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Dear Stalkers, My Wife and Children Are Not Me, Nor Do They Speak for Me

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cyberstalkingMy wife, Polly, had a conversation the other day with someone at work which unnerved her a bit. The person Polly was talking to let it be known that she had done a Google search on Polly’s name and found out that her husband had a blog. Polly is not too tech savvy when it comes to the Internet. She’s satisfied to use it get information, read her email, read books, and access social media. She’s never cyberstalked anyone. I explained to her that cyberstalking is quite common; a practice that I engage in on occasion. ’Tis the nature of the Internet. I see in this blog’s logs numerous searches related to my name every day. I used to obsess about this, wondering, who is trying to find information about me?  I now know, as a public figure, that whatever I say on this blog, on other sites, and on social media, can and will be read by others. As a writer, I know that there is no such thing as secrecy on the Internet. I must live with the fact that anyone can read what I have written, and they can then use and misuse my writing. New bloggers are often surprised when they find out that other people, people they don’t know, can read their writing. That’s the nature of the Internet. It is best to assume that anything you say and do on the Internet is akin to you standing stark naked before the world.

Polly, of course, is not a public figure. Being married to a public figure doesn’t make you one, and the same can be said about my children. They bear the burden of their husband and father being an outspoken atheist and political liberal. Polly has never had anyone at work say anything to her about me, whereas my children have had numerous people seek them out to let them know what they think about something I have written. In most instances, the feedback is negative and, at times, hostile. This is to be expected, since we are living an area dominated by Evangelicalism and right-wing politics. People such as myself are very much a minority.

I have told my family that they are under no obligation to defend me. If someone has an issue with something I have written, he or she knows where to find me. I am quite accessible, and certainly glad to answer any questions people have. The only reason people seek out my wife and children instead, is that they are afraid to challenge the dragon face to face. Instead of wielding their swords against me, they choose instead to go after my family. While Polly and my children are certainly capable of giving an answer for the reason and skepticism that lies within them, they should be free to do so on their own terms, and not because someone is challenging or attacking me.

Locals need to understand that the Gerencser family believes in personal freedom and autonomy. No one speaks for anyone else. My wife and children are not me, nor do they speak for me. The same goes for me. I don’t speak on behalf of Polly or my children. If someone questions me about Polly or one of my children, I tell the person to contact them.

Several years ago, a pastor who was once a close friend of mine sent me a scathing email that ripped me from one end to the other. I hadn’t heard from this man in years. This preacher attacked me personally, charging that I had ruined Polly and my children, that I had dragged them down the proverbial rabbit hole with me. I responded to him, saying that it would have been nice if he had asked, how are you doing? before giving me a digital prostate exam. Why did this former friend of mine write such a hostile email?

Evangelicals, especially those who are on the extremist end of the Evangelical spectrum, practice what they call traditional marriage — a social structure in which the man is the head of the home and his wife and children are submissive to him in all things. This means that the man is the decision maker; that there are no independent thoughts or decisions. What dad and husband says, goes. Understanding this helps give context to my former friend’s email. He sees me as the head of my home, a patriarch who rules and reigns over this wife and children. And in fairness to him, when we were still friends, that’s the kind of person I was. But, those days are long gone.

It’s been nine years since Polly and I attended church for the last time; nine years since we called ourselves Christians; nine years since we prayed or read the Bible; nine years since we viewed the Bible as a road map or blueprint for life.  At the time, I made it clear to Polly and my children that I was cutting them loose; that I was no longer going to be the head of the family, the supreme ruler over all things. I made it clear that all of us were free to choose our own paths, to follow their bliss wherever it leads. This has resulted in the Gerencser family becoming quite diverse as far as religious and political beliefs are concerned. Yes, none of us is Evangelical, but that’s not on me. If one of my children wanted to be an Evangelical, he or she has the freedom to do so. The blame for my children choosing NOT to be Evangelicals rests on Evangelicalism and its adherents. Once free of Dad, my children were able to examine Evangelicalism for themselves, and this resulted in all of them exiting stage left. Am I happy that none of them is an Evangelical Christian? Yep. I am so glad that the Fundamentalist curse has been broken.

Leaving Christianity has brought freedom and personal autonomy. For those seeking information about Polly and/or one of my children, I suggest they contact them. I don’t speak for them, and they most certainly don’t speak for me. If someone wants the skinny on Bruce Gerencser, all they have to do is read this blog or send me an email. No need for anyone to lurk in the shadows playing Private Eye. The woman I mentioned at the start of this post? Well, I found out exactly what posts she read, and all of them mentioned Polly. That’s fine. I never say anything about my wife or children in public that would cause them harm, shame, or embarrassment. I pay careful attention to what I say in my writing. Much like I was with my sermons during my preaching days, I am a careful and deliberate writer. Pointed and direct? Sure, but I suspect that this is a plus, not a minus. I am cognizant of the fact that people have endless media options. That thousands of people choose to read my writing is humbling. I say all this to say, if you are looking for “dirt” on Polly or my children, you are not going to find it on this blog; nor are you going to find anything I don’t want you to know. And for all those with a deep, burning desire to know something about me, all they have to do is ask.

