The Life and Times of Bruce Gerencser

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  • Ohio U.S. Sen. Bernie Moreno is Writing a Bill to Fund $5,000 Voting Bribery Scheme

    Warning: MAGA Republicans and Donald Trump are thoroughly filleted, roasted, and fed to feral cats in this post. If your fascist fee-fees are easily hurt, do NOT read this post. If you are a feral cat, I apologize for grouping you together with such miscreants.

    You’ve been warned!😜 If you ignore my “sincere” warning, and read this anyway, Preparation H will be provided for hemorrhoid irritation and inflammation at the end of the post. 😜

    Last week, diehard MAGA fans and fearful legislators gathered in Dallas, Texas for two days of masturbatory worship of their King, Lord, and Savior Donald Trump. Truly, the sick display of fealty and devotion to Trump had all the markings of a fundamentalist religious cult, complete with Senator Tim Scott acting as if he were demon possessed.

    Trump, of course, was vintage huckster, delivering speeches filled with lies, deceit, half-truths, distortions, mockeries, and wild promises he can’t possibly deliver.

    Trump, thinking money can buy anything — and to-date he’s right — delivered the promises of promises: a $5,000 check to very American adult. Of course, Trump could fulfill this $1.3 trillion budget buster today, with a little help from his co-conspirators in crime, Congressional Republicans. And more than likely, a few Democrats afraid of voters turning turning on them if they don’t get their part of the largest socialist transfer of wealth in U.S. history, will support Trump’s promise too.

    Is this illegal? Trump put a condition on the promise: taxpayers must vote in Republican majorities in both the House and Senate. In other words, Trump wants to use tax money to bribe voters to vote for Republicans in November. Bribing voters is still illegal, right? Well, it was until the faux golden age of Trumpism. According to some experts, since Trump is giving “Trump Dividends” to all adults, it is technically not a bribe. Ah yes, “technically.” Who better exploits technicalities like the man who wrote “The Art of the Steal.”

    Now that oligarchs and robber barons control every branch of government, there are no norms, decency, or morality. All that matters is the 1,000 year reign of MAGA. Well, that and making lots and lots of money off the bowed backs of the American people.

    Enter Ohio U.S. Senator Bernie Moreno, a man whose brown nose is never far from his master’s ass. The toddler-in-chief is screaming for a lollipop, and Moreno, wanting to get a big gold star beside his name, promised to write a bill funding Trump’s bribery scheme. If Ohioans had any doubt, Moreno has the morals of, well, Donald Trump. I was going to say alley cat, but I didn’t want to besmirch the good name of alley cats everywhere.

    News 5 Cleveland reports:

    Ohio U.S. Sen. Bernie Moreno is drafting legislation to fund President Donald Trump’s new promise: $5,000 to every adult citizen if the Republicans maintain their majority in the midterms.

    Trump acknowledged in his speech at the GOP’s midterm convention in Dallas on Wednesday that this year’s elections are competitive. He offered an unprecedented incentive to vote.

    “If the Republicans win the House of Representatives and the United States Senate, both of them, because of our economic, tremendous economic success… I will issue a dividend to every adult citizen in the United States of America for $5,000,” Trump said.

    This money would have stipulations, the president added, saying it could only be spent in the United States.

    Michael McGovern, president of progressive organization Innovation Ohio, said it’s another empty promise.

    “This is the same party that has cracked down on people’s ability to give out water or pizza to people waiting in line to vote, now is throwing around $5000 but ‘only if you vote for us?’” McGovern said. “I don’t know if that passes the smell test, and really reeks of desperation.”

    The president did not give details on how he would provide $5,000 to all 270 million adults, costing more than a trillion dollars.

    “Is it possible? The short answer is no, unless Congress were to appropriate the money,” retired Case Western Reserve University law professor Jonathan Entin said.

    Moreno, Ohio’s senior senator who attended the speech on Wednesday, was the first to offer help.

    “I will get a bill ready so that we can get the Trump Dividend passed immediately after the November 3rd election … because Republicans (and America) will win!” Moreno said in a post on X.

    It’s illegal to buy votes, but the payouts wouldn’t just go to Republicans, Entin said.

    “It says, ‘I will pay every American however they voted,’” he explained.

    And even if it feels like a bribe?

