Bruce, Do You Regret Writing “Dear Family, Friends, and Former Parishioners”?

Recently, a reader sent me several thoughtful questions that I would like to answer in this post:

Dear Bruce,

I admire how you bravely stood up by writing that letter to make the points you made. Years later, after the firestorm, do you still think writing it was the best way to let everyone know about your deconversion? Any regrets over the firestorm?

Also, I wonder if any old friends who are evangelicals remained friends with you afterward?

I wonder all this because I am unsure about whether I should come out publicly or not. Our personalities are quite different, but I value your perspective.

My partner, Polly, and I, along with our three youngest children — then ages 18, 16, and 14 — attended church for the last time on the last Sunday in November 2008. We had been attending the Ney United Methodist Church on Sundays, though occasionally we would visit other churches. For months prior, Polly and I had been talking about our experiences as Evangelical Christians. Both of us had spent our entire lives in Evangelical churches. After marrying in 1978, we spent twenty-five years pastoring Evangelical churches in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Our last pastorate (2003) was a Southern Baptist church in Clare, Michigan. We spent the next five years visiting over one hundred churches (Please see But Our Church is DIFFERENT!) in five states looking for a place to call home. Instead, we became increasingly disillusioned by what we saw, heard, and experienced, in both Evangelical and mainline churches.

During these five years, we spent countless hours talking about our experiences and beliefs. By the time we reached 2008, Polly and I had serious doubts about the Bible and the bedrock beliefs we held dear. Both of us feared where the path we were on would lead, but we couldn’t stop. Indeed, we were on the slippery slopes our pastors warned us about — the downward slope that led to unbelief.

I’m not sure that either of us thought our last Sunday at Ney United Methodist was the end of the road for us, but after we came home from church, with tears in my eyes, I said to Polly, “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.” Polly replied, “I’m done too.” Discussions, of course, about the Bible, religion, and church, in general, continued for some time. We weren’t atheists, but we weren’t Christians either. Our identities were so wrapped up in the ministry as pastor and pastor’s wife, we were uncertain about what the future held for us — including whether God was going to punish us or strike us dead for walking away from Christianity.

Rumors had been swirling among Evangelical friends, colleagues in the ministry, and former church members for some time. To put an end to all the gossip, I decided to write an open letter, and send it out to family, friends, and former parishioners. Sent out to a hundred or so people, here’s what I wrote:

Dear Family, Friends, and Former Parishioners,

I have come to a place in life where I can no longer put off writing this letter. I have dreaded this day because I know what is likely to follow after certain people receive it. I have decided I can’t control how others react to this letter, so it is far more important to clear the air and make sure everyone knows the facts about Bruce Gerencser.

I won’t bore you with a long, drawn-out history of my life. I am sure each of you has an opinion about how I have lived my life and the decisions I have made. I also have an opinion about how I have lived my life and the decisions I made. I am my own worst critic.

Religion, in particular Baptist, Evangelical, and Fundamentalist religion, has been the essence of my life from my youth up. My being is so intertwined with religion that the two are quite inseparable. My life has been shaped and molded by religion, and religion touches virtually every fiber of my being.

I spent most of my adult life pastoring churches, preaching, and being involved in religious work to some degree or another. I pastored thousands of people over the years, preached thousands of sermons, and participated in and led thousands of worship services.

To say that the church was my life would be an understatement. But, as I have come to see, the church was actually my mistress, and my adulterous affair with her was at the expense of my wife, children, and my own self-worth. (Please see It’s Time to Tell the Truth: I Had an Affair.)

Today, I am publicly announcing that the affair is over. My wife and children have known this for a long time, but now everyone will know.

The church robbed me of so much of my life, and I have no intention of allowing her to have one more moment of my time. Life is too short. I am dying. We all are. I don’t want to waste what is left of my life chasing after things I now think are vain and empty.

I have always been known as a reader, a student of the Bible. I have read thousands of books in my lifetime. The knowledge gained from my reading and studies has led me to some conclusions about religion, particularly the Fundamentalist, Evangelical religion that played such a prominent part in my life.

I can no longer wholeheartedly embrace the doctrines of Evangelical, Fundamentalist Christianity. Particularly, I do not believe in the inerrancy of Scripture, nor do I accept as true the common Evangelical belief of the inspiration of Scripture.

