But when I think of the times that my life has been spared I can’t /won’t shrug it off to coincidence.
Have you ever had miracles happen in your life? Have you ever or a family or friend come out of situation that could not be explained?
Do you believe in miracles?
I was in the Christian church for fifty years, and I was an Evangelical pastor for twenty-five of those years. For most of my life, I believed the Bible was the inspired, inerrant, infallible word of God. I believed God heard and answered my prayers, and in some instances miraculously intervened in my life. According to my worldview at the time, God was a supernatural being who supernaturally intervened in my life on a daily basis. He was very much of a hands-on deity. I preached thousands of sermons, believing that the words that I spoke came straight from God himself. God worked in and through me, and, at times, did things I couldn’t even imagine. Miracles, right?
During much of 2007 and 2008, I undertook a painful and thorough examination of my life and beliefs. In November 2008, I concluded that I could no longer in good conscience call myself a Christian. In early 2009, I sent a letter to my family, friends, and former parishioners that detailed my loss of faith. It was not long after, that I began calling myself an atheist.
One area I paid close attention to during the deconversion process was answered prayers and miracles. I claimed that God had answered my prayers countless times and had worked miracles in my life. Could these things withstand rational, skeptical scrutiny? (Please see Prayer: Explaining the Unexplainable, Does Praying for the Sick and Dying Make Any Difference?, A Few Thoughts on a Lifetime of Praying to the Christian God) After countless hours spent combing through the minutiae of my life, I concluded that most of the answered prayers and miracles in my life could be explained away solely through human means and intervention. In other words, the prayer-answering, miracle-working God I worshipped most of my life was, in fact, quite fallible and human.
But, Bruce, shouldn’t these unexplainable things be called miracles? Shouldn’t you give God his due for answering one out of a million prayers and throwing a miracle bone or two your way? You know, all praise to Jesus for saving one out of four hundred passengers in a plane crash; for saving a Bible while a tornado destroyed everything else in its path; for healing a cancer patient here and there?
In any other setting, someone with such a miserably low success rate would be fired or kicked off the team. The Christian God, truth be told, is batting well below the Mendoza line — a below .200 baseball average. Instead of praising Jesus for occasionally coming through, perhaps there are a few questions that need to be asked.
First, how can we know for certain something is a miracle? Are we to assume that anything we can’t understand or explain is a miracle? Second, how can we know for certain that what we called miracles were performed by some sort of God? Third, how can we know for certain that the God who worked these miracles was the Christian God? Humans have worshiped countless deities over the centuries. How can anyone know for sure that their God is one true miracle-working God? Set the Bible aside for a moment and try to clear your mind of whatever religious indoctrination clutters your thoughts. Does it sound reasonable to say that the “unexplainable” is best explained by attributing credit to a deity no one has ever seen? Or, does it make more sense to explain what we call miracles by saying, “I don’t know.”
I am comfortable with saying, “I don’t know.” I don’t have to have an explanation for everything that happens in my life. Using the Bible and religious dogma to “explain” such things is a cop-out. It allows people to avoid accounting for the unexplainable by saying, “God did it!” I would say to Jay and others like him who are struggling with their faith: “Carefully examine your life. Examine whether what you call answered prayer or miracles can be explained by or through human means. Once you complete this examination, ask yourself, should I still think of the Christian God as a prayer-answering, miracle-working deity?” I think you will find the answer is NO. Now, this doesn’t mean that you are an atheist. Many people, after such careful self-examination, become deists, believing that there is a creator God of some sort who set everything into motion and then said, “there ya go folks, do with it what you will.” What you can be certain of is this: the personal God of countless Christians who is involved in their day-to-day lives hearing and answering prayers and working miracles is a myth; that we are each accountable for our own lives, and that humans collectively, according to the humanist ideal, have an obligation to make the world a better place to live.
About Bruce Gerencser
Bruce Gerencser, 62, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 41 years. He and his wife have six grown children and twelve 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. For more information about Bruce, please read the About page.
Thank you for reading this post. Please share your thoughts in the comment section. If you are a first-time commenter, please read the commenting policy before wowing readers with your words. All first-time comments are moderated. If you would like to contact Bruce directly, please use the contact form to do so.
Donations are always appreciated. Donations on a monthly basis can be made through Patreon. One-time donations can be made through PayPal.
One of the charges Evangelical apologists love to level against atheists is that they don’t really know what the Bible says and teaches; that atheists are ignorant of that which they criticize. While it is certainly true that some atheists know very little about the Bible, the same can’t be said of ex-pastors such as myself, John Loftus, Dan Barker, David Madison, and the members of the Clergy Project. Nor can it be said of countless atheists who were formerly devoted followers of Jesus Christ; former Evangelicals who daily read and studied their Bibles and attended church every time the doors were open; former Evangelicals who devoured books on Christian theology and loved to talk about the teachings of the Bible. Such people know the Bible inside and out. Their paths from Evangelicalism to atheism are littered with well-worn, dog-eared Bibles. (Please see the From Evangelicalism to Atheism series.)
Many Evangelical apologists believe that only through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit can one truly understand the teachings of the Bible. Thus, a one-time Evangelical such as Dr. Bart Ehrman may have an academic understanding of the Bible, but he can’t really “know” the depths and intricacies of its teachings. This line of argument, of course, is an attempt to dismiss out of hand criticisms of the Bible by atheists and other non-Christians. Evidently, the moment I said I was no longer a Christian, everything I learned about the Bible during the fifty years I spent in the church and twenty-five years I spent in the ministry disappeared in some sort of supernatural Men in Black mind wipe. Thoughtful Evangelicals realize the absurdity of this argument and refrain from using it, but alas many Evangelical zealots aren’t “thoughtful.” In their minds, atheists are the enemies of God, reprobates, apostates, and haters of God, the Bible, and Christianity. No matter what we might have known in the past, now that we are followers of Satan, our minds and intellectual processes are ruined. No atheist can know as much about the Bible as a Spirit-filled Evangelical, or so they think anyway.
Does it really take the Holy Spirit to know and understand the teachings of the Bible? Of course not. And it is absurd to argue otherwise. The Bible is a book, no different from the Quran, Book of Mormon, or Huckleberry Finn. Any claims made for its supernatural nature require faith, a faith that is unnecessary to have when it comes to understanding the Bible. If a person can read, is he or she not able to understand what the Bible says? Don’t Evangelicals themselves admit this fact when Gideons hand out Bibles and non-Christians are encouraged to read the gospels? If the teachings of the Bible cannot be naturally understood without some sort of Holy Ghost magic, why challenge unbelievers to read the wrongly-called Good Book?
