I had the honor of speaking at the monthly meeting of the Atheists of Florida this past Sunday, August 29, 202 After my speech, I answered questions from the crowd. Several friends and family members attended the meeting, including some of you. Thank You! for your support.
For other podcast services, please search for “Free2Think.”
I apologize in advance for my leaning to the right/left in parts of my speech. One explanation: pain, awful pain. I did what I could.
Let me know what you think.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
In July of 1983, I started a new Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church in the rural southeast Ohio community of Somerset. Over the course of eleven years, the church grew from sixteen to two hundred people. However, by early 1989, attendance stood at fifty due to people leaving the church and the church ending its bus ministry (4 busses). That same year, I embraced Evangelical Calvinism and started a tuition-free private school for church children. My ministry emphasis went from evangelism and topical/textual preaching to edifying the saints and expositional preaching. While I still preached on the street and attempted to win souls, my focus was on the church congregation, instructing them in the “doctrines of grace.”
I started preaching at the age of fifteen. Last night, Polly asked me if I remembered the first sermon I preached, the text I used. She was surprised when I told her I did: An Ambassador for Christ, 2 Corinthians 5:20. A preacher’s first sermon is much like having sex for the first time — both memorable experiences, moments in your life you don’t forget. I stopped preaching in the spring of 2005. I pastored my last church, Victory Baptist Church (now closed) in Clare, Michigan, in 2003. I briefly thought about pastoring again, candidating at two churches: New Life Southern Baptist Church in Weston, West Virginia, and Hedgesville Baptist Church in Hedgesville, West Virginia. Though both churches were interested in me becoming their pastor, I declined, and that was that . . . almost. My friend, Bill Beard, pastor of Lighthouse Memorial Church in Millersport, Ohio, believed, at the time, that I just needed to get back on the proverbial horse and start preaching again. Believing that it was impossible for me not to be a preacher,– For the gifts and calling of God are without repentance. (Romans 11:29) — Bill was insistent that I get back to doing what God had called me to do. Bill even went so far as to offer to buy me an unused church building in Zanesville, Ohio, to start a new church in. He was sorely disappointed when I “prayed” on the matter and said no.
Three years later, Bill received my infamous letter, Dear Family, Friends, and Former Parishioners. This letter detailed my reasons for leaving Christianity. Alarmed and disturbed by my letter, Bill jumped in his car and drove more than three hours north to rescue me from unbelief. After he returned to his home outside of Lancaster, Ohio, I sent Bill the following letter:
Dear Friend,
You got my letter.
I am certain that my letter troubled you and caused you to wonder what in the world was going on with Bruce.
You have been my friend since 1983. When I met you for the first time I was a young man pastoring a new church in Somerset, Ohio. I remember you and your dear wife vividly because you put a hundred-dollar bill in the offering plate. Up to that point we had never seen such a bill in the plate.
And so our friendship began. You helped us buy our first church bus. You helped us buy our church building. In later years, you gave my wife and me a generous gift to buy a mobile home. It was old, but we were grateful to have our own place to live in. You were a good friend.
Yet, our common bond was the Christianity we both held dear. I doubt you would have done any of the above for the local Methodist minister, whom we both thought was an apostate.
I baptized you and was privileged to be your pastor on and off over my 11 years in Somerset. You left several times because our doctrinal beliefs conflicted, you being an Arminian and I a Calvinist.
One day you came to a place where you believed God was leading you to abandon your life work, farming, and enter the ministry. I was thrilled for you. I also said to myself, “now Bill can really see what the ministry is all about!”
So you entered the ministry and you are now a pastor of a thriving fundamentalist church. I am quite glad you found your place in life and are endeavoring to do what you believe is right. Of course, I would think the same of you if you were still farming.
You have often told me that much of what you know about the ministry I taught you. I suppose, to some degree or another, I must take credit for what you have become (whether I view it as good or bad).
Yesterday, you got into your Lincoln and drove three-plus hours to see me. I wish you had called first. I had made up my mind to make up some excuse why I couldn’t see you, but since you came unannounced I had no other option but to open the door and warmly welcome you. Just like always . . .
I have never wanted to hurt you or cause you to lose your faith. I would rather you not know the truth about me than to hurt you in any way. But your visit forced the issue. I had no choice.
Why did you come to my home? I know you came as my friend, but it seemed by the time our three-hour discussion ended our friendship had died and I was someone you needed to pray for, that I might be saved. After all, in your Arminian theology there can be no question that a person with beliefs such as mine has fallen from grace.
Do you know what troubled me the most? You didn’t shake my hand as you left. For 26 years we shook hands as we came and went. The significance of this is overwhelming. You can no longer give me the right hand of fellowship because we no longer have a common Christian faith.
Over the course of three hours, you constantly reminded me of what I used to preach, what I used to believe. I must tell you forthrightly that that Bruce is dead. He no longer exists. That Bruce is but a distant memory. For whatever good may have been done I am grateful, but I bear the scars and memories of much evil done in the name of Jesus. Whatever my intentions, I must bear the responsibility for what I did through my preaching, ministry style, etc.
You seem to think that if I just got back in the ministry everything would be fine. Evidently, I cannot make you understand that the ministry IS the problem. Even if I had any desire to re-enter the ministry, where would I go? What sect would take someone with such beliefs as mine? I ask you to come to terms with the fact that I will never be a pastor again. Does not the Bible teach that if a man desires the office of a bishop (pastor) he desires a good work? I have no desire for such an office. Whatever desire I had died in the rubble of my 25-plus-year ministry.
We talked about many things, didn’t we? But I wonder if you really heard me?
I told you my view on abortion, Barack Obama, the Bible, and the exclusivity of salvation in Jesus Christ.
You told me that a Christian couldn’t hold such views. According to your worldview that is indeed true. I have stopped using the Christian label. I am content to be a seeker of truth, a man on a quest for answers. I now know I never will have all the answers. I am now content to live in the shadows of ambiguity and the unknown.
What I do know tells me life does not begin at conception, that Barack Obama is a far better President than George Bush, that the Bible is not inerrant or inspired, and that Jesus is not the only way to Heaven (if there is a Heaven at all).
This does not mean that I deny the historicity of Jesus or that I believe there is no God. I am an agnostic. While I reject the God of my past, it remains uncertain that I will reject God altogether. Perhaps . . .
In recent years, you have told me that my incessant reading of books is the foundation of the problems I now face.Yes, I read a lot. Reading is a joy I revel in. I read quickly and I usually comprehend things quite easily (though I am finding science to be a much bigger challenge). Far from being the cause of my demise, books have opened up a world to me that I never knew existed. Reading has allowed me to see life in all its shades and complexities. I can no more stop reading than I can stop eating. The passion for knowledge and truth remains strong in my being. In fact, it is stronger now than it ever was in my days at Somerset Baptist Church.
I was also troubled by your suggestion that I not share my beliefs with anyone. You told me my beliefs could cause others to lose their faith! Is the Christian faith so tenuous that one man can cause others to lose their faith? Surely the Holy Spirit is far more powerful than Bruce (even if I am Bruce Almighty).
I am aware of the fact that my apostasy has troubled some people. If Bruce can walk away from the faith . . . how can any of us stand? I have no answer for this line of thinking. I am but one man . . . shall I live in denial of what I believe? Shall I say nothing when I am asked of the hope that lies within me? Christians are implored to share their faith at all times. Are agnostics and atheists not allowed to have the same freedom?