    “Who is going to prosecute him?” Entin asked. “Even former presidents have very broad immunity from criminal prosecution in connection with their official actions.”

    And where is Ohio’s other feckless senator Jon Husted in all of this? According to news reports, he is thinking about it, and wants to learn “more.” More, my ass. Much like his fellow Republican, Moreno, Husted lacks any capability to act independently of the Orange Wizard.

    I have no doubt Moreno and Husted agree with Trump when he says the $5,000 payments will be issued because of our “tremendous economic success.” Trump wants people to believe that his tariffs and the record investments of business have brought about $21 trillion of economic growth. This, of course, is a bald-faced lie. Much like Trump saying he is paying for his big, beautiful $600 million ballroom, there’s no truth in the president’s promise. If Moreno’s bill passes both houses after the election, the authorized payments will increase the federal budget deficit by $1.3 trillion dollars. If passed, this bill will increase Trump’s national debt total to almost $15 trillion during his six years in office. Think about that for a moment: $15 trillion in six short years; over one-third of the total national debt.

    What happened to Republicans being the party of fiscal responsibility? You’re kidding, right? They have NEVER been the party of monetary responsibility; not since Ronald Reagan and the trickle-down economics lie told to Americans forty-five years ago.

    There are three planks— one plank each for the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost they feign to worship — in the Republican platform: criminalizing abortion, giving massive tax cuts to the rich, and giving the MAGA king whatever he wants.

    So what do we do? The only thing we can do is vote. Seems simple, but half of eligible voters rarely, if ever, vote. We need these voters, along with disaffected Republicans, to vote Democratic in November. I don’t care who is on the ticket, I will vote only for Democrats this year. I don’t like my choices this year: Sherrod Brown and Marcy Kaptur, but I’d vote for a Democratic zombie extra from The Walking Dead before I’d vote for a Republican.

    Every two years the various political parties scream “the sky is falling,” but this election season the warning is warranted. If Democrats can’t win majorities in Congress, nothing will stand in the way of the Trumpist overthrow of our republic. What about the senate filibuster, Bruce? You’re kidding, right? Are you really this stupid? If Republicans win in November, they will use the reconciliation process to give Trump most of what he wants. The rest? I predict they will abolish the filibuster in one, simple majority stab in the heart of American democracy.

    Our future really comes down to your vote. Will you do what’s best for our country? I hope so.

    And for Republicans who read this post, I lied about the Preparation H, just like Trump did about $5,000 Oprah-like checks. You deserve all the ass pain you get if you vote for Republican candidates in November. Your ass deserves better — Vote Democrat!

  • Have You Ever Wanted to Cut Off Your Legs? I Have and I Still Want To

    You know it’s a bad day pain-wise when you find yourself doing a Google search on “Does removing legs make severe axonal neuropathic pain go away?”

    Google reminded me that doing so will not necessarily stop the pain. I could end up with phantom pain worse than before.

    I just want the pain to stop. Is that too much to ask?

    Duh, of course it is.

    We often think doctors are miracle workers, but when it comes to severe nerve pain, medical professionals have very few treatments in their bag of tricks: Gabapentin, pain meds, injections, ablations, hot/cold packs, and implanted nerve stimulator.

    Rarely are these treatments permanent; and that is if you can get insurance to pay for it.

    Unfortunately, as chronic nerve pain patients will tell you, this sort of pain rarely goes away, regardless of the treatment.

    Personally, I’m grateful for whatever relief I can find, but some days I wonder . . . and when I “wonder” it can lead to interesting Google searches.

    I still have both legs. All I want is for the pain to stop. Until that happens, I have no other option but to bite hard on the stick of modern medicine, hoping for a bit of relief.

  • Short Stories: Me and My Bike

    I spent most of my youth living in the country. Unlike parents of today, my mom and dad rarely took me anywhere by car except to church. If I wanted to get somewhere, I either had to walk or ride my bike.

    I never owned a new bike until I bought one as a sixteen-year-old — a ten-speed bike. Before that, I rode used bikes, often castaways that needed repairs. For whatever reason, my siblings fared better on the new bike front. I remember how envious I was when my younger brother got a brand-new Schwinn bike with a three-speed shifter, complete with a banana seat and sissy bar.