I suspect the real issue is that when atheists read the Bible, they are free from the constraints of doctrinal statements, systematic theologies, and hermeneutics. One of the best pieces of advice I ever heard about reading the Bible came from Dr. Ehrman, who suggested reading each book of the Bible as a stand-alone text. Let the author speak for himself. Of course, such readings of the Bible destroy attempts by Evangelical apologists to harmonize the Bible — to make all the disparate, contradictory parts “fit.” Go back and read the first three chapters of the book of Genesis without appealing to parlor tricks used to make the text mesh with what Trinitarian Evangelicals believe about God and creation. A fair-minded reader might conclude that there are multiple gods. An excellent book on this subject is The Evolution of God by Robert Wright.
Over the course of the twenty-five years I spent in the ministry, I read the Bible from cover to cover numerous times. I spent thousands of hours reading and studying the Bible, and thousands of more hours reading theological tomes. Even today, a decade removed from the last time I darkened the doors of a Christian church, I still have a mind brimming with Bible verses and things I learned as an Evangelical pastor. One of the ironies of the health problems I have, with its attendant memory problems, is that I tend to have problems with short-term memory, not long-term. Thus, I can’t remember that recent Christopher Hitchens quote I read, but I can remember a quote by Charles Spurgeon or John MacArthur from decades ago. Believe me, there are days when I wish I could flush my mind of all the religious nonsense that clutters up its space. So much wasted mental real estate . . .
The reasons I divorced Jesus are many. I have spent countless hours writing about why I am no longer a Christian. That said, the primary reason I am an atheist today is the Bible. As I began to have questions and doubts about the central claims of Christianity, I decided to re-read and study the Bible, determining what it was I really believed. I found that many of my beliefs were false or grounded in narrowly defined theological frameworks that could not be sustained intellectually. Once I let the Bible speak for itself, my Evangelical house came tumbling to the ground. I tried, for a time, to find a resting spot that allowed me to hang on to some sort of Christian faith. Alas, I did not find these things satisfying intellectually. Eventually, my slide down the slippery slope landed me where I am today — a committed agnostic and atheist.
At the very least, Evangelical apologists should grudgingly admit that many Evangelicals-turned-atheists know the Bible as well they do. Now if we could get apologists to know and understand atheism/agnosticism/humanism as well as many ex-Evangelicals know the Bible, that would be great. People such as myself have a distinct advantage over many Evangelical apologists. We have lived on both sides of the street. We have read atheist authors and Christian ones. That’s why, when an Evangelical wants to argue with me about the inerrancy and infallibility of the Bible, I ask them, have you read any of Bart Ehrman’s books? If they haven’t, I don’t waste my time with them. Their problem is one of ignorance, and until they are willing to do their homework, there’s really no hope for them.
I will forever, until dementia or death robs me of my mind, remain a student and reader of the Bible. My reasons for doing so are different today from what they were when I was pastoring churches, but my goal remains the same: to help people see and understand the truth.
Bruce Gerencser, 62, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 41 years. He and his wife have six grown children and twelve 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. For more information about Bruce, please read the About page.
Thank you for reading this post. Please share your thoughts in the comment section. If you are a first-time commenter, please read the commenting policy before wowing readers with your words. All first-time comments are moderated. If you would like to contact Bruce directly, please use the contact form to do so.
Donations are always appreciated. Donations on a monthly basis can be made through Patreon. One-time donations can be made through PayPal.
The Toledo Blade recently published a story about how some Amish and Mennonite communities expect victims of child abuse, domestic violence, and other crimes to forgive their attackers and forget the crimes ever happened. Practicing absolute forgiveness, these faith communities expect congregants to forgive regardless of what harm is caused and whether perpetrators are truly sorry for their crimes. The Toledo Blade story focuses on a woman who was excommunicated from her conservative Mennonite church because she refused to forgive her husband — a man who repeatedly sexually molested their daughters over the years. Astoundingly, the Sunday after this woman was excommunicated, her church, with arms opened wide, welcomed her husband back into the church.
After local law enforcement became aware of the husband’s criminal sexual behavior, he confessed his “sins” and was sentenced to five years of probation and 15 years on Pennsylvania’s sex offender registry. You would think that the husband would be penitent and understand why his wife no longer wanted her children anywhere near him. Unfortunately, as is often the case with sex crimes that have a religious component, the husband didn’t truly see the depth of harm he caused:
They held a seminar, and they talked about how that is sin, and I did want to be free before God and confess it and get freedom, Shirk, now 50, said in an April interview. I didn’t want something hid that should have been confessed and taken care of.
I did confession in church and made the confession in church and everybody stood and said they forgave me. I thought it was all good, but I found out that doesn’t make everybody happy.
[He laughed.]
After that, I found out a lot of people carry a lot of hatred for that sin and it’s hard for people to forgive.
….
This got way out of hand. For a little bit of touching that I did wrong. I know that it can be a big emotional thing for the girl, and it can affect their life ever after and stuff like that, and I don’t want to belittle what I did.
“There is no forgiveness for one thing. The state has no forgiveness, and therefore the church has no forgiveness, because the state is on their case that they’ll put the preacher in jail if they don’t report it.
I believe what they’re [the state] doing to men is way far worse. I mean, my daughters that I molested, yeah, as far as I know they are living a normal life. But I sure am not.
The husband continues to try to reconnect with his wife, saying:
I wouldn’t expect a woman to live with a man who is drunk and beating on her. I wouldn’t expect that. But when the church has gotten together and said this man [a convicted child molester] needs forgiveness, it would have been in her place to do that.
As you can see from the husband’s comments, he lacks remorse and contrition, and when it comes right down to it, he doesn’t think what he did is so bad. Hey, at least he didn’t beat his wife and the daughters he molested are living “normal” lives, right? The husband even went so far as to question his wife relationship with God, saying, “I just don’t understand how that [not being reconciled] is going to work out on Judgment Day.” The wife joined another conservative Mennonite church, and while she has been encouraged by them to reconcile with her husband, they have not pressed the matter with her. I am sure some readers are thinking, “WHAT THE FUCK! Why doesn’t she divorce her child-molester husband?” Well, the answer is quite simple: conservative Mennonite congregations do not permit divorce, and doing so would be immediate grounds for excommunication.
