Who is The Lowly Herald?

Welcome to TheLowlyHerald.com, a landing page for my theological essays, original music, and podcasts. This blog serves as an introduction to ‘The Lowly Herald’ for those who don’t know me or haven’t connected with me in some time.

My name is Ryan Stanley. I am a Christian, husband, father of three, musician, writer, and the founding pastor of Harbinger Gospel Church in Nashville, TN. With multiplication as our mission, Harbinger is a unique house-church model developed to grow into a larger house-church network. Both personally and as a church, one of our paramount pillars is the pursuit of ecumenism—full unity and fellowship with the Body of Christ. This unity serves as my guiding light and informs most of my decisions.

Protestant Christians should share warm fellowship with Roman Catholics and Orthodox Christians. Since my background is Protestant, one of my life goals is to help fellow Protestants understand the ancient faith more fully and to bridge denominational gaps through encouragement, exhortation, and education. Unlike many house-church models that may function with minimal structure, Harbinger is liturgically rich and deeply rooted in the broader ancient Christian tradition. Centered on the Eucharist, our liturgy draws from diverse Christian worship traditions: the Apostle’s Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, the Revised Common Lectionary, the Anglican consecration of the Eucharist, the Orthodox Litany of Peace, and original writings. My deepest hope is that any Christian would feel at home worshipping with us.

My religious experience in childhood likely mirrors that of many American evangelicals. I grew up in what I would call a Christian-adjacent familial culture—Jesus was mentioned occasionally, and we attended church sporadically, but He was an afterthought if He was a thought at all. There was no spiritual formation, no regular Scripture reading, no consistent prayer, no familial rhythms of repentance. Throughout my childhood and teenage years, I was agnostic and rebellious. In hindsight, with a heavy heart, I see that for much of my life I was a very difficult person to love, to parent, to teach, to befriend. I held authority figures in low regard, was deeply disrespectful, selfish, arrogant, and prideful.

Though I struggle with precise dates, I recall that in my late teens, I began attending a Pentecostal church an hour from home with my best friend and his family. There, I experienced what I now recognize as both God’s prevenient and intentional grace, wooing me and calling me to follow Him. While my life didn’t change dramatically at first, I found myself, for the first time, unquenchably interested in Jesus and unable to escape thoughts of Him.

At 20, I started attending a local Wesleyan church, and at 21, I confessed my faith and was baptized by the honorable Rev. Kevin Pees, who would later invest selflessly in mentoring me. To this day, I think the world of Rev. Pees and aspire to be half the man of God he is. Glory to God. During this season, I was also blessed to be part of an intimate, tight-knit charismatic family of believers. This community proved incredibly formative as God used it to accelerate my growth in holiness and love for both Him and neighbor.

At 24, I married my incredible bride and moved to Nashville, TN to start our family. We joined a nondenominational Acts 29 church that was, for all intents and purposes, Reformed Baptist. During this season, I became a serious student of Calvinism and Reformed doctrine. I was loved, mentored, and trained in pastoral ministry by Pastor Jeremy Rose, who remains my hero in the faith, my favorite preacher, and whom I lovingly consider my big brother in Christ.

At 32, Pastor Jeremy and the church elders ordained me for pastoral ministry and commissioned me to plant what is now Harbinger Gospel Church.

As I’ve actively pursued my vision of ecumenism, I’ve begun integrating teachings from the Church Fathers into my sermons, sharing insights from Orthodox and Catholic saints, priests, and monastics. Recently, my wife Bekah made a lighthearted observation: “People are going to start to think you’re Catholic.” I responded with a laugh, saying, “I don’t care what people think.” But as I reflected on that moment, I realized this wasn’t entirely true. How can one genuinely care for people while simultaneously dismissing their thoughts and concerns? This reflection has prompted me to share my recent spiritual journey—one that has led me deeper into the heart of Christ and the richness of His Church’s history.

The Difference Between Knowing About and Knowing

Consider this analogy: A brilliant scholar might dedicate years to studying the Amazon rainforest, eventually earning a doctorate in Amazonian studies, all without ever setting foot in the jungle. Their knowledge, while accurate and comprehensive, remains theoretical—divorced from lived experience.

