Sacramentalism, an Interview with Greg Gordon, An Ancient Worship Movement
Show Notes
The interview with Greg Gordon engages his book ‘An Ancient Worship Movement’ and explores his journey from evangelical house church movements to embracing liturgical worship through St. Thomas Church, emphasizing the richness of early church practices. The discussion covers sacramental theology, the integration of evangelical zeal with historical liturgy, and the spiritual depth found in ancient worship traditions. Gordon, along with hosts Anthony Delgado (Biblical Reenchantment Podcast) and Brandon Spain (Unrefined Podcast), reflects on the rediscovery of liturgical elements in modern Christian movements, the role of baptism, spiritual warfare, and the importance of unifying evangelical and sacramental expressions of faith. They also discuss the challenges of contemporary liturgical traditions, the need for revival, and the spiritual battle within worship, ultimately encouraging pastors and believers to reclaim a fuller, more historical approach to Christian discipleship.
Website: https://thomasmovement.com
Book: https://amzn.to/3FwZ4k0
Audiobook: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WwbQQxDiGDQ&list=PLNYHMBbAwLQRTTmQ7NxmjxrUZZhsECRsy
Unrefined Podcast: https://www.unrefinedpodcast.com
Biblical Reenchantment Podcast: https://www.anthonydelgado.net/podcast
Music: For Her by Lidérc
Podcast TranscripT
Anthony Delgado: All right, I'm Anthony Delgado, pastor of Palmdale Church in Southern California, host of the Biblical Re-Enchantment podcast, and author of The Gospel is Bigger Than You Think.
Brandon Spain: And I am Brandon Spain, disciple-maker and Anglican priest, host of The Unrefined podcast about all things strange and supernatural.
Anthony Delgado: We're here with Greg Gordon, author of An Ancient Worship Movement. We want to talk to Greg about his book, but there's a lot more to Greg and his ministry. Greg, thank you for joining us on The Unrefined podcast and the Biblical Re-Enchantment podcast. We're going to broadcast this to multiple platforms. Please, if you would, tell us who you are, about St. Thomas Church, and briefly about your book, An Ancient Worship Movement, and why you wrote it.
Greg Gordon: Thank you, guys. It's great to be here—nice to meet you both. I've been a believer for over 25 years now and in ministry for 22 years. I founded and run SermonIndex.net, one of the largest audio sermon repositories online. I've also been involved in many different church ministries.
I wrote a book on house church movements—a sort of DMM approach (Disciple-Making Movements)—which we'll get into later. That book helped start dozens of house churches in North America, and I worked with house churches for about seven years.
Now, the Lord has brought me into a different way of thinking—more in line with a liturgical church model. An Ancient Worship Movement reflects that shift. St. Thomas Church has become, both for me personally and for others, the beginning of a house liturgical movement in North America.
I look forward to learning from you guys and engaging in this discussion. My theological perspective has changed over the past 25 years. We often talk about humility in growth or the humility to change. Last night, I read the verse where Jesus says, “Whoever would be greatest among you must become like a little child” (Matthew 18:4). Of course, there are multiple applications to that verse, but one aspect of childlike faith is the ability to change.
Children, in a good way, are quick to change their minds. If they believe something incorrect and a parent or authority figure corrects them, they easily adapt. Adults, however, are less inclined to admit when they're wrong. But God is God, and we are merely human. We must be willing to adjust to what He is doing.
I love what you said about truth-seeking. That resonates with my heart as well. Nathaniel was described as “a man in whom there is no deceit” (John 1:47). He was a truth-seeker, ready to recognize Jesus as the Messiah and adjust his perspective. If we aren’t willing to change, we risk missing what God is doing. But thankfully, God is bigger than us—He can use us wherever we are.
That was a packed introduction, but I wanted to include those elements because I think they’ll come up in our conversation.
Anthony Delgado: I appreciate that. It sounds like the three of us started from a low-church background and moved—well, I guess I’m still Southern Baptist—so maybe moving toward a high-church model.
Palmdale Church is a bit unique. We’re a church plant that meets outdoors at a park, yet we have a formal liturgy. So we blend the informal with the formal. House churches, like the ones you’ve worked with, naturally come with a certain level of informality. I think liturgy doesn’t have to come with all the traditional expectations of high church.
Brandon Spain: Right.
Anthony Delgado: Though I wouldn’t mind a little stained glass!
Brandon Spain: Oh yeah.
Anthony Delgado: Let’s jump in.
In my tradition, we often talk about things historically considered sacramental, but we refer to them as ordinances. In other words, we emphasize that baptism and the Lord’s Supper are things God commanded us to do—which is true—but I think that definition reduces their meaning.
Greg, how would you define sacrament and sacramentalism? And what makes a church sacramental?
Greg Gordon: Sure. I'd love to hear Brandon on this as well. But first, just to touch on what we were discussing—high church can obviously be defined by clergy vestments, church structure, large cathedral buildings with stained glass windows, and all the traditional elements. That’s part of what defines high church in a technical sense.
But I also think high church can be more about the heart of worship. Where does our heart go when we worship God? Personally, I believe you can be somewhat low church while still engaging in the highest form of high worship. If we enter the sanctuary of God—whether it be a living room or a cathedral—with full faith and expectation, knowing we are entering into divine worship, then something profound happens.
We are actually worshiping alongside divine beings—angels. Amen. We are ascending into unseen realities when we worship. That may sound esoteric to some people, but it is the reality of what happens. We are stepping into that Revelation 5 experience or Isaiah 6, where we worship with words and songs alongside the heavenly host surrounding the throne of God.
Revelation also describes how our prayers are not just stored in a bottle in heaven but are actually ascending like incense before the throne of God, joining in the continual 24/7 worship that never ceases (Revelation 5:8).
Sacramentalism, at its core, is about a physical reality, object, or action that corresponds to an unseen spiritual reality. I emphasize "unseen" because that’s where faith comes in. In worship and church life, we are operating in faith, allowing tangible, physical elements to serve as means of encountering God.
Throughout church history, nearly all traditions—whether low church or high church—have embraced sacraments in some form. Only a few, like the Quakers or the Salvation Army, have minimized them. The Salvation Army, for instance, allowed baptism if someone specifically requested it but generally spiritualized the practice.
Most churches, however, affirm the two primary sacraments: water baptism and the Lord’s Supper—whether referred to as communion or the Eucharist. These sacraments involve taking physical elements like water, bread, and wine, and recognizing that they are not just symbolic but serve as instruments through which we connect spiritually with God. This understanding stands in opposition to the Gnostic idea that all material matter is evil—something the early church actively rejected.
Brandon Spain: Right. Yeah.
Greg Gordon: So…
Anthony Delgado: The elders and the cherubim—you know, I appreciate everything you've said on this. Absolutely.
Brandon Spain: Yeah, I really like that. I mean, in seminary, I was taught the classic definition: "an outward expression of an inward grace." But what you’re describing goes much deeper because that traditional definition often limits sacraments to just baptism and the Eucharist.
I personally believe, as St. Thomas Church Anglican teaches, that there are two sacraments, but I also recognize many sacramentals—things like scripture, prayer, and other practices where we experience the presence of God through tangible means. My Anglicanism has a very Celtic flair to it. It’s deeply enchanted—like Anthony’s podcast title suggests. I wholeheartedly embrace re-enchantment.
Sacramentalism, at its core, is supernatural. It’s where we touch the tangible presence of God through tangible things. I completely agree with what you're saying—I’m fully on board with that.
Anthony Delgado: Yeah, I also think something interesting happens—and I wonder if you guys would agree with this.
This conversation often comes up in Baptist and non-denominational circles, and even in some of the less fringe Pentecostal circles. I've spent time in those spaces as well. They tend to refer to baptism and the Lord’s Supper as ordinances rather than sacraments.
Greg Gordon: Right.
Anthony Delgado: But here’s what I’ve noticed—when a Baptist pastor baptizes someone, even though they call it an ordinance, they still pray for the person and acknowledge that something truly spiritual is happening. Whether they are willing to use sacramental language or not, they are still treating the act as something spiritually significant.
Would you guys agree with that?
Brandon Spain: Yeah, I actually have a story. Can I share a quick one?
My wife and I do a lot of emotional healing and inner healing work as part of our ministry and discipleship. We were trained by a guy from Australia who told us a story about the importance of communion—he's really big on it.
He was working with a man who had just come out of the New Age movement. This man had the ability to see auras around people—he could see spiritual realities in a way that most people don’t. He would go with this Australian pastor to different churches, and it was amazing. He observed people going forward for communion, and the only churches where he saw their auras actually change were liturgical churches—Lutheran, Anglican, Catholic, and Orthodox—where they used real wine and bread.