Coming to this conclusion has forced me to reevaluate many of the doctrines I have held as true over these many years. I have concluded that I have been misinformed, poorly taught, and sometimes lied to. As a result, I can no longer accept as true many of the doctrines I once believed.

I point the finger of blame at no one. I sincerely believed and taught the things that I did, and many of the men who taught me were honorable teachers. Likewise, I don’t blame those who have influenced me over the years, nor do I blame the authors of the many books I have read. Simply, it is what it is.

I have no time to invest in the blame game. I am where I am today for many reasons, and I must embrace where I am and move forward.

In moving forward, I have stopped attending church. I have not attended a church service since November of 2008. I have no interest or desire to attend any church regularly. This does not mean I will never attend a church service again, but it does mean, for NOW, I have no intention of attending church.

I pastored for the last time in 2003. Almost six years have passed by. I have no intentions of ever pastoring again. When people ask me about this, I tell them I am retired. With the health problems that I have, it is quite easy to make an excuse for not pastoring, but the fact is I don’t want to pastor.

People continue to ask me, “What do you believe?” Rather than inquiring about how my life is, the quality of that life, etc., they reduce my life to what I believe. Life becomes nothing more than a set of religious constructs. A good life becomes believing the right things.

I can tell you this . . . I believe God is . . . and that is the sum of my confession of faith.

A precursor to my religious views changing was a seismic shift in my political views. My political views were so entangled with my Fundamentalist beliefs that when my political views began to shift, my beliefs began to unravel.

I can better describe my political and social views than I can my religious ones. I am a committed progressive, liberal Democrat, with the emphasis being on the progressive and liberal. My evolving views on women, abortion, homosexuality, war, socialism, social justice, and the environment have led me to the progressive, liberal viewpoint.

I know some of you are sure to ask, what does your wife think of all of this? Quite surprisingly, she is in agreement with me on many of these things. Not all of them, but close enough that I can still see her standing here. Polly is no theologian. She is not trained in theology as I am. (She loves to read fiction.) Nevertheless, I was able to get her to read Bart Ehrman’s book Misquoting Jesus and several others. She found the books to be quite an eye-opener.

Polly is free to be whomever and whatever she wishes. If she wants to start attending the local Fundamentalist Baptist church, she is free to do so and even has my blessing. But, for now, she doesn’t. She may never believe as I do, but in my new way of thinking, that is okay. I really don’t care what others think. Are you happy? Are you at peace? Are you living a good, productive life? Do you enjoy life? Answering in the affirmative to these questions is good enough for me.

I have six children, three of whom are out on their own. For many years, I was the spiritual patriarch of the family. Everyone looked to me for answers. I feel somewhat burdened over my children. I feel as if I have left them out on their own with no protection. But, I know they have good minds and can think and reason for themselves. Whatever they decide about God, religion, politics, or American League baseball is fine with me.

All I ask of my wife and children is that they allow me the freedom to be myself, that they allow me to journey on in peace and love. Of course, I still love a rousing discussion about religion, the Bible, politics, etc. I want my family to know that they can talk to me about these things, and anything else for that matter, any time they wish.

Opinions are welcome. Debate is good. All done? Let’s go to the tavern and have a round on me. Life is about the journey, not the destination, and I want my wife and children to be a part of my journey, and I want to be a part of theirs.

One of the reasons for writing this letter is to put an end to the rumors and gossip about me. Did you know Bruce is/or is not_____________? Did you know Bruce believes____________? Did you know Bruce is a universalist, agnostic, atheist, liberal ___________?

For you who have been friends or former parishioners, I apologize to you if my changing beliefs have unsettled you or has caused you to question your own faith. That was never my intent.

The question is this: what now?

Family and friends are not sure what to do with me.

I am still Bruce. I am still married. I am still your father, father-in-law, grandfather, brother, uncle, nephew, cousin, and son-in-law. I would expect you to love me as I am and treat me with respect.

Here is what I don’t want from you:

Attempts to show me the error of my way. Fact is, I have studied the Bible and read far more books than many of you. So what do you really think you are going to show me that will be so powerful and unknown that it will cause me to return to the religion and politics of my past?

