What It Means to Be Protestant, Ch. 1: What Is Protestantism, and Can It Unite the Church?, Part 5: Definition

<<<< 1: Self-Understanding     <<< 2: Identity     << 3: Doctrine     < 4: Priorities     5: Definition

What, Then, Is Protestantism?

If Protestantism cannot be unified at the level of identity, doctrine, or priorities—if it ceases to be a thing so much as a plurality of things, what is it?

The aforementioned Protestant priorities—the renewal of the gospel, the authority of Scripture, and the removal of historical accretions—taken together, are all reactions to Catholicism. They only make sense in relation to something prior: a visible Church and a living tradition. We cannot renew something unless that something already exists and is in need of renewal. We cannot return to the authority of Scripture unless it has been lost from someplace, and we cannot remove accretions unless they were added someplace. Therefore, the central priorities of Protestantism require a preexisting entity, which in the beginning was Catholicism, and which now is often other forms of Protestantism. It is, therefore, derivative and dependent. If such things comprise the basic essence of the Protestant identity, then Protestants must recognize that its existence is contingent. As George Lindbeck (also a Protestant) has convincingly argued, the original Reformers not only saw what they were doing as contingent but also as temporary. In other words, they understood the provisional nature of Protestantism.1 Are there any Protestants who, for the sake of unity or out of integrity to the original Reformation’s hopes, willing to concede that these priorities can and should be worked out within the one Church, and that Protestantism should be provisional?

It begs the question: which provisions must be met before unity again becomes possible?

The inability to address a question like this doesn’t merely prevent ecumenical progress along the Catholic-Protestant front, it makes it impossible to find concrete unity between denominations, even amidst such important Reformed doctrinal affinities as Gavin claims. In fact, Protestant ecumenists treat their own differences in two largely inconsistent ways. On the one hand, their documentable differences remain significant enough to prevent genuine ecumenical success—these churches all remain quite divided and unaffiliated with one another in any tangible sense.2 On the other hand, these dividing differences are minimized in conversations with or about the Roman Catholic Church, often treated as an antiquated and discounted relative. The problem is that this doesn’t represent middle ground; it represents trying to have one’s cake and eat it too. They wish to remain separate while appearing united—to claim fidelity to Christ’s call to unity without any concrete manifestation of it.

If Protestantism is by nature provisional, contingent, and internally contested, then what future does it offer for Christian unity? Gavin’s proposal returns us to that question—not as the representative Protestant answer, but as a sincere attempt to redeem fragmentation from within.

His ecumenical vision is not common among Protestants, yet it reflects a serious effort to reimagine Protestant identity in light of the pervasive and enduring divisions it helped to produce. Its principle appeal lies in its tolerance: it resists penalizing Protestantism for doctrinal pluralism and treats mutual recognition as a sufficient foundation for unity. But what real power does such a vision have to move us beyond our current state? At times, it seems to ask little more than, “Can’t we all just affirm each other’s claims to the one, true Church? Can’t we simply declare that all are in, rather than labor toward the truth?” The appeal to “just get along” is emotionally attractive—but structurally hollow. Without shared governance, doctrine, and sacramental unity, it becomes little more than a sentimental echo across a canyon: well-meaning, but unable to bridge the divide.

What, then, does Ortlund’s vision offer? At its best, it cultivates a posture of generosity and fraternal recognition, even amid enduring doctrinal rifts. It seeks to transform Protestant fragmentation from a liability into a diverse mosaic of mutual goodwill. That is no small thing. But is it enough?

But while valuable, this vision lacks the capacity to reconcile deep doctrinal divisions or to bring about the visible, apostolic unity Christ described. Protestantism, after all, is not a single ecclesial body, nor even a coherent federation. It is a theological diaspora—a plurality of movements, often at odds with each other, and affiliated more by a shared protest than by a shared identity. It lacks a clear telos. It has no single voice, no binding authority, and no settled creed.

Can it help us achieve greater unity? Only if unity is reduced to spiritual goodwill and mutual recognition—stripped of structure, authority, and doctrinal integrity. That is not the unity Christ prayed for.

Catholicism offers the best of both worlds: it combines genuine fraternal recognition of separated brethren, a concrete path to reconciliation, and a visible, sacramental, and apostolic unity grounded in truth—a unity the world can see. In a world fractured by opinion, that is not merely attractive. It is essential.

<<<< 1: Self-Understanding     <<< 2: Identity     << 3: Doctrine     < 4: Priorities     5: Definition


  1. George A. Lindbeck, “A Protestant View of the Ecclesiological Status of the Roman Catholic Church,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies 1.2 (1964): 243-70. ↩︎
  2. There are a few notable exceptions, but the exceptions prove the rule. ↩︎

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