Just recently, ChinaSource published a thoughtful reflection titled “Standing in the True Light,”1 which describes Chinese believers’ surprising draw toward the ancient liturgical traditions of Eastern Orthodoxy. Their stories resonate deeply with what I have witnessed over the past five years of researching global Chinese churches where a quiet, yet steady shift has been taking place. Over recent decades, although Pentecostal and Reformed movements have also made their mark, evangelical churches have remained the largest segment of Chinese Christianity globally. Yet beneath this broad evangelical umbrella, there is an emergent generation who finds the familiar cycle of praise songs, expositional Bible studies, and outreach activities insufficient to satisfy their deepest spiritual longings. To be sure, “Mark” featured in “Standing in the True Light” is far from alone. More have stepped away from the evangelical fold—some becoming ex-Protestants—and begun looking eastward toward Orthodox traditions.
In the last 12 months, I conducted in-depth interviews with seven individuals who are now “looking East”—turning toward Orthodox tradition to explore deeper liturgical and spiritual practices. My aim was to trace their faith trajectories and understand the underlying motivations behind their journeys. What emerged from these conversations was not only a collection of personal stories, but also evidence of a broader movement calling for recovering the historical dimensions that their evangelical contexts have often overlooked.
From Curiosity to Commitment: Why Some Evangelicals Turn to the East
The seven individuals I interviewed—all of whom have either embraced or actively explored Orthodoxy—share a strikingly similar profile. All are theologically trained and hold advanced degrees; five have doctorates, and the other two hold master’s degrees, most from Western universities or seminaries. All aged under 45, their Christian formation took place primarily within evangelical contexts during the past few decades within that tradition—and eventually, from its perceived limits.
Across their stories, one clear trend emerges: their interest in the Eastern Church did not begin with dissatisfaction, but with curiosity. For David, who is currently completing his PhD in Physics at Oxford University, it started in his teenage years with a fascination for medieval European culture and church architecture, which evolved into a scholarly interest in church history and the writings of the Church Fathers. In his own evangelical experience, however, he noticed that references to early Christian texts were extremely rare—and often treated as peripheral or even irrelevant. “I never heard people talk about Irenaeus or Gregory of Nazianzus,” he said. “If anything, these names were absent from our theology altogether. Chinese churches do not seem to care about that history at all.”
This gap was felt by others as well. Justin, a recent Orthodox convert who once served as a youth pastor in a Chinese church in England, recalled how his passion for theology led him to discover the Alexandrian fathers through academic study. His exposure to both Reformed theology and high church Anglican liturgy helped him appreciate structure, depth, and historical rootedness. Yet he found that many Protestant contexts had little space for what he called the “cosmic and sacramental dimensions” of the Christian faith. “There was a deep dissonance between the beauty I found in the writings of the early church and the functional pragmatism of much evangelical church life,” he said.
For Sarah, the shift began in an academic context. While completing her graduate studies in the US, she encountered Byzantine Christian traditions through a cross-national research project. As someone who had long served in evangelical churches in Taiwan, she was struck by the fact that large parts of Christian history—including entire Eastern traditions—were simply absent from the consciousness of Chinese Christians. What began as a historical investigation slowly became a personal spiritual journey. “I had no intention of changing my ecclesial identity,” she reflected, “until one day I sensed that what the Eastern Church preserved—its silence, solitude, and practices of prayer, things so often forgotten in many Protestant churches in Taiwan—truly led me to experience the presence of God in the depths of my soul.”
Yet none of them made the leap quickly. The path from curiosity to commitment was gradual and often difficult. For some, conversion to Orthodoxy came only after years of wrestling, seeking, and cautious testing of spiritual fruit. For others, the journey continues from within the evangelical tradition. One interviewee now translates and teaches early Christian texts in hopes of enriching the theological vocabulary of his own community.
It is worth mentioning that a couple of the interviewees remain in an undefined space: immersed in Orthodox theology, shaped by Orthodox prayer, but still navigating how this encounter might serve the Chinese church, whether in mainland China, Taiwan, or diasporic contexts, without requiring personal departure. Social capital is the key. Because many of them have spent years building relationships within Chinese evangelical communities, the decision to openly convert carries a heavy emotional and relational cost. Just like Mark in the other story, they worry about losing networks they deeply cherish—networks of friendship, trust, and shared service that smaller Orthodox communities, especially within the Chinese context, are often unable to replace.
Between Two Worlds
What does it look like to live out a spiritual life after stepping beyond the boundaries of the Chinese evangelical world? The individuals I spoke with offered different answers. Some now participate fully in Orthodox liturgical life, while others maintain a hybrid spiritual rhythm—combining elements from both traditions in ways that reflect the complexity of their journeys.
Justin, for instance, has fully embraced the Orthodox Church in China. He now regularly attends Orthodox liturgy, receives the sacraments, and follows the rhythm of the liturgical calendar. He describes the experience as one of “spiritual reordering”—where fixed prayers, fasting, and iconography gradually recalibrate his sense of time and prayer. “In evangelicalism,” he explained, “devotion was often spontaneous or reactive. In Orthodoxy, it is habitual and formational. I do not wait to feel spiritual before I pray. Instead, I submit into prayer and am formed by it.”
David’s and Sarah’s, by contrast, have chosen to remain within evangelicalism while drawing deeply from Orthodox and patristic sources. Though they do not attend Orthodox liturgies regularly, they incorporate Eastern Christian prayer practices into their personal devotion—such as the Jesus Prayer and readings from the Church Fathers. They also share these resources through voluntary translation work and teaching during their spare time.