I suspect the time has come that we part as friends. The glue that held us together is gone. We no longer have a common foundation for a mutual relationship. I can accept you as you are, but I know you can’t do the same for me. I MUST be reclaimed. I MUST be prayed for. The bloodhound of heaven MUST be unleashed on my soul.
Knowing all this, it is better for us to part company. I have many fond memories of the years we spent together. Let’s mutually remember the good times of the past and each continue down the path we have chosen.
Rarer than an Ivory-billed woodpecker is a friendship that lasts a lifetime. Twenty-six years is a good run.
Thanks for the memories.
Bruce
Bill never responded to my letter.
I saw Bill one more time a few years ago at a funeral service I held for a former member of Somerset Baptist. We briefly talked after service. I’m sure Bill was disappointed over the secular service I performed for our fellow church member (the deceased had left Christianity), but he said nothing. Two years ago, Bill — true to Jesus and Fundamentalist Christianity to the end — died.
Now to the subject of this post: the day my preacher friend (Bill) fired me. I could write thousands and thousands of words about my friendship with Bill Beard (and his wife, Peggie). Today, I want to focus on a story that took place in the fall of 1989. At the time, Bill was pastoring a Nazarene church he had started outside of Thornville, Ohio (now called Together Ministries Nazarene Church). Bill asked me to preach a revival for his church. Bill knew that I had embraced five-point Calvinism, and I knew his church was Arminian, with many members, including Bill and his wife, believing in sinless perfection (an absurd theological belief if there ever was one). I am sure readers sense an MMA fight waiting to happen.
Bill was a southern gospel aficionado. He had a different group scheduled for each night of the six-night meeting. On the first night, a quartet sang a dreadful song that suggested there were steps to salvation. I believed they were preaching heresy, works-based salvation. So, when it came time for me to preach, I made an “off-handed” comment about the song. Later in my sermon, I made an “off-handed” comment about “sinless perfection” — the belief that Christians can reach a state where they no longer sin. I put the word “off-handed” in quotes for this reason: I never made off-handed comments when preaching. I invested hours in preparing and crafting my sermons. Polly “fondly” remembers my epic OCD sermon outlines. Before I had a word processor or a computer, I would write my outlines long-form, and Polly would type them for me.
Many preachers are known for chasing rabbits, turning their sermons into a hot mess of incoherence. Polly’s father was a consummate rabbit chaser. Great with people, but a terrible preacher. I mean t-e-r-r-i-b-l-e. I worked with my father-in-law for two years, hearing him preach hundreds of sermons. I tried to teach him how to outline a sermon and deliver a coherent, structured message. But, Dad couldn’t make the magic happen. I, on the other hand, never chased a rabbit I didn’t intend to chase; and shoot, skin, and eat for dinner. I destroyed all of my sermon outlines — dumb idea, Bruce (please see Short Stories: The Night I Set My Life on Fire) — in the early 2000s, but I have no doubt I put handwritten notes on my sermon outline for the first night of the revival service that said: works-based gospel song, sinless perfection. These were prompts meant to remind me that I needed to point my shotgun at these rabbits and shoot them dead. And I did.
I was quite proud that I, as a preacher of the true gospel, had preached this gospel to several hundred Arminians. Good job, right? God was pleased with me, right? Right? I brought several Calvinistic acolytes with me, Rick and Lewis — men who daily immersed themselves in the doctrines of grace. Rick and Lewis, both single men in their late 20s and early 30s, praised me for my defense of free grace, my denunciation of works salvation and sinless perfection. Bill and his church had a far different view of my sermon. Shocker, right? Jesus, I poured gasoline on a centuries-old blazing theological bonfire.
The next day, I was sitting in the Somerset Baptist auditorium, pondering and praying about that night’s sermon. Through the oversized oak auditorium doors walked Bill. I was surprised to see him, but it was not uncommon for Bill to stop by the church when he was out and about (this was in the days before cellphones). Bill, of course, wanted to talk to me about the previous night’s sermon. Bill told me that he and his church’s board had decided not to have me preach again. Bill was profusely apologetic, but I understood why he was firing me. Bill handed me several hundred dollars, thanked me for preaching, and left. This was the first and only time this happened to me. At the time, I believed I was fired for preaching the “truth.” Years later, I concluded that my dismissal was the result of arrogance and disrespect. As a Calvinist, I knew there were certain theological subjects I should avoid when preaching to an Arminian congregation. Instead, I disrespected the congregation by stomping on their cherished beliefs.
Bill would later leave the Church of the Nazarene due to perceived “liberalism.” Bill, who had no post-high school education, was asked by denominational leaders to take classes part-time at Mount Vernon Nazarene University. Bill was exposed to ideas that directly challenged his rigid, absolute Fundamentalist beliefs for the first time. (Bill was King James-only.) Unfortunately, he rejected out of hand what his professors tried to teach him, leaving his church and the Church of the Nazarene denomination.
Bill took his outrage and rigidity to a new church, Lighthouse Memorial Church, and a new denomination, Christian Union. I preached special meetings for Bill’s new church. (Bill and his wife donated hundreds of thousands of dollars to build a new church building. Bill farmed 2,000 acres near the church.) I have an old VHS recording of a sermon I preached at Bill’s church. It is the only extant recording of a sermon I preached. I plan to have it converted into a digital recording that I will share on this blog and my YouTube channel.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Those raised in Evangelical churches are taught that they should ALWAYS give God/Jesus the credit/praise for EVERYTHING. Well . . . not everything. Just the “good” things that happen in your life. The “bad” stuff that happens is attributed to Satan, demonic influence, sin, the flesh, God tempting/testing you, or “hell if we know.” And when things turn around for you? Praise Jesus! Look what HE has done! Lesson to be learned? God must be praised, honored, and given credit for EVERY good thing that happens in your life and absolved of any culpability for anything bad. God is like a man who beats the shit out of his wife while telling her, “I love you.” Every Friday he comes home from his work at the local automobile plant and dutifully hands his wife his check, providing for his wife’s and children’s every need. This violent man expects to be praised for all the “good” he does for his family and expects his wife to ignore the pain, physical harm, and psychological terror he has inflicted upon her.
My wife, Polly, and I love to take day road trips. We plan to take one tomorrow. While our travel distance has been curtailed due to my health, there are still places in northwest Ohio, northeast Indiana, and southern Michigan we have not explored. We set a maximum travel distance: two-and-a-half hours, make sure I have extra narcotic pain medication and muscle relaxers, check the weather report, and off we go. Sometimes, we have a specific destination in mind, and other times we drive to the north, south, east, or west. And occasionally, we turn our trips into a game (i.e., making all left turns). Fun times. We have been taking such trips for thirty-five years. Our children have many “fond” memories of Mom’s and Dad’s day trips to Kentucky, West Virginia, Maryland, Indiana, Michigan, and all over Ohio. And then there was that trip to Charlotte, North Carolina and BACK in one day (sixteen hours). That’s a story for another day. 🙂
Now to the point of the above paragraph. 🙂 We have explored some communities that have smartly developed, clean downtown areas. If you judged such cities and villages by how their downtowns looked, you would conclude that these communities are exciting, vibrant places to live. Yet, if you drive a few blocks in any direction from downtown, you find rundown houses and urban decay. I won’t mention any communities by name where we found this to be true. Years ago, I mentioned that Columbus, Indiana had a wonderful downtown area, but not far from downtown? No so nice . . . Based on the emails I received from residents of Columbus, you would have thought I said their town was a war zone. (That would be the blocks surrounding downtown Detroit, by the way.) Columbus, Indiana is a wonderful community to live in, but that doesn’t change the fact that there’s a huge difference between downtown and the blocks surrounding it.