Generally, forgiving others is a good idea. Forgiveness fosters peace and helps reconcile people who are at odds with one another. However, practicing absolute forgiveness can and does cause harm, and as this story shows, it allows people to escape responsibility for their behavior. Our goal in life should be to live in ways that don’t require forgiveness, and when we do cause harm to someone, to quickly make amends or restitution. It is up to the person harmed, then, to grant forgiveness. Absolute forgiveness wrongly requires absolution regardless of whether the offender makes things right.
I saw this kind of forgiveness expectation practiced numerous times over the fifty years I spent in the Christian church. Private “sins” were expiated simply by the penitent confessing their bad behavior to God. The Bible says in 1 John 1:9: If we [Christians] confess our sins, he [God] is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. God promises to cleanse Christians from any and all sin if they will but ask him to do so. And if Christian’s ask, God wipes their sin slates clean, giving them the equivalent of a divine do-over. A sweet deal if you can get it, right?
When Christians commit public “sins” — behaviors that cause public shame to Jesus and his church — they are often brought before congregational leaders or fellow church members and expected to publicly confess their sins. Once the sinner has confessed his sins, he is absolved, and as in the case of private sins, his sin slate of wiped clean.
Whether a person is forgiven by Jesus of private or public sins, it matters not. Once forgiven — and exactly how is that determined? — congregants, including family, spouse, and children, are expected to absolutely forgive the person. Failing to do so is seen as bitterness or pride. I know of several instances where husbands abused their wives, confessed their “sins” before the church, and were granted forgiveness. Their wives were expected to forgive them and move on with life, living with men who just weeks before physically and psychologically abused them. In at least two instances that I know of, abusive husbands were welcomed back into their churches, while their wives were excommunicated for having bitter, judgmental spirits.
Even heinous crimes such as sexual abuse and rape are far too often covered over with expectations of absolute forgiveness. A recent story in the Houston Chronicle revealed that there are dozens of Southern Baptist churches who welcomed sex offenders back into their membership after their convictions. These churches KNEW these men were sex offenders, yet with arms open wide, they said, We forgive you, brother. Welcome to our church. I saw this same behavior on several occasions with Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) churches. One man, a church bus worker, was caught sexually abusing a teen boy in the church’s basement. He was forgiven by the church and escaped jail time for his crime. Twenty years later, the man was given access to children again, and as sure as the sun comes up in the morning, he sexually abused another child. This time, the man did time for his crime. While the church forgave him, they would not permit him to continue attending their services. With the blessing of his pastor and church leaders, the man joined a nearby IFB church, and to this day can be found there “faithfully” serving Jesus. Astoundingly, his wife — taught by her pastors that there are no grounds for divorce — is still with him.
Whether to forgive should be up to the person harmed. While forgiving others is generally a good idea, churches that demand forgiveness in all circumstances cause harm to people who cannot or are not ready to do so. The act of forgiveness rests with the person harmed. In the case of spousal abuse, child abuse, and sex crimes, churches which demand that victims absolutely forgive their attackers often revictimize and inflict further pain on women and children (and in some instances, men). Victims must be given the space to process what happened to them on their own terms. And if they, for some reason, cannot or will not absolve abusers of their crimes, churches and pastors should accept their decision.
I grew up in a religious culture where absolute forgiveness was expected, regardless of the seriousness of the bad behavior or crime. One of the freeing moments of my life was realizing that I didn’t have to forgive my grandparents (my mother’s father and stepmother) for what they did to me personally, and to my mother and our family in general. My grandparents were go-to-church-three-times-a-week Fundamentalist Christians. Grandpa was a violent drunk before he got saved. After asking Jesus to forgive him of his sins, Grandpa was transformed into a “wonderful” Christian who still was quite violent. And Grandma was not without her own demons. (Please see Dear Ann) Publicly, they were viewed by others as super-duper Christians who loved Jesus with all their heart, soul, and mind. And maybe they did, but underneath their religious veneer lived people prone to psychological and physical abuse.
Years before my mother’s tragic suicide (Please see Barbara), she tried to confront her dad over him sexually abusing her as a child. He told my mom that his past had been forgiven by Jesus and his sins were washed away by the blood of Jesus. He intimated to Mom that if Jesus had forgiven him, so should she. Needless to say, Mom was in no mood to forgive her child molester father. Nor did she plan to forgive his wife, a woman who caused untold heartache and pain. Years later, I reached a place where I had enough of my grandparents’ passive-aggressive behavior. I made it known that I was no longer interested in having a relationship with them. And with that, my grandparents were excised from my life and that of my family. Or so I thought anyway.
In 2003, I moved to Clare, Michigan and became the pastor of a small, struggling Southern Baptist church. One Sunday, as I was preaching, I glanced up and looked out the windows at the back of the building. I was shocked to see my grandmother sitting in her car with her new husband. (Grandpa had miserably died several years before of colon cancer.) I had a Christian version of a WTF moment, and sure enough, after the service my grandmother came up to me as if nothing had ever happened and told me she was living near me with her new hubby and asked if my family and I wanted to have dinner with them sometime. At that moment, I was dying inside, wanting to verbally reduce her to the pile of shit she was. Unfortunately, congregants were standing nearby, so I said, “sure.” Always play the part, Bruce. Always play the part. Several church members told me that they used to attend church with my grandmother. She is a wonderful Christian woman, they said. I responded, there are two sides to every story. Later, I would feel guilty over not forgiving her, so I spent time in prayer asking God to forgive me for being angry and bitter towards my grandmother.
Cleansed of my “sin,” I decided to try to forge a new relationship with my grandmother and her new husband. Polly dreaded doing so, remembering how awful my grandparents were towards her and our children. I played the “what would Jesus do” card, and off to my grandmother’s home we went — which was, ironically, a mile or so away from our home. During our dinner discussion, my grandmother decided to share a family secret that had laid buried for over fifty years: that my father was not my biological father. Granted, I had begun to question my paternity, and have since concluded that my “real” father was likely my mother’s cousin, but it was not my grandmother’s place to share this secret over dinner and in the presence of my wife and children. Why she decided to do this, I’ll never know. This was the last time I ever talked to her. Several months later, we moved back to Ohio, and outside of my grandmother trying to contact me on Facebook, I have had no contact with her. I sent her my Dear Ann article. She never responded. Of course not, it is all under the blood, buried in the deepest seas, never to be remembered again.