    I rode my bike everywhere: school, work, ball practice, roller skating, fishing, to the park, to the swimming pool, and any place else I wanted to go. My parents rarely asked where I was headed, and I didn’t bother to tell them. On my bike I was free; free from my mom’s manic behavior and my dad’s indifference. By the time I was fourteen, I was on my own, just me and my bike. With a bike you can go anywhere, so I did.

    I’ve often wondered if adults in the day felt sorry for that Gerencser boy who rides his bike everywhere, spring, summer, winter, and fall. I do remember being offered car rides by one of my coaches to away baseball games. I added little to the team, so I always appreciated the rides.

    As a fourteen-year-old boy, I rode bikes with my friends all over town. One night, around 1:00 am, we rode our bikes downtown. The weather was hot and sticky, a typical summer night in northwest Ohio. We came upon a bar that had its door propped open. None of us had ever been to a bar, so we were curious. Boy, did we get more than we bargained for. Standing on table in the dimly lit bar was a scantily clad dancer, gyrating away for late night patrons. After a few minutes of gorging our eyes with wondrous sights, the bar owner ran us off.

    Good times. . .

    I have lots and lots of bike stories I could tell, but I want to hear yours. How instrumental was a bicycle to your upbringing? Please share your stories in the comment section.

  • Short Stories: Midwestern Baptist College — The 1978 Yearbook Incident

    midwestern baptist college freshman 1976
    1976-1977 Midwestern Baptist College freshman class. Polly is in the first row, the first person on the left. Bruce is in the third row, the eighth person from the left.

    From 1976-79, my wife and I attended Midwestern Baptist College (IFB) in Pontiac, Michigan. Midwestern, an unaccredited Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) institution, was established in 1954 by the famous IFB pulpiteer Dr. Tom Malone. More than sixty years later, the college campus has been sold and commercially redeveloped, Tom Malone is dead, and the church he once pastored, Emmanuel Baptist Church, is shuttered, with weeds growing around the buildings and through the cracks in the parking lots.

    In the spring of our sophomore year, Malone gathered the student body in the chapel so he could “talk” to them. Students were told to bring the recently released 1978 yearbook with them. As the students settled into their seats, Malone stood up and came to the pulpit. It was clear that he was quite upset about something. We quickly learned that Malone was livid about three of the yearbook pictures. Mike Veach, currently the pastor of First Bible Church, a Fundamentalist church in Staten Island, New York, shot the photographs. Mike was (is) an excellent photographer. A few months after what students would later call “The Yearbook Incident,” Polly and I went to nearby Cranbrook Gardens so Mike could take pictures of us. We still have these pictures, reminders of the youngsters we once were some fifty years ago.

    What was so offensive about these photographs that a noted IFB pastor and college chancellor would deem it necessary to talk to the entire student body about them? See for yourself.

    1978 midwestern baptist college yearbook

    Photograph number one was taken during Founder’s Day. Always held on the Friday after Thanksgiving (students were not allowed to go home for Thanksgiving), Founder’s Day was a day set aside for showing off the college to prospective Fundamentalist high school students. Part of the day’s events included a singing talent show. This picture is of a group from a nearby IFB church.

    1978 midwestern baptist college yearbook

    Photograph number two is a picture of Julian Lyons, Emmanuel Baptist Church’s bus pastor. Lyons and I did not get along. He considered me a slacker because I didn’t want to work in the bus ministry after my freshman year. (All students were required to work in the bus ministry their freshman year.) I considered Lyons a racist because he stopped running the buses in Detroit. (The overwhelming majority of the kids from Detroit were poor and black.) One day, as I was exiting the school building, he and I ran into each other and had words, each telling the other what we thought about them. We never spoke again. I was surprised that I did not get expelled from school for what was surely viewed as insubordination.

    1978 midwestern baptist college yearbook

    Photograph number three was shot during one of the chapel services. Pay close attention to the student in the middle of the picture.

    I am sure you are scratching your head right now, trying to figure out what is wrong with these pictures. Can’t you see it? Look closely. Put on your IFB alternate reality glasses®. Still nothing?

    In the first picture, the boys (not Midwestern students) have long hair, and in the second picture, it looks like Lyons’ hair is over his collar. Midwestern had/has a strict policy against men having long hair. Male students were required to keep their hair short, with the college even going so far as to legislate that the back of men’s hair had to be tapered and not block cut. Hair on the collar, ears, or long bangs were forbidden. Men caught breaking the hair rule received demerits and were ordered to get a haircut immediately.