This man physically saw a transformation as people partook of the Eucharist. I just thought that was a really cool story that highlights the validity of the sacrament. Now, was he already saved? Yes, I believe so. But he still had this spiritual sensitivity, and whether or not you believe in seeing auras, he clearly witnessed something happening during the sacrament. To me, that subjectively demonstrates what a sacrament is—we are receiving God's grace.
Anthony Delgado: Yeah, absolutely.
Brandon Spain: So—
Anthony Delgado: Do you want to move forward?
Brandon Spain: Yeah, my question is this: With so many believers rediscovering their Hebraic roots—something I have strong opinions about—and with the revival of ancient liturgies, how do we balance the desire for authenticity with avoiding legalism on one side and elitism on the other in worship practices?
Also, how do you discern which traditions to incorporate into the church? That’s really two questions in one, but I think they’re connected. As an Anglican, I’m still considered Reformed, even though I’m not really a Calvinist. There are some things within my own tradition where I think, I don’t know about that.
So in St. Thomas Church, what does your process of discernment look like? How do you determine what is little-t tradition and what is big-T Tradition? What do you bring in, and what do you leave out?
Greg Gordon: Yeah, that’s a great question. Some people might not understand that, while we obviously have a Hebraic faith, it has been translated into Gentile worship. It’s not simply that the Jewish people worshiped God and we now do the same. The early church was actually a synthesis of the synagogue model—adopting traditions and prescriptive worship practices from the Old Testament and carrying them into church settings.
The synagogue itself served as the model for the early church. Initially, it was where Christians met, until they were eventually forced out due to persecution. But they didn’t reject the synagogue model—they took it and adapted it.
Essentially, the synagogue was mini-temple worship. It took the prescriptive elements of Old Testament worship and placed them into homes, meeting places, and public halls in the Jewish diaspora. This became the method for translating the faith as Jews spread across the world. The church, which began in Jerusalem, followed this model as it expanded to Judea, Samaria, and the ends of the earth (Acts 1:8). Persecution accelerated this spread, and the church quickly became a diaspora itself.
The early Christians kept the synagogue model but added Gospel readings, a Gospel-centered emphasis, and Eucharistic worship at the end of their gatherings. If you look at the structure of a synagogue, you’ll see a bima seat (a raised platform), chairs arranged around it, and a scripture repository either near the bima or on the side. The scrolls would be brought out and unrolled for reading—we see this in the Gospels, where Jesus reads from Isaiah (Luke 4:16-21).
By the time of Jesus, the person reading from the prophets was also expected to expound upon the text, much like a homily today. I’m using these terms intentionally because this structure is exactly where the church got its liturgy from:
Reading from the Law
Reading from the Psalms or Prophets
Addition of Gospel readings in the Christian tradition
Exposition (homily or sermon)
Holy Communion
This is the same Hebraic model of worship, simply fulfilled in Christ.
For me, understanding this was an aha moment. It was shocking to realize how much continuity existed between early Jewish and Christian worship.
One thing that really solidified this for me was archaeology. Several recent archaeological discoveries have uncovered the earliest synagogues and Christian meeting places. These findings confirm that early Christian gatherings followed the synagogue structure.
I actually wrote an article about this about eight years ago, at the tail end of my time in evangelical house church ministry. The title of the article was simply "I Was Wrong." I had to admit that my previous assumptions about early Christian worship were incorrect. The archaeological evidence showed that the early church was highly liturgical and structured—not the freeform, informal gatherings I had imagined.
That realization started me on a whole journey of exploration—studying the early Church Fathers, reading the earliest documents outside the New Testament, and trying to understand not just the spiritual tone but the practical reality of how they worshiped. It became undeniable that their worship was very structured and liturgical.
Some of the biggest aha moments for me came from reading catechetical lectures and Apostolic Tradition—documents from the third and fourth centuries. These writings, though extant from around A.D. 300–400, describe worship that is nearly identical to modern Anglican, Celtic, Roman Catholic, and Lutheran liturgies.
It was astonishing to see how faithfully the Church has preserved its worship practices for over 1,700 years. And if they have remained unchanged for that long, it’s reasonable to assume that they go back even further—perhaps 1,900 or even 2,000 years. After all, any written record usually reflects a tradition that was already established for at least a generation prior.
Brandon Spain: Right.
Greg Gordon: When the early church wrote about these things, they weren’t creating new practices. They were documenting what had already been handed down for generations. The liturgies in the Catechetical Lectures of St. Cyril or the Apostolic Traditions—all of these writings were referencing worship forms that had been practiced for a long time. They were essentially saying, "This is what we have preserved for 100, 200 years—this is what we do."
And yet, I think there’s a kind of pride that can sometimes come with rediscovering these things. But for me, I’ve found that humility is needed. Especially as someone from an evangelical background, I had to come to a place where I could admit, Wow, I was wrong.
I mean, here I was with my Bible open, convinced that I understood everything. And don’t get me wrong—I love having the Scriptures. We are incredibly privileged to have the Holy Scriptures in a hundred different translations. We have unlimited access to them. Many of us are so committed to reading Scripture daily, to having a non-negotiable quiet time with the Lord. That’s great. We should be people of the Word.
But then you read these same Scriptures, and they’re describing practices the Church has followed for 2,000 years, and you realize, My prescriptive worship doesn’t align with what historically happened. That takes a lot of humility to admit.
Even though I had read these verses a thousand times, I came to realize that they actually meant something different than I had assumed. The real presence of Christ in the Holy Eucharist—the reality of His presence in the Lord’s Supper—is there in Scripture. Or take baptism—there is an actual regenerative occurrence in baptism. It’s not just water.
And even Baptists, who often emphasize baptism as purely symbolic, would still say that you can’t have a Baptist church without baptism. They would agree that it’s a non-negotiable act of obedience. But if it’s just a symbol, why is it non-negotiable?
When I was first born again, I went to a sink, poured water over my own head, and baptized myself—because the Presbyterian church I attended wouldn’t baptize me as a believer. I was so convicted by Scripture that I needed baptism. It wasn’t treated as essential there, but to me, it was.
And I didn’t feel like my infant baptism counted. My parents were essentially pagans—they weren’t churchgoers. They wouldn’t even confirm whether or not it had happened. So I just wanted to have a believer’s baptism.
But Scripture places immense importance on baptism. At the very least, we all agree that it is the first act of obedience in the Gospel.
Brandon Spain: Yes.
Greg Gordon: It’s non-negotiable. Can you go to heaven without being baptized? Well… I wouldn’t recommend testing that. It could work in your favor, but—
Brandon Spain: Yeah.
Anthony Delgado: That’s one of those questions where, when people ask me, "Do you have to be baptized to be saved?"—I just think, Why wouldn’t you want to be baptized?
Brandon Spain: Exactly.
Anthony Delgado: Why wouldn’t you want everything that’s built into baptism? The history, the symbolism, the spiritual reality. And when we understand baptism as a sacrament, why wouldn’t you want that spiritual communion with God and the grace poured out through it?
It’s such an interesting question because it often flows from that same kind of 19th–20th century fundamentalist hermeneutic—where people approach Scripture with a bare minimum mindset. They’re just looking for a checklist: What do I have to do to avoid hell?
Modern evangelicalism has sifted all the meaning out of the Bible, reducing it to, Here’s the least you have to do to get by. But that completely misses the point. I love what you’re saying, Greg.
Brandon Spain: Yeah, I totally agree about baptism. Why wouldn’t you want it?
When I was a youth intern, I remember challenging this kid who had supposedly gotten saved—he had prayed the sinner’s prayer, but he refused to get baptized. I told him, I really question whether you’ve actually committed your life to Christ.
Well, I got in trouble with the parents, the youth minister, and the pastor—basically, everyone. But I still stand by it. Baptism was the original sinner’s prayer.
Greg Gordon: Yeah.
Brandon Spain: The Levitical priesthood had rituals of cleansing, and the early Church continued that with baptism. But over time, we lost that sacramental understanding and replaced it with our own little rituals. That’s one of the main critiques high-church traditions have of evangelicalism—and honestly, they’re right.
We’re doing the same thing they do; we just call it different names and minimize it. We’ve reduced it to the least possible thing it could be.
Anthony Delgado: And we make it as unspiritual as possible.
Brandon Spain: Exactly. We have an anti-supernatural bent. Evangelicalism has been shaped by rationalism and Enlightenment thinking.
Anthony Delgado: Yep, that’s exactly it.
