Years ago, I pastored an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church in southeast Ohio. Nestled in the hills of the Appalachia mountain range, the church ministered primarily to the working poor. The eleven years I spent at Somerset Baptist were revelatory as I learned through on-the-job training to do the work of the ministry.
I pastored all sorts of people. One such man was a transplant from a nearby IFB church. Greg was looking for a church that preached the perfect Word of God; a church that aggressively won souls for Christ. Recently married, Greg thought Somerset Baptist was a perfect fit for him and his new family.
Greg died a couple of years ago. Prior to that, he and I had a back-and-forth interaction which culminated in me writing a post titled, Dear Greg.
Greg and I spent a lot of time together, both socially and professionally. I genuinely enjoyed his company. We would play basketball outdoors and I would help him fix his car. A mechanic, Greg was not. One time, he accidentally drained the oil from his manual transmission, putting five extra quarts of oil in the motor. He then jumped in the car and drove to the church ten miles away to go soulwinning with me. Needless to say, his transmission and motor were smoking by the time he pulled into the church parking lot. Fortunately, Greg didn’t ruin the power train of his car. I helped him get the fluids where they belonged. We had a shared memory I never forgot. Funny, in retrospect, but a mistake that could have cost Greg thousands of dollars.
Greg was one church member I could count on to show up for visitation or soulwinning. Greg also preached, taught Sunday School, and worked in the bus ministry. He and his family attended church every time the doors were open. (He eventually left because he found out I was a Calvinist — an unpardonable sin, in his mind.)
While most people, including myself, thought Greg was eccentric, the real issue was undiagnosed obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD). This resulted in Greg having deep, dark psychological struggles. We would talk about these struggles, but I was not much help. I tried to support Greg and be his friend, but I knew nothing about OCD. Years later, I would understand much better after I was diagnosed with OCPD.
Greg struggled with his OCD, wondering if God was punishing him or Satan was tempting him. Such thinking was common in IFB churches. Blame must be assigned, and I suspect deep down Greg blamed himself. Isn’t that what we were taught?
Greg had a lot of upheaval in his life, from moving to job changes. I always tried to be there for him (and his dear wife), but I’m sure I could have done more if I had known and recognized the signs of OCD and tried to get Greg into therapy. Instead, I was adamantly against going outside of the church for help. God, the Bible, and the church were all any of us needed, the thinking went. Boy, was I wrong, causing harm to congregants with mental health challenges. And causing harm to myself by spiritualizing my own psychological struggles.
One time, Greg was looking for a new job. Previously, Greg had driven a bus for a local school district. He thought he would try his hand at driving again for a new school.
On the appointed day, Greg went to the school bus lot for an interview. While getting on a bus, Greg glanced down and was shocked by what he saw. What did he see? The word “Carpenter.” Huh? Let me explain.
Carpenter Body Works was a bus-building company in Mitchell, Indiana. They went out of business in 2001. You see, Greg’s last name was Carpenter, and his OCD brain was absolutely certain that this was a sign from God. How else could Greg explain the word “Carpenter” on the bus floor?
This settled the matter for Greg, and he accepted a driving job. Greg loved driving bus, but with a wife and children to provide for, the bus-driving job didn’t pay the bills. Greg later took a factory job. No further mention was made of the “sign from God.”
All these years later, I lament how my ignorance and lack of training hurt Greg. Unintentional, to be sure, but I wonder how much more peaceful his life might have been had I been more competent to help. That is, if Greg were willing to accept my help. Psychological problems were typically ignored or shoved under the proverbial church rug. I pastored scores of people with undiagnosed mental health problems. Sunday after Sunday they suffered as I told them Jesus and the Bible were all they needed to find love, peace, and happiness. This, of course, was a lie. It took me years to learn that the church was not the cure-all for what ailed us. By then countless hurting people came and went, going to the “world” to find people to help them. How could it be otherwise? Most Evangelical pastors are unqualified to counsel people about psychological problems. Greg certainly needed my friendship, but he needed a friend that understood his OCD, even if he refused to see and understand it for himself. Sadly IFB beliefs about sin and holiness only fueled Greg’s OCD. For him, minor, insignificant “sins” became full blown crises of faith, leading to extreme restlessness and suicidal thoughts. Greg deserved better than what Pastor Bruce and the church had to offer.
How did your church and pastor handle the mental health struggles of church members (or their own)? Please share your experiences in the comment section.
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.
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