Okay, now I will get to the point of my geography and urban planning stories. I am like the old preacher I heard say when talking about the length of his sermon. “I’m like a plane circling the airport. I could land at any time.” 🙂
Jesus and his relationship with those who follow him are like the clean, smartly developed downtowns mentioned above. Ain’t Jesus awesome! Praised Jesus! All honor, praise, and glory to Jesus! Yet, just blocks away are rundown homes, blight, and poverty; people struggling to make it to another day. All Christians want to talk about is their downtowns, while just out of view are lives and circumstances that belie the “victory in Jesus” notion of life.
I grew up in an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) home. After my parents were saved in the 1960s, we started attending church every time the doors were open. Dad was a deacon, Mom played the piano (until she had an epic mental breakdown in front of the congregation), and the Gerencser children obediently sat next to their parents (no sitting with friends for them). Our family sang hymns, prayed prayers, read the Bible, and praised Jesus for his grace, mercy, kindness, and love. Yet, life at home was very different. Mental illness, affairs, and neglect. Oh, the Gerencsers praised Jesus, but behind the scenes he was nowhere to be found.
After my parents divorced and quickly remarried other people: a recent Texas penal system parolee for my mother and a nineteen-year-old girl with a toddler for my father, they stopped attending church. My siblings had no interest in church (ages fourteen and eleven), but I got saved, baptized, and called to preach. Church became my family, my safety net. From that time forward, I was a true-blue Christian. I attended every church service, conference, and revival. I skipped school so I could attend preacher’s meetings. I worked on a bus route and went on visitation. I actively participated in youth group. My family may have abandoned Jesus, but not I. I was all in. I didn’t swear, listen to rock music, smoke, drink alcohol, take drugs, or engage in premarital sex. I even eschewed masturbation, though, to be honest, I often failed. Raging hormones, no sex; well, that sexual energy had to go somewhere. It was the 1970s, but you wouldn’t have known it looking at my life.
Off to college in the 1970s, and on to pastoring seven churches in three states. Outwardly, I was a wonderful Christian and pastor, yet I was quite human behind the scenes. I was temperamental, exacting in my expectations of others. I hid my “sins,” and when deep, dark periods of depression plagued me, I hid them from everyone except those closest to me. But, of course, you can’t hide the “truth” from your spouse and children.
In public, I effusively praised the name of Jesus, giving God credit for my preaching and ministerial successes. No matter how hard I worked, Jesus always got credit for what I did. When congregants complimented me on sermons I had spent hours constructing, I deflected their praise, giving God all the praise, honor, and glory. When the one church I pastored grew from sixteen people to two hundred, God was the reason for the attendance growth. When “good” things happened in my life, I always genuflected to Jesus. When I was “blessed” by someone else, I thanked Jesus for answering my prayers and meeting my needs. The person helping me was just a means to an end, used by God to bless me. And when “bad” things happened in my life? I was to blame. Or Satan. Or the flesh. Or sin. Or me failing a test from God. Or perhaps it was God purifying my life. Regardless, God got the praise for everything good that happened in life, and I was to blame for everything bad.
In 2008, I left Christianity. I am now an atheist and a humanist. Embracing the humanist ideal has forced me to reevaluate how I view and treat others; how I view my own life. Taking God out of the equation changes everything. Rejecting the religious concept of “sin” and atonement forced me to take a hard look at my moral values and ethics. As an Evangelical Christian, I had it drilled into my head that I had to forgive everyone. And I mean everyone. My grandfather’s wife sexually molested my brother and me. Forgive her, my former Evangelical beliefs say. My grandfather and his wife outwardly loved Jesus. Everyone thought they were supercalifragilisticexpialidocious Christians. Yet, behind closed doors, they were nasty, judgmental, hateful, manipulative people. (Please see Dear Ann and John.) Forgive them, my former Evangelical beliefs say. My uncle raped my mother (please see Barbara), yet John MacFarlane, the pastor of First Baptist Church in Bryan, Ohio, preached him into Heaven at his funeral (please see Dear Pastor, Do You Believe in Hell?) Forgive him, my former Evangelical beliefs say. I recently wrote about my non-relationship with my father. (Please see Questions: Bruce, How Was Your Relationship with Your Father? and Questions: Bruce Did Your Bad Relationship with Your Father Lead to You Leaving Christianity?) Forgive him, my former Evangelical beliefs say.
I have had an acrimonious relationship with my mother-in-law for forty-five years (and I still love her). She did everything in her power to keep her oldest daughter from marrying me. No matter what successes I have had over the years, Mom has never let me forget that I am “less than.” Mom believes that Polly could have done “better. Though left unstated, I am sure she thinks that if Polly had married someone else, she would still be a Christian; that everything “bad” that has happened in our married life is my fault.
We had it out with Mom and Dad sixteen years ago. (A story I will tell another day. So many stories, so little time — literally.) Polly’s parents had come up to Bryan for Thanksgiving. One thing turned into another, and they left our home in a huff. Mom and Dad later called to “apologize” for their behavior. During our conversation, Mom told me two things I have never forgotten: “Bruce, we always knew you were ‘different'” and “Bruce, you never forget.”
Setting aside the “different” accusation (I plead guilty), I want to focus on the claim that I “never forget.” First, that’s not true. Trust me, at my age, I forget things all the time — frustratingly so. But, I do have a long memory. Second, people see me as a writer, but what I am is a storyteller. I have shared countless stories with the readers of this blog, with many more, Loki-willing, to come. (My favorite David Foster Wallace quote? Don’t let the truth get in the way of telling a good story.) Sunday, I will be giving a speech for the Atheists of Florida (please see Your Invitation to Hear My Speech for Atheists of Florida This Sunday). I don’t plan to deliver a lecture or defense of atheism. That’s not my calling in life. I am, at heart, a storyteller.
Over the years, I have had Evangelicals get upset with me over how I have portrayed them in a post; particularly pastors and churches from my past. I typically tell them that if they don’t like what I am saying about them, they should have treated me better. Don’t want to be portrayed as an asshole, don’t act like an asshole. Or, don’t piss in a writer’s corn flakes. He might serve them up to you the next day.
As a follower of Christ, I had to give God credit for the good that happened in my life and forgive everyone who hurt me or treated me like shit. As a humanist, I have a far different view of life and people. With no God to concern myself with, I no longer have to give a deity credit for the good in my life or accept blame for everything bad that happens in my life. Instead, I give credit to whom credit is due. When Polly cooks an awesome meal, I praise her, not God. When my grandchildren make the honor roll, I congratulate them for their diligence and hard work, not God. When my children do well at work, I don’t praise Jesus. They did the work, and they, alone, deserve credit for their success. When my physicians successfully treat me, I thank them, not a fictional deity. When cashiers/servers/repairmen take care of me, I typically call them by their names and say, thank you! I want them to know that I am giving them credit for their work and service.
The same goes for forgiving people. My Evangelical upbringing demanded that I forgive people no matter what they did to me. Generally, I am a loving, kind, and forgiving person. Doubt this? Ask Polly or my children. Even when it comes to my one son who stole my pain medications three times, I still love and forgive him. Imagine taking a drug away from your parent that he needs to live. Imagine letting your parent needlessly suffer from horrible pain. That’s exactly what my son did to me. Yet, I forgive him (and put my meds somewhere else when he is at our home).