In contrast, consider an elder from the Yanomami tribe who has spent their entire life within the rainforest. They can read the coming rain in the feeling of the soil beneath their feet and sense approaching predators through subtle changes in the forest’s rhythm. Their knowledge isn’t just academic—it’s embodied, experiential, alive.

This contrast illuminates a profound truth I encountered near the end of my almost decade-long journey as a Reformed Protestant Christian: while I had accumulated vast knowledge about Jesus, I didn’t truly know Him. My relationship with Christ was primarily theoretical and theological rather than experiential and transformative. This realization, once it broke through to my consciousness, was both devastating and catalyzing. I knew enough about Jesus to understand that merely knowing about Him could never be enough. I needed to know Him—to experience Him in the depths of my being.

My Personal Errors with Systematic Theology

As I examined my spiritual life, I discovered that one of my greatest obstacles had become, paradoxically, my relationship with systematic theology. While systematic theology serves as an invaluable tool for understanding God’s truth—helping us grasp the coherent whole of divine revelation—I had unconsciously distorted its proper role. Instead of using it as a framework to organize biblical truth, I had begun prioritizing the maintenance of my theological system over genuine encounters with the living God.

When reading Scripture, I wasn’t allowing the text to speak directly to my heart; instead, I was filtering everything through my predetermined theological framework. When confronted with spiritual questions or challenges, my first instinct wasn’t to ask, “What does God reveal through His Word?” but rather, “How can I make this fit within my existing theological structure?” This approach, while intellectually satisfying, was spiritually stifling.

Looking back, I recognize the gentle guidance of the Holy Spirit in helping me identify this imbalance and giving me the courage to adjust my approach. Once I saw this pattern, I knew I needed to restore systematic theology to its proper place—as a servant of biblical truth rather than its master. The goal wasn’t to abandon systematic understanding, but to ensure it remained in humble submission to Scripture and open to the Spirit’s illumination.

As Augustine wisely observed, we must seek to understand in order to believe, and believe in order to understand. This dynamic relationship between faith and understanding became my new paradigm, allowing me to maintain theological rigor while remaining open to the mysterious depths of divine truth.

Rediscovering Ancient Truths

I embarked on a journey to approach Scripture with fresh eyes, deliberately setting aside my theological presuppositions. After months of studying in this way, I began forming new conclusions—many of which diverged significantly from my previous Reformed understanding. This deviation was deeply unsettling at first, and I worried about straying into heresy.

Seeking validation, I began researching these new insights, only to discover something remarkable: these weren’t new interpretations at all, but ancient truths that have reverberated through two millennia of church history. I found these same understandings beautifully articulated in the writings of the Church Fathers and preserved in both Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic traditions.

While I had some familiarity with Catholicism, the Orthodox Church was largely unknown to me. Most of my knowledge of church history barely extended beyond the Reformation. Delving deeper into Christian antiquity opened up an entirely new world of spiritual insight and practice. I discovered we can trace an unbroken line of Christian teaching and experience from the apostles through their disciples and onward, creating a living chain of faith reaching back to its purest expressions.

A Deepening Understanding

As I studied Scripture with fresh eyes and encountered the Church Fathers, several pivotal shifts occurred in my understanding. Yet this journey wasn’t about rejecting Reformed theology—which powerfully champions crucial truths like the supremacy of Scripture, salvation by grace through faith, and the priesthood of all believers. Rather, it was about embracing an even fuller expression of these truths as understood by the historic church.

For instance, my view of salvation expanded beyond the familiar Reformed emphasis on individual election (which rightly stresses God’s sovereign initiative in salvation) to embrace the fuller mystery of God’s redemptive work. I began to see salvation not merely as a moment of justification, but as the entire journey of theosis—our gradual transformation into Christ’s likeness through participation in His divine life. This understanding was richly attested in the writings of fathers like Athanasius, who famously declared, “God became man so that man might become god”—not in essence, but through grace. This view doesn’t diminish the Reformed emphasis on grace but enriches it, showing how God’s grace transforms us completely.