Constant reminders that you are praying for me. Please don’t think of me as unkind, but I don’t care that you are praying for me. I find no comfort, solace, or strength from your prayers. So be my friend if you can, pray if you must, but leave your prayers in the closet. As long as God gets your prayer message, that will be sufficient.

Please don’t send me books, tracts, or magazines. You are wasting your time and money.

Invitations to attend your church. The answer is NO. Please don’t ask. I used to attend church for the sake of family, but no longer. It is hypocritical for me to perform a religious act of worship just for the sake of family. I know how to find a church if I am so inclined: after all, I have visited more than 125 churches since 2002. (Please see But Our Church is DIFFERENT!)

Offers of a church to pastor. It is not the lack of a church to pastor that has led me to where I am. If I would lie about what I believe, I could be pastoring again in a matter of weeks. I am not interested in ever pastoring a church again.

Threats about judgment and Hell. I don’t believe in either, so your threats have no impact on me.

Phone calls. If you are my friend, you know I don’t like talking on the phone. I have no interest in having a phone discussion about my religious or political views.

Here is what I do want from you: I want you to unconditionally love me where I am and how I am.

That’s it.

Now I realize some (many) of you won’t be able to do that. My friendship or familial relationship with you is cemented with the glue of Evangelical orthodoxy. Remove the Bible, God, and fidelity to a certain set of beliefs, and there is no basis for a continued relationship.

I understand that. I want you to know I have appreciated and enjoyed our friendship over the years. I understand that you cannot be my friend anymore. I even understand you may have to denounce me publicly and warn others to stay away from me for fear of me contaminating them with my heresy. Do what you must. We had some wonderful times together, and I will always remember those good times.

You are free from me if that is your wish.

I shall continue to journey on. I can’t stop. I must not stop.

Thank you for reading my letter.

Bruce

— end of letter

After this letter was received, the response of Evangelical family members, fellow preachers, and former church members was immediate. Letters. Emails. Books. Personal visits. Worse, the gossip didn’t stop. Now people were wondering if I was under the influence and control of Satan or whether I was even a Christian. Several pastor friends said I was mentally ill or that I was destroying my family. Not one person tried to understand where I was coming from. All they seemed to care about was that I left the cult.

Now to the questions.

Years later, after the firestorm, do you still think writing it was the best way to let everyone know about your deconversion?

I still think that writing the letter above was the best way to let everyone know that I was no longer a Christian. I genuinely thought that if I was just honest and open with people about where I was in life, everyone would understand. I was, of course, naive. I grossly underestimated how people would respond to the letter. Former church members, in particular, had a hard time reconciling my unbelief with the sermons they heard me preach and the part I played in leading them to salvation. If I could lose my faith, what about them? Several members told me that they found my deconversion so troubling that they could no longer be friends with me or even talk to me. (Please see Dear Greg, A Letter to a Former Parishioner: Dear Wendy, Dear Terry — Part One, and Dear Terry — Part Two.) Former colleagues in the ministry were far more hostile towards me. Their words cut me to the quick. These were the same men I preached for, prayed with, counseled and supported when they were going through tough times, and fellowshipped with, yet now I was a pariah, a man worthy or ridicule and judgment. (Please see Dear Friend.)

Any regrets over the firestorm?

I regret the pain I caused people who couldn’t reconcile my deconversion with what they knew about me. They knew me as a devout, committed follower of Jesus; a man who gave his all to the work of the ministry. “How was it possible that I was no longer a Christian?” they wondered. Of course, over the years, as I have shared on this blog more and more about my life as a pastor, and the contradictions between my aspirations and reality, their high regard for me lessened. And that’s fine. As a pastor, I was a fallible, frail man, prone to the same struggles others had. As I spoke about my decades-long struggle with depression, people wondered if I was fit to be a pastor. It took me losing my faith for people to see me as I was. Do I regret this? No, but I do wish I had received love, kindness, and understanding instead of being treated like their enemy.

Are any old friends who are evangelicals remained friends with you afterward?