Greg Gordon: It's about allowing those unseen realities to affect us through physical actions. Our sanctification—our becoming, our theosis, our participation in the divine nature—doesn’t just happen by osmosis. It doesn’t happen in an instant, like a blink of the eye. It happens through physical actions.
Brandon Spain: Yes.
Greg Gordon: Through the things we do—whether it's prayer, the posture of our hands, kneeling in worship, or putting our knees on the ground in prayer. These actions, accompanied by faith, actually shape us spiritually.
Unfortunately, we've diminished these things to the point where we're not growing spiritually. And that’s a real loss.
Brandon Spain: Well—excuse me for interrupting—but there’s something deeply humbling about prostrating yourself during ordination. When I became a deacon, I had to lay flat on the floor, in my white alb, face down in the dirt.
I know that might seem minimal to some, but it’s profound. There’s no more humbling position you could possibly take. I could have stood there instead, but it wouldn’t have meant as much. When I was ordained, I was completely prostrate. And I saw in your book that you included that—I thought that was really cool. That’s such an important element.
It connects back to our original discussion on sacraments.
Anthony Delgado: Actually, going back to Brandon’s question, Greg—it sounded to me like he was asking how we determine what goes into our liturgies and practices. And from what you were saying, it sounds like you’re advocating for looking to Scripture first and then seeing how those practices have been fleshed out throughout church history.
Did I hear you correctly?
Greg Gordon: Well, when it comes to liturgy, we’re actually in the process of forming one. St. Thomas Church is a developing, non-geographical missionary diocese under Christ Calvary Church. Christ Calvary Church is a denomination in India, Nepal, and Sri Lanka. It has Anglican roots, but it’s independent—with, I’m sure, a little Oriental Orthodox influence as well.
Brandon Spain: Yeah.
Greg Gordon: So as a missionary effort for the West, we’re asking: What forms of liturgy should we incorporate? What should we leave out? That’s a great question, and it’s something we’re actively grappling with.
Our bishops have some flexibility in this process, but not total freedom. To answer these questions, I ordered about 30 books on liturgy—ancient Celtic liturgies, different Roman rites, and other early sources. I’ve been studying all of it.
Thomas Cranmer, in the Anglican tradition, was a genius.
Brandon Spain: Yeah, very much so.
Greg Gordon: He had a deep knowledge of languages, and he gave serious attention to the prayers of the early Church Fathers. He pulled from those sources when he compiled The Book of Common Prayer, which is undeniably a masterpiece.
But our goal isn’t to reinvent liturgy or claim to do it better than Cranmer. That would be ridiculous. Instead, we’re asking:
Which traditions are small-t traditions that we can adapt?
Which ones are essential?
What helps facilitate worship in a Western missionary context?
Take something like All Saints’ Day—it was formally established around A.D. 1000. Is it necessary for every church to observe it? What are the benefits of keeping it? These are the kinds of questions we’re exploring.
This isn’t about reinvention—it’s about evaluating what works and why.
For example, do we need colored vestments? Do they help glorify Christ? Do they help people focus more on Christ in worship? Or do they sometimes glorify church culture itself—making people think, Wow, the priest looks nice today?
Brandon Spain: Yeah.
Greg Gordon: I don’t mean to be irreverent—I respect all these traditions. They have their place. But at the core of my heart, if you asked me, I’d say we should emphasize traditions—even extra-biblical traditions—from the first 500 years of the Church.
We should refocus on those traditions that are Christ-centered, Christ-giving, and Christ-focused.
Take the Hours of Prayer, for example. Originally, this was a deeply Christ-focused practice. Over time, it became something different—more of a discipleship structure, or even a monastic discipline.
Modern clergy often use the Hours of Prayer as a non-negotiable practice—something they are required to do for personal godliness. And that’s great. But the earliest writings on the Hours of Prayer show that it was first and foremost about Christ.
Christ was crucified at the third hour. At the sixth hour, darkness fell over the land. At the ninth hour, He cried out and died (Mark 15:25, 33-37).
Those correspond to 9 AM, noon, and 3 PM—the traditional prayer hours.
So the original purpose of the Hours of Prayer was to sacramentally meditate on Christ’s crucifixion every single day. Even now, we can recognize that at this very moment, Christ is hanging on the cross. Before we started this conversation, He was being crucified. By the time we finish, He will have cried His last.
To me, that glorifies Christ.
So when we consider liturgical practices, it’s not about doing things better than other liturgical traditions. It’s about taking the godly practices the Church has preserved for centuries and refocusing them.
Brandon Spain: Makes sense.
Greg Gordon: That’s the heart of what we’re doing. It’s not about redeveloping liturgy from scratch but about making sure it serves its purpose in a Western evangelical context. The Anglican Church, for example, is historically an Anglo church—a Celtic, British church. That heritage comes with a distinct cultural flavor, and while it is transferable, it has to be thoughtfully redeveloped in a modern Western evangelical world.
There are certain trappings that can be set aside—things like the frills on vestments. Now, don’t get me wrong, I know some people love them, and I respect that, but those details don’t necessarily have a sacramental function. Maybe they can, but if we’re digging down to the core of the first 500 years of the Church, it makes more sense to look at more ancient and broadly used garments—things like the shūrīk or cassock, which is actually what many Indian Christians wear today.
Brandon Spain: Yeah.
Greg Gordon: The Indian Church, for instance, has more of an Oriental Orthodox approach to vestments and practices, which reflects a different cultural tradition. So in structuring liturgy, I think we should focus on making it as Christ-centered and Christ-focused as possible. Instead of preserving everything simply because of tradition, we should ask: What did the first 500 years of the Church exemplify? What did they sacramentally practice? What were the key elements? That’s the core of what the St. Thomas liturgy—or the Christ Calvary liturgy—is being built around.
Anthony Delgado: I really resonate with what you're saying. Coming from a very low-church, Baptistic background and then gradually moving toward a sacramental view, I’ve wrestled with those same questions.
For instance, I’ve thought about wearing a robe. I appreciate the way it visually signifies the sacramental nature of worship. But if I’m honest, the reason I’d wear it is because I’ve embraced sacramentalism, and I want others to recognize that what we’re doing is sacramental. At the same time, I’ve hesitated because I don’t want to be performative about it—where it becomes more about appearance than about pointing people toward Christ.
So at our church, what we’ve done with our liturgy is to draw from several sources. We based it on the structure of the ordinary Catholic Mass, the Divine Liturgy used in the Eastern Orthodox Church, and The Book of Common Prayer. We took elements from these traditions and identified the principles behind them.
Greg Gordon: That’s great.
Anthony Delgado: There are still a few things missing from our liturgy—things we’re slowly moving toward incorporating.
What’s interesting is that when someone from a Vineyard or low-church evangelical background visits our service, they recognize that something is different. They’ll usually say something like, "Wow, you pray and read a lot of Scripture." They can tell that it’s a different kind of service, even if they don’t fully understand it.
On one hand, we want to keep moving in that direction—we want people to recognize that something spiritually significant is happening. At the same time, we don’t want to overwhelm them or make it feel inaccessible. There’s always that balance—figuring out where to draw the line, deciding what is essential and what is flexible.
This actually brings me back to the question about baptism.
In An Ancient Worship Movement, you wrote, "St. Thomas Church takes a position of belief in infant baptism, like many other historic traditions." I really appreciate how you frame that discussion in a way that is both clear and gracious. Baptism can be a divisive issue, but you handle it with a lot of care.
Brandon Spain: Yes.
Anthony Delgado: I think Brandon and I both share a lowercase-e ecumenical bent.
Brandon Spain: Yes.
Anthony Delgado: We both want to see more unity within the body of Christ.
I say lowercase-e because the Ecumenical Movement—capital-E—has taken on a different meaning over time.
Brandon Spain: Yeah, it got hijacked.
Anthony Delgado: Exactly. So while I’m a Baptist and Brandon is Anglican, we both value unity in the essentials. I personally view baptism as a secondary issue, not a primary one. But because baptism is a core practice of the Church, it has historically been a point of division among Christians.
I’ve heard of churches that have tried to practice both infant baptism (paedobaptism) and believer’s baptism (credobaptism), but it often ends up causing division. Historically, there were even Baptists in the United States who tried to worship alongside Congregationalist churches that practiced infant baptism, especially in missionary contexts, but those efforts frequently broke down over time.
So I’d love for you to flesh this out more. In real-world practice, how does St. Thomas Church handle both infant and credo baptism? How is it received by the congregation and the wider community of believers?