About Bruce Gerencser

Bruce Gerencser, 60, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 39 years. He and his wife have six grown children and eleven 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.

That Makes Me Think of Eternity

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polly 2016

Early Tuesday morning, my wife, Polly, got up to use the bathroom. Upon her return to bed she said to me, something is not right. My heart is beating like crazy. I could tell she was quite worried, so I got my blood pressure machine and had Polly check her blood pressure. Sure enough, Polly’s blood pressure was 158/100 and her pulse rate was 158. On Monday, Polly had her annual health exam. Her blood pressure was 120/70 and her pulse rate was 65.

I told Polly to get dressed so I could take to her the emergency room in nearby Bryan. Polly is Mrs. Healthy. She’s had never been to the emergency room and her only hospitalizations were for six pregnancies. Polly has worked for Sauder Woodworking for almost twenty years. She’s never missed a day’s work. She has been to the emergency room and hospital numerous times with me, but her experiences on Tuesday were new to her.

The ER doctor quickly determined that Polly had atrial fibrillation-rvr — a heart rhythm problem. The upper chambers of Polly’s heart were out of sync with the lower chambers. Left untreated, atrial fibrillation can lead to a heart attack or stroke. Polly was given several medications and put on an IV. The doctor informed her that she would likely be in the hospital overnight. For the next six hours, I watched the heart machine as it recorded Polly’s heart rate bouncing all over the place. The medication eventually brought her heart rate down, but it was still bouncing from 80 to 110. Finally, around 2:00 PM, Polly’s heart decided it was tired of jumping around and returned to a normal rhythm. The doctor released her at 5:00 PM and we came home, exhausted from a busy, frightening day.

I had let Polly’s parents know that she was in the hospital. That afternoon, Polly called her Mom to let her know what was up. During the conversation, Polly’s Mom tried to evangelize her, saying, that [Polly’s heart problem] makes me think of eternity. Polly quickly and angrily shut off this line of conversation, curtly saying, I’m fine. (It has been nine years since Polly and I left Christianity. Her parents have yet to have a conversation with us about why we are no longer Christians.)

The conversation ended shortly thereafter. Polly’s Mom told her, I’m praying for you daily. At a loss as to what to do about our turn from Jesus to Satan, Mom and Dad have taken to daily praying for us. In their minds, if we would just get back in church all would be well. They hold out the hope that we will return to Jesus and start serving him again. Deep down I wonder if Mom doesn’t think I am the reason for Polly’s deconversion, and that once I am dead and gone and she is free of me, her daughter will return to Christianity. Little does Mom know that Polly is much more strident in her unbelief than I am. I may be more vocal about it than Polly is, but she has zero interest in anything associated with religion.

As Mom was giving her evangelistic spiel, this daughter of a Baptist preacher, wife of former Evangelical preacher, mother of six, and grandmother to eleven, raised her hand and gave the phone a middle finger salute. Polly will never tell Mom to fuck off, but the sentiment is there. She’s done with religion, and so am I.

Polly’s heart problem is a screaming reminder to us that life is short. Everyone expects me to die first. After all, I’ve been dealing with chronic health problems for twenty years. It makes perfect sense that I would be the one to make it to the crematorium first. However, life often does not make sense, nor is life fair. Proverbs 27:1 is right when it says, Boast not thyself of to morrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth. I was reminded on early Tuesday morning that those I love and hold dear can be quickly snatched from my hands. Treat every day as your last. Someday, it will be.

How NOT to Talk to Someone With Chronic Pain or Debilitating Illness

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new pain schedule

Several days ago, I received an unsigned letter from a sixty-four year old atheist woman. After reading my member introduction in the September 2017 Freedom From Religion Foundation newsletter, Freethought Today,  and rooting through my blog looking for personal health information, this woman decided to send me a typed two-page letter detailing her uneducated, ill-founded opinion of my weight and health, along with numerous paragraphs detailing what I should do to regain the Bruce of the 1970s.  At the end of her deconstruction of my physical being, she spent thirty-eight words complimenting me on my beard and thanking me for my story in the newsletter.

I sat on this letter for several days, waiting for my anger to calm before answering it. Yesterday, I talked to my counselor about the letter and why it is that people who don’t know me and don’t know my health background think it is appropriate to send me letters such as this one. It would be one thing if someone who was close to me talked to me about this or that health matter, but even then, no one, not even my wife, knows the depth and complexities of my health problems. People only know what I tell them, and trust me, there is a lot I don’t talk about. That I am willing to talk about my struggles with chronic pain and debilitating illness at all is deemed by zealots and nuts as an opening for them to preach their gospel — complete with shaming me for “sin” and using my children and grandchildren as bait to attract me to their particular way of life or “cure.”