    And the third photograph? The student “looks” like he has bushy, long hair on the back of his head. What he really had was the student’s hair in front of him, that student being my future wife, Polly. As photographers know, perspective and angles can do strange things to photographs. Sadly, Malone was only concerned with the “appearance of evil” (I Thessalonians 5:22).

    Malone was furious over these photos, so much so that he took one of the yearbooks and tore it in two right in front of the student body. What a man, right? Hercules, himself. He then ordered the yearbooks collected. They were later returned, but not before the offending photographs had been marked-out with black, permanent ink felt markers.

    So why do I have an unaltered copy of the yearbook? I refused to turn my yearbook in to prison authorities. Even then, as Fundamentalist as I was, I knew that Malone was acting like a crazed wild man over these photographs. It made no sense to me to mar the yearbook that I paid for just because three of the pictures showed men “allegedly” with long hair. If Malone was serious about giving “sins” the black permanent marker of death, why not mark out:

    • The photographs of the man who was having an affair with the wife of the dean of men
    • The photographs of the gay teacher who lived in the dorm
    • The photographs of dorm students who committed fornication

    These “sins” were well known by students, yet they were pushed into the deep recesses of the Midwestern closet. Instead, very ‘70s-looking hair became the target of Malone’s “righteous” indignation and wrath.

    I know this story sounds bat-shit crazy to some readers, but this is an excellent example of the Fundamentalism I was raised in and a part of for many years. To this day, there are IFB pastors and churches who preach against the “sin of men having long hair.” A man with long hair is considered rebellious and effeminate. If you have not read my post, Is it a Sin to Have Long Hair? please do so. I think it will help you understand the kind of thinking that goes into someone concluding that men having long hair is a mortal sin, one worthy of anger and rage from Tom Malone.

  • Why Am I Different From My Bible College Classmates?

    bruce gerencser 2002
    Bruce Gerencser, 2002

    During the 1970s, I attended Midwestern Baptist College in Pontiac, Michigan. It was there that I met my partner, Polly. Started in the 1950s by Dr. Tom Malone, Midwestern was a school known for turning out preachers. Most women attending Midwestern were there to snag themselves a man. My partner was no exception. She believed she was called to be a pastor’s wife. I was studying to be a pastor, so I suppose you could say our divine callings matched and our marriage was made in Heaven — or something like that, anyway. (We celebrated forty-eight of marriage last July.) All we knew for sure was that God called us to build churches and evangelize the lost. Everything we were taught at Midwestern had these two things as their goal. We left Midwestern in 1979 and embarked on a twenty-five-year journey that took us to Evangelical churches in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Virtually everything we did was in fulfillment of God’s call upon our lives, yet, today, we are no longer Christians and it has been more than nineteen years since we darkened the doors of a church. What happened to us?

    I cannot and will not speak for Polly, but I can say, for myself, that the Christian narrative no longer makes sense to me. I wrote about this in a post titled, The Michael Mock Rule: It Just Doesn’t Make Sense. Most readers know my story, so I won’t retell it here. New readers are encouraged to read the posts found on the WHY? page for more information about my life as a pastor and my subsequent deconversion. My story has been deconstructed by countless Evangelical zealots determined to invalidate my past. Try as they might, the fact remains that I once was a committed, devoted, sold-out follower of Jesus Christ; a man who hungered and thirsted after righteousness for his name’s sake; a man who believed every word of the Bible was true; a man who preached the Christian gospel to countless people. Them there are the facts, regardless of what my critics might say. I know what I know because I was there when it happened. Who better to know and tell my story than me? That said, I do ponder the question, Why am I Different From the My College Classmates? Some of them have moved beyond the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) training they received at Midwestern, yet they still believe. Sadly, for most of my college classmates, their beliefs have changed very little, if at all, over the years. Many of them still attend or pastor IFB churches. Oh, they might agree with me about the crazy rules at Midwestern, (please see Thou Shalt Not Touch: The Six-Inch Rule) but their core theological beliefs are decidedly Fundamentalist. (Please see Are Evangelicals Fundamentalists?) Why do they still hang on to these beliefs and I don’t?