That said, I have no obligation to forgive everyone who has harmed me. Take my grandparents. I booted them out of my life and that of my family twenty-plus years ago (my younger children and grandchildren have never met them — their loss). They were bad people. Everyone around them may have thought they were wonderful Christians, but I knew better. John and Ann were abusers, experts in gaslighting and passive-aggressive behavior. Worse, John was violent. He repeated sexually molested my mother as a child. When called to account for his crimes, John refused to apologize, saying his “sins were under the blood [of Jesus].” Should I “forgive” them for their bad behavior, regardless of whether they atone for their “sins”? Nope. John died from cancer years ago, and Ann is suffering in a nursing home. Do I care? Nope. I might have been there for them had they not been pieces of shit. But, they reaped what they sowed.
Want me to love and forgive you? Do better. Be a decent human being. Treat me with respect. If you can’t do that, don’t expect me to treat you well. Evangelicals often attack me, saying awful things. I mean a-w-f-u-l things. Yet, when I give them the Bruce Gerencser Treatment®, they are outraged that I didn’t treat them better. Sorry, but in my worldview, assholes are given the comeuppance they so richly deserve.
What say ye, dear readers? How do you handle forgiving people now that you are not a Christian? Do you still praise Jesus for the “good” in your life? Or do you give credit to whom credit is due? Please leave your pithy comments and psychological analyses in the comment section. Thanks for commenting!
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Recently, an Evangelical preacher had this to say about me:
Yes, we called BG [Bruce Gerencser] a quitter as that was a common theme throughout his life. He quit on high school, college, his church, Jesus, and, as we see. anything to do with Christian behavior towards others.
When they quit, they spend their time hiding from God, and the truth no matter who brings it across their path. They are all the same and if you want to understand why Jesus said not to cast pearls before swine, it is because they will trash and reject it without using an open mind.
This so-called man of God, a defender of the One True Faith®, loves to call me a “quitter.” According to him, “quitting” is leaving. This preacher is my age, and I know he has, using his definition, “quit” a few times himself. This man has combed through my life with a nit comb, finding every time I left _________, seeing this as proof I am a quitter. In his mind, a “quitter” is a failure; one who has failed to run/finish the race (as determined by this preacher).
As a ministerial student at Midwestern Baptist College in Pontiac, Michigan — an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) institution — I heard countless sermons on “quitters.” Dr. Tom Malone, the chancellor of Midwestern, was famous for lambasting quitters in his chapel sermons. Other chapel speakers did the same. The message was clear: don’t be a quitter; God doesn’t use quitters; your life will never amount to anything; you are a failure if you quit.
One chapel speaker, “Dr.” Charles Whitfield, even called me out personally for quitting. I had dropped his hermenuetics class, and that — for some inexplicable reason — infuriated him. While he didn’t mention me by name, the details of his harangue made it clear who he was talking about.
Infamous IFB pastor, the late-Jack Hyles, wrote a poem titled “Don’t Quit.” It said:
When the cup is turned to wormwood, And the wormwood turns to gall; When your walking turns to stumbling, And the stumbling to a fall; When you’ve climbed above the mountains, Yet the Alps rise rough and tall; DON’T QUIT.
When the path ahead is crooked, And the road’s too rough to tread; When the best upon the table Is replaced by sorrow’s bread; When you’ve crossed some troubled waters, Yet a Marah’s just ahead; (Exodus 15;16) DON’T QUIT.
When the vultures have descended And disturbed your downy nest; When sweet fruit has changed to thistle, While the thorns disturb your rest; When a deep to deep is calling, And when failure seems your best; DON’T QUIT.
When the Lord has cleansed the table; Then He takes away the fat; And the best wine has been taken, Till you find an empty vat; When another fills the throne room Where once you proudly sat; DON’T QUIT.
When your health is feeling sickly, And the medicine tastes bad; When your fellowship is lonely, And your happiness is sad; When your warmth is getting colder, And in clouds your sunshine’s clad; DON’T QUIT.
When you find your wins are losses, And that all your gains are lacks; When ill things never come alone, And your troubles run in packs; When your soul is bruised and battered From the Tempter’s fierce attacks; DON’T QUIT.
Be not weary in well doing, For due seasons bring the grain; He who on the Lord hath waited Shall never run in vain; The just man falleth seven times, Yet riseth up again; DON’T QUIT.
We left Midwestern in early 1979. As we were loading up our Uhaul trailer, preparing to move to my hometown, Bryan, Ohio, a dorm roommate of mine stopped by and pleaded with me not to “quit,” saying, “God will NEVER use you!”
Seven years later, Dr. Malone was preaching at the Newark Baptist Temple in Newark, Ohio — an IFB church pastored by Jim Dennis, Polly’s uncle, a 1960s Midwestern grad. (Please see The Family Patriarch is Dead: My Life With James Dennis.) My father-in-law, a 1976 Midwestern grad, proudly told Malone about the church I was pastoring; how fast it was growing; how souls were being saved under my ministry. Before starting to preach, Malone recognized several notable preachers in the crowd — a common practice at IFB conferences and preacher’s meetings. Malone told the crowd I was in attendance, saying, “If Bruce had stayed any longer at Midwestern, we would have ruined him.” Everyone laughed, and I took his words as validation of the work I was doing for God.
With these things in mind, let me circle back around to what the aforementioned preacher said about me:
[Bruce] quit on high school, college, his church, Jesus, and, as we see. anything to do with Christian behavior towards others.
This preacher mentions five things I have done and experienced in my life that justify him calling me a “quitter.” I want to respond to each of these things, showing the context behind these events. I will then add a sixth point.
High School
Did I graduate from high school? No. My parents divorced when I was fourteen. Two months later, both of them remarried. Mom married her first cousin, a recent parolee from the Texas penal system. Dad married a nineteen-year-old girl with a toddler. In the spring of 1973, hoping to avoid bill collectors, Dad had a household goods auction, packed up our clothing and meager belongings, and moved us to Tucson, Arizona. After finishing tenth grade at Rincon High School in Tucson, I hopped a Greyhound Bus and moved back to Bryan, Ohio to live with my mom. Two months later, I moved to Findlay, Ohio so I could attend Findlay High School and Trinity Baptist Church, both of which were places of happiness, security, and safety for me. After living with a church family in Mount Blanchard for a couple of months (and attending Riverdale High School) I started living with Gladys Canterbury, a matronly woman at the church. I became a ward of the court so Gladys could receive money for keeping me and I would have medical, dental, and vision insurance. I was sixteen.
In May of 1974, weeks before I turned seventeen, I decided to move back home. I missed my mom. Knowing that Gladys (and the church) would not allow me to move, I secretly planned my escape. For a week, I would, unknown to Gladys, stay home from school and plan my move. Finally, the day arrived. Mom pulled into the driveway of Gladys’s southside home, got out of the car, and helped me load my few worldly possessions into her car. Ninety minutes later, I was back home, ready to enroll for my senior year at Bryan High School.
As a student at Findlay High, I didn’t miss one day of school. In fact, I got out of school every day at 11:30 am, and walked or rode my bike to my job as a busboy at Bill Knapps on West Main Cross St. I would work the lunch shift and then sit in the side dining room eating my employee meal — man, I loved their burger basket — and then working on my homework. Afterward, I would work the evening shift. I worked 25 or more hours each week.
In August of 1974, Mom and I went to Bryan High so I could enroll for school. Two weeks later, the school called to inform us that Findlay High was denying me credit for eleventh grade; that I would have to enroll as a junior, not a senior. Findlay High said that because I missed the last two weeks of school, they were denying me credit for my junior year. Never mind the fact that I never missed a day of school up until moving home. Never mind the fact that I was a good student. Mom and I consulted a local attorney, David Newcomer. We thought at the time, “surely Findlay High School can’t do this.” Newcomer told us that we could sue the school, but it would take years to settle such a lawsuit.