Greg Gordon: Well, I’m preaching to the choir here with Brandon especially, but this is a really touchy issue for evangelicals. This is the one they will divide over, fight over, and dig their heels in about. The debate between credobaptism (believer’s baptism) and paedobaptism (infant baptism) has become a defining issue in many evangelical circles.
But historically, if you study the early Church and the Church Fathers, the normative practice was infant baptism. That is an undeniable historical truth. I encourage every evangelical believer to do their own research, to take a deep dive into the sources, because you’re not going to find anything else. You may not like what you find, but the evidence is there.
Anthony Delgado: Yeah.
Greg Gordon: And I say that graciously. Obviously, God is bigger than this issue. Just because there are differing views on baptism now in the modern Church doesn’t mean that God is somehow hindered by that. It doesn’t nullify baptism itself.
But historically, the way the early Church viewed baptism was different from the way many evangelicals see it today. They saw it as the means by which a person was brought into the covenant community. Infant baptism was essentially the spiritual equivalent of raising children in a godly home. In the early Church, adult baptisms were for pagan converts—those who were idol-worshippers, non-Trinitarians, those coming out of the world. These people were catechized, baptized, and then became disciples.
Infant baptism, by contrast, was the way Christian parents raised their children in the faith. It was a spiritual homeschooling, so to speak. It was a way of saying, "We are not sending our children into the world first and then waiting for them to 'get saved' later. We are raising them in the faith from birth."
Think about it—Christian parents don’t say, "Let’s send our kids to public school so they can be discipled by the world and learn about sin before we teach them the truth." Of course not. If we know that the world is going to teach things that are false, we do everything in our power to raise them in the truth from the very beginning.
In the same way, the Church has historically baptized infants as a sign that these children are being raised in the faith. The entire church community acknowledges that the child belongs to God, just like Hannah offering Samuel to the Lord under Eli’s care (1 Samuel 1:27-28). The child still has to confirm their own faith when they reach maturity, just as they still have to confess Christ and publicly declare their faith. That’s a non-negotiable. If they never confess their faith, they are choosing to apostatize.
This is what Paul was saying to Timothy when he reminded him, "From childhood you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus" (2 Timothy 3:15). He had been taught by his grandmother Lois and his mother Eunice. Timothy didn’t become a believer out of nowhere—he was raised in the faith. To reject that later in life would be an act of apostasy.
Evangelicals, however, often approach this issue with an assumption that children are not believers until they make a personal decision for Christ. They may teach their children scripture and take them to church, but they still assume that until a child "prays the sinner’s prayer," they are spiritually lost.
I love George Whitefield—he got so much right—but I have to disagree with how he viewed children. He described them as "monsters of iniquity," as if little children with fruit pops in their mouths are secretly plotting their parents' destruction. Yes, Scripture teaches that all people are born into sin, but it doesn’t follow that children must first live in rebellion before they can be accepted into the faith.
That’s essentially what evangelical theology implies—it suggests that a child must express their iniquity, manifest their sin, feel the weight of their guilt, and then get baptized once they fully grasp what they are repenting of. It’s almost as if we’re asking every person to take a bite of the forbidden fruit again before they can fully understand the Gospel.
But if a child is raised in a godly, Christian church environment, there is no reason why they should not be baptized. They belong to God. They still have to confirm their faith later, just as any adult believer could later choose to apostatize. But in terms of church life, they are part of the faith community from birth.
So I don’t just see infant baptism as a safeguard—it’s simply what God intends for children and families. It’s what keeps them within the covenant community rather than treating them as outsiders until they "choose" faith for themselves.
Now, I understand the theological objections. Evangelicals will argue, "But how can a child be born again? How can they be regenerate if they cannot personally confess Christ?" And that’s where I think we need to consider the broader biblical understanding of regeneration.
Regeneration isn’t just a moment—it’s a process. It happens at conversion, but it also unfolds throughout a person’s entire life. Paul even says that we are still waiting for the final completion of our salvation: "For now our salvation is nearer than when we first believed" (Romans 13:11). The fullness of salvation will be realized at Christ’s return.
Evangelicalism often reduces salvation to a one-time event—a moment of praying the sinner’s prayer or making a personal decision. But salvation is more than that. I’m not denying that people have dramatic conversion experiences—I had one myself. But when we treat salvation as nothing more than a single moment instead of a lifelong journey, we miss the richness of what God is doing.
For children, baptism is their entry into the faith community. It’s not just a symbol—it’s a means of grace. And the remembrance of baptism—whether through sacramental actions, renewal ceremonies, or even personal reflection—is a vital part of spiritual formation.
A common issue in modern evangelicalism is that once a person is baptized, they often never think about it again. They see it as a one-time event, and then they move on. But historically, the Church has always encouraged believers to live in their baptism. That’s why practices like the sprinkling of water when entering a church, making the sign of the cross, or renewing baptismal vows exist.
Brandon Spain: And don’t forget Easter! Many of the more formal churches have a tradition of reaffirming baptism during Easter as a way of rededicating oneself to Christ.
Greg Gordon: That’s right. Baptism isn’t just an event—it’s an ongoing reality. The Church was birthed from the side of Christ, and it never leaves His side. We abide in Him.
Through sacramental actions like baptism, we grow in faith, and those realities become more and more tangible in our lives. Even physically—there’s something about the presence of Christ in a person that changes them. The countenance of godly people changes over time. Their very presence reflects holiness.
Anthony Delgado: They are trained.
Greg Gordon: Yes, they are trained. The flesh is still the flesh, but the spirit is always growing. That’s why these sacramental actions—especially baptism—have historically been reoccurring in Church practice.
Brandon Spain: Exactly.
Anthony Delgado: Yeah, I mean, I want to give you some context for why I asked the question, but I didn’t want to frame it too much beforehand since we’re having a conversation.
Baptist churches, historically, have a very particular approach when it comes to communion. They usually call it communion rather than the Lord’s Supper, and they fence the table—meaning that only members of that specific local congregation are allowed to partake. In more contemporary Baptist churches, though, open communion is the norm. Most will say something like, "If you profess Jesus as Lord and Savior, then join us in this." In those settings, they’re appealing to the universal Church, but they’re also leaving it entirely up to the individual to determine whether or not they should partake.
That dynamic reflects exactly what you were talking about earlier, Greg. In our church, we have a lot of homeschool families, and for many of the same reasons you mentioned—we want to disciple our children in the faith rather than leaving them to be shaped by secular culture. That naturally extends to how we think about the sacraments. But if we take the position of credobaptism—that baptism is only for believers—what does that mean for closed communion? How do we maintain that consistency?
Brandon Spain: I want to throw in a little bit here because I’ve told Anthony this before—I’m not a great Anglican. I’m kind of a rogue Anglican. In the movement-oriented ministry settings I’ve been in, I’ve had to think through how to navigate these issues.
So, for instance, I will baptize an infant. But I think it’s fascinating that even when I was a Baptist, we intuitively knew we had to do something with babies. So what did we do? We dedicated them. That’s basically just a Baptist version of what paedobaptists do. There’s an inherent recognition that we need to acknowledge the child’s place in the faith community.
Now, within Anglicanism, there’s actually room for christening rather than full infant baptism. I will christen a child and then, if that person later drifts away—if they have a prodigal son kind of experience and return—I’ll baptize them as an adult. That approach allows for a wider net. And that’s the interesting thing about Anglicanism—its breadth is its greatest strength, but also its greatest weakness. Cranmer had incredible foresight in that regard.
That’s why, personally, I practice a mix. I’ll do infant baptism, I’ll do christening, and I’ll do adult baptism. It allows room for different journeys of faith while still honoring the sacramental nature of baptism.
Greg Gordon: That’s fascinating.
Brandon Spain: What I love about christening is that it leaves room for grace. It acknowledges the child’s place in the Church without presuming upon their faith journey. But here’s the reality—both of my boys were baptized, and yet neither of them are believers right now. Why? Because, in many ways, the initiation process wasn’t followed through.
Their godparents didn’t fulfill their role as spiritual guides. It became a rote ritual rather than a meaningful commitment to disciple them. That’s something I really appreciated in your book, Greg, because I think we need to recover heart-driven liturgical practices instead of just going through the motions.
That’s the key difference—if liturgy becomes a cultural ritual rather than a genuine expression of faith, it loses its power. My wife was raised Baptist—hardcore Baptist. But when she came into the Anglican tradition, the thing she loved most was the prayers. She told me that in the Baptist church, she often didn’t know what to pray, but in the Anglican church, she found prayers that had already been written by saints throughout history.