    The easy answer would be to call all of them stupid hillbillies, but that would be a cop-out. Many of my former classmates have wonderful families and ministerial careers. According to the theological and social standards of IFB Christianity, they are, in every way, successful. I have no doubt that many or even most of them are true-blue believers, completely and totally committed to IFB doctrine, thinking, and way of life. Yes, some of them now consider themselves garden-variety Evangelicals, but most of my classmates still believe the fundamentals taught to them by their pastors and their professors at Midwestern.

    If I had to pick one reason for why my former classmates still believe, it is because they were taught to never, ever doubt the Bible and its teachings. All of them believe in some form of Biblical inerrancy, so the foundation of their lives is THUS SAITH THE LORD. Insulated from contrary or challenging thoughts, they see no reason to question their beliefs. Souls are lost, Hell is hot, and Jesus is coming soon. They have no time for doubting or questioning their beliefs. When Jesus comes again, they want to be found faithfully serving him, not reading Bart Ehrman’s latest book. For me, however, I reached a place in the late 1980s where I seriously questioned the doctrines I had been taught at Midwestern. I ultimately abandoned them and embraced Evangelical Calvinism. Calvinism allowed me to study theology and read books outside of the IFB rut. While the Calvinists I associated with were still quite Fundamentalist theologically and socially, they valued education and intellectual pursuit. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your perspective), the more I studied and read, the more questions and doubts I had. This is why people who knew me well told me that BOOKS were my problem, and what I needed to do is stop reading books and only read the Bible; the King James Bible. Of course, saying this to a book lover is akin to telling a cocaine addict to stop using drugs. I was addicted to intellectual pursuit, and I doggedly followed the path until it led me out of Evangelicalism, out of the Emergent church, out of progressive Christianity, and right on down the slippery slope to agnosticism/atheism and humanism. I ended up where I am today because I couldn’t stop my questions and doubts. I ended up where I am today because Christianity had no satisfactory answers for my questions. Oh, they had “answers” but I found them to be hollow, circular, and, at times, farcical; answers that might placate those within the Evangelical bubble, but unsatisfactory to anyone on the outside looking in.

    There are days when I wish I could be like my former college classmates. I see much in their lives I admire. However, I am unwilling to forsake the meat and potatoes of intellectual and scientific inquiry for the pottage of Evangelical Christianity. I have read and studied too much to go back to the garlic and leeks of Egypt. I would rather be known as a Midwestern Baptist College-trained atheist than a coward who couldn’t face doubts and questions head-on. “One” may truly be the loneliest number, but I would rather stand alone for truth than embrace theological dogma. If Midwestern and Dr. Tom Malone taught me anything, it was the importance of standing for truth and principle and being willing to hold to your beliefs and convictions no matter what. So, in that regard, Midwestern played a crucial part in my deconversion from Christianity.

    Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

    Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

    You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

  • The Good and Bad of Midwestern Baptist College in Pontiac, Michigan

    polly shope bruce gerencser 1977
    Polly Shope and Bruce Gerencser, February 1977, Midwestern Baptist College Sweetheart Banquet

    Several years ago, a man named Steven Tassell left the following comment:

    I attended Midwestern from 1973-1979

    I had my problems however I’m not trying to destroy anyone. If you had a problem with sex at school that was on you. I was a chaplin [sic] for USAF, taught school at Fort Knox and I’m a pastor with my Doctorate in counseling. So instead of telling the bad because any school has that tell the good.

    Polly and I attended Midwestern Baptist College from 1976-1979. Polly’s father attended the college from 1972-1976, and her uncle James Dennis, attended Midwestern in the 1960s. None of us knows a Steven Tassell. Now, that doesn’t mean he didn’t attend Midwestern. There were a number of married students who attended the college that neither Polly or I personally knew. We were dorm students for two years, marrying during the summer between our sophomore and junior years.

    I attempted a cursory search on Tassell’s name. That returned very little information other than Tassell is the pastor of New Hope Baptist Church in South Pekin, Illinois. I am uncertain as to why Tassell felt the need to recite his “important” work history, especially since it bears no relevance to the post he commented on. Tassell says he had a “Doctorate” in counseling — a D.Min, not a typical PhD. As readers know, most Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) preachers sporting doctorates either “earned” them at unaccredited schools or through online classes, or were given an honorary degree. (Please see IFB Doctorates: Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Everyone’s a Doctor) Polly’s uncle had an honorary doctorate from Midwestern, a reward for supporting the college and Tom Malone. I have no idea if Tassell’s doctorate was earned at an accredited institution. My gut tells me no.