I have received numerous letters from people offering unsolicited medical and lifestyle advice. Over the years, I have been told that the following will “cure” me or transform my pain and illness to a mere afterthought: essential oils, chiropractic care, magnets, acupuncture, reiki massage, homeopathic remedies, meditation, getting my chakras aligned, drinking magical shakes, and taking this or that supplement — more times than I can count. According to many of the people offering advice, Western medicine is evil, drug companies are out to kill me, and medical professionals are deliberately withholding care and treatment  that would cure me because they want to make money off my pain and health.

My latest letter writer takes a more simplistic approach, albeit she is every bit as ignorant of the latest science related to my health as the purveyors of the woo mentioned above. She contends that if I would just exercise more, lessen calorie intake, and not drink soda pop my life would be transformed. She assumes, of course, that I am NOT already doing these things, choosing instead to look at my photograph, seeing that I am fat/overweight/obese, and conclude that I am not following her prescription for having a born-again experience. The letter writer assumes that what worked for her will work for everyone else. She ignores the fact that human bodies are complex and what may work for one person won’t work for others.. She also ignores genetic and environmental factors, choosing instead to focus on my body size. In many ways, she is much like Evangelicals who attempt to deconstruct my life, refusing to allow me to tell my own story. Instead she takes her atheistic religious health experiences and uses them as a standard by which to judge me.

Simply put, the letter writer is not in the position to make ANY judgments about my health or offer ANY advice as to proper treatment. I have a primary care doctor, along with medical specialists who provide me necessary and adequate care. I am satisfied with their care, knowing that the health problems I have, for the most part, cannot be cured. All my doctors can do for me is try to improve my quality of life and lessen my pain. I have told my primary care doctor several times that I don’t expect him to fix what can’t be fixed. I have accepted that this is my life — live with it, Bruce! I know that my health problems began when I was a slim, trim athletic fourteen-year-old teen. Genetics, exposure to dangerous chemicals that landed me in the emergency room, and communicable diseases set the stage for how things are for me today. A near-death experience with mononucleosis in 1991 and two bouts with pneumonia left my immune system wrecked beyond repair. The letter writer understood none of these things, choosing instead to just see a fat guy who, she thinks, eats too much.

The letter writer is offended by my stoic, matter-of-fact approach to my life and health. I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia twenty years ago, and with neurological problems in 2007. For a time, doctors thought I might have multiple sclerosis. The symptoms fit, but the tests, so far, are inconclusive. Over the past two decades, osteoarthritis has slowly marched its way through my skeletal system. A visit to an orthopedic specialist last year revealed osteoarthritis in my hands, knees, feet, lower spine, neck, and shoulders. In other words — everywhere. The combination of these three diseases (and joint injuries) has left me disabled — another word the letter writer hates. Tough shit. That’s what I am: d-i-s-a-b-l-e-d.  Most days, I walk with a cane, steadying myself so I don’t fall and break something. Sometimes, I use a wheelchair — a sign to the letter writer that I am giving up. (Want to guess how many times I wanted to say go fuck yourself as I read her letter? You will need all your fingers and toes.)

The letter writer spends most of her sermon preaching about my weight. Evidently, she doesn’t care for fat people, nor does she understand that body shaming is no longer considered acceptable conduct in polite company. Friends accept people as they are. I know I would never, ever write someone a letter like the one this woman wrote to me. Perhaps she thinks that because she is in her sixties, she has earned the right to say whatever she wants. I want to give her the benefit of the doubt, but it is hard to do so when I view her letter as a personal attack — an assault on who and what I am.

The letter writer reveals that she really doesn’t understand current scientific evidence about body weight and weight loss. She wrongly says that weight loss is as simple as reducing caloric intake. This thinking is patently false, and can, at times, be dangerous or even life-threatening. She also assumes that I don’t manage caloric intake and eat healthily. I do, about ninety-five percent of the time. Since last November, I have lost forty pounds. Massive bowel movements? Fluid loss? I don’t really care. I try to eat healthily, and when I do not, I don’t lose one moment of sleep over it. Life is too short. If eating ice cream is going to be the end of me, so be it. Praise Jesus, I will leave this life with the sweet taste of rocky road ice cream on my lips!

The letter writer tells me in capital letters, DO NOT EAT IN RESTAURANTS. This must be one of her religion’s commandments, and if it is, NO THANK YOU. Polly and I spent the first twenty-five years of marriage rarely eating out. We couldn’t afford it. Now we can, and me and the Mrs. plan on enjoying as much good food (and wine) as we possibly can. At home, my wife is a first-rate gourmet cook. She has the pans, knives, oven and cookbooks to prove it. Only food zealots would have a problem with what we eat.

The letter writer also shows a lack of understanding about pain and how narcotics work — wrongly believing that narcotics make pain go away. Sorry, but that’s not how it works. Massive amounts of narcotics might take pain away, but they also render people unable to do much of anything but sleep. I have been on a pain management regimen for twelve years. The goal is to break the pain cycle so I can have a better quality of life. Pain levels, rise and fall, but the pain never goes away. I haven’t had a pain-free day in years.