Livid over the prospect of having to retake eleventh grade, I “quit” school. My dear friend Dave Echler had also quit school. This certainly played a part in my decision to quit. Mom pleaded with me not to drop out of school, but after seeing my mind was made up, she signed the necessary form so I could quit.
Yes, I am a high school dropout, but a “quitter” in the sense that this Evangelical preacher is using the word? No.
College
Polly and I married in the summer of 1978, between our sophomore and junior years. Polly started attending Midwestern while she was a senior at Oakland Christian School. Polly was one smart cookie, a pretty cookie, a sexy cookie, okay, a “Godly” cookie too. 🙂 Polly, who would soon graduate second in her class, was permitted to attend Midwestern the second half of her senior year.
After getting married, Polly and I moved to an upstairs apartment on Premont St. in Waterford Township. In September, we started classes at Midwestern, excited that we were halfway through college. In less than two years, Mr. and Mrs. Bruce Gerencser would move to a town somewhere in the United States and start a new IFB church, planning to spend our lives winning souls to Christ and teaching Christians the inspired, inerrant, infallible Word of God. Remember what they say about best-laid plans?
We planned to wait until we were out of college to have children. But, unfortunately, “God” had other plans. Six weeks after we married, Polly informed me that she was pregnant. That’s what you get when two young, immature virgins marry, having little information about how “things” work. Eschewing birth control pills and condoms, Polly used an ineffective spermicidal foam.
Polly cleaned the homes of a Bloomfield Hills rabbi and their daughter, that is until brutal morning sickness made that impossible. I worked a full-time job at Deco Grand, making parts for GM’s diesel motors. Keep in mind, we were carrying a full load of classes at Midwestern, along with attending church three times a week and fulfilling the required evangelism requirements for students. I also taught Sunday school and held church services Sunday afternoon at a drug rehabilitation center in Detroit.
In January 1979, I was laid off from my job at Deco Grand. I had not worked there long enough to draw unemployment. Unable to find employment that would allow us to stay in school, we decided to drop out for a semester, hoping to reenroll after our son was born in May. We went to the school to talk to “Dr.” Levy Corey about dropping out. We thought Corey, one of our favorite preachers would understand. Instead, he counseled us NOT to leave school. “Just trust God. He will provide,” Corey said. Several weeks later, behind on the rent and facing threats of having our utilities shut off, we decided to leave Midwestern and return to Bryan. We lived, for a time, with my sister. I took a job with General Tire, and when they moved me to third shift, I “quit” and took a union job at ARO. I made $8 an hour, with superb insurance. When Jason was born in May, we didn’t pay a dime.
One month after we moved to Bryan, my sister’s pastor, Jay Stuckey, offered me an unpaid job as his assistant. I worked my ass off helping the church grow, reaching a high attendance of 500 our last Sunday there.
Yes, I didn’t graduate from Midwestern. But, was I a “quitter” in the sense this Evangelical preacher uses the word? No. Life happens, and after Polly got pregnant and I was laid off, we did what we could to keep a roof over our head and the lights on. We may have left college, but we spent twenty-five years serving congregations in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan.
Churches
This preacher writes as if I pastored one church and then quit. Instead, I pastored seven churches. One church I pastored for eleven years, another for seven. I also worked as my father-in-law’s assistant for two years, growing the youth department to fifty students (over half of the church’s Sunday attendance). I also pastored four churches for short periods of time. (Please see What Happened to the Churches I Pastored?) Interestingly, every one of these pastorates was seven months long. I know, odd, right?
Was I a “quitter” in the sense that this preacher is using the word? Of course not. Pastors leave churches all the time. The reasons for doing so are many. Sure, some of my departures were acrimonious. Could I have done better or been more patient? Absolutely. I have never denied that certain character traits of mine made it difficult for me to work with bullheaded, argumentative, controlling church members. I warned the last church I pastored, Victory Baptist Church, a Southern Baptist church in Clare, Michigan, that I would not fight with them. Five months later, my hope for love, joy, and peace turned into ugly, soul-killing warfare. I left this church for the sake of my mental health. I was burned out, tired of endless conflict and pettiness. Did I “quit”? No, I resigned. You know, like people do when they leave a job for another one. Wait until this preacher finds out how many jobs I have worked over the years. 🙂 I have an advanced degree in leaving jobs and finding another. Could I have done differently? Sure. But a “quitter”? Nope.
Jesus
Did I “quit” on Jesus? Perhaps the real question is this: “did Jesus quit on me”? Did the church quit on me? Did my family, former parishioners, and colleagues in the ministry quit on me after I left the ministry and later left Christianity? Or maybe, just maybe, I decided that the central claims of Christianity weren’t true; that Jesus was not virgin-born, did not work miracles, and lies buried in a grave somewhere near Jerusalem. Or maybe, just maybe, I decided the Bible was not the inerrant, infallible Word of God; that the Bible is littered with mistakes, contradictions, and errors. Or maybe, just maybe, I visited 125 Christian churches and concluded that the teachings of Jesus were nowhere to be found; that churches were social clubs instead of places that ministered to the “least of these.” Or maybe, just maybe, I divorced Jesus. Having given him thirty years to show up and reveal himself, I decided that Jesus wasn’t walking through the door. Wanting to move on in my life, I divorced Jesus and entered a polyamorous relationship with reason, skepticism, and common sense.
To Jesus, I say, “Here I am, Lord. You know where I live. Show up on my doorstep, invite me to lunch (and pay the bill), and show me your miracle-working power, and I will believe.” I suspect Jesus ain’t coming to my house and hanging out. How can he? He’s dead.
Christian Behavior
This Evangelical preacher thinks I have “quit” on “anything to do with Christian behavior.” Of course, I have. I’m not a fucking Christian. “Language,” Bruce. Fuck off, asshole. 🙂 That said, I am a loving, kind, thoughtful person. Ask Polly, our six children, or our thirteen grandchildren. Ask my lifelong friend mentioned above. The only people who think I am a bad person are those who can’t square my story with their theological beliefs. Unable to do so, they attack my character. Those who matter to me know what kind of man I am. I am confident that Bruce, the Atheist is a far better “Christian” than this Evangelical preacher. I don’t go to Christian blogs or websites and attack their owners. I have NEVER engaged Christians outside of this blog or on social media after they have left a comment.
I make no apology for operating this blog. I make no apology for what I write. Have I become less polite and longsuffering towards Evangelical zealots? Guilty as charged. (Please see I Make No Apologies for Being a Curmudgeon.) After thousands of emails, blog comments, and social media messages from Evangelicals, I am tired of their attacks and character assassinations. I try to ward off their emails, comments, and messages (please see Comment Policy and Dear Evangelical), but they continue to harass me anyway. The contact form for this site states:
If you would like to contact Bruce Gerencser, please use the following form. If your email warrants a response, someone will respond to you as soon as possible.
Due to persistent health problems, I cannot guarantee a timely response. Sometimes, I am a month or more behind on responding to emails. This delay doesn’t mean I don’t care. It does mean, however, that I can only do what I can do. I hope you understand.
To help remedy this delay in response, my editor, Carolyn, may respond to your email. Carolyn has been my editor for five years. She knows my writing inside and out, so you can rest assured that if your question concerns something I have written, Carolyn’s response will reflect my beliefs and opinions — albeit with fewer swear words.
I do not, under any circumstances, accept unsolicited guest posts.
I am not interested in buying social media likes, speeding up my website, or having you design a new blog theme for this site.