    Now, to Tassell’s comment. In classic passive-aggressive fashion, Tassell stated, “I had my problems, however I’m not trying to destroy anyone.” He, too, had “problems” while attending Midwestern, but unlike Bruce, the atheist, he’s not trying to destroy anyone. I find it interesting that, according to Tassell, by telling my story and sharing my experiences as a student at Midwestern, I am trying to destroy people. Tassell suggests that I not speak of the bad things that happened at Midwestern and only speak of the good that I saw and experienced. That I refuse to only tell half the story makes me, in Tassell’s eyes, a bad person. How dare I speak poorly of the college, Dr. Tom Malone, my professors, or my fellow students. Just tell GOOD stories, Bruce! Sorry, but I can’t do that. I decided twenty years ago to be an honest, open, transparent storyteller. If that meant casting a bad light of myself and others, so be it. How can readers ever understand my experiences at Midwestern if I only tell them the good stuff? Honesty demands telling the truth, as best I remember it.

    I have many fond memories of the three years I spent at Midwestern. Dorm life, even at an IFB college, was a blast!  I will never forget the fun, crazy times I shared with my fellow dorm students. Three weeks after moving into the dorm, I asked a preacher’s daughter named Polly if she wanted to go out on a date with me. She said yes, and fifty years later, we are still going on dates, loving one another’s company, and roundly irritating the Hell out of each other. Ah, marital bliss.

    I could spend hours sharing stories about the good times I experienced at Midwestern. Doing so, of course, would make Tassell happy. Just focus on the positive. Unfortunately, the bad experiences left an indelible impression on my life and that of my partner. For the first time, we saw the ugly, nasty, judgmental underbelly of the IFB church movement. Should I ignore the gay teacher who groomed younger male dorm students? Should I ignore the affair between the wife of the dean of men and a teacher? Should I ignore the rampant illicit sexual activity by dorm students; people who are now pompous, arrogant moralizers? Should I ignore the oppressive rules and repressive disciplinary system? Should I ignore the weak academics and unqualified teachers? Should I ignore the teacher who taught an IFB form of eugenics? Should I ignore the racism of one of the church’s pastors? (All dorm students had to attend nearby Emmanuel Baptist Church, pastored by Tom Malone.) Should I ignore the fact that Tom’s Malone’s wife and children violated the rules the rest of us were expected to obey, under threat of expulsion? Should I ignore being forced to quit a well-paying job, all because the business owner and Tom Malone had a falling out? Should I ignore . . .  You see, it takes the good and the bad to tell a complete story. And as long as I continue to tell my story, I intend to look at the entire structure, and not just the facade that gives readers a false picture of my life, Midwestern Baptist College, and the IFB church movement. That’s the prerogative of the storyteller.

    (Please see other posts about Midwestern Baptist College)

    Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

    Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

    You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

  • I’m Sorry Someone in the Church “Hurt” You

    Apologist: Hi, sure is good to meet you.

    Bruce: It’s good to meet you too.

    Apologist: May I ask you a question?

    Bruce: Fire away!

    Apologist: Are you a Christian? Have you accepted Jesus as your Lord and Savior?

    Bruce: I’m an atheist.

    Apologist: Really? You don’t believe in God at ALL?

    Bruce: Nope. I’m a card-carrying godless heathen.

    Apologist: Did you ever go to church?

    Bruce: Yes, I was an Evangelical Christian for fifty years. I was saved, baptized, and called to preach at age fifteen. I pastored Evangelical churches in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan for twenty-five years.

    Apologist ponders what to say next.

    Apologist: What happened?

    Bruce: Nothing.

    Apologist: Surely, something had to happen! I can’t imagine any reason someone would walk away from Jesus after fifty years.

    Apologist: Did something happen in the church? Did someone “hurt” you?

    Bruce: No, I . . .

    Apologist: I apologize on behalf of whoever hurt you. I want you to know you are loved.