She also noticed how much scripture was embedded in the liturgy. And she would look around at cradle Anglicans who had grown up with it and think, "They don’t even realize what richness they have here."
That’s been a big challenge for me—how do we make sure that those who are raised in liturgical traditions don’t lose sight of their depth and significance? When something becomes too familiar, it can become mechanical.
I live near southern Louisiana, where Catholicism is deeply ingrained in the culture. For many people there, being Catholic is more of an identity than a lived faith. The same thing happens in Mississippi with Baptists—it’s just part of the culture. So how do we recover the heart of these practices?
Ultimately, that falls to us as leaders—whether we’re priests, pastors, presbyters, or whatever title we use. We have to live out these realities in such a way that they are formative rather than just performative.
I tell people all the time, "Everyone has their own congregation." Whether it’s their family, their small group, or the people they influence, they are leading others. My role as a priest is to teach them how to be priests within their own sphere. That’s what brings heart back into the liturgy.
And Greg, that’s something I appreciate about what you’re doing with the St. Thomas movement. There’s a simplicity to it—not informality, but simplicity. When we get into the Disciple-Making Movement (DMM) aspect of this, I want to talk more about that. Because simplicity is key in a movemental setting. But simplicity alone isn’t enough—you also need depth and richness. What I see in St. Thomas Church is that you’re balancing both. And I really applaud that.
Greg Gordon: That’s exactly right.
One thing I’ll throw in here—historically, baptism wasn’t just about the water. There were accompanying sacraments and practices, like the Oil of the Catechumens or the Oil of Exorcism, which are mentioned in the Apostolic Traditions from the third and fourth centuries.
Baptism was taken incredibly seriously. There was a discipleship process beforehand. And then, before baptism, there was an exorcism. Deliverance was considered a normal part of initiation into the Church. It’s fascinating because today, deliverance ministry is gaining popularity again, especially in evangelical and charismatic circles. But in the early Church, it was simply part of the process.
Brandon Spain: Yeah.
Greg Gordon: Exorcism of demons before baptism, fasting and preparation before baptism, memorization of Scripture—by Augustine’s time, they were memorizing a lot of Scripture. But at the very least, catechumens had to memorize the Apostles’ Creed. Confessing the Creed was non-negotiable before being water baptized. And then afterward, there was the anointing with oil for the indwelling of the Holy Spirit or the Holy Spirit falling upon them.
So within the baptismal ritual, or experience, you had discipleship, Scripture memorization, deliverance from demons, cleansing of the house, and the filling of the Holy Spirit—all in one go. It was a full process. I always joke that we should rename the historical liturgical churches the real Baptist churches because they actually have a much higher emphasis on baptism than modern Baptists.
Brandon Spain: Yeah.
Greg Gordon: I’m not saying that Baptists shouldn’t be Baptists—that’s why they’re called that—but historically, baptism was taken much more seriously. It wasn’t just an act of obedience; it was a foundational, defining part of the Christian walk. And as we discussed earlier, the historical Church continually emphasized remembering one’s baptism.
This is something I really encourage anyone to explore—especially early Church history and the writings of the Church Fathers. It’s incredibly rich and meaningful. Baptism is critical and foundational for Christian life. Of course, technically, you can get along without it. The Salvation Army doesn’t practice baptism, and they still evangelized the world and built a major missions movement. But I believe something is lost when we downplay or neglect it.
Brandon Spain: Yeah.
Anthony Delgado: Yeah.
Brandon Spain: One thing that’s interesting about baptism is how rarely, in evangelical circles, we hear it connected to putting off the old man and putting on the new man.
Greg Gordon: Right.
Brandon Spain: When I attend a baptismal service, and they don’t ask the person being baptized to renounce Satan and all his works, I feel like something is missing. That’s an essential part of baptism.
Beforehand, yes, there should be preparation, but during the baptism, the person should publicly declare, "I renounce the domain of darkness, and I embrace the kingdom of light, the kingdom of God."
It’s like when someone becomes a U.S. citizen—they have to renounce their previous national allegiance. You can have dual citizenship in the world, but in the Kingdom of God, there is no dual citizenship. You are either in the kingdom of darkness or the kingdom of light.
That element—the putting off before the putting on—is something that’s missing in most evangelical baptismal services, even though they get the Trinitarian aspect right.
Anthony Delgado: It’s funny how, when we start looking at these historical practices, we find ourselves arriving at the same conclusions the early Church did.
Brandon Spain: Yes.
Anthony Delgado: You’ve read my book—you know I talk about baptism as a pledge of allegiance to Christ.
Greg Gordon: Right. Wow.
Brandon Spain: You talked a little bit about your method of discipleship earlier. I’m actually an Anglican priest who does house church ministry. I don’t have a traditional parish—I call myself a priest in a pocket. My work is in planting house churches and working within the Disciple-Making Movement (DMM) and Church Planting Movement (CPM) models.
Of course, my approach is nuanced because I’m also liturgical, but I’ve drawn a lot from Roland Allen. I’m sure you’re familiar with him—he showed me that I can be both liturgical and organic.
Greg Gordon: Absolutely.
Brandon Spain: So what does your process of discipleship look like? You’ve touched on it a little bit, but can you iron it out more for us?
The big question I have, especially for high-church traditions, is that I’ve noticed they do make disciples, but the process tends to be very classroom-oriented—very cognitive and left-brained. There’s a lot of formal instruction but not as much hands-on apprenticeship in following Jesus.
I’m a big Dallas Willard fan, and one of his major critiques was that churches don’t just need to make disciples—they need to teach disciples how to make disciples (2 Timothy 2:2).
In many high-church traditions, I see strong catechesis, but what’s missing is the apprenticeship model—actually taking people out and showing them how to live the faith and disciple others. Coming from a DMM background, that’s something I emphasize a lot.
So how do you address that in St. Thomas Church? How do you ensure that discipleship is not just teaching, but also training in real-life ministry?
Greg Gordon: Oh, I love that. I was heavily influenced by DMM—Disciple-Making Movements.
Brandon Spain: I knew it.
Greg Gordon: Yeah.
Brandon Spain: CPM stands for Church Planting Movements, Anthony.
Anthony Delgado: Yeah, actually, Baptists use CPM terminology a lot.
Brandon Spain: Yeah.
Greg Gordon: We actually use CPM language in St. Thomas Church because if you’re planting a local parish or mission church, the original seed thought has to be multiplication.
If your focus is just starting a church rather than multiplying disciples, you’ll quickly shift your priorities away from mission and into maintenance mode. Instead of discipleship, you’ll start worrying about the color of the carpet, who sits where, what’s important and what’s not, or who’s wearing what.
Brandon Spain: Or whether you’re a real church until you get a building.
Greg Gordon: Exactly.
Brandon Spain: I know that mindset all too well.
Greg Gordon: Or how big the stained glass windows should be. People start comparing themselves to other churches—"Their windows are bigger than ours."
Instead, the mission has to override everything else.
Brandon Spain: Yes.
Greg Gordon: Worship first, then mission.
Why do we go on mission? Because of worship.
That’s why Malachi 1:11 is so foundational: "For from the rising of the sun to its setting, my name will be great among the nations. In every place, incense will be offered to my name." That’s the vision—mission exists because worship does not.
Brandon Spain: I’m not the biggest John Piper fan, but his line, "Missions exist because worship does not," rings in my head every time I think about this.
Greg Gordon: That’s exactly where Piper got that phrase from—"Missions exist because worship does not." The early Church Fathers actually quoted Malachi 1:11 frequently because they saw it as a fulfillment of Eucharistic worship spreading around the world—a Christ-centered Eucharistic experience expanding across nations.
So really, the heart of missions is to see congregations of believers who are remembering the Lord, glorifying Him, and offering their lives as incense before Him in worship and prayer. That’s why I would say that a core element of discipleship in the St. Thomas Church model is prayer. That emphasis, obviously, aligns with what both of you are doing as well.
A liturgical prayer service is discipleship. It forms people. It is a sacramental action that shapes their faith. So when people come to me— and they do, all the time—saying, "I’m in New Jersey," or "I’m in Timbuktu—there’s no liturgical church here that I feel isn’t compromised or problematic. What do I do?" My answer is simple: Pray the Hours of Prayer.
Brandon Spain: Yeah. Yeah.
Greg Gordon: Set up a prayer altar in your home—create a space that functions as a mini church. Put up a cross, an altar cross, place the Holy Scriptures on the table. Hang a cross on the wall, open the Bible, and establish a basic liturgy for an hour of prayer daily—however often you can. Do it multiple times a week, or even just on Sundays. But start there. That is the foundation.