Evangelical family members treated me like I was the black sheep of the family. Only one family member — an evangelist — tried to talk to me about my loss of faith, but when the patriarch of the family found out he was talking to me, he was ordered to cease and desist. Sadly, Polly’s parents pretended that nothing happened. Both of them are now dead. Weeks before Mom died, she told us to our face that she didn’t want us handling her funeral or estate. Why? Our atheism. Evidently, she didn’t trust us to respect her wishes. (Saying Goodbye to Newark, Ohio, and a Lifetime of Heartache and Our Relationship with the Newark Baptist Temple Began and Ended with Acts of Defiance and The Family Patriarch is Dead: My Life With James Dennis)

All of my former colleagues in the ministry distanced themselves from me. It’s been years since I heard from any of them. I suppose this was to be expected. The glue that held our relationships together was fidelity to the Bible and Evangelical doctrine.

Former church members largely went on with their lives. I will run into a few of them at the grocery or doctor’s office. We share pleasantries, talk about our children and grandchildren, and part with a handshake and a smile. Two former congregants remained friends with us, but one of them has since died from COVID, and the other, a man I have known for almost sixty years, and I are not as close as we used to be. He texted me recently about getting together for lunch. I’m not sure whether I want to do this.

The email writer wonders whether she should come out publicly about her loss of faith. She is wise to carefully ponder doing so. Once a person publicly declares their atheism or agnosticism, they can no longer control the narrative. And as I learned, you can set your world on fire by doing so.

In 2015, I wrote, Count the Cost Before You Say “I am an Atheist.” Here’s an excerpt from this post:

The Bible gives some pretty good advice about counting the cost in Luke 14:28-30:

For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it? Lest haply, after he hath laid the foundation, and is not able to finish it, all that behold it begin to mock him, Saying, This man began to build, and was not able to finish.

Who starts a building project without first counting the cost? The key phrase here is counting the cost. Every choice we make has a consequence. I think a loose definition of Newton’s Third Law of Motion applies here: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Foolish is the person who does not consider the consequences of saying for the first time to family, friends, colleagues, and acquaintances, I AM AN ATHEIST.

When I left Christianity and the ministry in 2008, my wife came along with me. Polly was a few steps behind, but close enough that we could hold hands. We spent many hours reading books and having long discussions about the past, the Bible, and Christianity in general. Dr. Bart Ehrman was nightly pillow talk for many months. When we finally came to the place where we said to one another “We are no longer Christians,” we knew that telling our family, friends, and acquaintances would cause a huge uproar. What should we do?

Polly decided to take the quiet approach, keeping her thoughts to herself. When asked, she would answer and try to explain, but if people didn’t ask, she felt no obligation to out herself. She still operates by that principle. There are people she works with who likely think she still goes to church on Sunday and is a fine Christian woman. Several years ago, a woman Polly had worked with for 20 years asked her if she was going to church on Easter. Polly replied, no. Her co-worker then asked, So do you go to church? Polly replied, No. And that was that. I am sure the gossip grapevine was buzzing. Did you know Polly doesn’t go to church? Why, her husband was a pastor! And they don’t go to church? Never mind that the woman asking the questions hadn’t been to church in over a decade. She stays home, watches “Christian” TV, and sends money to the TV preachers she likes.

I took the nuclear approach. I wrote an open letter to my friends, family, and former parishioners.

….

If I had to do it all over again, would I do it the same way? Would I write THE letter? Probably. My experiences have given me knowledge that is helpful to people who contact me about their own doubts about Christianity. I am often asked, what should I do? Should I tell my spouse? Should I tell my family, friends, or coworkers?

My standard advice is this: Count the cost. Weigh carefully the consequences. Once you utter or write the words I AM AN ATHEIST, you are no longer in control of what happens next.  Are you willing to lose your friends, destroy your marriage, or lose your job? Only you can decide what cost you are willing to pay.

I know there is this notion that “Dammit, I should be able to freely declare what I am,” and I agree with the sentiment. We should be able to freely be who and what we are. If we lived on a deserted island, I suppose we could do so. However, we are surrounded by people. People we love. People we want and need in our life. Because of this, it behooves (shout out to the KJV) us to tread carefully.

I hope some of you will find this post helpful. My deepest desire is to help you on your journey. I am hoping that my walking before you can be of help to you as you decide how best to deal with and embrace your loss of faith.

This blog is here to remind those struggling with leaving Christianity or who have already left Christianity, YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen 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.

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