    Bruce: Sorry to burn your atheist straw man to the ground, but no one hurt me.

    Bruce: Any hurt from Christians came after I left Christianity. I quickly learned that Christian love and kindness only apply to people who believe the right things or go to the right church. Dare to speak out against Evangelical beliefs, and Evangelicals will rain judgment and violence upon your head — including death threats and never-ending threats of eternal punishment in Hell.

    Bruce: Why would I ever want to be a Christian after being treated like this?

    Apologist: Well, I doubt these people were “real” Christians.

    Bruce: Really? This has happened thousands of times over the past twenty years. I’ve been misused, abused, and attacked by pastors, I’ve had evangelists, missionaries, and youth pastors. I had sermons preached about me, along with blog posts written to show me the error of my ways. One preacher, Dr. David Tee, has made it his life’s mission to discredit me with lies, half-truths, and personal attacks. He’s failed, but his ill-bred behavior continues to reveal the ugly, vicious underbelly of Evangelical Christianity.

    Apologist: Well . . .

    Bruce: I deconverted because I no longer believe the central claims of Christianity are true.

    Apologist: Surely, there’s more to your story than this. What REALLY happened?

    Bruce: Sigh . . .

    Bruce: You got me. I’m a closet lesbian. I had an affair with the deacon’s wife, and one night, just for fun, I fucked the deacon too.

    Apologist: I KNEW it! You need to repent!

    Bruce: None of those things happened. I’m just jerking your chain. I suspect I was a better Christian than you before I deconverted. Shall we compare our lives?

    Apologist: True Christians don’t leave the church. The Bible says . . .

    Bruce: No need to quote the Bible. I know it better than you do.

    Apologist: I’m praying for you.

    Bruce: And I’m thinking for you.

    Apologist shakes dust off his feet, and walks away mumbling a prayer, “I tried to tell him, Jesus. I commit his soul to your hands.”

    I’ve had this conversation with countless apologists over the years. None of them has succeeded in leading me to saving faith in Christ.

    Apologists cannot accept or understand my story. In their minds, true Christians stay true to Christ until the end. Since I “quit,” this proves I never was a real Christian. Never mind the fifty years I spent in Evangelicalism. Never mind my love for Jesus and my devotion to the work of ministry. All that matters is that I didn’t renew my club membership; that I walked away from Jesus.

    I find this kind of discussion wearying. Apologists have an agenda, whereas I just want to tell my story and have a thoughtful conversation.

    When apologists reject my story, what they are saying is this: “Bruce, you are a liar.” Apologists will not call me a liar to my face, but their approach to me clearly shows they think I’m lying. And I don’t know about you, but I have no use for people who say I’m lying. Especially when they provide no evidence for their claim.

    Has a Christian apologist ever called you a liar or implied as much? How did you respond to them? Please leave your pithy thoughts in the comment section.

  • Bruce, Someday Soon, You WILL Stand Before Jesus!

    If I had a dollar for every time an Evangelical Christian told me I’m going to stand before Jesus someday, I’d have enough money to feed my entire family at Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse.

    Well, that time has come. 😜❤️

  • Short Stories: The Week the Church Found Out We Were Bad Christians

    We lived in Newark, Ohio, for ten months in 2004-2005. By this point, I was done with the ministry. We decided to look for a church we could call home; one that would embrace our family and give us opportunities to serve. We thought Jersey Reformed Baptist Church in Jersey, Ohio, was that church. Sadly, a few months later, we were out the door, looking for another church to attend.

    Jersey was a young, growing church. Lots of big families. Our family of eight was considered “normal” at Jersey, though we eventually learned that their definition of “normal” was different from ours.

    Most church families homeschooled their children, as did we. Jersey was a family- focused congregation. No Sunday school or children’s church. Families worshipped together. A good idea, even to this day.

    Jersey was Calvinistic in doctrine, Fundamentalist in practice, and Reformed Baptist in affiliation. We were quite conservative at the time, but we learned Jersey, as a congregation, was far more to the right than we were on many issues.