The letter writer tells me that a pain-free life is overrated, that I shouldn’t take narcotics (take aspirin or ibuprofen instead), and that since I AM taking narcotics I shouldn’t need to use a cane or wheelchair. According to her, if I would just lose weight, exercise more, all would be well and I would no longer have to use my cane or wheelchair. Calling my pain medications a crutch, she implores me to let pain have its way with me. This woman has serious health problems herself, including a major bout with cancer. I wonder how she might have felt had I come into the room after her surgery and told her what she had told me about pain. No need for morphine! Own your pain! Just take Aleve!

I am of the opinion that there is little value in ignoring pain or embracing it because there is some sort of nobility gained from not taking pain medications. Sorry, but I choose to live as pain-free of a life as possible. I choose to embrace my pain, but I am sure as hell not going to let it ruin my life by reducing me to an old man curled up in a fetal position wishing he could die. By properly managing my pain (and other aspects of my health), I have the ability most days to do the things I want to do. Some days, the pain meds simply don’t work. On such days, I endure, knowing that surely better days lie ahead. And if they don’t? Then I will embrace the present as my new normal.

you can do it

Finally, the letter writer should have plumbed the depths of my personality before sending her sermon my way. Had she done so, she would not have taken the motivational YOU CAN DO IT, OH YES YOU CAN approach. I loathe such approaches to life, and when someone tries to “motivate” me this way, their attempt always fails. I am a rationalist who approaches life in a matter-of-fact way. I don’t need anyone to cheer me on. I am quite capable of determining for myself what I need to do, and then doing it. And if I do ever need a bit of Richard Simmons-like motivation, I look to my wife, children, and grandchildren for reasons to get up in the morning and keep moving. I drove my ex-daughter-in-law crazy (as did her husband) because I wasn’t happy as a seal with a ball at parties and family events. I tend to be quite reserved emotionally, choosing to show my gratitude or praise with words such as fine, that’s good, good job, thank you, or I appreciate it. I don’t get all wide-eyed and slap-happy. People who know me understand that when I say something is fine, that is a high praise coming from me (except when I say fine when answering, How are you doing? Then, I am usually lying). I, for one, am quite tired of being treated as if there is something wrong with me if I don’t have excitable emotional outbursts when expressing my approval of people or events. Who decided that being all jacked up on Mountain Dew is the only proper way to respond to things?  (Please read Bright-sided: How Positive Thinking is Undermining America by Barbara Ehrenreich.) Fuck that. I am who I am, and I am quite happy with being the one and only Bruce Gerencser on planet earth. Woo! Hoo! Ain’t I a special snowflake!

Let me be clear, when it comes to my health and the medical treatment I receive, please keep your thoughts, opinions, sermons, and dogma to yourself. You may have stayed in a Holiday Inn, but you are not my doctor. I’m fine with close friends or family members sending me links and asking me if I have read this or that report or study. Most often, since I am an INFORMED sufferer of chronic pain and debilitating illness, I have already read the report/study. I appreciate that they genuinely care about me and hope that something will come along and improve my lot in life (money, lots of money – that will work). For everyone else? Please don’t. Don’t email me, don’t write me letters, and don’t post on my Facebook wall whatever it is you think will transform my life. Chances are it won’t, or I have already tried it without success. Love me as I am and when you hear of my demise, be it today, tomorrow, or ten years from now, I hope you will remember me for the good I have done. Like everyone else, I want acceptance and respect from others. This letter writer demonstrated neither.

About Bruce Gerencser

Bruce Gerencser, 60, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 39 years. He and his wife have six grown children and eleven 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.

Quote of the Day: Becoming an Emotional Ninja by Mark Manson

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ninja turtles

The first step in achieving greater emotional diversity: simple self-awareness. Noticing and accepting what you feel when you feel it.

This sounds so simple as to be stupid. But what you’ll likely find is that if you’ve denied a certain emotion in yourself for long enough, you’ll actually stop realizing when you’re feeling it.

I’ve talked before about identifying and unfusing from your emotions as one way to become more self-aware and to understand your emotions better. This is the next step. Learning to identify the emotion and then separating your decision-making from the emotion.

It’s the difference between wanting to punch that fucker in the face, and actually doing it. Doing it is unacceptable. Feeling like you want to is a natural human reaction (sometimes).

Once you unfuse your emotions from your decisions, it often causes you to experience greater depth and complexity in your emotions. For example, you might feel depressed at some point, but if you unfuse from your depression and examine it more closely, you might find that you’re also angry about the thing that’s making you depressed. Now we’re getting somewhere.

Instead of just being a depressed schlub on the couch and resigning to the fact that life is meaningless—and oh, what’s the point anyway?—that anger can motivate you to do something about your situation, to not withdraw from life but rather to engage with it.

