The Poison of Piety: Why Pastors Must Fight in the Digital Public Square

Preface

King’s Way Reformed Church is a unique congregation, not because of its doctrine, but because of how it was founded and how it has grown. Most churches are built primarily from the surrounding local population. In contrast, at the time of this writing, roughly 90% of our congregation consists of families who relocated here from other states, regions, and even countries.

Why does this matter? Because our church—like many modern churches—is shaped not only by local life in Prescott, but also by my public ministry and online presence. For many of our member families, social media was not only how they discovered King’s Way, but a decisive factor in their decision to relocate their families to join our congregation. That reality makes it important for both long-standing members and newcomers to understand the role online ministry plays in shaping our church’s culture and mission.

This article is written primarily for our congregation, but I expect it will also be helpful to other Christians and pastors wrestling with similar questions—especially as online ministry becomes increasingly unavoidable, increasingly influential, and increasingly misunderstood.

The Poison of Piety

Over the past several years—particularly as conversations around Christian Nationalism and cultural engagement have intensified online—I have repeatedly heard comments like: “Dale, you don’t talk about Christ enough,” or “You’re too focused on culture and politics—aren’t you a pastor?” or “Why don’t you just stick to Scripture?”

What is really being expressed is the belief that pastors should be confined to cultivating inward devotion in other Christians, not speaking to the matters of politics, current events, social order, or law. I believe this position is mistaken because it is grounded in a modern pietistic framework (which I will define in a moment) rather than the historic teaching and practice of the church.

So, what is the proper role of today’s pastor? How has pietism conditioned Christians to view online ministry and public engagement with suspicion? Is fighting in the ideological public square frivolous or unnecessary? Should pastors simply “stay in their lane?” Or is this resistance evidence of a Christianity so inwardly focused that it can no longer recognize its public obligations?

I believe it’s the latter and here is why: Since 1950, American Christianity has been shaped by forces that have slowly crippled our ability to speak Christ’s authority into all areas of life. And if this trajectory continues, the church will not merely retreat—it will be ruled.

But what are those forces?

Primarily they are the results that stem from modern piety, which in this context, is the discipline of personal devotion and spirituality. Piety is largely internal. It is that part of Christianity treated as a one-on-one exercise, measured by private habits and validated by emotional experience. This is the air we grew up in and is the central framework through which many modern Christians have been taught to understand faithfulness.

Brandon Wood recently spoke about his experience with modern piety in a social media post saying:

“I was 29 when I converted. The Young, Restless and Reformed Movement was in full swing. (It was 2010). I can honestly say much of my 30s were spent hyper-focused on self, making sure I repented enough, completely focused on personal piety. Sermon jams from Paul Washer and Matt Chandler kept the intense focus on my inner walk the primary focus. Driscoll screaming at the men only made me think he was even cooler. We were fighting the good fight. Nominalism was everywhere. We were at war with the Sinner’s Prayer and Rick Warren. But all we were given was the pietism of the Puritans, not their whole life and political views. Everything was out of balance. Many were lost. You 20 and 30 somethings, don’t make the same mistakes we did. I’m encouraged by what I’m seeing.”

An older gentlemen responded saying:

“I learned about Pietism from my mentor when I was 24 as he introduced me to Reformed theology. I was born-again into a fundamentalist type of Christianity that was full-on Pietistic. I didn’t realize for a long time that it infected Reformed Christians as well, including me! Learning about the poison of Pietism, not only on a personal but on a societal level, has been a revelation for me.”

Now, I want you to pay close attention to Brandon’s statement, “Nominalism was everywhere,” because it is essential for understanding how the modern piety movement was born. Prior to the 1950s, many Christians would have described church life as stuffy, rote, monotonous, dead, and passionless. People attended church, but many had not truly come to Christ.