    Most of the women in the church were stay-at-home moms. Many of them had home businesses to supplement family income. Our family was different. I was disabled, unable to work a full-time job. We needed money — such a novel idea, right? — so Polly took a full- time job cleaning offices for Start Farm. The highlight of our time in Newark was Friday nights. We would splurge for two $5.00 pizzas from Little Caesar’s. Fine dining, at its best. 😜

    One Sunday, after church, we were having a friendly discussion with a handful of members, mostly women. The members were curious about us, so they asked us questions about our family. I told them I was disabled, and unable to work. Polly, with nary a thought, happily shared that she worked full-time at State Farm. Immediately, the climate changed, as did their looks. We knew then that we had broken one of the “rules.”

    Around the same time, I attended a men’s prayer meeting. Someone brought up praying for Terri Schiavo, a woman in an irreversible permanent vegetative state. Schiavo was in the news virtually every day.

    Wikipedia states:

    Schiavo’s husband and legal guardian argued that Schiavo would not have wanted prolonged artificial life support without the prospect of recovery, and, in 1998, he elected to remove her feeding tube. Schiavo’s parents disputed her husband’s assertions and challenged Schiavo’s medical diagnosis, arguing in favor of continuing artificial nutrition and hydration.The highly publicized and prolonged series of legal challenges presented by her parents, which ultimately involved state and federal politicians up to the level of George W. Bush (the then U.S. president), caused a seven-year delay (until 2005) before Schiavo’s feeding tube was ultimately removed.

    ….

    After appeals through the federal court system that upheld the original decision to remove the feeding tube, staff at the Pinellas Park hospice facility disconnected the feeding tube on March 18, 2005, and Schiavo died on March 31, 2005.

    The prayer meeting took place before Schiavo’s feeding tube was permanently removed. Every man, except one, was praying for Schiavo’s tube to be permanently put back in, “saving” her life. Saving what life? I thought at the time. The church men disagreed, believing that Schiavo should be artificially kept alive regardless if she regained consciousness and function. Schiavo was an idol worshiped by the pro-life movement. In their mind, she should be kept alive at all costs. To do otherwise was “murder.”

    As I mentioned above, there was one man who disagreed with the rest of the men, and that was me. I made clear my thoughts on the issue: Schiavo had a right to die, as we all do. Unfortunately, pro-life Christians oppose the right to die, even if someone is terminal or suffering.

    Eventually, prayers were offered to the Evangelical God on behalf of Schiavo, but I suspect only one prayer was for her to have a swift, painless death. A short time later, God answered my prayer.

    A few days later I had a discussion with the pastor. He was thoughtful and polite—I always enjoyed his preaching— but by the end, I knew it was time for us to look for a different church to attend.

    This would be the only time that we weren’t conservative enough for a church. Three years later, we left Christianity for good.

  • Chronic Pain, Memory Loss, and Words

    Another day, another fight with pain and my very existence. There’s a new problem . . . Wild swings in blood sugar level. A 24-hour glucose monitor tells a story of a man with gastroparesis and exocrine pancreatitis insufficiency; a man whose pancreas is out of sync with his stomach and digestive track, leading to the abnormal highs and lows he is now facing.

    It is what it is.

    My partner has long since drifted off to sleep. Not me. Sleep eludes me as it has almost every night for 30 years.

    1:00 AM . . . Cymbalta popped

    2:00 AM . . . Cannabis gummy ingested

    4:00 AM . . . Hydrocodone swallowed

    Headphones on, as the sweet British voice of Jon Cohen prepares to sing me to sleep.

    4:20 AM . . . I roll on my left side, pull my legs into a fetal position, and pull a large, firm pillow to my chest.

    Soon after, I fall asleep,

    Finally, sleep. If my blood glucose level drops below 55, an alarm will sound, hopefully waking me up.

    8:10 AM . . . Partially awake, my first thought has earth shattering implications. What’s the correct word for backing up a recording; you know like backing up a car?

    Dammit, why can’t I remember this word?

    Too tired to care. I’ll message Carolyn later. She knows everything. Well, almost, anyway.

    Back to sleep.

    OCD-brain says, Wait a minute, there’s an unanswered question for you to answer!

    Leave me alone.

    Surely you jest. Answer the question!

    Back up the recording?

    Rewind the recording?

    Reverse the recording?

    No, dammit. What is it called when you back up-rewind-reverse, no, no, no! Dummy. It’s . . . uh . . .a time mark? Yes, that will work for me.

    Finally, sleep arrives. All is right in the world, at least until I awake again a few hours later.