Menu Close

Category: Life

Leaving the Evangelical Bubble and Entering the “World”

29 Comments
Man hiding in box

Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof: but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever. (KJV, 1 John 2:15-17)

Don’t love the world’s ways. Don’t love the world’s goods. Love of the world squeezes out love for the Father. Practically everything that goes on in the world—wanting your own way, wanting everything for yourself, wanting to appear important—has nothing to do with the Father. It just isolates you from him. The world and all its wanting, wanting, wanting is on the way out—but whoever does what God wants is set for eternity. (The MESSAGE, 1 John 2:15-17)

As an Evangelical for fifty years, I believed the Bible was the inspired, inerrant, infallible Word of God. I believed saved people — those bought and redeemed by the blood of the virgin-born, sinless, crucified, and resurrected Son of God, Jesus — should (must) follow the teachings, commands, and laws of the Protestant Christian Bible. I was an all-in kind of believer. And I expected my wife, children, and the members of the churches I pastored to be all-in too.

The Bible condemns “lukewarm,” cultural Christianity. For example, Revelation 3:16-17 says:

I know you inside and out, and find little to my liking. You’re not cold, you’re not hot—far better to be either cold or hot! You’re stale. You’re stagnant. You make me want to vomit. You brag, ‘I’m rich, I’ve got it made, I need nothing from anyone,’ oblivious that in fact you’re a pitiful, blind beggar, threadbare and homeless. (The MESSAGE)

According to 1 John, God commanded me to not love the “world,” neither the things that are in the “world.” In Evangelicalism, particularly the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church movement, the “world” was anything contrary to the teachings of the Bible. Well, that’s not true. The “world” was anything contrary to your pastor’s interpretation of the Bible. As an Evangelical pastor for twenty-five years, I defined for congregants what it meant to “not love the world” through my preaching, teaching, and lifestyle. While my preaching moderated on this subject over the years, I always believed that Christians were to stand with God, the Bible, and their church against Satan and the world.

I stood against the “world” in my preaching and way of life, as did Polly and our six children. We certainly were, at times, hypocrites, but we genuinely tried to live lives separate from the evil influences of the “world.” This way of life governed where we went, what we wore, who we associated with, what we read, and virtually every other aspect of our lives. That’s why we were in our late 40s before we drank alcohol for the first time. Polly was 45-years-old before she wore her first pair of pants. Outside of our two oldest children attending public school for two years, all of our children either attended a private Evangelical school or were homeschooled. Our three youngest children were homeschooled from kindergarten through grade 12. We didn’t own a TV for the first 20 years of our marriage, and even after we let Hellivision into our home, I fought numerous “spiritual” battles over whether we should have one. (Please see The Preacher and His TV.) The TV and Satan won. 🙂

Being teetotalers, we tried to avoid businesses that sold alcohol. This proved to be an exercise in futility. If you only want expensive goods and lousy food, shop and eat at places that don’t sell alcohol. We finally gave up, believing that God would protect us from infection by the “world” when we occasionally shopped or ate at worldly establishments.

Our lives were surrounded by God, Christians, the Bible, and the church. We lived in a bubble that insulated us from the “world.” I have had lifelong atheists (just today) tell me that Evangelical Christians are stupid, ignorant, and numerous other pejorative words (missing the fact that they were insulting me). I have had atheists tell me that there must have been something wrong with me for it to take 50 years for me to leave Christianity. What these atheists fail to understand is that many people are born into Evangelical families. They grow up in Evangelical homes, attend Evangelical churches every time the doors are open, attend Evangelical colleges, marry Evangelical spouses, and start the indoctrination and conditioning all over again with their children.

When you are in the Evangelical bubble, everything within makes perfect sense. It is only when you step outside of the bubble that you see how insane many of the things within the bubble actually are. (Please see What I Found When I Left the Box and The Danger of Being in a Box and Why It Makes Sense When you Are in It.) Is it any wonder that many ex-Evangelicals require years of therapy to come to terms with and overcome the indoctrination and conditioning of their past? Worse yet, people who leave the “one true faith” often lose many, if not all, of their friends and experience fractured relationships with their parents, grandparents, siblings, and extended family. For lifelong Evangelicals, deconverting is an excruciating, painful process.

One of the things I had to learn on my journey from Evangelicalism to atheism (please see From Evangelicalism to Atheism Series) was that the “world” was not the problem I thought it was. I had been told a lie, and I repeated that lie over and over to the people I pastored. My life, and that of my family, was wrapped up in a lie — that the “world” was inherently wicked/evil/sinful and must be avoided at all costs.

Polly and I left Christianity in November 2008. We gathered our children together and told them of our decision, that they were free to choose their own paths. Then, in early 2009, I sent out a letter to hundreds of people titled Dear Family, Friends, and Former Parishioners.