Because in doing so, you are practicing what the Church was created to do—worship God. That’s the first model of discipleship we emphasize.
The second model we follow is based on the Book of Acts. We actually put together a resource that simply contains the Book of Acts in printed form. The idea is to immerse people in that narrative because how the Church began is how the Church should continue.
The main model the Lord gave us is the Book of Acts, so why would we expect the Church to function any differently by the time Christ returns? In Acts 1:11, after Jesus ascends, the angels appear to the disciples and tell them, "This same Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go." There’s a sense that the Church is not meant to radically change—it contextualizes, yes. Kingdoms come and go. Fads come and go. But the core identity of the Church remains the same.
The Church will never be overcome by the gates of hell. Instead, the Church is the one that prevails over the enemy. That’s why the way God worked in the Book of Acts isn’t dramatically different from how He works today.
Look at Christ Calvary Church in India, Sri Lanka, and Nepal. They are seeing miracles—supernatural signs accompanying the preaching of the gospel. And for them, this is normal. This is Book of Acts Christianity.
There’s nothing different about it—it’s not some kind of Benny Hinn performance, not a televangelist production. These are bonafide supernatural miracles that happen as believers gather, pray in Jesus’ name, and worship liturgically. And it’s happening everywhere—except North America.
Why? Because we are so full of unbelief.
Jesus went to one town and could not do many miracles there because of their unbelief (Matthew 13:58). He came down from the Mount of Transfiguration and found His disciples—who had knowledge, who had spent time with Him, who had seen His works—but they couldn’t cast out a demon. Jesus rebuked them, saying, "You unbelieving and perverse generation!" (Matthew 17:17). Then He immediately cast the demon out Himself.
That’s the state of much of the Western Church today. We are a me-centered, humanistic society, obsessed with money, greed, and tangible success. But we lack faith.
The Book of James even addresses this when he rebukes favoritism in the Church. He says, "You dishonor the poor. Aren't the poor the ones who are rich in faith?" (James 2:5-6). The Greek word used for "assembly" in James is actually synagogue—a direct tie-in to the synagogue model of worship.
So, when the early Church gathered, they saw faith flourish among the poor. But today, in the affluent Western world, we elevate those with material wealth and influence, while those who truly walk by faith are often ignored.
That’s why I appreciate Disciple-Making Movements (DMMs) and Navigators 1.7—they have great discipleship structures. We want to utilize some of these models, but ultimately, we lean on two primary pillars:
The Book of Acts Model – A vision of the Church as a multiplying community, empowered by the Holy Spirit.
Liturgical Prayer Services – The Hours of Prayer as the foundation for forming believers in worship.
Everything else—whether it’s DMM methodology, catechisms, or other discipleship tools—can be used, but these two are our foundation.
I also deeply respect what the Anglican Church in North America (ACNA) has done with their catechism. It’s an excellent tool because it follows the Apostles’ Creed, presenting it in a question-and-answer format to prepare people for baptism. Then it moves into the Ten Commandments, grounding discipleship in obedience to God’s law.
That question-answer catechism model is something the Church has always used, and we want to lean on it. I’m actually trying to get permission from ACNA to use it in some capacity.
But ultimately, we can have all these tools, and they are useful. But what truly matters is experiencing the Book of Acts in our own communities. Discipleship isn’t just learning—it’s living in the supernatural presence of God.
Now, when I say "supernatural," I don’t mean the kind of exaggerated displays that people associate with charismatics—shaking, uncontrollable laughter, or showmanship. That’s not what I’m talking about.
I’m talking about saintly miracles—the kinds of things we see throughout Church history. The genuine, undeniable work of God in the lives of His people.
We are saints—lowercase s saints—the people of God. Our prayers matter. They can change things. And we should expect God to validate our liturgical gatherings with the presence of the Holy Spirit. Miracles should be normal in the Church.
Here’s a quick example. In India, there have been cases of Satanists stealing consecrated bread from Catholic churches for desecration. Now, think about that. If the Eucharist were just an empty symbol, why would demons care? Why would they try to desecrate something that has no power?
Clearly, they recognize something real is happening. In fact, I wrote in my book: "Demons hate ancient faith."
Brandon Spain: Yes.
Greg Gordon: That’s why the more we lean into Holy Spirit-filled, real, liturgical worship, the more we align with how God has always led the Church. That means we will encounter spiritual warfare, but it also means we will see the blessing and confirmation of God as we walk in obedience.
Brandon Spain: Have you guys noticed that there seems to be a movement happening? I love that you call it the St. Thomas Church Movement and that you use movement language for it because I see the same thing happening elsewhere.
Even among low-church charismatics, I’ve noticed that they’re adopting ancient church practices—without even realizing that they are ancient church practices. They’ve started praying the Hours of Prayer. They have what they call soaking prayer, which is essentially their version of Eucharistic adoration. They have all these practices that are naturally emerging because the Spirit of God is driving them toward what we’re talking about here.
And honestly, I believe revival—which I would love to see—is going to look a lot like what we’re dreaming of right now. Do you guys think so?
Anthony Delgado: I think you're absolutely right.
Greg Gordon: Yeah.
Brandon Spain: Yeah.
Anthony Delgado: I think people are longing for something more profound. We’ve reduced the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the bare minimum and, in the process, we’ve sucked all the meaning out of it.
Brandon Spain: What’s that Latin term?
Anthony Delgado: I don’t even know.
Brandon Spain: Reductio ad absurdum.
Anthony Delgado: Yeah. Yeah. That’s exactly what we’ve done. And people are hungry for something deeper.
What frustrates me is that, instead of the Church enabling people to find that depth, it has largely failed them. We’re not teaching holiness as a way of life. We’re not showing people how to practice it. We’re not leading them in sacramental worship. The sacramental life—which historically shaped Christian formation—is just missing.
That’s why I think so many people are being drawn toward these things. Brandon, you and I are constantly involved in studying things like ancient giants, the gods, the demons, and the supernatural realm. And Greg, I’m sure you’ve had similar conversations.
Brandon, I love listening to your podcast—even though I’m not as knee-deep in cryptids and all that stuff. But I like hearing about it because it reminds me of the spiritual reality of the world around us. I haven’t spent a ton of time in that world, but I understand that we are in a spiritual battle. Ephesians 6 makes that clear.
Brandon Spain: Yeah.
Anthony Delgado: And I think this shift we’re seeing is evidence of that. It’s not just something I feel—this is a trend that people are writing about all over the internet. Everyone has noticed it.
There’s been a mass movement of people leaving low-church Protestant traditions and joining high-church traditions. The last statistic I saw showed that the majority are moving into Eastern Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism, but I believe Anglicanism has seen a significant influx as well.
Brandon Spain: Yeah.
Anthony Delgado: In fact, I just read a fantastic chapter in a book called Why We Belong. The book argues for Protestant unity across denominations, and there’s a chapter by Gerald Bray called Why I Am an Evangelical and an Anglican.
Bray was actually one of my professors in seminary, so I already respected his work. I didn’t love everything about the chapter, but it was well worth reading. He talked about why he remains Anglican, and it resonated with this exact issue we’re discussing.
He acknowledged that Anglicanism is a big tent, with a lot of people holding varying views under the same roof. But at the same time, almost every expression of Anglicanism is sacramental, and that’s what he finds compelling. That’s what he’s really after.
So I guess my question is: Where does St. Thomas Church fit into this space? And what does the ancient worship tradition provide?
But I’d also expand that and ask: For pastors, elders, or just interested individuals in low-church traditions, what encouragement would you offer to explore a more robust Protestant faith—rather than looking for a way out?
That’s what really bothers me. Instead of fixing what’s broken, so many people just jump ship. And that, to me, causes an even bigger problem. Instead of repenting of our ignorance of the tradition we already have and growing deeper in it, people abandon it entirely.
What would you say to those in low-church traditions who feel that pull toward something more but don’t know what to do with it?
Brandon Spain: Can I throw something in real quick?
It went from Young, Restless, and Reformed to Reformed wasn’t enough, and now we’ve got Young, Restless, and Orthodox.
Anthony Delgado: Yeah.
Brandon Spain: It just keeps shifting.
Anthony Delgado: Yeah.
Brandon Spain: It becomes faddish.
Anthony Delgado: That’s so true.
Greg Gordon: I think one of the biggest challenges right now is the disillusionment people feel with liturgical traditions.
Take Anglicanism, for example. What’s happening with the Archbishop of Canterbury and the various doctrinal compromises within the Anglican Communion is deeply discouraging. Then you have the Catholic Church, where many people feel unsettled by Pope Francis and some of the theological directions he has taken. Even within Orthodoxy, while it’s not as widely discussed, there are pockets of discouragement as well.