As an atheist and a humanist, I have learned that it is okay to not forgive some people; that some people, such as my grandparents, don’t deserve forgiveness; that them going to their graves unforgiven is just punishment for their crimes and ill-behavior. When my grandfather died, I felt nothing and shed not a tear. I was faulted for not attending his funeral, but I didn’t care. I knew it would be an act of Fundamentalist masturbation over his rotting corpse. I would hear wonderful tales about the man, the myth, the legend; the soulwinner who daily sought to evangelize the lost; the man who loved Jesus more than the world. We would not be told, as Paul Harvey used to say, “the rest of the story.”
I am fine with people thinking I am unforgiving; that I should make peace with my grandparents. My grandparents are bad people. No matter how many times they attended church, sang hymns, won souls, and gave money to the church, they were still, at least to family, nasty, judgmental, mean, and violent; guilty of behavior that would land them in jail if they did these things today. Life is too short to spend it around such people. If they need forgiveness, let them ask God for it. As their grandson and the son of the dear woman they physically and psychologically brutalized, I have no intention of granting them pardon. My grandfather is dead. Good riddance. Soon, my grandmother will meet her end too. I shall not weep, except, perhaps, for those harmed by their behavior. Too bad there’s not a Hell. If there were, I know two people who deserve first-class accommodations.
Were you taught that you must, in all circumstances, absolutely forgive? Please share your experiences in the comment section.
About Bruce Gerencser
Bruce Gerencser, 62, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 41 years. He and his wife have six grown children and twelve 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. For more information about Bruce, please read the About page.
Thank you for reading this post. Please share your thoughts in the comment section. If you are a first-time commenter, please read the commenting policy before wowing readers with your words. All first-time comments are moderated. If you would like to contact Bruce directly, please use the contact form to do so.
Donations are always appreciated. Donations on a monthly basis can be made through Patreon. One-time donations can be made through PayPal.
The telling of my deconversion story brings all sorts of responses from Evangelical Christians. Some of my critics comb through my life with a head-lice comb, hoping to find something that invalidates my past life as a pastor. If they can find doctrinal error or heresy, this allows them to declare that I was a false prophet, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, someone who never was a True Christian®. These interlocutors bring me before the tribunal of their peculiar beliefs, asking questions meant to suss out my true spiritual nature. If they can determine that I was never saved, it allows them to dismiss my life out of hand. People wanting to discredit me in this manner almost always find sufficient evidence to warrant them saying, Bruce Gerencser was never a Christian. (Please see Gone but Not Forgotten: 22 Years Later San Antonio Calvinists Still Preaching Against Bruce Gerencser.)
Other Evangelical Christians, unable to square my past devotion to Jesus with their once-saved-always-saved soteriology, critically examine my life inside and out, looking for signs of trauma. I often get emails from Evangelicals apologizing for whatever psychological harm was caused to me by churches and other Christians. They wrongly think that I am not a Christian today because of some hurt in my past; that I left the ministry and Christianity because of hurtful things done to me by mean-spirited Christians. These “loving” critics — armchair psychologists — view me as they would an abused puppy. I pee all over the carpets of my life because someone or a group of someones repeatedly beat me with a rolled-up Columbus Dispatch. My deconversion is the result, then, of the harm caused to me by these unloving, unkind Christians; and that what I really need is to find a church congregation that will scoop up my broken spirit and sweetly love me back to Jesus. Ack! Gag me with a spoon!
Early on, I framed my loss of faith in purely intellectual terms. I knew that admitting that there was an emotional component to my deconversion would give people cause to say that the only reason I wasn’t a Christian is that I got my feelings hurt. I wanted people to see me as an intellectual who weighed the claims of Christianity and found them wanting. And of course, that’s exactly what I did. The primary reason I am an atheist today is because I came to believe that Christianity was false; that God, Jesus, and the Bible were not what Christian preachers and apologists claimed they were. (The Michael Mock Rule: It Just Doesn’t Make Sense.) Once the Bible lost its authority and hold over me, I was free to rationally and skeptically examine, analyze, and judge its teachings. I owe much to Dr. Bart Ehrman for showing me that what I had been taught about the Bible and what I had preached for decades was a lie. Once the Bible was rendered human and errant, the slide down the slippery slope of unbelief was quick, leading to a sixty-six-car pile-up at the bottom of the hill. Try as I might to find solace in Christian liberalism or Christian Universalism, I found these way stations intellectually lacking. In the end, agnosticism and atheism were the only labels that honestly and adequately explained my beliefs or lack thereof.
Today, I can look back over the past two decades and I can see that there was certainly emotional harm caused to me by fellow Christians, colleagues in the ministry, and Evangelical family members. The twenty-five years I spent in the ministry brought me in contact with numerous Jesus-loving abusers and sociopaths. By the time I left the ministry in 2005 — three years before I divorced Jesus — I was burned out. I was tired of having to deal with hateful, mean-spirited, self-centered church members. I was more than tired of church business meetings and board meetings that were little more than bloody, violent boxing matches sandwiched between invocations and benedictions. By the time I reached the end of my career, all I wanted to do was show up on Sundays and preach and then go home. The ministry had extracted a tremendous amount of emotional capital from me, a debt that has taken almost a decade of secular counseling to recover from. That said, I am not an oft-beaten puppy cowering in the corner of life. I embrace and own the past damage caused by Christianity, and I, with weeping and lamentations, bemoan the psychological harm I caused to my family and church congregants.
Today, I now know that the reasons I am not a Christian are legion. To focus on the psychological aspects of my loss of faith alone paints an incomplete picture. For those determined to view me as an abused puppy, all I can do is try to explain through my writing how and why I left my marriage to Jesus and became an atheist. It’s my story after all. Who better to tell it than I, right?
Are you an Evangelical-turned-atheist? Do you have former Christian friends and family members who attempt to psychoanalyze your deconversion? Please share your experiences in the comment section.
About Bruce Gerencser
Bruce Gerencser, 62, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 41 years. He and his wife have six grown children and twelve 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. For more information about Bruce, please read the About page.
Thank you for reading this post. Please share your thoughts in the comment section. If you are a first-time commenter, please read the commenting policy before wowing readers with your words. All first-time comments are moderated. If you would like to contact Bruce directly, please use the contact form to do so.
Donations are always appreciated. Donations on a monthly basis can be made through Patreon. One-time donations can be made through PayPal.
