house for what felt like a theological inquisition, complete with printed documents. On those pages he had written: The Council of Trent says X. The Bible says X. Dennis says ____? We went back and forth for six or seven hours.

Wherever I went in Ames, Protestant friends and acquaintances approached me with questions and warnings about “Rome.” My roommate even fielded questions from his campus minister about whether his association with me made his desire for student leadership suspect because of my supposed “influence.” At nearly every turn, someone confronted me. People challenged me repeatedly and urged me to reconsider.

Yet none of those challenges erased what I had discovered. No stack of printouts could make the early Church Fathers sound Reformed. No warning could undo the historical and ecclesiological questions that had taken root in my mind.

The Real Question Reformed Pastors Should Be Asking

Allow me to offer some friendly advice to Mr. Clark and other Protestant ministers who find themselves shepherding congregants drawn to what they describe as the “allure” of Catholicism.

Instead of asking:

“Why are young men chasing incense?”

Ask:

“Why do confessionally serious Protestants find Catholic ecclesiology persuasive?”

Instead of asking:

“Why are they drawn to authority?”

Ask:

“Why has sola scriptura produced endless denominational fragmentation?”

Instead of asking:

“Why do they want history?”

Ask:

“Why does early Christian history look more sacramental than Reformed?”

When ministers frame the issue this way, the discussion shifts from psychological speculation to theological substance. It moves from dismissive polemic to serious engagement.

Final Thoughts… Respect the Seriousness of Conversion

Let me offer a small caveat: not every convert approaches the question with equal depth, and not every motive remains pure. Yet many conversions — including my own — result from careful research, sustained reflection, and difficult personal reckoning. I did not stumble into Catholicism. I wrestled my way there.

When critics reduce theological conviction to aesthetic preference — to “smells and bells” — they trade serious engagement for caricature. Such reduction reflects a lack of charity and an unwillingness to grapple with the arguments themselves. This subject deserves better.

If Reformed theology is true, it can withstand rigorous historical and theological scrutiny. It does not require sociological or psychological explanations to account for those who leave it. Truth does not need to explain away dissent; it answers it.