I will not send you money for your ministry, church, or orphanage.
If you are an Evangelical Christian, please read Dear Evangelical before sending me an email. If you have a pathological need to evangelize, spread the love of Jesus, or put a good word in for the man, the myth, the legend named Jesus, please don’t. The same goes for telling me your church/pastor/Jesus is awesome. I am also not interested in reading sermonettes, testimonials, Bible verses, or your deconstruction of my life. By all means, if you feel the need to set me straight, start your own blog.
If you email me anyway — and I know you will, since scores of Evangelicals have done just that, showing me no regard or respect — I reserve the right to make your message and name public. This blog is read by thousands of people every day, so keep that in mind when you email me whatever it is you think “God/Jesus/Holy Spirit” has laid upon your heart. Do you really want your ignorance put on display for thousands of people to see? Pause before hitting send. Ask yourself, “how will my email reflect on Jesus, Christianity, and my church?”
Outside of the exceptions mentioned above, I promise to treat all correspondence with you as confidential. I have spent the last fourteen years corresponding with people who have been psychologically harmed by Evangelical Christianity. I am more than happy to come alongside you and provide what help I can. I am not, however, a licensed counselor. I am just one man with fifty years of experience as a Christian and twenty-five years of experience as an Evangelical pastor. I am more than happy to lend you what help and support I can.
Thank you for taking the time to contact me.
Yet, Evangelicals send me emails anyway. I am grateful that what I have written above on the contact page has warded off many blood-sucking vampires. But, I still get lots of emails from fangers (shout out to True Blood fans). Further, zealots ignore my commenting policy. After I ban them, they continue to try to comment. Take Elliot. While he has stopped trying to comment or email me, he had tried to access this site 386 times since July 9, 2021 — more than six times a day. Elliot can’t read this, but maybe someone will tell him, Nah, baby, Nah.
Have I ever gone too far when responding to arrogant, nasty, self-righteous Evangelicals? Yes. Readers who have been with me since 2007 — looking at you Michael, Zoe, and Andrew — remember my oh-so-famous response to Iggy of Montana. Iggy told me that he “knew me better than I knew myself.” After a contentious back and forth, I blew up. Scorched earth time. Some people will say I have gone too far when I rewrite the deleted comments of the Evangelical preacher who thinks I am a quitter. (He is permanently banned, yet he still tries to comment, ignoring my commenting policy.) Other people love my rewrites. Sometimes, humor is all you have left when dealing with smug bullies.
Death
I am sick. Really, really sick. I have fibromyalgia, gastroparesis, and osteoarthritis. In late July, I wrote a post titled Health Update: I’m F**ked:
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
Every day is a struggle. Some days, I wonder if I can go on. So far, my reasons for living (my family, writing, and the Cincinnati Reds) give me the strength to live another day. There might, however, come a day when I can no longer endure the pain. And when that day comes, I may choose to end my life. Am I “quitter” for saying, “I’ve had enough. I can’t bear the pain any longer”? I am sure that If I take the death with dignity path, the Evangelical preacher who is the focus of this post will likely write a post that says, “Bruce Gerencser, The Quitter is Dead. Now He Knows Hell is Hot, God is Real, and I’m Fucking Right.” I hope the readers of this blog will give him a collective middle finger. I hope you will tell people that Bruce Gerencser was a survivor, that he did what he could. Finally, I will leave it to my family, friends, and the people who have walked the path with me to measure my life, to give testimony of how the “quitter” Bruce Gerencser made a difference in their lives. (This last section is not a plea for help. This is just me talking out loud with my friends.)
This Evangelical preacher means for the word “quitter” to be a pejorative term; to cause psychological pain. What he calls “quitting,” I call life. A well-lived life? That story is still being written.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
“Dr.” David Tee/Theologyarcheology, aliases for Evangelical preacher David Thiessen, first commented on this blog on October 30, 2020. Tee responded to a post I published in 2016 about his anti-science views. In addition, I posted some of his comments from another site where he refused to say where he got his doctorate. He responded:
I do not expect unbelievers to understand or handle anything God says or what I say properly and with the way they would like to be treated. Also, I do not remember saying those things or even posting here. As far as I am concerned unless there is verifiable evidence that I wrote those words, I am sure someone else wrote them
If I did write them then I am sorry they sounded so brash BUT I do not respond to people who demand that I must jump through their hopes in order to be heard. You do not like my words on MY website that is your choice but at least be honest, open minded, and have a little bit of character when you address them.
And so it began.
Over the past year, Tee has posted numerous inflammatory, hostile, and ugly comments, some of which I have deleted. He has called me weak, a quitter, and a liar. He has gone out of his way to disparage me, attack my character, and inflict emotional pain. After pleas from my wife and other readers to ban Tee, I finally did so. Tee knows he is banned, yet he continues to comment, knowing I will have to read his comments before deleting or editing them to make him look like the asshole he is. Usually, I can block such people at the server level to prevent them from accessing this site. Unfortunately, Tee either uses a VPN or other software that gives him a new IP address every time he visits this site. This renders any block on my end impossible.
My friend Ben Berwick, who blogs at Meerkat Musings, has had numerous run-ins when Tee. Ben is much more patient and longsuffering than I am. Tee is known for defending sexual predators such as Ravi Zacharias and Bill Cosby, even attacking their victims. Several days ago, Tee wrote a post titled, Does Age Make a Difference? In this post, Tee, a supposed follower of a God-man who said “suffer the little children to come unto me,” says that children who have been raped and subsequently become pregnant MUST be forced to carry their zygote/fetus/baby to term. Tee categorically rejects any grounds for abortion, even in cases of rape and incest.
In a post titled Pregnancy and Abortion, Ben took Tee to task for his views on children, rape, and abortion. In typical fashion, Tee posted this comment:
I am not rebutting. I do not need to , your false information is exposed very clearly. Plus, you forget, I do not post according to your rules or regulations. I post according to God’s.
You have no real authority nor do you have any real support for your views. They are all on you and very subjective. Also, I am not going to be drawn into an internet fight. You have said your piece, I have said mine and that is where it will end.
Typical Tee. I even gave this so-called man of God an opportunity to write a post for this site:
By all means, David, make a rational defense of the inerrancy and preservation of the Bible (they go together) — not by quoting Bible verses, but by making sound intellectual arguments. Shit, David, I’ll even post your defense on this site.
Of course, I know you won’t take me up on my generous offer. The inerrancy and inspiration of the Bible can’t be rationally defended.
Tee immediately accepted my offer, saying:
Okay. It will have to wait till next week though as I am noy [sic] home. Had to travel for my father-in-laws [sic] funeral
Yesterday, Tee wrote another post featuring yours truly, complaining about how I and other people on this site have treated him. So here’s a guy who personally attacks me (and others on this site) and shits on my doorstep, and he whines about how he’s treated. Really? Here’s what Tee had to say (note that he refuses to spell out my name):
What BG has done in this post provides evidence that those who turn away from Christ or have never believed, have nothing better to offer anyone than what Christ offers.
We use our website name a lot when posting on other people’s forums simply because it is the one that comes up when we make our comments. We do not think anything of it as people can come here and talk to us if they want to get more information. But here is the post as it is short and provides an example of how believers are treated by those who claim to have a better way:
Thank you for reading and commenting on this blog. Today, we reached 35,000 comments. I planned to make a big deal over who left comment number 35,000. Unfortunately, that commenter was “Dr.” David Tee/David Thiessen/Theologyarcheology. Dammit, bad karma or God sending me a message, right? 😂Tee is banned from this site, but I do edit his comments and show them as deleted. Hopefully, he will have stopped commenting before we reach 40,000.