I wrote (edited for grammar, spelling, and readability on July 29, 2021):

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 —

Thoughtful readers will see and feel my pain and anguish in this letter. The David Tees of the world will see more reasons to criticize me and condemn me to the flames of Hell. To the former I say, thank you for listening and walking along with me on my journey. To the latter? Read my mind 🙂

As I reentered the world, I lost all of my friends, save two. All of my former colleagues in the ministry wrote me off. My best friend wrote me several scathing emails, never inquiring about how I was doing or how my family was doing. (In retrospect, I grossly underestimated how our deconversion would affect our children.) I received letters and emails from angry or confused former parishioners. (Please see the Letters section on the WHY? page.) I even had a former church member and Christian Union pastor drive from southeast Ohio to my home in the hope of convincing me of the error of my way. (Please see Dear Friend.) Our 25-year friendship ended that day.

Even though I worked secular jobs while pastoring, I was ill-prepared to totally immerse myself into the wild, wooly world. The world can be a dangerous place, especially for naive sheep turned goats. I had to learn how to navigate an environment that was foreign to me. I had to determine what it was I really believed about, well, everything. After fifty years of governing my life by the teachings of the Bible, I was left with the task of developing a moral and ethical framework for my life — a work that continues to this day.

In many ways, life was easier in my Christian days. The Bible was God’s divine blueprint and rulebook for my life and that of my family. God said it, and that settled it! No need to think, reason, or wrestle, — just believe and obey. Life is so different now. There’s no blueprint or rulebook to follow. I am on my own, and armed with skepticism, reason, and common sense I chart a new course for my life. I have made a lot of mistakes post-Jesus. However, each day is another opportunity for me to be a better “worldly” humanist.

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.

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

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Bruce, Have You Tried . . .?

22 Comments
unsolicited medical advice

Every time I mention my health in a blog post — as sure as the sun comes up in the morning — I will receive emails and social media comments from readers offering me unsolicited, unwanted medical advice. These people mean well, but their “advice” is not welcome or helpful. Their advice says I am not doing something right; it is my fault I am sick and in pain. If I would just follow their “advice,” I would no longer be sick, nor would I be in pain.

Often, the “advice” I receive comes from proponents of alternative treatments — unproven treatments purveyors promise really, really, really work (for a price). There seems to be an assumption by the people who send me unsolicited medical advice that I am ignorant; that I have not investigated other treatments for gastroparesis, fibromyalgia, and osteoarthritis.

Last Saturday, I published a post titled, Health Update: I’m F**ked. In this article, I mentioned the results from an MRI I had last week:

I had X-rays. Normal. CT scan. Normal. And now an MRI of my thoracic spine. NOT normal. I have:

Disc herniation (T7,T8)

Disc herniation (T6,T7)

Central spinal canal stenosis (T9/T10, T10/T11)

Foraminal stenosis (T5,T6)

Disc degeneration/spondylosis (T1/T2 through T10/T11)

Facet Arthropathy throughout the spine, particularly at T2/T3, T3/T4, T5/T6, and T7/T8 through the T12/L1 levels.

Hypertrophic arthropathy at T9/T10

I quickly received several emails and comments telling me that I need to try this or that diet or supplement. These people have no idea about what my diet is or what, if any, supplements I take. They assume that because I am sick and in pain, that I must not be doing what they suggest I do. One long-time reader sent me a link to a video and suggested I go on the KETO diet. I tersely replied that I was on the no-food diet (gastroparesis); that I have lost 120 pounds; that my A1c is 5.3. She means well, but her emails and comments are NOT helpful. The same can be said for emails from people saying that if I just became a vegan, all would be well.

Let me be clear: I think Reiki, chiropractic treatment (with a few exceptions), homeopathy, supplementation, essential oils, acupuncture, magnets, faith healers, etc., are unproven, unscientific modalities. The same goes for diets that advocate unbalanced, unhealthy eating. There’s nothing wrong with my diet. I eat lots of vegetables, seafood, and other “healthy foods. Yet, I am still sick. Why? My problems are not diet related. There’s no diet or supplement known to man that will “cure” the structural damage in my back. Go to a chiropractor? Are you fucking kidding me? Think about that for a moment: a chiropractor pushing on my herniated discs. What could go wrong? The only solution is to treat and manage my pain.

I am a proponent of science-based medicine (SBM). I have confidence that my doctors are providing me the best possible treatment. I keep myself informed about the latest treatments and studies for my various maladies. I suspect I am better educated on gastroparesis, fibromyalgia, and osteoarthritis than are any of the people who offer me unsolicited medical advice. I have friends I trust who will send me links to reports or studies they have read. I have no problem with them doing this. What irritates the hell out of me is the unsolicited medical advice that subtly suggests that I am at fault; that if I would just do _______, my decades-long illnesses and pain would magically go away.