This is what being an emotionally well-adjusted person is all about. Not being happy or having some bubbling feeling of contentment all the time. It’s about recognizing the layers of feeling going on inside you and utilizing them in ways that are helpful. Anger can lead to action. Sadness can lead to acceptance. Guilt can lead to change. Excitement can lead to motivation.

Life is not about controlling our emotions. That’s impossible. Emotions come and they go whether we want them to or not.

Life is about channeling emotions. And each emotion is almost its own skill. Like learning to fight with nunchucks and sweet ass bo staffs and samurai swords are different skill sets within the realm of fighting, channeling each of our emotions for productive action is its own skill to be practiced and mastered through the experience of life.

And once you master them all, you become an emotional ninja, able to adapt and silently slice through any adversity life throws at you. And then maybe you skateboard through the sewers and eat a lot of pizza too.

You thought the Ninja Turtles were just a kid’s show? Come on, man. There’s a deeper lesson there. They represent the mastery of each class of life’s emotions — Raphael is anger, Donatello is curiosity, Leonardo is insecurity, Michaelangelo is pizza.

Master them all and master yourself (hence, “Master Splinter.”) Dude, where are you going? I’m serious here. Don’t hit the “back” button just yet. I’m just getting started. The pizza is a metaphor for the multilayered consumption of our own existential meaning and existence, and each emotion (read: Ninja Turtle) consumes it differently.

Fine, I’m done. Cowabunga, dude. And namaste, fuckface.

— Mark Manson, Mark Manson: Author. Thinker. Life Enthusiast, Happiness is not Enough, September 14, 2017

I heartily recommend Mark Manson’s book, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck: A Counterintuitive Approach to Living a Good Life.

Mary Ellen Mayo Has Died

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mary ellen mayo cat

Mary Ellen Mayo, a friend and loyal reader of this blog died June 19, 2017 of congestive heart failure. Mary Ellen was 56. Mary Ellen infrequently commented, often choosing to comment when she felt I needed encouragement or moral support.  Some long time readers may remember her using the Amazonfeet moniker. Mary Ellen, a resident of Florida, battled a number of health problems. (She had Marfan Syndrome.) I was Facebook friends with Mary Ellen. We shared not only our experiences with chronic illness, but also a commitment to progressive political values and a love of cats. A few days before Mary Ellen died, her last post to Facebook was the cat meme posted above.

Mary Ellen will be missed. I am blessed to have been her friend.  Mary Ellen was a member of First Unitarian Church in Orlando, Florida.  Her church family will hold a memorial service for her on Monday, July 3rd.

The Lord Made You That Way

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If this is true, why didn’t God get it right the first time?

Tonight, one of my granddaughters had a softball game. Between innings, a man who knows me struck up a conversation about girls and sports. His daughter is quite diminutive in size — the smallest girl in her class. He told me that his daughter has been fretting over her height, wanting to know when she was going to grow tall like all the other girls in her class. The man said, I told her she was the size the Lord wanted her to be. End of discussion.

Grandchild number two — also a girl — is also quite short (and thin). Like the girl mentioned above, she is one of the smallest girls in her class. She accepts the fact that she is not going to be very tall. Instead of fretting over her height, she focuses on academics. She does play volleyball and basketball, but she knows that the girls around her will continue to tower over her and this could affect whether she can play these sports in high school. I encourage her to continue to work hard at improving her skills, reminding her that there have been short players who have figured out ways to play their respective sports. I also suggested that she consider running track in junior high school. Her mother is quite short and petite herself, yet she successfully ran track in high school and college. At no time has anyone (as far as I know) said to my granddaughter, you are short because the Lord made you that way. Would she like to be taller? Sure. Both my granddaughter and the girl I first mentioned above would love to be tall like many of their fellow classmates. Children want to fit in, be a part of the crowd. When you are short (or overweight, have red hair, wear coke-bottle glasses, have bigger breasts than other girls, or have parents who can’t afford to buy you the shoes and clothes other children are wearing), you naturally attract the attention of fellow students who love to make fun of your height. And sometimes, being different attracts bullies who can make school a living hell.

Our daughter Bethany was born with a genetic disorder called Down syndrome. When our Catholic primary care doctor called us in to talk about Bethany’s disorder, he told us that most fertilized eggs with the trisomy 21 genetic disorder miscarry. He also said that God only let children with Down Syndrome be born into special families who could love and care for them. At the time, I was pastoring a country Baptist church in Southeast Ohio and both Polly and I found his words comforting. As with the father who told his short daughter that the Lord made her this way, our doctor was telling us that having a child with Down Syndrome was just what the Lord intended. God made her this way.