In response, Baby Boomer Christians coming of age during the rebellious 1960s launched a corrective effort aimed at revival. This impulse gave rise to the “Jesus Movement” and a broader attempt to root out nominal Christianity by emphasizing personal conversion, emotional experience, and inward sincerity. Over time, this approach intensified and reached its peak in megachurch culture—marked by the rise of charismatic movements, altar calls, emotionally driven worship, and the church growth movement.

Ultimately, modern piety represents a pendulum swing away from what was interpreted as “spiritual dryness.” But like all overcorrections, it introduced new imbalances of its own.

To offer more historical context, if the Enlightenment of the 18^th and 19^th centuries declared, “If I can’t rationalize it, it isn’t true,” the modern piety movement of the 20^th century declares, “If I don’t feel it, it isn’t true.”

That is why we all used phrases like, “It’s not a religion, it’s a relationship,” or “You need to have a personal relationship with Jesus” or “Have you accepted Jesus into your heart?” or “I was baptized again because the first one didn’t feel right,” or “I don’t like this church because I’m just not feeling fed.” All of these are ways to elevate emotional resonance above objective value.

However, when one point is elevated, another is pushed down. This subjectiveness ignited the reduction of the objective sacraments, prayer, praise, and preaching from their historical station and made them into experiences that must be personally validated in order to be effective. Baptism was no longer believed to do something unless it felt meaningful. The Lord’s Supper was emptied of substance unless it stirred emotion. Singing praise and hearing the Word preached were treated as ineffective unless the hearer felt moved.

Ultimately, we traded divine power for emotional metrics, and in doing so, we have trained the church to trust its feelings more than God’s appointed and objective means of grace. As a result, we have produced an increasingly transient church—one that is constantly moving, constantly searching, and constantly looking for a place that will validate their ever-shifting emotions.

Prior to the rise of modern pietism, the average churchgoer remained in the same congregation for decades, often for life. This is why churches had graveyards—they hosted families for generations. Today, the average tenure is measured in just a few years, sometimes less. People no longer leave primarily over doctrine or church discipline, but over secondary and even trivial matters: they didn’t like the music, or the children’s program, or the tone, or they didn’t “feel connected” with the congregation.  

The liturgy, the preaching of the Word, the administration of the sacraments, and pastoral prayer were no longer sufficient. They must be supplemented by novelty experiences, small groups and programs, constant relational affirmation, and anything that upholds emotional resonance.

This is exhausting for pastors.

It’s similar to what has happened in modern secular marriages. There was a time when it was enough for a man to love his wife, provide for her, clothe her, give her children, and maintain a home. Those were considered substantive, objective goods. Today, those are no longer sufficient. Now the husband must also meet an ever-expanding list of emotional and lifestyle demands—earn a certain income, wash the dishes and his own laundry, fund an annual vacation and his wife’s beauty habits, and constantly validate her feelings.

Emotionalism is a disease that shifts the standard from objective faithfulness to subjective satisfaction. And once feelings become the measure, nothing is ever enough—for marriages or for churches.

This is where Rome has exposed a Protestant weakness. While Roman Catholicism is wrong on many things, it has not been infected with pietism in the same way as Protestants. For Rome, the Church and the sacraments possess objective value. They are not dependent on mood, preference, personality, or emotional experience. The Mass is not validated by how it feels. The Church is not evaluated by how entertaining it is. The sacraments are not reduced to symbols that must be emotionally confirmed to “work.”

By contrast, much of modern Protestantism has trained people to not ask, “Is this true?” or “Is this faithful?” but “Did this meet my needs?” and “How did it make me feel?” And once those questions become primary, staying power disappears, loyalty erodes through emotional conflict, and the church becomes a revolving door.

Ultimately, a church built on feelings will always be unstable because emotions are unstable. But a church built on the objective nature of worship resting on the sufficiency of the Word of God will endure.

Piety to Paideia

It is this shift from objective to subjective that has shifted American Christianity from a robust, masculine, world-conquering faith into something sentimental, effeminate, and inward—strong on feelings, weak on authority; fluent in introspection, silent on dominion.