If you want to help me, continue to read my writing, leave pithy comments, and support my work financially. Leave my medical care to my doctors and me. Trust me, we have it under control. I know the limitations of modern medicine. I know that no magic treatment that will “cure” me is lurking around the next corner. I expect my doctors to do what they can, but I have never expected them to be miracle workers. Sometimes, life sucks. I am a realist. I know that I will battle chronic illness and pain until I die. Friends, family, and blog readers, genuinely wish I weren’t in pain. They tell me that things will get better in time. “Surely, better days lie ahead for me.” They think I need encouragement or happy visions of a seal bouncing a beach ball on his nose. I don’t. Sure, there are things people can do to help me, but how about asking me what help I need instead of assuming I need ______________?

Let me kindly ask again that readers do NOT send me unsolicited medical advice. And that includes leaving comments on this site, making comments on social media, or sending me private Facebook/Twitter messages. If you truly love and respect me, PLEASE stop.

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.

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

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Health Update: I’m F**ked

63 Comments
bruce gerencser and jesus

I have gastroparesis, fibromyalgia, and osteoarthritis (I’ve typed these words so many times, autocorrect remembers them). In addition, over the past four months, I’ve had excruciating pain in the middle of my back, left side, and under my left arm, into my shoulder, and down my arm. The pain is so severe that it affects everything I do. Some days, I can hardly use my left arm (and I’m left-handed).

I had X-rays. Normal. CT scan. Normal. And now an MRI of my thoracic spine. NOT normal. I have:

  • Disc herniation (T7,T8)
  • Disc herniation (T6,T7)
  • Central spinal canal stenosis (T9/T10, T10/T11)
  • Foraminal stenosis (T5,T6)
  • Disc degeneration/spondylosis (T1/T2 through T10/T11)
  • Facet Arthropathy throughout the spine, particularly at T2/T3, T3/T4, T5/T6, and T7/T8 through the T12/L1 levels.
  • Hypertrophic arthropathy at T9/T10

I knew I had osteoarthritis arthritis in my spine. I have arthritis everywhere. Why I have these other problems is unknown. Genetics (my sister has similar problems)? Injury? Age-related deterioration? God’s judgment (I already know Evangelicals are thinking this)? Too much sex (you will have to ask Polly)? 🙂 Sports-related damage? There’s no way of knowing the exact cause. And it doesn’t matter. Knowing the cause won’t change the fact that I have excruciating pain in the middle of my back.

My primary care doctor called me this morning to give me the MRI results. I could tell by his voice that the results were not good. He’s been my doctor for twenty-six years. Doc has literally watched me physically deteriorate over the years (he calls me an enigma — something that baffles understanding and can’t be explained). He genuinely cares about me and wants to alleviate my suffering. Unfortunately, there’s little he can do except treat the pain. Doc referred me to a pain management doctor in Fort Wayne. Hopefully, I will get in to see him soon.

After Doc gave me the verdict, I replied, in my gallows humor way, “I’m fucked.” He chuckled a bit — we’re friends — and then he reminded me of a scene in Planes, Trains, and Automobiles; the scene where Steve Martin repeatedly uses the F word.

Video Link

Today, I feel fucked. Hopefully, the pain doctor will help me feel less fucked soon.

It is what it is, but the spinning plate that I call life is overflowing. I’d pray if there were a God, but since there’s not, all I can do is endure. As I ponder my suffering, I am reminded that it could be worse. My friend, Eric, died several weeks ago from pancreatic cancer. In less than a year, he went from enjoying life with his grandchildren to excruciating pain and death. I have another friend who contracted COVID-19 before the vaccines were available. She’s in her forties. She had a stroke, heart problems, and had to have eye surgery. I’m concerned that she could end up blind. It is unlikely that she will ever work again. I have another dear friend, Tammy, who also contracted COVID. She was a spry, outgoing psychiatric nurse, that is until COVID left her incapacitated. She’s now on permanent disability. I could go on and on. Like it or not, suffering is part of our lives. Few people will escape this life without suffering at one point or another. It’s just the way it is.

Oh, did I tell you about the rash I have; that is so itchy I want to get out a butter knife and scratch myself to death? True story . . . years ago, Polly came home from work and found me in the middle of the floor, scratching my arms and legs with a butter knife. I had had a painful gallbladder attack that caused me to break out in hives. Thank the Gods for butter knives. And Benadryl. And corticosteroids.

I do have one bit of good news: I am retaking generic Lyrica. It is quite effective for the nerve pain in my legs. In fact, I now have NO nerve pain in my legs. In the past, taking Lyrica has caused weight gain, so much so that I had to stop taking the drug (twice). Gastroparesis has dramatically altered my physiology. I thought maybe my body would react differently to Lyrica this time. So far, no weight gain. Can I get an AMEN? And for that, I am grateful. Grateful to whom? Not God, that’s for sure. Loki? Maybe. 🙂 It is science that courses through my veins, lessening the pain in my legs. All praise be to science, the only God that makes its presence known.

Thank you for your continued love and support. Your kind words mean the world to me.

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.

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

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Bruce and Polly Sitting in A Tree

11 Comments
polly bruce gerencser cranbrook gardens bloomfield hills michigan 1978
Polly and Bruce Gerencser, Cranbrook Gardens, Bloomfield Hills, Michigan, Spring 1978, two months before wedding.