Someone might ask me, “Why make things so unpleasant by arguing? Why not go on with your life and let people believe as they do? Why can’t we all have mutual respect for each other?”
Mutual respect sounds pretty good to me, and it would be a great starting place. We could all be quiet and let everyone have their own thoughts.
So how about this:
I’ll get quiet when the Evangelical Christians do. When they stop their global campaign, I’ll stop writing and talking. I’ll stop speaking up when they stop trying to condition the minds of little children with songs, stories, and threats. When they quit trying to force the schools and the government to carry their message for them, I’ll stop protesting.
Many Christians accuse atheists of having a hidden agenda, which I think takes a special blend of nerve and insanity, considering that their highest priority is to convert the entire world.
By the way, there’s nothing secret about the atheist agenda. Simply stated, we won’t be forced to believe in God.
Recently, a Fundamentalist man by the name of Ben left a comment on a post about the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church movement: An Independent Baptist Hate List. Ben violated the comment rules by using a fake email address — ben@iloveyoubrusegerencser.com — so I didn’t approve his comment. I did decide, however, to use his comment as fodder for this post.
Let me say, before I get to Ben’s comment — that I don’t believe for one moment that he “loves” me. “I love you” is a tired, worthless trope uttered by Christians to give the appearance to unbelievers that they really care about them. Ben neither loves or care for me, and the reason is quite simple: He doesn’t know me. Ben read ONE post. He couldn’t be bothered to read the ABOUT page or the WHY page or any other 3,000+ posts on this site. If he really loved me, he would have taken the time to read my writing and then make a fair, charitable, honest assessment of my life. Instead, Ben did what Fundamentalists typically do: he answered a matter before hearing it (Proverbs 18:13). The Bible calls such a man foolish and shameful.
Now, let me address Ben’s comment. My response is emboldened and italicized.
This post really resonated with me, Bruce.
My wife and I left an Independent Baptist church a few months ago. Several of your points stand out to me. We were expected to attend every service, and the pastor’s favorite phrase was “it takes three to thrive.” If you wanted to teach a class, you had to meet a list of requirements, including that you don’t smoke tobacco and that your hair can’t cover your ears or collar.
We were asked to serve in ways that resembled a part-time or full-time job, which quickly began to take a toll on our quality of life. The pastor seemed to take pride in making the congregation members feel as if they can never serve God enough.
The preaching lacked any real substance, and every sermon turned into “you need to serve more and you need to be in church every service.” Oh, and they expected you to not only tithe religiously, but to also give above your tithe to support missions, guest speakers, and every foolish project they could conjure up.
It was one of the most traumatizing and exhausting experiences that my wife and I have ever endured in a so-called “church.” The last thing that I wanted to do after attending this church was to pray, read the Bible, or even think about God. And while not all Independent Baptist churches are as bad as that one was, I’m sure that there are also some that are far worse. I can never see myself joining an Independent Baptist church again, and I truly feel for anyone who has had to experience such things (or worse).
I am sorry Ben had to experience what he did at the church he and his wife attended. What Ben fails to understand is that his experience is not rare. In fact, it is quite common among IFB and other Evangelical churches. I make no apologies for believing that IFB churches in particular and Evangelical churches in general are cultic and psychologically harmful. Mainline/liberal/progressive Christian churches, along with a plethora of non-Christian groups, offer kinder, gentler, human-affirming experiences. While I personally have no desire or need for religion, I know many people do. My advice, then, is for them to flee Evangelicalism and find expressions of faith that are affirming; expressions of faith which embrace science and history; expressions of faith that see the Bible for what it is: an ancient religious text written by fallible men.
Having said that, I still consider myself a Bible-believing Christian. Why? Years ago I became a secular humanist/atheist after attending a secular college that completely challenged my entire worldview. I rejected the Bible and began believing (and promoting) the secular humanist worldview, including evolution. I loved to read Nietzsche, Darwin, Dawkins, and Harris.
Based on what Ben says here, he was a Christian before he went off to college. Once there, Ben lost his faith and became an atheist and a secular humanist. After a couple of years, Ben realized the error of his way and returned to Christianity. Did I miss anything?
I don’t like to ever question someone’s personal story and experiences, but when someone goes from Christian to atheism to Evangelicalism, I truly wonder if they grasped what it meant to be an atheist; what it meant to be a humanist. I don’t want to be accused of using the No True Scotsman argument, so I won’t flat out say Ben was never an atheist, but I do have my doubts. Rare is the educated atheist who leaves godlessness for Evangelical Christianity. Universalism? Perhaps. Deism? Perhaps. But Evangelicalism? Not likely.
This persisted for a couple of years until I finally began to realize that those positions required just as much (if not more) faith than religion did. I found myself correcting other atheists who would use bad arguments against religion or the Bible, which I had investigated myself and found to be untrue. Furthermore, there were so many things that science couldn’t explain about evolution, abiogenesis, and so forth.
Certainly, there are atheists who use bad arguments or don’t know much about Christianity and the Protestant Bible. However, I am not such a person, and neither are many of the atheist/humanist/non-Christian readers who frequent this site. Many of us spent years reading and studying the Bible. We read countless theological books and Christian biographies. Our faith was well informed, unlike Ben’s faith that was easily destroyed by attending a secular college. Had Ben read the ABOUT page he would have learned that I was in the Christian church for fifty years; that I was an Evangelical pastor for twenty-five of those years. I am not ignorant of what Evangelicals believe and practice, and even now, ten-plus years removed from my divorce from Jesus, I continue to immerse myself in the Evangelical sewer; not because I want to, but I must if I intend to remain an informed writer.
Yes, science doesn’t have ALL the answers. And the Bible does? A 2,000- 4,000- year-old religious text carries more authority than modern science? To quote the great philosopher Chad Ochocinco, Child Please. Science has not yet explained everything, and will likely never do so. However, from the Big Bang forward, we have a good idea about how the universe came into existence; how our planet came into existence; and how homo sapiens and kittens came to populate the earth. When left to choose between creationism and science, the choice is simple: science wins hands down. Creationism either demands we believe the universe is 6,024 years old or that there were millions and millions of years between the six days of creation. Both unscientific religious beliefs are absurd — as science clearly reveals.
The same goes for the so-called history recorded in the Bible. Certainly, there are historical events/places/people found within the pages of Holy Writ. However, most of the major Old Testament stories, from Noah’s Flood to Abraham to Moses and the Wandering Jews, have no historical foundation. The same could be said for the miracles recorded in the New Testament.