We italicized the keywords. If BG was better than Christians and had a better way to live, he certainly does not show it in this special event for him. It wouldn’t matter who made the 35,000 post, he would celebrate the person and his achievement as planned.
But since it was us, he scrapped those plans and instead did some terrible things to our posts in that and other articles we commented on. Here are a couple of examples:
Nah, nah baby. When will you respect others and play by the rules? You know, like you demand with the Bible. Had to get the plunger for this comment, but it’s gone.
and
“Dr.” David Tee/David Thiessen/TheologyArcheology, demand a dick measuring contest between me and Bruce Gerencser, the John Holmes of atheism. I know this is a fight between a brad and railroad spike, but I want to be “nailed.” just like the dead Jesus.
Obviously, that person has a lot of hatred for us and Christ. He doesn’t operate out of any other emotion or feeling. Oh, and he has said we are banned from his website. All we did was tell him that he quit and he had no right to criticize believers who were still running the race.
It is amazing to see how quitters think they are better than those who are still trying to do what Jesus said and leave this earth with their faith intact. They are the ones missing out, not those who struggle against the temptations, the abuse, the criticism, and other roadblocks placed in their way.
Those of us who do continue, do not feel superior to those that quit or do not believe. That is something the latter two groups read into the attitude of those who believe.
We do not understand why BG is so upset. It was not like he advertised the fact that he was getting close to this milestone. Nor did we do anything to beat anyone else out of receiving that nice honor. We did not even know anything about it.
So why be so upset that he has to treat someone in this sinful manner. We do not care if he likes us or not but BG needs to stop saying his way and his decision is better than those who humble themselves and decided to follow Christ and his teaching.
He has proven that it is not. Leaving your faith is not a smart move to make. Especially with everything you are giving up. You may win temporal peace and no attacks from evil but those are minor when it is compared to what God can do to you.
This kind of treatment is par for the course for us over the years. It has not just come from unbelievers and those who have turned away from being a Christian. We get it from Christians as well. We are still wondering why we got banned from Worthy forums.
….
We do not hate BG and are saddened by two things: #1. he walked away from the faith and #2. he is very ill. He could have been used greatly by God but he took his eyes off of Jesus and was destroyed by evil.
….
Note that Tee feigns care for me, about my declining health. Yet, one of his comments I edited (which he quoted above) originally said:
So do I win a prize? How about $1 for every comment preceding mine 🙂 At least you read the comments. When will your last day on earth be?
Tee has subtly made death threats before, couching them in Bible verbiage. Why didn’t he quote his original comments? Simple. They would paint him in an unflattering light. Why doesn’t he follow this site’s commenting policy? Did he miss the Bible lessons on respecting others?
I make no apologies for my responses to David Tee. (Please see I Make No Apologies for Being a Curmudgeon.) He’s an asshole for Jesus, a hateful man who relishes attacking my character and inflicting emotional pain. I will continue to delete and/or humorously and profanely edit every comment Tee tries to post to this site. When people search for Theology Archeology, TheologyArcheology, and “Dr.” David Tee, Google returns results for this site and Ben Berwick’s. Thoughtful, caring, kind, compassionate Christians will then know exactly what kind of man former Christian Missionary Alliance preacher David Thiessen really is. As a pastor, if I had a congregant who behaved as Tee behaves on the Internet, we would have disciplined him and excommunicated him from the church. Such people give Christianity a bad name. In my book, anyone who defends sexual predators is no Christian at all. (Tee believes in decisional regeneration. Say the right words, believe the right things, and you are saved — good works optional.) Tee may have mouthed the sinner’s prayer long ago in an Evangelical church, but somewhere along the way, he lost what Christianity is all about: loving God and loving your fellow man.
What do you think about “Dr.” David Tee’s latest post? Please leave your pithy thoughts in the comment section.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
I have the honor of speaking at the monthly meeting of the Atheists of Florida this Sunday, August 29, 2021, at 5:00 pm (EDT). This event is open to the public. After my speech, there will be a Q&A time.
If you are interested in attending, here’s the link for the Zoom meeting. The room will be open at 4:45 pm. I hope to see some of your smiling faces on Sunday. No eggs or tomatoes allowed. 🙂
My speech will be available afterward as a podcast and YouTube video. I will post those links when they are available.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Thank you for reading and commenting on this blog. Today, we reached 35,000 comments. I planned to make a big deal over who left comment number 35,000. Unfortunately, that commenter was “Dr.” David Tee/David Thiessen/Theologyarcheology. Dammit, bad karma or God sending me a message, right? 😂Tee is banned from this site, but I do edit his comments and show them as deleted. Hopefully, he will have stopped commenting before we reach 40,000.
Thank you helping to turn this blog into a community. ❤️
I put out the call to readers, asking them for questions they would like me to answer. If you have a question, please leave it here or email me. All questions will be answered in the order in which they are received.
Troy asked:
#1 Do you think your parents passing away at a young age made it easier to announce your atheism and on the other side of thing Polly’s parents were both alive until recently do you think this made her less vocal about it? (And I know writing that letter announcing your departure from religion was not easy, but pleasing parents is something that is qualitatively different)
#2 You often speak of your ill health, while I hesitate to ask it because I love you as a friend, do you want to blog to continue after you die or would you like it to die with you?
I don’t think the physical state — alive or dead — of our parents played much of a part in how Polly and I announced our loss of faith in 2008. If anything, our personalities determined our response. A story from our days at Midwestern Baptist College in Pontiac, Michigan, might best explain this. Not long after I expressed my romantic interest in Polly, we walked to an elevated drainage cover situated in the field outside of the dormitory. Sitting down, exactly six inches apart, (Please see Thou Shalt Not Touch: The Six-Inch Rule.) we “talked.” Well, I should say I talked. Polly quickly learned that her new love interest loved to talk, and talk, and talk, and . . . I learned that the beautiful dark-haired girl who would become my wife two years later was bashful, rarely saying a word. I thought, “does this girl EVER talk”? 🙂 Our personalities are very different. While I have won Polly over to my talkative side — at least when she’s around me — she’s still shy around people she doesn’t know. She’s content to let me be the talker in the family, even when I wish she would speak up. After forty-three years of marriage, we accept that we are who we are, comfortable in our own skins. Dammit, Polly, will you PLEASE tell your mother ____________? 🙂
This aforementioned story best explains how each of us announced our defections from Christianity. I wrote Dear Family, Friends, and Former Parishioners and started a blog. Polly? She said nothing, not then and not now. I suspect that people at her place of employment still think Polly is an Evangelical pastor’s wife. The people who work for her know that she is not a Christian, but outside of them, she has not shared her story with anyone. And she’s fine with that. And so am I.
Polly’s Fundamentalist Baptist parents (Dad died in 2020) know we left Christianity. They know we are agnostic atheists. However, we have NEVER had one conversation with them about our loss of faith. And we likely never will. That’s been the MO of our relationship with Polly’s parents from day one (which I will cover one day in a post).
Now to Troy’s second question. Troy is a good friend of mine. While we have never met face to face, we have become close over the years through this blog and Facebook. So I accept his question as coming from a heart of love and concern. If “Dr.” David Tee asked me this question, I would hear, “Hey godless motherfucker. What going to happen to your blog after God strikes you dead and you end up in Hell?”