Polly and I are celebrating our forty-third wedding anniversary today. Tomorrow, we plan to travel to Findlay, Ohio, and celebrate our anniversary at The Gathering, an upscale restaurant. Afterward, we will take a stroll along the Blanchard River at Riverside Park. Weather permitting, I hope to take a picture of both of us. It’s been two or three years since I have done so.

Last night, as I typically do on Wednesdays, I watched Matt Dillahunty’s show The Hang Up. At the end of the show, Matt takes what is called Super Chats from viewers. Any donation over $10 is read live on air. What follows is my $19.99 Super Chat. (Clip starts at 2:16:25 if the embed doesn’t work properly for you.)

Video Link

Thanks, Matt! And most of all, thank you, Polly, for forty-three mostly wonderful years. I love you!

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.

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

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Bruce and Viced Rhino: My Worst Sleep Paralysis Hallucination Ever

10 Comments
sleep paralysis
Cartoon by ViperFish

I have periodic episodes of sleep paralysis. They have become more frequent as I have gotten older and my health has declined. Web MD defines sleep paralysis this way:

Sleep paralysis is a feeling of being conscious but unable to move. It occurs when a person passes between stages of wakefulness and sleep. During these transitions, you may be unable to move or speak for a few seconds up to a few minutes. Some people may also feel pressure or a sense of choking. Sleep paralysis may accompany other sleep disorders such as narcolepsy. Narcolepsy is an overpowering need to sleep caused by a problem with the brain’s ability to regulate sleep.

Sleep paralysis usually occurs at one of two times. If it occurs while you are falling asleep, it’s called hypnagogic or predormital sleep paralysis. If it happens as you are waking up, it’s called hypnopompic or postdormital sleep paralysis.

What Happens With Hypnagogic Sleep Paralysis?

As you fall asleep, your body slowly relaxes. Usually you become less aware, so you do not notice the change. However, if you remain or become aware while falling asleep, you may notice that you cannot move or speak.

What Happens With Hypnopompic Sleep Paralysis?

During sleep, your body alternates between REM (rapid eye movement) and NREM (non-rapid eye movement) sleep. One cycle of REM and NREM sleep lasts about 90 minutes. NREM sleep occurs first and takes up to 75% of your overall sleep time. During NREM sleep, your body relaxes and restores itself. At the end of NREM, your sleep shifts to REM. Your eyes move quickly and dreams occur, but the rest of your body remains very relaxed. Your muscles are “turned off” during REM sleep. If you become aware before the REM cycle has finished, you may notice that you cannot move or speak.

I had my first episode of sleep paralysis as a teenager. My latest episode happened last Friday. I had a rough night the night before (a common problem with gastroparesis, fibromyalgia, and osteoarthritis). I had a hard time staying asleep due to leg pain, muscle spasms, and nausea. I spent the night falling asleep, waking up, falling asleep, waking up — and that’s with taking multiple medications for pain, spasms, and insomnia. Some nights, these medicines don’t work very well.

I got up at 2:00 pm, moved to the living room couch, and promptly fell asleep for two hours. Then, shortly before 4:00 pm, I had an episode of sleep paralysis — the worst episode ever.

Before falling asleep, I turned YouTube on our big screen TV. Viced Rhino (an anagram for young earth creationist Eric Hovind), one of my favorite atheist video makers, had posted several news videos, so I thought I would watch them. So I started playing the following video:

Video Link

Then minutes into the video, I fell asleep . . .

Viced Rhino invites me to a party at his house, a ramshackle one-story building. I drive there in a burgundy Chevy Lumina (a car we owned in the late 1990s). I arrive at Viced Rhino’s home and park in the gravel driveway. I walk into the home, only to find that the “party” is actually an audience for a taping of one of Viced Rhino’s videos.

After listening to Viced Rhino for a while, I decide to leave and go to a whore house (I am currently watching Underbelly season four — an Australian TV show featuring two underworld women in the 1920s and 1930s. One of the women runs whore houses.) So I walk out to the driveway, only to find my car is missing.

I am in a van with an attractive young woman. Suddenly, the van stops, the back door opens, and I fall out into a park. People are picnicking. I say to a woman, “I need to help.” “My blood sugar is low,” I say to myself. The woman gives me a warm bottle of Red pop.

I walk to a big town, going through a long, painted white cement tunnel, with adult entertainment businesses on both sides of the tunnel. (This part of the story reminds me of my visit to Underground Atlanta in 1976 as an eighteen-year-old boy.)

I stumble into a firehouse, asking a burly black fireman to help me. I tell him my blood sugar is low. Then, suddenly, I hear a banging noise in the distance (Polly is making lunch in the kitchen, 20 feet away) and hear Viced Rhino talking.

I started screaming HELP ME! This what I typically do when trying to come out of an episode of sleep paralysis. Of course, these screams sound like faint mumbles to those outside of my mind. Fortunately, Polly heard my “screams” and, as she always does, helps me to gently wake up.