To believe everything found in the Bible is accurate, true, and without error is a faith claim, not one based on historical and scientific evidence. Evangelicals are free to believe what they want, but the moment they say that their Biblical beliefs are supported by science and history, I am going to say: SHOW ME. And not with apologetics books, creation “science” textbooks, or books written not to advance truth, but to protect Evangelical faith. What do most experts say on a matter; men and women who are seekers of truth rather than promoters of dogma?
If you are 100% honest with yourself, you’ll realize that any particular group has their own little “hate” list.
Ah yes, if I was “honest” with myself . . . What in my writing suggests that I am anything but open, transparent, and honest? I often find myself at odds with my fellow unbelievers, and have shared my disagreements on more than a few occasions. Sure, some atheists are shit-throwing idiots who revel in trashing Christianity and people of faith. I have seen more than a few atheists on social media act in ways that I find personally embarrassing. When such atheists show up on this site, I cut them off. I want the Life and Times of Bruce Gerencser to be a place where people with doubts about their faith or who have left Christianity can find encouragement, help, and support. I have banned a number of atheists over the years for bad behavior. That said, their numbers pale in comparison to feces-throwing Evangelicals. In fact, most of the Evangelicals who comment on this site are rude, inconsiderate, and argumentative. That’s why I only give such commenters one opportunity to say whatever it is they think a dead man named Jesus has laid upon their “hearts.” Once they have vented their spleens, I cut them off. I have done this for years now, and it has made the comment section much more enjoyable to read.
Here’s one that would suit most atheists/secular humanists/liberals:
1. The Bible
2. Fox News
3. Alex Jones/Rush Limbaugh/Hannity
4. Answers in Genesis.org
5. Donald Trump
6. Trump supporters
7. Breitbart
8. Gospel tracts
9. Religious documents or statues on government property
10. Creationists
11. Fundamentalists
12. TBN
13. Monotheistic religions
14. and so on….
Ben believes that atheists/secular humanists/liberals have hate lists too, much like IFB churches and pastors. Again, I wonder about his exposure to atheism/humanism. If he had taken to reading books/blogs written by atheists/agnostics/humanists, he would have found that we are not, generally, a hateful group. One only needs to read the Humanist Manifesto to learn than humanists are known by what they are for, not what they are against. IFB churches and pastors, on the other hand — along with many Evangelicals, Mormons, and conservative Catholics — are known for what they hate. God hates, so they hate. The aforementioned post, An Independent Baptist Hate List, is a catalog of things, beliefs, practices, and behaviors Fundamentalist Baptists hate with a passion.
I know Ben won’t “hear” what I say next, but the fact of the matter is this: I don’t hate people, nor do I hate inanimate objects. My focus is on harmful beliefs and practices, thus it can be said that I do hate certain IFB/Evangelical notions and praxes. Some beliefs don’t matter, but others cause great psychological and cultural harm. Scores of Americans have sought out counseling thanks to the damage done to them by religion — especially Fundamentalist Christianity. Children are physically abused because their parents believe they have been commanded by God to beat them into submission. Patriarchalism and complementarianism both find their roots in Fundamentalist Christianity. A careful look at climate change denialists reveals a common denominator: Christian Fundamentalism. The same could be said for those who believe the earth is flat. And the same could also be said about those who are white supremacists. Dig deep, and what is often found is religious Fundamentalism (and the same could be said about Muslim extremism).
Ben lists thirteen things he thinks I hate. He is wrong on all thirteen counts. Even Donald Trump, as much as I despise him as a man and revile his politics, I don’t hate him. That doesn’t mean I have never hated anyone, I have. But hate can consume people. One need only see the hatred many Evangelicals have for LGBTQ people, immigrants, and liberals to see what hate does to people. No thanks. I choose, instead, to turn my hatred into action. Yes, I want to chop at the root of Evangelical Christianity until the tree topples over, but it’s the beliefs I despise and hate, not the people.
I live in an area dominated by conservative Christianity and Republican politics. Even many of my fellow Democrats skew way too far to the right for my liking. I don’t hate my family, friends, and neighbors. Who wants to spend their life wallowing in a pit of anger and hatred? Not me. So, I do what I can to change hearts and minds. I try my best to be a good example of an atheist and a humanist. I am sure I fail more often than not, but with great resolve I pick myself up and try to do better.
As I investigated criticisms of the Bible and Christianity, I realized that there was a logical, reasonable explanation for any alleged problem. Lo and behold, I came full circle, abandoned my secular humanist position, and became a serious, born-again Christian.
This statement makes it clear, at least to me, that Ben truly hasn’t done his homework. No one can honestly study the nature of the Biblical text and conclude that it is inerrant. Saying the Bible is inspired, inerrant, and infallible requires faith. How can Ben KNOW that the Bible is what Evangelicals claim it is? The extant evidence is clear: the Bible is NOT what Evangelicals say it is. And anyone who had studied the matter knows this. Sure, it is “possible” to explain away the contradictions, but for most rational, skeptical people, these explanations seem hollow.
Ben believes the Bible is true because his chosen religion demands he do so. Thus, against reason and facts, Ben offers faith. And that’s fine. Want to believe the Bible is written by men as they were moved by the Holy Ghost and is without error, that’s fine. But, admit that this belief rests on faith, not facts.
If Ben happens to visit this site again, I hope he will hear me when I say that he needs to spend some serious time reading the works of Dr. Bart Ehrman. Doing so will cure Ben of what ails him. I have listed the books I recommend at the end of this post.
Although my experience at the “fundy” church was horrible, I know that it was the pastor’s issue, and it hasn’t dazed my view of God. I’m able to separate the infallible nature of men and churches from the truth revealed in Christ.
I’m not going to try to convince you to become a Christian, but I do want to say this: I feel your pain with the absurdity that takes place in some churches, and I’m sorry for any trauma you experienced. I also see that you suffer from a lot of physical pain, and I sincerely hope your medical issues improve.
Ben waits until the end of his comment to subtly suggest that I deconverted because of some sort of negative experience or trauma. (Please see Simple Contact Form for Evangelicals) While I have long admitted that there is an emotional component to my loss of faith, the primary reasons I am no longer a Christians are intellectual in nature. I made this clear in the post titled, The Michael Mock Rule: It Just Doesn’t Make Sense. The bottom line is this: Christianity doesn’t make sense to me. The reasons it doesn’t can be found in the posts listed on the WHY page.