My understanding of the Eucharist also deepened significantly. While I had always viewed it as important, and the Reformed tradition rightly emphasizes it as a means of grace, encountering the unified voice of the early church regarding Christ’s real presence transformed my appreciation of this sacred mystery. The fathers consistently testified to the Eucharist as more than a memorial—it is the medicine of immortality, as Saint Ignatius called it, truly uniting us with Christ.

Perhaps most significantly, my approach to interpreting Scripture shifted while maintaining the Reformed commitment to its supreme authority. The Reformers’ emphasis on Scripture alone was a necessary corrective to medieval abuses, yet I came to appreciate how the Church’s liturgical and sacramental life provides the proper context for understanding God’s Word. The Bible, I realized, wasn’t given to isolated individuals but to the Church as a community, and its interpretation has been guided by the Holy Spirit through the ages—a truth that actually strengthens rather than weakens sola scriptura when properly understood.

These shifts didn’t happen overnight, nor did they come without spiritual struggle. Yet each new understanding seemed to unlock fresh depths of communion with Christ and His Church. Rather than undermining my faith, these changes enriched it, leading to a more holistic and historically grounded Christianity that maintains the best insights of the Reformation while drinking deeply from the wells of ancient wisdom.

The Way Forward: Unity in Ancient Paths

This journey has led me to an unexpected place. While I haven’t become Catholic or Orthodox—and don’t anticipate doing so—I’m no longer comfortable identifying solely as Protestant. I’ve come to see that pure streams of Christian truth flow through all three major traditions, and no single branch contains the whole tree of Christian faith and practice.

This realization has led me to embrace what might seem an awkward identifier: an “Ecumenical Follower of the Way.” Reading Jesus’s profound prayer for unity in John 17, I find it impossible to remain comfortable within the confines of any one denominational fragment. Instead, using ancient anchors like the Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds, I seek to join hands with all followers of Jesus who:

• Thirst for truth
• Practice genuine repentance
• Pursue righteousness
• Commit themselves fully to participation in Christ’s Body through local church community

This path has only deepened my spiritual life, fostering greater:

• Humility before God and others
• Reverence for sacred things
• Spiritual discipline
• Pursuit of holiness
• Evangelistic zeal
• Most importantly, love for God and neighbor

Engaging with Loving Dissent

In pursuing this path of ancient-future unity, I’ve encountered sincere concerns from beloved brothers and sisters across various traditions. Some Protestant friends worry that emphasizing ancient practices might diminish the supremacy of Scripture. Catholic and Orthodox believers sometimes question whether this approach adequately honors their traditions’ fullness. These conversations, while sometimes challenging, have become opportunities for deeper understanding and growth in love.

What I’ve learned is that unity doesn’t require uniformity. When approached with genuine humility and love, these discussions often reveal that our differences, while real, need not be divisions. Instead of defensive argumentation, I’ve found it more fruitful to:

• Listen deeply to others’ concerns, recognizing they often stem from a sincere desire to protect precious truths
• Share personal testimonies of how ancient practices have deepened, not diminished, my love for Scripture
• Acknowledge the valid insights each tradition brings to the Body of Christ
• Focus conversations on our shared love for Jesus and commitment to following Him
• Remain teachable, recognizing that God often speaks through those who disagree with us

Perhaps most importantly, I’ve learned that true ecumenism doesn’t mean watering down our convictions but rather holding them with both conviction and humility. As Saint Augustine wisely counseled: “In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity.”

A Prayer for Unity

My deepest prayer and most fervent hope aligns with Jesus’s own petition—that we might all be one, just as He and the Father are one. Through this unity, may the world come to know that Jesus is Lord by witnessing how we love one another. As we walk this path together, may we have the courage to seek Christ beyond our comfortable theological constructs, finding Him in the ancient paths of faith and in the face of every sincere believer.

May God have mercy on us and help us all on this journey.