I am trembling and speaking with a high-pitched staccato voice. It took me hours to gain some sense of normal. Polly was so worried for me that she thought about calling off from work — something she has never done in her 25-year career at Sauder Woodworking. Knowing that she already had one employee call off for the night, I told her I would be okay. I wasn’t, but I didn’t want her to miss getting her perfect attendance bonus.

I spent the rest of the night on the couch, only getting up to use the bathroom. This was the most terrifying experience I have ever had with sleep paralysis. Throw in Ambien-induced hallucinations — is it any wonder I don’t want to go to sleep? Sleep paralysis typically follows a sleepless night. Most of these terrifying episodes occur when I am lying on the couch or sitting in my recliner. While sleep paralysis won’t kill you, it can do a number on you psychologically. I was still having problems the next day.

I still love Viced Rhino, but I hope he doesn’t invite me to any more “parties” at his house. 🙂

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.

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

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Giving In When It’s The Only Thing You Can Do

17 Comments

If you are a sports fan, you have likely heard the late Jim Valvano’s speech at the 1993 Espy Awards. Valvano had terminal cancer. He died six weeks after giving his speech at the Espy’s. Valvano started The V Foundation for Cancer Research. Its motto is “Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up.” The idea behind this motto is that life is always to be valued above death, that we must keep fighting until the very end, that we must never give in or give up. This sort of thinking is on prominent display on social media and in countless books; a sentiment I can’t embrace.

Barbara Ehrenreich, author of Bright-Sided: How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America, had this to say about the positive thinking culture that permeates our society:

In other words, it [positive thinking] requires deliberate self-deception, including a constant effort to repress or block out unpleasant possibilities and ‘negative’ thoughts. The truly self-confident, or those who have in some way made their peace with the world and their destiny within it, do not need to expend effort censoring or otherwise controlling their thoughts.

Speaking of having breast cancer, Ehrenreich wrote:

Breast cancer, I can now report, did not make me prettier or stronger, more feminine or spiritual. What it gave me, if you want to call this a “gift,” was a very personal, agonizing encounter with an ideological force in American culture that I had not been aware of before—one that encourages us to deny reality, submit cheerfully to misfortune, and blame only ourselves for our fate.

Read your local newspaper’s obituaries, and you will find references to the dead battling, fighting, and persevering to the end. We know differently. Most people die with a whimper; the life sucked out of them by the diseases that afflict the human race.

I am dying. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but I am nearing the end of my life. Well-wishers tell me to keep fighting. Preachers of positive thinking tell me that I need to think good thoughts. It seems that people want me to deny reality and construct a false narrative, one of rainbows, puppy dogs, and happiness. People mean well, but as I become sicker, I find their cheerful, syrupy words unhelpful. In fact, I often find their words irritating and depressing. I find myself thinking, “can’t you see me?” Perhaps they can’t bear the thought of me dying. They can’t imagine their world without me. And so, the mass delusion continues.

Even if I were a healthy sixty-four, I am still nearing the time when I join Toto over the rainbow. If I lived to be 70, my life is 91% over; if I live to 80, 80% of my life is in the rearview mirror. I am not, however, healthy, and I never will be. I see no magical treatment on the horizon, no drug that cures me of what ails me. All my doctors can do is treat my symptoms and try to reduce my pain. Yesterday, I saw my primary care doctor. I had an EKG, a chest X-ray, and blood work. I will likely have a CT scan soon.

Four months ago, I started having pain in my left side. Typically, when I have such pains, I think “fibromyalgia.” However, such pains typically ebb and flow. This excruciating pain has, instead, spread to the middle of my back and under my arm. I spend most of my waking hours on the couch, trying to lie just right to lessen the pain. Pain medications are not effective with this pain, so I endure.

As you may know, I was diagnosed with gastroparesis — an incurable disease — earlier this year. I have lost 115 pounds, have little appetite, and frequent bouts of vomiting. I take medications that “help” to some degree with the symptoms, but there’s no cure for gastroparesis, so this is my life.

And then there’s Uncle Arthur — osteoarthritis. The X-rays I had done yesterday showed more arthritis in the spine. I am beginning to wonder if it would be simpler to list the places where I DON’T have arthritis.

I write this post, not to solicit sympathy, but to make a point about why it is okay to give in when it is all you can do. A week or so ago, we went to Whole Foods in Toledo. As I haltingly walked in the door, I veered to the left, away from Polly to the motorized carts. Polly watched as I stood there for what seemed the longest time. She came over to me and asked, “what are you doing?” I replied, “I am thinking about using a cart.” You see, I have never used a motorized cart or my wheelchair in a store. Whether due to pride or some sort of warrior complex, I refuse to use a cart.

I know that the no-cart/no-wheelchair days are over. No amount of positive mental thinking will change the fact that my body is broken beyond repair. IF I want to go to the store with Polly, I must use a cart. The battle, then, is psychological, not physical. I must embrace life as it is. I must be willing to give in.