It is Ephrem, however, whose work most explicitly embodies the role of bridge-builder. A PhD Candidate (focusing on the Church of the East in the Turfan area) at The School of Oriental and African Studies in London, he has devoted himself to introducing the riches of Eastern Christianity to the Chinese-speaking world—through translation, public scholarship, and theological engagement, most of which are open access, free resources.
Ephrem is one of the co-founders of Light from the East (光从东方来)2, an initiative that seeks to make patristic theology and Orthodox tradition accessible to Chinese Christians. What began as a personal research interest during his graduate studies at an Orthodox theological school in the US slowly grew into a more public calling. “I realized that entire sections of Christian tradition were simply absent from our imagination,” he said. “The early ecumenical councils, the Cappadocian Fathers, the Byzantine tradition—they do not exist in most Chinese Christian curricula. And yet they are part of the church’s story, and therefore part of our story too.”
Light from the East is not a proselytizing platform. Rather, its goal is to create space for Chinese Christians—especially those in theologically engaged circles—to encounter voices from the ancient church that have long been neglected. Through translating key texts, hosting lectures, and curating reading guides, Ephrem and his team have introduced figures like Maximus the Confessor and John of Damascus to a new audience. Importantly, they do this without demanding any ecclesial outcome. “We are not in the business of recruiting for Orthodoxy,” Ephrem insists. “We are building theological awareness. We want to invite evangelicals into a deeper, wider understanding of the faith—not necessarily into another denomination.”
Responses to the project have been mixed. Among younger, academically engaged Christians—especially those with exposure to global theological conversations—Light from the East has generated curiosity and gratitude. For some, it has even planted seeds for a deeper exploration of Orthodoxy. But among more traditional evangelical circles, Ephrem has occasionally encountered suspicion. “Some people assume we have a hidden agenda,” he noted, “but often that is rooted in unfamiliarity. When a tradition has been invisible for so long, its sudden appearance can feel like a threat.”
Still, Ephrem sees the work as a long-term investment in theological depth for the Chinese church. He envisions a future where young Chinese Christians can engage Basil the Great or Gregory of Nazianzus with the same ease as they now read Tim Keller or John Stott. For him, this is not about shifting church identity but about expanding the spiritual imagination of a generation. “Even if someone remains evangelical their whole life,” he said, “they can still pray with the early church, think with the Fathers, and worship with the saints across the centuries.”
Reflections from the East
As part of our conversation, I invited each of them to reflect on their evangelical background and to share how, if at all, the Orthodox tradition might offer a blessing to the Chinese evangelical church.
For those who have turned eastward, whether through full conversion or deep engagement, Orthodoxy has not simply offered a new spiritual home—it has also provided a mirror, through which they now see their evangelical roots with both greater clarity and deeper longing. While each person I interviewed retains a unique story and theological nuance, they converge in one conviction: the Orthodox tradition has something meaningful to offer Chinese evangelical churches—not necessarily as a replacement, but as a resource for reflection and renewal.
They were not looking to entirely reject the evangelical past, but found themselves drawn toward Orthodoxy, which resonates with Mark’s reflections in “Standing in the True Light.” Two pathways are particularly important: a deeper connection to the early church and a more integrated vision of spiritual transformation.
The first is the gift of historical rootedness. Several interviewees described how their first encounter with the early Church Fathers or the early ecumenical councils opened a window into a theological and spiritual world that felt both ancient and alive. For many Chinese evangelicals, church history often leaps from the New Testament directly to the Reformation. In contrast, Orthodoxy sustains a living continuity with the first millennium of Christian faith. I believe my interviewees would agree with Mark’s note in the other article, “a lot of the practices and beliefs of the Orthodox Church are in continuity with what the early church believed and practiced.” For them, this continuity doesn’t merely offer information—it creates a sense of grounding, reminding believers that they are part of something far older and larger than what is in our specific denominational boundaries.
Second, Orthodoxy speaks deeply to the desire for spiritual formation. Many of those I interviewed described how the fast pace of evangelical ministry, while fruitful in outreach, often left little space for practices that nurture inner transformation. In contrast, Orthodox spirituality emphasizes slow, sustained formation—through silence, prayer, fasting, and the humble repetition of practices like the Jesus Prayer. Sarah described this shift as transformative: “Orthodoxy reordered my spiritual life—it taught me to pray before I feel ready, and to be formed through habit, not just emotion.” Especially for those who remain within evangelical boundaries like Sarah and David, what they found in the Orthodox tradition was not an invitation to a form of “theological syncretism,” but a way to renew and reshape the daily practice of faith: patterns of prayer, stillness, and reflection that deepen, rather than dilute, their evangelical convictions.
Conclusion
What is most interesting about the spiritual hunger described in this article is that it is emerging from a remarkably homogeneous population. They are young, intellectual, theologically trained, and rooted in Chinese evangelical churches—yet their journeys have led them to seek wisdom beyond the tradition that first formed them.
The fact that this shift comes from such a focused and spiritually serious cohort should prompt other evangelical and Protestant Chinese church leaders to pay attention. Again, these journeys are not arguments for departure—they are invitations to reflect. They ask whether Chinese churches are offering believers not just truth to affirm, but patterns of life that endure. And whether there is space for a church culture that can connect believers not only to Scripture, but to the historical roots of the Catholic Church across time.
Editor’s note: Our thanks to the author for providing the Chinese version of this article.
- Andrea Lee, “Standing in the True Light,” ChinaSource, May 5, 2025, accessed May 27, 2025, https://chinasource.org/resource-library/blog-entries/standing-in-the-true-light/.
- Light from the East (光从东方来), YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/@gcdfl, accessed May 27, 2025.