Is the Lord really behind both the good and bad that befalls our children and grandchildren? While Evangelicals love to praise Jesus when their special snowflakes excel in school and sports and are straight-A students, I don’t hear much cheering when the good Lord above gives parents children with learning disabilities, debilitating genetic disorders, cancer, and sundry other maladies and diseases. Shouldn’t Evangelical parents be shouting from the rooftop, PRAISE THE LORD, OUR SON HAS SPINAL BIFIDA! PRAISE THE LORD, OUR DAUGHTER IS BLIND AND DEAF! The Lord does all things well, says the Bible. Shouldn’t Evangelicals be praising God day and night for the bad things that have come their way? In all things give thanks, the Apostle Paul said. If the Evangelical God is the hand from which good things flow, it must also be true that bad things come from the same hand. If God is who Christians say he is, then whatever befalls our children comes from Him.

Think about it for a moment — God is sovereign and in control of his creation. Nothing happens apart from His purpose and plan. When God determined to give Polly and me a daughter, he said to himself, I think I will give the Gerencsers a child with a genetic disorder. Ain’t I awesome! Fortunately, Bethany hasn’t had to face many of the physical maladies that children born with Down syndrome face. Yes, she has a heart problem, thyroid deficiency, and has had cataracts removed from both her eyes, but compared to other children with Down Syndrome, she has fared well. For every high-functioning Down Syndrome adult paraded before TV viewers, there are numerous others facing grave, lifelong disabilities One such woman attended the church I pastored in Southeast Ohio. She had severe heart problems, was partially blind, slobbered profusely, and conversed with others with unintelligible words. When this woman didn’t want to do something, she would plop down on the floor and refuse to move. Because she was quite overweight, her refusal to move required two care workers to pick up her up so they could take her home.

I wonder if Evangelicals really are comfortable and satisfied with the notion that the Lord makes children who are genetically malformed. Why would a deity who can do anything, deliberately hurt, harm, and kill children? What did these precious ones ever do to deserve such suffering and pain? Yet, if the Bible is true, one must conclude that whatever befalls us comes straight from Jehovah himself. I don’t know about you, but I consider such a God to be a monster of the first degree, no different from Nazi doctors who cruelly experimented on Jewish prisoners, or American physicians who deliberately infected unaware blacks with Syphilis so they could watch what happened when the venereal disease was left untreated.

To my short granddaughter, I say, your height is determined by genetics. You favor your mother, and that is why you are short and have eye problems. I say something similar to my granddaughter who is the same age as my short granddaughter, yet has a large frame and towers over many of her classmates. Like it or not, biology determines everything from height to hair color to body shape. Don’t like your butt? Blame your parents or other people in your family line. I was born with bright red hair. I faced decades of being gawked at, pointed to, or being made fun of. My junior high phys-ed teacher called me “Carrot Crotch.” I was short both in height and genital size, so my teacher calling attention to my red pubic hair in a locker room full of naked teenagers was quite embarrassing. There were many times I wished I could have had “normal” hair, been taller, and had a bigger penis. Over time, I grew to be six-foot tall, but the hair and you-know-what stayed the same.

Since it is likely that my father was my Mom’s redheaded cousin, my red hair came from him, along with my tall, redheaded lawyer great-grandfather. My great-grandfather died before I was born, yet he passed along his genetics to me through my mother and her cousin.  Like it or not, unless I was willing to dye my hair, I was stuck with having red hair. Damn genetics! They don’t concern themselves with social or cultural matters. When our mother’s egg united with our father’s sperm, two genetic streams came together to make a new human being. The results may or may not have been good, but there’s nothing we can do about it. It does no good to blame our parents, nor to blame God. We are, genetically, who we are, and it is up to us to make the most of what has been passed on to us by our mothers and fathers.

I understand why the man told his daughter that she was short because the Lord made her that way. It’s an easy answer for which there is no retort. Blaming God ends all discussions. Don’t like your height? Take it up with God! But passing the buck to God is a denial of reality. Science tells us why some people are short and others are tall. When I look at my body, I see a six-foot man with a twenty-nine-inch inseam. I want to know WHO gave me these short legs! Ever try to find a pair of men’s jeans for a twenty-nine-inch inseam? Not easy to find, so I end up buying pants with a thirty-inch inseam and live with it. And I say to my grandchildren the same thing. Whatever the genetic roll of the dice has given you, live with it. Make the most of what has been given to you, and don’t get upset if you aren’t like everyone else. I want to model to not only my grandchildren, but to my adult children, that you are fine just as you are. Be comfortable in your own skin. There’s nothing wrong with you. While I don’t take the “ain’t you special” approach, I do remind them that they are, for good or ill, the sum of their parents’ genetics. Praise or curse us, it matters not. You are who you are, and the happiest people in life are those who understand this and live life to the fullest with what they have been given.

 

I Was Probed by Aliens and Survived to Tell About It

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bizzaro iprod

As I pulled into our driveway, I noticed a strange circular mark on the sidewalk in front of our home.

What’s that mark on the sidewalk? I said to my wife. She replied, I have no idea.

We carefully examined the circle, noticing that it had what looks like an arrow pointing to our front door.

We stood for a moment on the sidewalk, contemplating what the mark could be.

Hell if I know, I said to Polly, and nodding her head she said, Yep.