I choose to embrace my life as it is, not how I might want it to be or how others want it to be. I choose to be a realist and a pragmatist. Bruce, this post is so damn depressing. Yep, and so is life. All I know to do is accept what comes my way. Unlike Jim Valvano, I have come to see that it is okay to give in; that I am not weak or a failure if I do so. In the end, Valvano and I will end up in the same place.

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.

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

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

I Make No Apologies for Being a Curmudgeon

16 Comments

Yesterday, I posted the following on Facebook:

I love wearing my rainbow suspenders. Sure, I’m an LGBTQ ally, but I just like wearing them. And they keep me from exposing my ass to the world. That said, wearing them during Pride Month brings out the glares. 😂 I take great joy, pleasure, and smug satisfaction in irritating the Heaven out of bigots, homophobes, transphobes, and religious Fundamentalists. No one has yet confronted me, but the glares are telling. And if someone stupidly, ignorantly, and foolishly confronts me? “I pity the fool, “ to quote Mr. T. I am an old, cranky curmudgeon. And I know words. Lots of words. You’ve been warned. 😂

David Young, an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) evangelist — married to my wife’s cousin — responded to my post with this:

You may be old, but you don’t have to be a cranky curmudgeon. 😏

My friend Dale D. responded:

Yes, he does! Otherwise, he’s not Bruce!

Dale understands me. We’ve been friends for years. I appreciated his willingness to defend my curmudgeonly ways.

I posted two comments. Let me give you the second one first so you understand my use the word curmudgeon:

My definition of curmudgeon: cranky and opinionated — you know, in a good way.😂 I’ve been blogging since 2007. I’ve been a prolific writer most of my life — both as a Christian pastor and as an atheist preacher. 😂 One thing people learn about me, shit on my doorstep or attack my family and I will likely respond. Turn the other cheek is overrated, often how loving, kind people are abused by assholes. I’ve always stood up for such people, and I’m more than willing to stand my own ground. Need someone to charge hell with an empty squirt gun? I’m your guy. 😂According to those who know me, I’m a nice guy. I’ll leave it to them to say whether my curmudgeonly personality gets in the way of our friendships. I only have three friends, but who is counting? 😂

And here’s my response to David Young:

Spend every day getting hateful, nasty emails, comments, and social media messages from Evangelicals, and you might be a cranky curmudgeon too. Walk in my shoes, David, and then we’ll talk. When Jesus-loving people have threatened to murder you, assault your wife/daughter, or tell you they hope you die a painful death, then we’ll talk. When people tell you that the incurable diseases that are killing you are deserved judgment from God, then we’ll talk. When you are the subject of sermons, blog posts, forum articles, and social media posts (often containing lies and distortions), then we’ll talk. You see, you have no idea where I’ve been, where I am, or what I’ve experienced. We haven’t seen each other, in what, a decade? The last time we’ve had a meaningful conversation? 2005? No offense, David, but you don’t know me (or my family). As a Christian, I had to endure abuse from church members and colleagues in the ministry. What would Jesus do, right? As an atheist, I no longer have to silently endure bad treatment by others. I am free to be who I am. And at this juncture in life, this means I’m a cranky curmudgeon. 😂But, I can be a nice guy too. To quote the Bible, do unto others as you would want them to do unto you. I’m sure this is far more than you bargained for. 😂

Lesson? Don’t tell an old cranky curmudgeon that he doesn’t have to be a cranky curmudgeon — as if there is something inherently wrong with him. My tombstone will one day say:

bruce gerencser curmudgeon

Sure, I will be in Hell with my fellow curmudgeons, but to quote Frank Sinatra, I will say, “I did it my way.” 🙂

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.

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

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Short Stories: My First Brush With Death

5 Comments
1970-nova-ss

When did you first realize that you were not invincible? As I attend baseball and softball games this summer, I can’t help but notice how full of life the players are, ready and willing to face all the challenges that come their way. I, too, remember a time when I thought I had the world under my thumb, bending it to my will. I was fearless, arrogant, and full of life, taking on risks that this older version of me would never undertake. From narrowly dodging a semi-truck with my bicycle to climbing under a stopped freight train on a dare, I was known as a boy who loved to push limits, with no thought of what might happen if I miscalculated and came up short. As daredevils know, every successful dare makes one more brazen and willing to push beyond limits. On one hand, such people often accomplish great things, but they are also those who, when coming up short, find themselves needing medical treatment or bail money to get out of jail. There’s a fine line between foolhardy carelessness and taking risks in hope of great reward. Even after successfully making it to age sixty-three, I readily admit that I am not always sure where that line is. I suspect that my tombstone will say, He Died of One Stupid Decision Too Many. There used to be a television program titled, 1,000 Ways to Die. This show detailed the numerous, sometimes humorous, and often foolish and bizarre ways humans have met their ends. Some of my foolish stunts would have made for a great episode or two.