Anyone who suggests as Ben does that my loss of faith rests on anything other than an intellectual foundation is deliberately choosing to ignore what I have to say; they are deliberately reading an alternative storyline into my story. As long-time readers know, do this and I will surely get pissed off. I expect people, atheists and Christians alike, to accept my story at face value. It’s my life, my story, so who knows it better than me?
I just hope that you keep an open mind and that you can see that atheism/secular humanism suffers from the same inherent problems that many churches /worldviews do. And who knows, maybe one day you can re-evaluate your position on God and separate the wheat from the chaff.
Ben offers me no evidence that challenges my atheistic/humanistic beliefs, so there is nothing I need to ponder or consider. I am not sure what Ben hoped to gain by leaving this comment? Countless Evangelical zealots have commented on the blog, emailed me, or left comments on social media over the past twelve years. Many more have prayed to the ceiling God on my behalf. And a few Evangelicals have even asked God to kill me. Yet, here I am, still unrepentant; still an apostate; still a heretic; still a God-hater. The omniscient, omnipresent Christian God supposedly knows exactly where I am, yet he does nothing. Why is that? Maybe he is on vacation, on the toilet, or sleeping (I Kings 18). Or maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t exist. My money is on the latter. When new evidence arises, I’ll be sure to consider it. Until then, I remain an atheist. All praise be to Loki!
Bruce Gerencser, 62, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 41 years. He and his wife have six grown children and twelve 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. For more information about Bruce, please read the About page.
Thank you for reading this post. Please share your thoughts in the comment section. If you are a first-time commenter, please read the commenting policy before wowing readers with your words. All first-time comments are moderated. If you would like to contact Bruce directly, please use the contact form to do so.
Donations are always appreciated. Donations on a monthly basis can be made through Patreon. One-time donations can be made through PayPal.
Over the past twelve years, I have corresponded with numerous Evangelicals who find themselves in “mixed” marriages after their loss of faith. Having entered marriage according to the Biblical principle found in 2 Corinthians 6:14-18:
Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers: for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness? And what concord hath Christ with Belial? or what part hath he that believeth with an infidel? And what agreement hath the temple of God with idols? for ye are the temple of the living God; as God hath said, I will dwell in them, and walk in them; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you. And will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty.
these unbelievers find themselves at odds with still-believing spouses. “What will become of their marriages?” these former Evangelicals ask. Having grown up in a religion that condemns mixed marriages AND divorce, they fear the consequences of losing their faith. Many of the Evangelicals who contact me suffer in secret, keeping their deconversions to themselves out of fear of hurting their spouses, children, parents, and close friends. I know a number of atheists/agnostics who attend Evangelical churches every Sunday because they fear what might happen if they dared to testify publicly that there is no God.
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 “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.
This advice holds true today. Saying to believing spouses, children, and friends, I AM AN ATHEIST, can and will bring immediate negative responses. I always caution people to carefully and thoroughly weigh the costs and consequences of coming out of the proverbial closet. The Bible in Luke 14:28-30 gives some pretty good advice when it says:
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.
Many unbelievers conclude that it is better for them to be closeted atheists than risk blowing up their marriages. But even then, these atheists/agnostics run the risk of being exposed; they run the risk of their spouses finding out the truth about who and what they really are. One man I know attended an IFB church with his wife and children every Sunday. To his spouse, family, pastor, and fellow church members, he was still a Jesus-loving, sin-hating, Bible-believing Christian. Outwardly, he was a good example of someone who loved Jesus. (Despite what Evangelicals say, it is possible and easy to fake being a Christian.) His deception could have gone on forever had his wife not found his secret stash of books by authors such as Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens. Needless to say, the shit hit the fan. This man remains married, but it is doubtful his marriage will survive once his children graduate from high school. The chasm between him and his wife is so large that it is unlikely they can find a way to bridge the two sides.
I know several couples who have been in mixed marriages for decades. They found ways to make their marriages work, choosing to compartmentalize their lives for the sake of their significant others. Several years ago, I ran into the spouse of one these couples at Walmart. I had been her pastor for a number of years, and her atheist husband — a delightful man — would attend church with her from time to time. I asked her about her marriage, “if you had it to do all over again, would you have married Bob?” She quickly said, “NO!” I asked her, “Why?” She replied, “My faith is very important to me and there’s a whole side of my life I can never share with Bob.” Viewing their marriage from afar, I see a couple who stills love one another, but I also see a relationship where each of them has a life separate from the other.
I also have corresponded with atheists/agnostics in mixed marriages who quickly found out that their spouses loved God/Jesus/Church more than they loved them. One close family member went through a divorce several years ago. At the time of their wedding, he was a faithful, Jesus-loving Evangelical. His wife, on the other hand, was a nominal Christian. Over time, he moved away from his Evangelical roots, eventually embracing unbelief — at least when it comes to organized religion. His wife, however, ran headlong into the arms of what is best described as emotional, touchy-feely, syrupy, gag–me-with-a-spoon Evangelicalism. While he would admit that the reasons for their divorce are many, one man, Jesus, played a central part in their breakup. Given a choice, his wife chose Jesus over him.
Evangelical apologists have all sorts of explanations for why people deconvert. Few of their reasons, however, match what really goes on when a devoted follower of Jesus begins the process of deconversion. Most atheists/agnostics will tell you that their losses of faith were long, arduous, painful processes. I know mine was. The moment I wrote my coming-out letter, Dear Family, Friends and Former Parishioners, my entire life came tumbling down. Emotionally, I was a wreck. I knew walking away from Christianity was the right thing to do, but I grossly underestimated the carnage that would lie in its wake. I had followed the evidence wherever it led, and despite attempts to stop my downward slide on the proverbial slippery slope, I had concluded that the central tenets of Christianity were untrue. My unbelief forced me to rethink and rebuild my life from the ground up. What did I really believe? What were my moral and ethical values? What kind of husband and father did I want to be? The questions were many, some of which linger to this day. So, to Evangelicals who believe former Christians, without suffering, pain, and agony , just woke up one morning and said, “I am an atheist,” I say this: “you don’t know what the fuck you are talking about.”