During the wee hours of the morning, I abruptly woke, said something to Polly — neither of us knows what — and ran from the bedroom, only to return moments later. Come morning, Polly remembered nothing from the night before, but I remember exactly what happened during my frightful dream.

Polly took a vacation day, so we decided to drive to Findlay and eat dinner at Texas Roadhouse. We had planned to attend the Cincinnati Reds vs. Pittsburgh Pirates baseball game, but nonstop rain and cold temperatures forced us to change our plans.

During dinner I asked Polly, Do you remember me running from the room last night? She replies, Nope.

I had a bad dream — a dream I have had on and off for years. According to my dream, there is a secret group of people living in Florida who are out to make life miserable for me, threatening to expose to the world the “real” Bruce Gerencser. In some versions of this dream, this secretive group opts to kill me, causing my head to explode. Last night, they caused my head to explode, and this is why I bolted from the bedroom.

We talked about dreams in general for a few minutes, and then it was time to pay our bill and return home to the teeming metropolis of Ney. An hour or so later, as we pulled into our flooded driveway, I noticed that the torrential downpour had washed away from the sidewalk the circle with an arrow that pointed to the front door.

 Polly, I think I have figured out what the circle was all about! Not stopping to hear her response, I said, the circle was put there by an advance party of aliens so the mother ship would know where to stop last night. My nightmare was the result of aliens probing my mind!!

Polly laughed, as did I.

Hey, I am serious!

In a Trumpian world of alternative facts where lies are truth and facts are opinions, who’s to say that my story is not true?

Bruce, Were You Spiritual or Religious?

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i have a question

Linda LaScola recently sent me several questions that she asked me to answer about my past use of the words spiritual and religious. My answers will appear at a later date on the Rational Doubt blog.

Question One: When you were religious, did you also think of yourself as spiritual, or not? How did you talk about spirituality to the people in your congregation?

I spent most of my life solidly entrenched in Evangelicalism, so my answer to this question will reflect that tradition, and not views I held towards the end of my ministerial career. I never would have used the words spiritual or religious to describe my personal beliefs. Religion was what unsaved church members had and those who called themselves spiritual were new age practitioners who worshiped false Gods. I was a born-again, bought-by-the-blood, filled-with-the-Holy-Spirit Christian. Religion is what Christians-in-name-only did on Sunday. I was a seven-day, 168-hour-a-week, slave of the most high God. I devoted virtually every waking hour of my life to serving God, and when I dared to take a bit of me-time, I often battled thoughts of what better use could have been made of the wasted time spent relaxing. This is why during the twenty-five years I spent in the ministry, I only took a handful of vacations, and when I did, they were often connected to preaching engagements. I wouldn’t call my way of living the norm among Evangelical preachers, but I knew plenty of like-minded pastors who burned the candle at both ends, living by the mantras, only one life, twill soon be past, only what’s done for Christ will last and better to burn out than rust out.

Most American Christians, even in the Evangelical church, are nominal practitioners. They go to Sunday services when it is convenient, attend wedding and funerals, throw a few bucks in the offering plates, and when asked they say they worship God, love Jesus, and believe the Bible is the Word of God. However, their day-to-day lives say something far different: that they are Christian in name only. I considered these types of “Christians” as religious-but-lost. In my thinking, they were every bit as lost as Satanists, perhaps even more so because they had been deceived by false religion.

My view of “true Christianity” moderated over the years, but during my time as an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) pastor and later as a Calvinistic Baptist pastor, I had a very narrow and defined view of what made someone a Christian and how a Christian should live. Some Christian sects, such as the Church of the Latter Day Saints, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and Seventh Day Adventists, I considered cults. Other sects, particularly the Roman Catholic Church, I viewed as promoters of a works-based false gospel. Mainline churches were, for the most part, filled with religious church members who knew little about what it meant to be a REAL Christian.

As you can see, I put most Christians in the religious-but-lost category. And even within the Evangelical church, there were plenty of unsaved members. I spend countless hours preaching sermons that were meant to show saved church members that they were actually lost; that they had “a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof” (2 Timothy 3:5); that they had a head salvation, not a heart salvation.

The spiritual category was reserved for new agers and others who dabbled in various esoteric, metaphysical beliefs and practices. I rarely came into contact with such people. I lived most of my adult life in the rural Midwest, and this insulated me from spiritual beliefs and practices found on the east and west coasts. Thus, I spent my ministerial years among true Christians and non-Christians who were religious-but-lost. I can’t think of an instance where I came into contact with someone who would have fit my definition of spiritual. This, however, didn’t keep me from warning parishioners about the dangers of the new age movement and its “spiritual” beliefs and practices.

Question Two:  Did you go through a “spiritual but not religious stage” on the way to being non-religious? If so, please describe it (e.g., how long did it last, how/why did it change?) If not, how did you go from religious to non-religious? (e.g., through reading, thinking, talking with others, something else, some combination of the above). Please describe that.