In the summer of 1975, I turned eighteen. I had returned to Bryan, Ohio, from Arizona, and moved in with my mom. I quickly found employment at Foodland, a local union grocery store. To avoid providing me insurance and full-time benefits, the grocery scheduled me to work forty hours one week and thirty-nine hours the next week. I didn’t care. Who needed insurance and benefits, right? My job as the dairy manager was just a means to an end — providing the money necessary for me to keep my car running and spend every night and weekend running around with my friends. My mom rarely saw me. After work, I was out with friends until late, and weekends were often spent doing group activities. Having recently had a bitter breakup with an Arizona college girl whom I was certain was going to be my wife, I had no interest in dating, so group social activities with my friends provided a balm for my hurting emotions.

After moving back to Ohio, I bought a 1960 Mercury Comet — black with a white top — for $200. Over the course of the summer, I put thousands of miles on the car, traveling all over the tri-state area. One Saturday, a bunch of my friends and I decided to go Clear Lake, a nearby body of water in Indiana. I drove, packing eleven friends in a car meant to hold five or six. With nary a thought for safety, off we went to the lake, spending the afternoon swimming and engaging in non-stop horseplay and flirting. Soon it was time to return home. I deposited each of my riders safely at their homes until only a boy named Kenny and I were left in the car.

Kenny was a couple of years younger than I. I knew Kenny through our attendance at First Baptist Church in Bryan. As we were headed towards Kenny’s home, he asked if he could drive my car. Now, I knew he didn’t yet have his license, but the fact that Kenny had grown up on a farm had, I thought, provided him with the necessary skills to drive an automobile, so I said yes! My car had a six-cylinder motor — 144 cubic inch displacement. Top speed was seventy miles per hour. Off we went with Kenny behind the wheel. As Kenny pulled the car onto Williams County Road 15.75, it began to fishtail a bit in the loose gravel. I thought, at the time, no big deal, Kenny will straighten out the car. Instead, as the car increased its side-to-side motion, Kenny panicked, lost control of the car, and drove it headlong into a ditch bank, rolling the car over twice. In a split second, everything around me turned upside down, and when the car finally came to a stop, Kenny’s head was sticking out of the space once occupied by the front windshield and I, having been thrown from the front to the back seat, found myself with the detached seat lying on top of me. Both of us were, surprisingly, unhurt, though I was so disoriented from the crash (perhaps I had a concussion?) that I went to a nearby farmhouse and walked in without knocking, asking if I could use their phone to call the Highway Patrol. Outside of a few scratches and bumps, Kenny and I were unscathed. Unfortunately, my car was totaled.

When the patrolman asked who was driving the car, I, knowing I would get a ticket for letting Kenny drive, lied, telling the officer that I was behind the wheel. This lie, along with four speeding tickets I would accrue in the coming months, caused my insurance rates to rise to $100 a month. Not only did I have an accident and four moving violations on my record, my replacement car for the Mercury was a 1970 Chevrolet Nova SS — 350 cubic inch displacement and 375 horsepower. I went from a car that couldn’t go faster than seventy miles per hour to a car in which I buried the speedometer needle on more than one occasion at one hundred and forty miles per hour.

This accident was my first real brush with death — at least the first one that impacted me psychologically. The car didn’t have seat belts, so Kenny and I could have easily been ejected from the car. We were lucky to have escaped serious injury. Of course, at the time, our luck was attributed to the providential care of the Christian God. I have often wondered what might have happened if I had let Kenny drive while ten other teenagers were beside us in the car. I can only imagine how much carnage there would have been had the car been stuffed full of happy, I’ve got the world by the tail teens when it rolled over twice. Imagine how much differently this story might have ended had everyone who had gone to the lake still been in the car. Fortunately, they weren’t, and all of them graduated from high school, married, and had children (and now grandchildren) of their own. This would not be my last brush with death, but it was my first — that moment in time when all of us come to realize for the first time how mortal and frail we really are.

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.

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

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

I’m Tired . . .

32 Comments

My vision is increasingly blurred. Short distances, long distances, it matters not. I stopped wearing my glasses months ago. I’ve been to the eye doctor twice in the past month. She’s been my doctor for years. Yet, she doesn’t understand my health problems. This is the doctor who showed how clueless she was when she told me that the “cure” for fibromyalgia is removing my amalgam (mercury) fillings. Her source? Her aunt, who had fibromyalgia, was miraculously cured after having her amalgam fillings replaced with resin fillings.

On my first visit last month, I told her that I was recently diagnosed with gastroparesis — an incurable disease. She had the same level of understanding about this disease as she did fibromyalgia. No big deal. She not a medical doctor, a neurologist, or a gastroenterologist. It would be nice if she educated herself on gastroparesis and fibromyalgia, but she’s busy, and these diseases aren’t health problems she typically deals with. However, when attempting to explain why I’m having blurry vision and my prescription has dramatically changed, she suggested that these things could be caused by, you guessed it, the gastroparesis and fibromyalgia she knows nothing about.