This rebuilding process, of course, does not take place in a vacuüm. People who are married when they deconvert wrestle with questions about the future. They ponder what kind of marriages they will have if their spouses are still Christians. They wonder how being in a mixed marriage will affect their children. No longer believing that there is life after death can and does alter how one views the world. If a former Christian’s marriage was already troubled before his deconversion — yet he stayed married because of what the Bible teaches about divorce — he often questions whether he wants to remain married to his Evangelical spouse. Since there is only one life to live and then you are d-e-a-d, it’s fair and honest to ask yourself as an unbeliever: “If my Evangelical wife remains a devoted follower of Jesus, do I really want to spend the rest of my life married to her?” Many times, the answer is no and divorce soon follows.
I know a handful of Evangelicals-turned-atheists who took a wait-and-see approach to their spouses and marriages. These former Christians believed their spouses were, at the very least, open to discussing the reasons for why they deconverted. Taking a low-key approach allowed them to have non-threatening, honest discussions about God, Christianity, and the Bible. More often than not, these discussions bore fruit, leading to their spouses’ later deconversion. Sometimes, it took years of discussions (and book recommendations) before their spouses came to see the light, so to speak. These former Evangelicals believed that their marriages were worth saving if at all possible. This is more likely the case for couples who have been married a long time. It is a lot easier to walk away from a marriage of two or five years than it is to walk away from a marriage of twenty or thirty years.
People often look my forty-year marriage to Polly and think that we are some sort of shining example of what is possible post-Jesus. I warn them, however, that our journey from Evangelicalism to unbelief is ours alone; that far too often believing spouses remain so despite the deconversion of their husband or wife. Quite frankly, Polly and I were lucky. Just the other day we were talking about what might have happened had either of us stayed true to Jesus. We both concluded that our marriage might not have survived such upheaval and disunity had one of us still believed. Fortunately, as has been the case for most of our marriage, we walked hand in hand as our former lives as followers of Jesus went up in smoke. While there was a time when I was the out-and-proud atheist and Polly was the secret agnostic, we are closer now when it comes to the extent of our unbelief. Our personalities are different, so it stands to reason that how we live out our godlessness in public and around family is dissimilar too.
Are you in a mixed marriage? Did you go through a divorce after you deconverted? Are you a closeted atheist who still attends church with their spouse/family? Please share your experiences in the comment section.
About Bruce Gerencser
Bruce Gerencser, 61, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 40 years. He and his wife have six grown children and twelve 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. For more information about Bruce, please read the About page.
Bruce is a local photography business owner, operating Defiance County Photo out of his home. If you live in Northwest Ohio and would like to hire Bruce, please email him.
Thank you for reading this post. Please share your thoughts in the comment section. If you are a first-time commenter, please read the commenting policy before wowing readers with your words. All first-time comments are moderated. If you would like to contact Bruce directly, please use the contact form to do so.
Donations are always appreciated. Donations on a monthly basis can be made through Patreon. One-time donations can be made through PayPal.
This is the two hundredth and eighth installment in the Songs of Sacrilege series. This is a series that I would like readers to help me with. If you know of a song that is irreverent towards religion, makes fun of religion, pokes fun at sincerely held religious beliefs, or challenges the firmly held religious beliefs of others, please send me an email.
[Chorus]
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
[Verse 1]
In the class she’s taking notes
Just how deep deep is my throat
Mother Mary don’t you know
She’s got eyes like Marilyn Monroe
[Chorus]
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
[Verse 2]
From the cross she’s raised her head
This is what the sister said
Give no love until you’re wed
Live no life until you’re dead
The good books says we must suppress
The good books says we must confess
But who cares what the good books says
Cause now she’s taking off her dress
[Chorus]
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
Catholic school girls rule
[Outro]
Lead us into temptation
We are pure divine creation
Talking about my generation
Injected with the seed of emasculation
Catholic!
This is the two hundredth and seventh installment in the Songs of Sacrilege series. This is a series that I would like readers to help me with. If you know of a song that is irreverent towards religion, makes fun of religion, pokes fun at sincerely held religious beliefs, or challenges the firmly held religious beliefs of others, please send me an email.
[Verse 1]
I was not created in the likeness of a fraud
Your hell is something scary, I prefer a loving God
We are not the center of this funny universe
And what is worse, I do not serve in fear of such a curse
[Verse 2]
Shallow be thy game, 2000 years, look in the mirror
You play the game of shame and tell your people live in fear
A rival to the way you see, the Bible let him be
I’m a threat to your survival and your control company
[Chorus]
You’ll never burn me [x2]
I will be your heretic
You can’t contain me
I am the power free
Truth belongs to everybody
[Verse 3]
To anyone who’s listening, you’re not born into sin
The guilt they try and give you, puke it in the nearest bin
Missionary madness sweep up culture with a broom
Trashing ancient ways is part for the course it’s fucking rude
[Verse 4]
To think that you’re above, the laws of nature is a joke
Purple sashes, feeding masses, smoke on which to choke
I might be a monkey when it comes to being holy
Fundamental hatred get down on your knees and…
[Chorus]
You’ll never burn me [x2]
I will be your heretic
You can’t contain me
I am the power free
Truth belongs to everybody
[Verse 1]
I was not created in the likeness of a fraud
Your hell is something scary, I prefer a loving God
We are not the center of this funny universe
And what is worse, I do not serve in fear of such a…
[Chorus]
You’ll never burn me [x2]
I will be your heretic
You can’t contain me
I am the power free
Truth belongs to everybody
This is the two hundredth and sixth installment in the Songs of Sacrilege series. This is a series that I would like readers to help me with. If you know of a song that is irreverent towards religion, makes fun of religion, pokes fun at sincerely held religious beliefs, or challenges the firmly held religious beliefs of others, please send me an email.
Today’s Song of Sacrilege is The God That Failed by Metallica.
Pride you took, pride you feel
Pride that you felt when you’d kneel
Not the word, not the love
Not what you thought from above
It feeds, it grows
It clouds all that you will know
Deceit, deceive
Decide just what you believe
I see faith in your eyes
Never you hear the discouraging lies
I hear faith in your cries
Broken is the promise, betrayal
The healing hand held back by the deepened nail
Follow the god that failed
Find your peace, find your say
Find the smooth road in your way
Trust you gave, a child to save
Left you cold and him in grave
It feeds, it grows
It clouds all that you will know
Deceit, deceive
Decide just what you believe
I see faith in your eyes
Never you hear the discouraging lies
I hear faith in your cries
Broken is the promise, betrayal
The healing hand held back by the deepened nail
Follow the god that failed
Someone might ask me, “Why make things so unpleasant by arguing? Why not go on with your life and let people believe as they do? Why can’t we all have mutual respect for each other?”
