Ben Christenson grew up in an Anglican household, attending church services every Sunday, studying at a religious school, and spending summers at a Christian camp. However, the 27-year-old from Fairfax, Virginia, always yearned for a faith with deeper traditions.
“The hard thing about growing up in my church is that there was a lot of change even in my lifetime,” he shared with The Post. “I realized that there really was no way to stop the change.”
He observed as long-standing traditions faded: the robed choir was replaced with a worship band, the stance on female ordination became less defined, and perspectives on LGBT issues evolved.
“All of that stuff was basically fungible, which gave me a sense that the theological commitments are kind of fungible, too,” he noted.
During his college years, Christenson explored various Christian denominations before ultimately embracing one of the most traditional: Orthodox Christianity. In 2022, at 25 years old, he officially converted.
“It seems to me like the mainline denominations are hemorrhaging people,” he observed. “If you still are serious about being a Christian now that there isn’t really as much social status tied up in it, and you want something that has some heft to it, there’s more of an awareness of Orthodoxy than there used to be.”
For Christenson, the faith’s 2,000-year history provides a deep sense of stability. “There is a sense of structure, of continuity … It’s the exact same. It hasn’t changed. It’s not going to change.”
He also believes many Protestants are seeking a more rooted and historically grounded faith, particularly younger generations who live in an era of constant change. “I think there are a lot of Protestants who want a more traditional, grounded, historical faith, and I think for young people especially, it makes sense because so much else in our life is changing all the time.”
Christenson’s experience is not unique. As an increasing number of Protestant churches display Pride flags and Black Lives Matter banners, more young men are gravitating toward traditional worship practices.
A nationwide survey of Orthodox parishes revealed a 78% rise in converts in 2022 compared to pre-pandemic figures from 2019. Historically, men and women converted at roughly equal rates, but since 2020, men have been joining in significantly greater numbers.
Father Josiah Trenham, who has led Saint Andrew’s Orthodox Church in Riverside, California, for nearly 30 years, has seen this trend firsthand. “The last four to five years have been a massive uptick. It’s showing no sign of tapering off. If anything, it’s increasing still … It’s happening massively in untold numbers all over the country.”
His congregation includes around 1,000 active members, and while his church has seen an equal number of male and female converts, he acknowledges that, nationally, the majority of new Orthodox Christians are men.
“The feminization of non-Orthodox forms of Christianity in America has been in high gear for decades,” Trenham noted.
He attributes this to the predominance of women in many Christian congregations and the emotional, performative style of worship often seen in contemporary services—characterized by sentimental songs, raised hands, and closed eyes.
“Men are much less comfortable [in those settings], and they have voted with their feet, which is why they’re minorities in these forms of worship,” he explained. “Our worship forms are very traditional and very masculine.”
That shift is exactly what led Elijah Wee Sit, a 17-year-old from Toronto, to explore Orthodoxy.
“Christianity in North America has become extremely emotional,” said Wee Sit, who was raised Evangelical. “Going to Evangelical worship services, I found it to be like emotionally driven rock concerts, with the lifting up of the hands.”
He was drawn to Orthodoxy’s traditional and disciplined approach, particularly the rigorous prayer and fasting practices.
“The thing that really appealed to me about Orthodoxy is how static it was and how steadfast it is,” he explained. “I generally do prefer something that is more traditional and really has that ancient feel to it.”
Wee Sit is currently taking catechism classes and plans to convert before graduating high school. Though his father, a Filipino immigrant, initially had concerns, he has been supportive—driving his son 25 minutes each Sunday so he can attend St. George Orthodox Church.
“Modern Christianity … has become very watered down,” Wee Sit remarked. “People go to church on Sunday, they sing a few songs, they listen to an hour-long sermon that seems more like a TED talk, and then they go home, and they just go on with their lives.”
Zachary Porcu, 36, serves as a catechist at Trenham’s church, guiding new members through the conversion process. He currently teaches more than 100 prospective converts, and among them, there’s always “a little clique of young men.”
He credits the internet for playing a significant role in Orthodoxy’s growing appeal. “Internet Orthodoxy is a recognized phenomenon … We get people who come in all the time who are like, ‘I was on the internet arguing with people, and I discovered Orthodoxy and I found your church.’”
A theology professor who converted at 24, Porcu understands why the faith resonates with young men. “Orthodoxy is a call to adventure because it asks you to fast, to pray, to do all these physical things, to do this journey of self-improvement that I think can be contextualized into a very masculine, appealing dimension.”
Psychologist and author Jordan Peterson, who has built a large following among young men, has also observed this shift toward Orthodoxy. He believes part of the appeal lies in its deeply rooted traditions.
“Unlike a Protestant service, which is much more dependent on the preacher, you can’t criticize an Orthodox service. It’s like going to a ballet and saying, like, ‘What’s going on here?’ Well, that’s a stupid question,” Peterson explained.
“[A ballet is] the same thing as an Orthodox ceremony. It’s ritualized. It’s a dance. And it’s not the words only. It’s the words in the architecture, in the images, in the history. And you’re participating in it.”
Bailey Mullins, 26, was raised Baptist in South Carolina.
As he progressed through high school and college, he became increasingly unsettled by the way mainline denominations were splintering into conservative and liberal factions, often prioritizing political debates over theological principles.
A religion class with an Orthodox professor piqued his curiosity, leading him to attend his first liturgy at 21. Two years later, he converted.
“I wanted to be somewhere that was stable and that wasn’t going to change,” he explained. “It felt very ancient, and that was not something I’d experienced elsewhere.”
Now a graphic designer living in Alexandria, Tennessee, Mullins believes Orthodoxy is gaining traction among young men because of its inherently masculine nature.
“One might say Orthodoxy itself is more masculine, especially when compared to the more feminized forms of Christianity that exist today where the emphasis is on emotional experience, feeling good, and appealing to the self,” he said.
“Orthodoxy isn’t about us, it’s about God, and I think young people today can intuitively sense that out. We know when we’re being pandered to.”