This inward turn has also confused the purpose of the church. Biblical piety is good and necessary, but piety alone is not sufficient. Therefore, when I, as a pastor, speak publicly about issues beyond personal piety (politics, nationalism, white guilt, immigration, feminism, women voting, etc.), it is often treated as if I have stepped outside my calling.

Because if my duty as a pastor is to primarily nurture piety, what value is there in speaking on politics? But God does not call Christians merely to piety; He also calls us to paideia. Paideia is the Greek term for formation and instruction—it refers to the cultivation and implantation of a distinctly Christian worldview. It is the work of bringing the rule of Christ to bear on every sphere of life: economics, law, media, art, architecture, civics, education, and more.

The Great Commission makes this explicit: “teaching the nations to obey all that I have commanded you.” Jesus—and His apostles—gave commands on topics beyond personal piety. They discuss taxation, government, nationalism, modesty, education, patriarchy, and more. Christianity was never intended to be a private spiritual experience. It is a totalizing faith that speaks truth into every arena.

It was Abraham Kuyper who famously said:

“There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry, ‘Mine!’”

It is the recent privatization of Christianity—rooted heavily in a distorted understanding of the separation of church and state—that has brought us to our present condition. While Christians have restricted themselves to personal piety, the liberals have not, the Muslims have not, the Hindus have not, the homosexuals and feminists have not.  

This is why a minority of liberals and pagan immigrants have gained disproportionate cultural and political power. Why? because unlike modern Christians, they did not retreat inward. Let me explain: for those who do not serve Christ and do not build families, politics becomes their religion, and ideological coalitions become their substitute family.

They organize, mobilize, and take over school boards, city councils, libraries, and institutions. So, while you are worshiping Christ and raising your children in a pietistic framework, they are actively working to reshape the culture that will govern your family’s future.

So yes—as a pastor, my focus must be the piety of the flock. But that piety is primarily cultivated in weekly worship: the liturgy of the church, the preaching of the Word, and the sacraments.

But pastoral faithfulness does not stop at piety.

I must also engage in paideia—bringing the lordship of Christ to bear on all of life—through local and online teaching, public witness, and living as an example before the flock. Interestingly, few would object if their pastor were doing what pastors have always done—standing in the town square, debating publicly, and confronting the cultural issues on the courthouse steps.

The only difference now is that the town square has moved. It is no longer physical; it is digital. Even the people who are physically there are more connected to their phones than they are the ground they stand on. As much as one may desire to evangelize in a literal public square, it is simply no longer the most effective forum. In my own case—admittedly amplified by my platform size—four hours of in-person outreach might reach 28 people, while four hours of strategic online posting might reach 280,000 people.

In fact, early on, our church did regular downtown outreach on the weekends, we entered local parades, had a booth at the county fair, we spent hundreds on doorhangers and knocked doors, we even bought thousands of dollars in local radio ads. Out of all that effort, we’ve only seen one visitor.

On the other hand, social media has directly resulted in new families discovering our ministry and relocating to Prescott over and over again. This does not mean local outreach is unimportant. We should sing psalms publicly, host men’s meetings in public spaces, and attend community events when possible. We should carol during Christmastime and evangelize whenever possible. But the results do testify to the supremacy, power, and importance of social media ministry for contemporary churches.

When Men Vacate the Digital Front

If I could sum up my argument thus far: Piety alone does not see the value of social media; but paideia does. If ministry and Christianity are only about strengthening private devotion, personal experiences with Jesus, and discipleship to achieve those ends, then Christians will not understand why a pastor is speaking about mass deportations, black crime, or interracial marriage. Those topics seem political, distracting, or beneath the calling of a churchman.