As I detailed above, I never used the words “religious” or “spiritual” to describe myself. I was a Christian; a follower of the lamb withersover he goeth (Revelation 14:4); a slave of the most high God. My deconversion from Christianity was predicated on my disaffection towards organized Christianity. I pastored my last church in 2003, but didn’t leave Christianity until 2008. During this five-year span, my wife and I visited over one hundred churches, hoping to find a congregation that took the teachings of Christ seriously (or our interpretations of those teachings, anyway). You can check out the list of churches we attended here. We concluded that, regardless of the name over the door and the differences in liturgy and music, Christian churches were all the same. It was during this time, that I began to seriously question my beliefs. I decided to re-study the Bible — a book that I had spent thousands of hours studying, preaching thousands of sermons from its pages. I turned to authors who were in times past considered false teachers or apostates. Intellectually straying outside of the boundaries of Evangelicalism proved to be a real eye opener.

I have always been a voracious reader. My colleagues in the ministry considered me a bookworm of sorts. When I wanted to study a matter, the first thing I did was buy several books on the subject. My reading often led to me buy yet more books, until I reached a place where I thought I had adequately studied the matter. This practice resulted in several seismic theological changes such as embracing Calvinism and rejecting pretribulational, premillennial eschatology. While these changes caused a bit of a stir, they were considered to be within the boundaries of orthodoxy. The authors I read were also orthodox, so I was never exposed to non-Evangelical beliefs. No need, I thought at the time. I have THE truth, no need to look elsewhere.

It was when I began to read non-Evangelical authors that I realized that I had lived quite a theologically sheltered life. I also came to see that my pastors and college professors had lied to me about other theological systems of belief, the history of the Christian church, and the nature of the Bible — it being an inspired, inerrant, infallible text. Were these men deliberately lying to me? Perhaps, but I doubt it. When you are deeply immersed in a particular way of thinking, it is hard to see any other beliefs as true or even possibly true. In dealing with countless Evangelicals after my deconversion, I have learned that until believers can dare consider that they might be wrong, there is no hope of reaching them. Certainty of belief breeds arrogance, and this arrogance shuts the mind off from any belief that does not fit within the Evangelical box. (Please see The Danger of Being in a Box and Why it Makes Sense When You are in it and What I Found When I Left the Box.)

Once I intellectually wandered outside of the safe, orthodox confines of Evangelicalism, I was exposed to thinking that turned virtually everything I believed on its head, beginning with what I believed about the inerrancy, inspiration, and infallibility of the Bible. If I had to point to one author who did the most to wreck my faith, it would be Bart Ehrman. Ehrman thoroughly demolished my beliefs about the nature of the Bible — that it was a supernatural text written by God through supernatural human instrumentality. Once the Bible lost its power over me, the house I had built on its foundation quickly came tumbling to the ground. More than a few former colleagues and parishioners suggested that I stop reading books and only read the Bible. They thought if I would just read the Bible that all my questions and doubts would go away, when in fact it was my reading of the Bible with enlightened eyes that finally brought an end to my belief in the Christian God.

If I were to give some sort of testimony about my loss of faith, I would say that my doubts about Christianity began with my general disaffection towards organized Christianity. This emotional upheaval then led me to reconsider my beliefs. For many years, I was unwilling to admit that my deconversion had an emotional component. I knew that if people thought I left Christianity for emotional reasons that they would dismiss my story. So I focused on the intellectual reasons for my leaving Christianity. I now see that my leaving the ministry and subsequently leaving Christianity was an admixture of emotional, psychological, and intellectual factors. That said, the ultimate reason that I am not a Christian is that I no longer believe the Bible and its teachings to be true. I reject the central tenets of Christianity. While I am of the opinion that the Jesus of the Bible was likely a real person, he was not a miracle-working God-man who died on a Roman cross to atone for the sins of the world and rose again from the dead three days later. He lived and he died. End of story.

Question Three: If you know people who are spiritual but not religious, what are they like? (e.g., were they ever a member of an organized religion? If so, what made them leave?) Are their current beliefs tied to a specific religion (e.g., Christianity, Judaism) or are their beliefs more individual or amorphous? How to they express their spirituality? (e.g., do they pray, do they think things happen for a purpose, or do they feel a sense of being watched over or not being alone? Do they believe in an afterlife?)

I know a handful of people who consider themselves spiritual. These people generally believe that there might be some sort of inner light/higher power/divine essence/energy force, but they have little use for organized Christianity, and no use for Evangelicalism. Some of them have embraced Buddhism, paganism, or earth-based religions. All of them, at one time, were mainline or Evangelical Christians. In the 1970s, I attended a large IFB church in Findlay, Ohio. Trinity Baptist Church had a sizeable high school youth group. In recent years, I have become reacquainted with a handful of friends from my Trinity youth group days. None of them is still practicing the “faith once delivered to the saints.” While I am the most outspoken heathen of the group, the rest of them are far from the Baptist teachings of their youth. None of us would be considered Christians by the men who were once our pastors.

Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

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