What astounded me most was when she told me that she hoped I got better soon. I am used to such well-wishing by non-medical professionals. People feel the need to say “something,” so they send good thoughts my way or tell me they hope I will be better soon. However, when I’m paying doctors good money to provide me competent, educated care, I expect honesty, not meaningless well-wishing.

I’m sick, I’m tired, and I’m tired of being sick and tired.

I love Polly.

I love my six children and their spouses.

I love my thirteen grandchildren.

I love my friends.

I love watching the birds at our feeders.

I love watching wildlife stop by at night, eating whatever food scraps we have put out for them.

I love watching the feral cats frequent our yard, eating the food we put in the “cat” house for them.

I love writing for this blog.

I’ve even grown to love some of you.

Yet, no matter how much I love others and want to live another day for their sake, I’m increasingly tired. There’s no hope of better days — just better bad days. A good day is one when I don’t throw up.

Every day, and I mean EVERY day, is a struggle. The pain, nausea, and debility, never go away. There’s no “better” tomorrow for me. No miraculous healing forthcoming. I’m a pragmatist, a realist. I see things as they are, not as I wish them to be. Maybe I’ll live a year or two or even ten years. Maybe not. Maybe I will die of “natural” causes or maybe I will die by my own hand. Or maybe, I will trip over the damn cat and break my neck on the way to bathroom.

Love is what sustains me. Today, that is enough.

But, I’m tired . . .

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.

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

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Commenter says, Bruce, You were No Good as a Pastor and You Hurt Our Family

14 Comments
im sorry

Some time ago, a man who says his name is Andrew Beltz left a troubling comment on the Why I Hate Jesus post. Beltz wrote:

So Bruce admits he is a hater. O.K. He has legitimized hate.

Now I can tell you Bruce that I hate you, you fat disgusting thing, because you were no good as a pastor and you hurt our family.

Yes, Bruce, I remember.

I immediately sent Beltz an email. Unfortunately, he used a fake email address, so my email to him bounced. Here’s what I wrote:

Andrew,

Before I post your comment, I would appreciate it if you would elaborate more on the claims made in your comment. I have no recollection of pastoring anyone with the last name Beltz. I see that you currently reside in the Goshen, Kentucky area. I have never lived in Kentucky. Perhaps you moved away from one of the areas I pastored. Which church were you a member of or at which church did you have a negative experience with me?

Thank you for taking the time to respond.

Bruce Gerencser

Comments such as this always trouble me, and here’s why: I readily admit that my preaching, beliefs, and ministerial practices were harmful. When I have been able to talk with offended/hurt congregants privately, I have apologized to them for the harm I have caused. While I could justify myself by saying that I too was abused, and that I was simply a product of the religious environment I grew up in, I choose, instead, to own my behavior. I now know I hurt people. I didn’t at the time, but years of reflection have led me to conclude that I hurt my wife and children, along with the hundreds of people who once called me pastor or preacher. While I was a loving, helpful, kind, and compassionate pastor, I know that what I preached and what I modeled to congregants was psychologically harmful. And in some instances, patriarchal beliefs about child-rearing and family structure caused physical harm. That is what Fundamentalism does. It hurts the hurting, harms the harmless, and causes untold damage to people who sincerely buy into the lies. A lifetime of days is not enough for me to say I am sorry. There’s nothing I can do about the past other than speaking about it openly and honestly. In Beltz’s case, I will gladly talk with him if he wants to talk. I WANT to know about how I hurt people. I can’t make things right if I don’t know for sure what I did or who I hurt.

Former congregants who have contacted me have been, so far, children who grew up in the churches I pastored. Now adults, they too are trying to come to terms with the past. In every instance, they accepted my apology and forgave me. They also told me that I was too hard on myself, that no one forced their parents to attend one of the churches I pastored. They willingly became members, believing as I did that God, the Holy Spirit, empowered my preaching. Many of them just wanted someone to tell them what to believe or how to live their lives, and, being a good Baptist pastor, I was quite willing to fill this need. After all, this is exactly what my pastors, churches, and college professors did for me, shaping me into a man who would then take their teachings and harm several more generations of people.

While I find Beltz’s words hurtful, I bear them because I know how harmful my preaching, way of ministry, and demands for conformity were to people such as him. I don’t run or try to hide from my past. Anyone who wants to contact me can send me an email via the contact form. I respond to every email, though I can be somewhat slow in doing so. Health problems often keep me from being as timely as I would like to be, but I do answer every email sent to me.

Now, Beltz may be just a troll. Several commenters over the years have said they knew me or were members of one of the churches I pastored, only to be exposed as liars. One man went so far as to say that my whole story was a lie, that he knew people who lived in several of the areas I pastored, and none of them knew who I was.  In Beltz’s case, I am, until I know otherwise, giving him the benefit of the doubt. I hope he will contact me using a valid email address. I sincerely want to, as much as lies within me, right past wrongs. I hope Andrew will give me a chance to do so.

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.

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

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.