But overwhelmingly, the crisis of faith seems to be concentrated in Western liturgical churches. The sense of apostasy within these institutions has left many believers feeling lost.
That’s why St. Thomas Church functions as a kind of catching net for these people—almost on purpose. We’re saying, "Hey, don’t just give up and go to a Baptist church where you’ll be miserable for the rest of your life." I’m not saying Baptist churches are bad—far from it—but if you’re someone who has been formed by liturgical worship, suddenly abandoning it and going back to a completely non-sacramental setting can feel like spiritual starvation.
At the same time, we’re also reaching people from the other direction—evangelical, Bible-believing Christians who have a deep love for Scripture but are looking for more. They want something richer.
There’s a huge movement of people in that direction, but unfortunately, many feel like they have to abandon their faith entirely to embrace it. They feel like they have to switch religions—to become Orthodox, Catholic, or even Anglican—because they assume their current framework is insufficient.
But my position is this: We need a reformation within evangelicalism, not an exodus from it.
What we don’t need is for people to walk away from the evangelical tradition altogether. What we do need is for evangelicals to recover the historic practices of the Church—to add more liturgy, more depth, more structure—without losing what they already have.
Because what evangelicals have is valuable. Their high view of Scripture, their love for the Word of God, their commitment to evangelism—these things are good. They shouldn’t be thrown away. In fact, the word evangelical literally comes from the idea of sharing the evangel, the Gospel.
Ironically, these are things that some liturgical churches have lost. Some have abandoned evangelism entirely. In some places, there’s almost a legalism around avoiding evangelistic efforts. There are liturgical churches that have become stagnant, where scripture memorization and discipleship are almost nonexistent.
So what I’m advocating for is a re-evangelization of the Western world—a movement that takes the best of evangelicalism and the best of ancient Christian worship and brings them together.
And I want to be clear: I’m not just being pragmatic here. I genuinely believe that this is where God is leading. Because in its earliest days, the ancient Church was both liturgical and deeply evangelistic.
They loved the Holy Scriptures with a passion. They dedicated themselves to prayer, to the sacraments, and to spreading the Gospel. That’s what we need to recover.
How did we even get to a place where we have liturgical churches that struggle to love Jesus? Where we have churches that go through the motions of worship but lack a deep, personal relationship with Christ? Where Scripture memorization and evangelism feel like foreign concepts?
The solution isn’t for evangelicals to abandon ship and embrace some entirely different system. The solution is synergy. A bringing together of the reverence of the ancient Church with the passion and fire of evangelicalism.
Brandon Spain: This is so important.
Greg Gordon: Exactly. And that’s why I love what you guys mentioned earlier about the small-e ecumenism—the idea that we need to work toward unity within the Church. This isn’t just a nice idea—it’s a necessity.
Think about John 17, where Jesus prays for His disciples:
"I pray that they may be one, just as you, Father, are in me and I in you. May they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you sent me." (John 17:21)
How will the world know that we belong to Christ? Through unity. Through koinonia—deep, spiritual fellowship. That unity is crucial for the Church to fulfill its mission.
Even within charismatic circles, I’m seeing this shift. Lou Engle recently called for a revival of the Lord’s Supper, saying that restoring communion to a central place in worship will be a huge unifying factor for the Church. And it’s not just him—churches like Bethel and other major charismatic movements are talking about this.
Every part of the Church—whether it’s high liturgy, low church, hyper-charismatic, or Baptist—is sensing the need to return to something deeper.
That’s what St. Thomas Church is about. If you look at our logo, it’s a shattered stained-glass window. That’s intentional. It symbolizes the brokenness of the Church—scattered, different in expression—but still unified.
Personally, I’ve drawn a lot of inspiration from the Moravians. Count Zinzendorf, their leader, had this powerful vision that in every Christian tradition, there is a precious jewel of doctrine that should be honored.
Brandon Spain: That’s a new idea to a lot of people.
Greg Gordon: Right. His approach was to find what was beautiful in every tradition and elevate it. And that’s exactly the kind of thinking we need today.
Instead of dividing, we need to learn from one another.
Instead of competing, we need to recognize that we need each other.
Brandon Spain: Yes.
Greg Gordon: The more we do that—the more we embrace humility, learning, and love for one another—the more we’ll grow together in truth.
And we can’t just sit around waiting for everyone else to get on board. We have to start now.
I remember when the charismatic movement had this idea of citywide unity gatherings, where churches from all over would come together for one massive worship event. And the idea was, "This is it—this is the key to revival!"
Brandon Spain: Yeah.
Greg Gordon: But unity isn’t just about coming together for a big worship night. It’s about a deeper theological and spiritual unity—a unity that brings together the passion of evangelicals, the structure of liturgical churches, and the power of the Holy Spirit.
And that—I believe—is what will shape the next great revival.
Greg Gordon: We need to Eucharistically worship the Lord to the fullest extent of what that means. From that, we need to engage in world missions at the greatest level we can. The prayers of the Church are of utmost importance. We need to engage in unified— I would say liturgical—prayers, concerting together.
As the end of the world approaches and defilement and evil rise, it’s like a massive pile of tires on fire. There’s a place in the world where tires are constantly burning, sending up this huge black plume of smoke. That’s how the Lord sees the wickedness of the earth rising before Him. The only thing that satisfies His heart is the prayers of the Church, rising together in unison like incense.
We can all be part of that—confessing the faith once delivered to the saints. When we come together in a congregation, whether in a house church or a cathedral, and we stand and declare, "I believe in God, Maker of heaven and earth,"—when we all confess those words together, something real happens in the spiritual world. That place shines.
Brandon Spain: Yes.
Greg Gordon: There is incense rising, and the place glows like gold.
If we understood the significance of that, I think we would all be in awe. Yes, Bible memorization is important. Reading the Bible is important. All these things we emphasize as evangelicals matter. But we’re missing out on the unified lifting up of the faith once delivered to the saints—raising it before God as a light to the world.
Anthony Delgado: I love that picture of the Church gathered in unison—confessing the Apostles’ Creed or the Nicene Creed. If we take a step back and look at it, maybe through the lens of C.S. Lewis, we would see the demons watching, unable to enter. There’s no opening for them, no deception that can break into that moment of unity and truth. That’s beautiful.
Brandon Spain: That reminds me of that Japanese art—I always forget the name of it—where they take broken pottery and put it back together with gold. It’s more beautiful in its brokenness after being restored. That’s what your logo reminded me of.
Anthony Delgado: Yeah.
Brandon Spain: It’s been put back together after being broken.
I know a woman—just a simple, faithful believer, what I’d call shade tree theology—who once said something that stuck with me. She wondered if maybe part of God’s sovereignty was allowing the Church to be split at different points in history so that, when it comes back together, it would be stronger. Like each part of the Church had to focus on its particular strengths, and then one day, they would be unified again into something greater.
I don’t know if that’s true, but I do know that when we finally stand in the beatific vision, when we are in heaven, it will be all of us—in full unity, in full community.
Anthony Delgado: Yep. Every tribe, every tongue, every people, and every denomination and tradition throughout history—worshiping together in one voice.
Greg Gordon: Yeah.
Anthony Delgado: Really beautiful. Brandon, why don’t we finish up with your last question?
Brandon Spain: Okay. I was just thinking about how, in Israel, worship was always tied to spiritual warfare.
This might be a little fringe, but stay with me. There’s that story—I always forget the guy’s name—the leper who was healed in Israel, then took dirt from the land back with him to Syria.
Greg Gordon: Naaman.
Brandon Spain: That’s it—Naaman.
He physically took dirt from Israel because he understood that place mattered in worship. There’s a real sacramental element to spiritual warfare that we often miss. We tend to Gnosticize it—over-spiritualizing everything instead of recognizing that God works through physical things.
So my question is, how does St. Thomas Church approach the Church Militant, the Church Victorious, and the Christus Victor orientation? How do you exemplify that as a body?
Greg Gordon: No, I think that ties directly into what we were just talking about—how the Church is that bright, shining place as we confess the creeds and proclaim the gospel.
The early Church Fathers fleshed this out clearly—when we gather together, the holy angels surround us. Physically. The angels of God actually come around the worshiping Church.
Scripture alludes to this in several places, but one of the clearest is 1 Corinthians 11. Paul encourages women to cover their heads in worship, because of the angels. That passage is rarely discussed in depth, but the early Church Fathers understood it plainly.