But if ministry is about piety that produces paideia—where the aim is to help society conform to Christian wisdom and bring the rule of Christ to every sphere of life—then these online conversations are not optional. They are necessary. Any religion that refuses to speak where power, order, and influence are formed will, in time, be ruled by those that are willing to speak there. This is exactly what has happened. Liberals, Christless conservatives, godless political pundits, and everyone in between rushed into social media and captured the attention and minds of millions—including many Christians—while pastors, clinging to a narrow view of piety, largely stayed silent, believing engagement in these spaces was not their responsibility.

But more than that, when Christians refuse to speak into the arenas where power, order, and influence are being shaped, they leave those under that influence with no Christian perspective. For example, a Christian woman might see an online influencer promoting egalitarianism or watch nationwide riots unfold after a high-profile shooting involving law enforcement. If her pastors refuse to speak into these issues, she is forced to look for answers from those who are—and those answers may not come from a sound Christian worldview. In other words, pastors abdicating the very spaces where their people’s minds and loyalties are being formed is not neutral—it cedes the ground to rival voices whose values will shape how their people think.

Today, nearly three-quarters of Americans are active on social media, meaning much of culture, law, politics, theology, and worldview is formed online first before it ever reaches town halls, churches, legislature, courtrooms, or dinner tables.

Ultimately, the internet does not merely reflect culture; it actively creates it.

And who is most active on these platforms? Women. Women are more likely than men to use social media and they also spend more time online overall. This matters for pastors because many of their female members are often being shaped digitally before they are shaped locally. When pastors (or husbands and fathers) withdraw from social media—or dismiss it out of frustration, fear of risk, or concern over time—they leave the ideas their flock is consuming uncontested, allowing destructive narratives and false doctrine to spread unchecked.

Part of the pastoral calling is to teach, contend, and wage war against spiritual forces (Jude 1:3). John Calvin famously observed that:

“A pastor must have two voices: one for gathering the sheep, and another for driving away the wolves.”

Jesus Himself modeled this distinction. The way He addressed the pagan public square was often sharp, confrontational, strategic, and provocative. But the way He spoke to His flock was clear, patient, gentle, and restorative.

Pastors and parishioners alike must grasp this distinction and be at peace with it. The harshness required to confront pagan error in the public square is not cruelty—it is clarity. And it must not be confused with how shepherds speak to the sheep. When Christians demand the tone reserved for the flock be used on wolves, they do not promote love; they undermine truth and disarm the Church in the very arenas where deception thrives.

Acts 20:28–31 commands pastors, “Pay careful attention to yourselves and to all the flock… I know that after my departure fierce wolves will come in among you, not sparing the flock… Therefore be alert.”

2 Corinthians 10:3–5 says of church leaders, “For though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh… We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God.”

Titus 1:9–11 says of the qualified pastor, “He must be able to give instruction in sound doctrine and also to rebuke those who contradict it… They must be silenced.”

In a digital age, restricting pastoral warfare to pulpits and classrooms is like a shepherd guarding the pen at night while wolves ravage the flock in the open field by day. Faithful shepherds go where the sheep are grazing, where danger is present, and where voices are already speaking. Today, that field is primarily online. If pastors refuse to contend there, we do not preserve faithfulness; we forfeit our voice. And in doing so, we surrender the shaping of an entire generation’s understanding of truth, authority, and the lordship of Christ to those who are more than willing to speak in our place.

Conclusion

The answer, then, is not less piety but more rightly ordered piety—piety that produces paideia. True devotion to Christ does not retreat from the world; it advances into it. The church was never called to be a monastery hiding from history, but an embassy declaring Christ’s rule in real time. If the digital world is where minds are being formed, loyalties shaped, and authority contested, then that is where Christian pastors (and men) must contend.

Silence is not neutrality; it is surrender. The future will not be shaped by those who feel most deeply, but by those who speak most clearly. And if Christ truly is Lord of all, then no space—physical or digital—lies outside His claim or beneath the responsibility of those called to serve Him.