They taught that when the Church gathers, there is an angelic operation happening. The covering of the head was a sacramental action—a visible sign acknowledging the divine activity of God in the worship of the Church.
Brandon Spain: Right.
Greg Gordon: And there’s a deeper layer to it. Why head coverings specifically? My personal belief—one that the early Church Fathers also held—is that it ties back to Eve’s deception in the garden.
Brandon Spain: Genesis 6.
Greg Gordon: Exactly.
Lucifer—the fallen angel of light—deceived Eve. The early Church Fathers connected this to the head covering as a safeguard in worship. It was a sign of submission to God, preventing the angels from being tempted to apostatize again.
In Genesis 6, the sons of God—angelic beings—left their proper place and had relations with the daughters of men. That was a common belief in the early Church. It wasn’t some fringe, modern charismatic idea—it was the mainstream interpretation of the time.
Brandon Spain: Yeah.
Greg Gordon: There was no mystery in this for the early Church. The sisters’ covering was about modesty and maintaining a God-centered focus in worship because the angels actually draw near in a unique way.
This is just my personal opinion—I’m not dogmatic about it—but I think the more we realize that when we pray and corporately gather, there is a spiritual battle happening, the more seriously we’ll take it.
When I first became a believer, I was discipled alone for a year. I attended a Presbyterian church, but most of my spiritual growth happened in my room—day in and day out—praying and reading the Holy Scriptures for hours. I had come from a background of drug dealing and all kinds of things, and I just wanted to be alone with the Lord.
I remember being on my knees before my bed, praying. A few times, something really strange happened. I had this thought in my mind, almost like a vision, and I could see it as if it were real—there was an old radiator behind me, and I sensed a demon sitting on it.
It wasn’t just a vague impression—I felt it. I would use the phrase tripping out back then because of my background, but it was so real that fear came upon me. It happened multiple times—three or four that I can remember—and every time, the fear was so tangible that it distracted me from prayer.
I had to rebuke it and push through in prayer. But for a moment, it would actually stop me.
Years later, I started reading the early Church Fathers and the Desert Fathers and Mothers, and I realized they had the exact same experiences. That blew my mind. I thought, "Maybe that really was happening to me."
I’m not saying I was some special monk in my room, but for a year, I was like a monk—spending hours seeking the Lord. And the spiritual battle was real.
It’s physical in the sense that demons are actual spiritual beings. It’s as real as anything else.
Brandon Spain: Yeah.
Greg Gordon: The problem is that, in the West, we don’t see demons in the same way. You don’t often see people convulsing or demons visibly manifesting. But they are just as real here as they are in Africa or India.
We have to deal with it that way.
I think the Church would actually have more success if we recognized the demonic for what it is.
I know some Catholic traditions still take this seriously. In certain places, priests will walk the perimeter of a neighborhood that is spiritually dark—where there’s a clear demonic stronghold—and they’ll sprinkle holy water as a sacramental act of cleansing.
And some people might dismiss that—"Oh, that’s just Catholic ritual,"—but my question is, what are we doing about it?
Brandon Spain: Right.
Greg Gordon: Are we entering into that warfare?
I remember one time, I was doing a lot of open-air preaching across the U.S. In one particular city, I made a decision—I wasn’t going to preach that night. It was a club district, and I could feel the darkness in the atmosphere.
So instead, I just stood there and prayed quietly.
I wasn’t saying anything aloud, just whispering prayers under my breath. But what happened next shocked me.
I came under such heavy demonic attack.
Usually, when you preach in the open air, you expect hecklers. People throw things, mock you, yell at you—that’s normal. But this was different.
No one could even hear me. I wasn’t wearing a Christian t-shirt. I didn’t have a visible Bible. There was nothing to indicate I was a believer—yet the enemy knew I was praying.
It happened two or three times that night. Each time, I silently prayed, and each time, people around me became agitated.
The enemy did not want prayer happening in that place.
That’s when I realized how real the spiritual war actually is.
In the West, we tend to think of demonic activity as something that affects only individuals—"this person is oppressed, that person needs deliverance,"—but the early Church and Scripture show us that the entire world is a battlefield.
The real battle is not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, powers, and rulers of darkness (Ephesians 6:12).
It’s fine to verbally pray the armor of God from Ephesians 6—I’m not against that—but it needs to be a constant reality in our lives. We need to live with that mindset every day.
I believe if the Church understood this and engaged in the battle, it would become militant in the right way—standing firm in the faith, resisting the enemy.
Even the phrase “the gates of hell shall not prevail against the Church” is offensive as much as it is defensive. The Church is not just withstanding attacks—it’s advancing the Kingdom.
Brandon Spain: Exactly.
Greg Gordon: Look at Israel’s battles in the Old Testament.
The Levites went before the army in battle. The worshipers led the way.
Even in a flawed attempt, when Israel carried the Ark of the Covenant into battle, they understood that worship was part of warfare.
Some Catholic traditions still emphasize this today—how the Eucharist itself is a spiritual weapon.
The more we engage in true worship, the more it sanctifies the world around us.
The Eucharist, for example, is not just a symbolic act—it’s spiritual warfare.
The more it is celebrated across the world, the more light shines in the darkness. It’s pushing back against spiritual forces.
I think if we understood that our sacramental actions actually cause a reaction in the spiritual realm, we would take them much more seriously.
That’s one way the Church can become more militant on earth—by returning to the early Church’s understanding of liturgical worship as spiritual warfare.
That’s what Malachi 1:11 talks about:
"For from the rising of the sun to its setting, my name will be great among the nations, and in every place incense will be offered to my name, a pure offering."
That’s what we are called to do—offer pure worship all over the world, as house churches, as liturgical communities, as believers gathered in unity.
And when the Son of Man returns, He will find faithful worshipers—just like Noah and his family in the ark.
You could think of it as eight people being saved then, and eight hundred million believers standing faithful at the end—in the midst of billions who reject Him.
But God is looking for true worshipers. He is looking for those who will stand firm in love and obedience.
Anthony Delgado: All of those things—it’s not just the same as the order of service in a low church context.
Brandon Spain: Right.
Anthony Delgado: Liturgy is not only a Sunday morning practice; it’s a training ground for daily liturgy. It’s a reference to a way of life—a liturgical way of life—bringing the sacramentalism of corporate worship into the daily lives of believers. In that sense, Ephesians 6 applies to each of us every day. That’s really beautiful.
Brandon Spain: Yeah.
Greg, when you were talking, I had this image—and I’m a Tolkien guy, so bear with me.
It reminded me of Helm’s Deep in The Lord of the Rings—when Aragorn turns to King Théoden and says, “Ride with me.” The Church has been in Helm’s Deep for so long, retreating, holding the line. But there comes a moment when we’re called to ride out in faith.
And as soon as Théoden and Aragorn charge out, Gandalf appears on the ridge with reinforcements.
I think that’s where we’re heading.
And I’ve also wondered—this has gotten me in trouble before, but I’ll say it anyway—if we believed in the power of our liturgies, our sacraments, and our rituals the way Satanists and New Agers believe in theirs, we would see a transformation in the world.
I know that sounds controversial, but it’s true. They have more faith in their so-called benevolent universe—believing it actively responds to them—than we do in Yahweh, the living God.
Anthony Delgado: I don’t think that was controversial at all. You had me worried there for a second!
Gentlemen, I really appreciate your time today. Greg, keep up the great work.
And I want to say this for our listeners—I’ve got my copy of An Ancient Worship Movement right here. This isn’t some publishing venture for Greg—the book is free on Kindle, free in audio in several places, and extremely affordable on Amazon.
I’ll make sure to include links so you guys can check it out. I know Brandon will do the same.
Brandon Spain: Absolutely. Greg, is there anything else you’d like to share—where people can find you, how they can connect?
Greg Gordon: You can find the audio on YouTube as well.
Brandon Spain: Okay, good. I have a feeling there are some ministers out there, like us, who are looking for exactly what you have to offer.
Anthony Delgado: Yeah, we’ll post the link to St. Thomas Church as well, so people can reach out to you there.
Know that we’re praying for you and your ministry. And if you ever have something to share, reach out to me—I’m sure Brandon feels the same way. We’d love to support the work you’re doing and help expand your platform because I know I’ve been really encouraged by it.
Brandon Spain: Me too.
Anthony Delgado: So thank you, Greg, for being here. And Brandon, as always—thank you.
Brandon Spain: Yeah, thank you.
Anthony Delgado: I always appreciate your thoughts.
God bless you both, and may the Lord increase your ministry and your work for the glory of Christ.
Brandon Spain: Amen.
Greg Gordon: Amen.