Troy knows that I am in poor health. Tee does too, but he’s a heartless prick, so fuck him. 🙂 Troy knows my days are numbered, as do I. I hope to live for five or ten more years, but my body tells me that the hourglass of my life is running out. Knowing this, I have had thoughts about the future of this blog. Do I want it to live on after my death? Will Polly be able to maintain this site after my demise? One of my children? I don’t know.
I know I don’t want Polly to be saddled with the costs of maintaining this site — roughly $125 a month. I know that once I am gone, readership numbers will drop, as will donations. That’s just the facts of the matter. We live in a “what have you done for me lately” world. When Bruce Almighty is turned into ashes, I hope people will mourn my loss. However, I know that readers will move on. No new content, no reason to come to The Life and Times of Bruce Gerencser blog.
My thoughts are this: I need to leave behind detailed instructions on how to move this to a cheaper (and slower) web hosting service. Or, if given time before I die, I will do this myself. This would reduce costs to less than $20 a month, leaving Polly to decide later if she wants to delete this site. Die! Die! My Darling! (Polly will understand this movie reference.)
I’m not sure how I feel about being memorialized after I kick the bucket. That said, I know my writing may help others after I go over the rainbow in the sky (I’m running out of synonyms for D-E-A-D). It will be left to Polly and my family to decide the future of my “ministry.” Maybe it would be nice if this blog outlived me for the sake of my grandchildren. DO IT FOR THE CHILDREN, BRUCE! 🙂 I want them to “know” my story, to read and understand my life. (Most of them were born after I left the ministry. They have no idea that Grandpa was once a Baptist preacher.) Of course, if I finished my damn book, I could autograph copies for my thirteen reasons to get up in the morning. Okay, nineteen reasons — though I can hardly even get off the couch these days when my six oh-so-awesome kids come to visit me to see how soon they will be collecting their inheritance. 🙂
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
I put out the call to readers, asking them for questions they would like me to answer. If you have a question, please leave it here or email me. All questions will be answered in the order in which they are received.
Samantha asked:
I just read your post about your relationship with your father. I must say that I admire your transparency in reflecting upon these painful memories. My question is: Do you think it is possible that your relationship with your earthly dad contributed to you ultimately abandoning the notion of a loving Heavenly Father?
After writing the post Questions: Bruce, How Was Your Relationship with Your Father? I told my wife, Polly, that someone would likely say that my bad relationship with my father led to me leaving Christianity; that my relationship with my father affected how I viewed the Christian God. Polly replied, “you’re kidding, right? Surely, no one would say THAT! She forgets that I am a prophet. 🙂 Actually, I recently listened to a Christian apologist asserting — without empirical evidence — that people who leave Christianity and embrace atheism have bad relationships with their fathers. In other words, Evangelicals-turned-atheists have “daddy problems.” This is exactly what Samantha is suggesting in her comment above.
When I first read her comment, I felt like giving it the Bruce Gerencser Treatment®, but I decided, instead, to calmly, patiently, and pointedly answer her question. Samantha may be a first-time reader, so I want to give her the benefit of the doubt.
Samantha’s language suggests she’s a Christian: earthly father, heavenly (big F) Father. So I will answer her question with that assumption in mind.
First, why are fathers to blame for our deconversions, and not our mothers? Christians see a direct connection between earthly father to heavenly Father. However, for me personally, my mother had a far bigger influence on me than my father. It was my mother who taught me to read. It was my mother who fueled my passion for God, Christianity, the Bible, politics, and writing. That’s why, when Mom killed herself at age 54, it broke my heart. Every year or so, I will go to her grave at Fountain Grove Cemetery in Bryan. I stand there and weep, wondering what might have been. Mom’s been gone 30 years, yet I still grieve over what’s been lost. Dad? I felt nothing when he died, and I don’t feel much differently today. I know my siblings feel differently, so I respect their grief, even if I can’t “feel” it.
Second, what is the direct connection between my non-existent relationship with my father and why I deconverted? I wonder if Samantha has read any of my autobiographical writing? (Please see WHY?) If she has, surely she knows WHY I deconverted. My relationship with Robert Gerencser had nothing to do with why I walked away from Christianity. And I mean NOTHING!
Third, countless Christian apologists and zealots have attempted to deconstruct and discredit my story. Fourteen years and thousands of emails, blog comments, and social media messages, yet not one person said that I had a faulty view of God, that my relationship with my father warped my view of the God of the Bible. Yet, the moment I write about my father for the first time, a Christian seizes on a perceived weakness or flaw in my story, suggesting that I would still be a Christian if I had had a “good” relationship with my father. Such people assume they know what a “good” parental relationship is — do tell. Further, they assume that there is one view of the Biblical God — do tell. And finally, they assume that past experiences determine our future — do tell.
Fourth, who, exactly, is this “heavenly Father” Samantha speaks of? Surely she knows that every Christian molds God in their own image, that our “God” eerily looks, thinks, and acts just like us. Yet, Samantha assumes that her “heavenly Father” is the one true God, and that if I had worshiped her deity, I might still be a Christian.
Fifth, my understanding of the nature of God was rooted in the words of the Bible, not my relationship with my father. Do our experiences affect how we view the world? Sure. Polly and I have been married for 43 years. No one knows me like she does. She knows, because she has been along for the ride, that I have wanderlust, that I bore easily, that I am always looking for new things to do. That’s why we lived in a lot of houses. That’s why I worked a lot of jobs — dozens and dozens of jobs. That’s why I pastored seven churches. Is my father to blame for my wanderlust? After all, my life as a child and teenager was one of constant movement. Surely, there’s a connection, right?
I have Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder (OCPD), along with depression. I have seen the same counselor for a decade. We have talked about my wanderlust many times, and will likely do so again next week as we discuss the post about my father.
In patients with obsessive-compulsive personality disorder, preoccupation with order, perfectionism, and control of themselves and situations interferes with flexibility, effectiveness, and openness. Rigid and stubborn in their activities, these patients insist that everything be done in specific ways.
Polly says, “I know that person. And I still love him.” 🙂
OCPD and OCD are similar, but not the same. People who have OCPD tend to choose certain behaviors, seeing them as rational and best. The description above says people with OCPD have a “preoccupation with order, perfectionism, and control of themselves.” What does that sound like to you? Right beliefs. Right living. Do THIS, Believe THIS . . . Is this not the essence of Evangelical Christianity, particularly Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) Christianity? Sure, my childhood played a part in the development of OCPD in my life. However, if I were to place the blame on anyone or anything, it would be the IFB churches I attended as a child and teenager, and the pastors, youth directors, and Sunday school teachers who indoctrinated me in the “one true faith.” Who made a deeper and lasting imprint on my life? A non-involved, disinterested father, or so-called men of God who took an aggressive interest in conforming me to their interpretations of the King James Bible? That’s a rhetorical question, by the way.
I admit that my childhood made a deep, lasting mark on my life. How could it not? I can’t unsee my mother’s suicide attempts and mental illness. I can’t “unfeel” my father’s lack of love for me. My life is the sum of my experiences. However, I would argue that these experiences have made me a better man; that I am a loving, kind, and compassionate person, having long cared for the “least of these,” all because of the pain and suffering I have experienced in my life (and continue to experience).
Finally, until writing the aforementioned post, I hadn’t thought about my dad in years. Writing this post has proved to be painful, dredging up things long buried in the deep recesses of my mind. I told Polly last night that I regret answering Logan’s question. Now my mind is filled with numerous other stories I could have shared — few of which would paint my dad in a positive light. I suspect it will take therapy to return these memories to where they belong.
I shared my feelings about Logan’s question with Carolyn, my editor. She told me, “Bruce, you don’t have to answer every question.” Of course, she’s right. However . . . OCPD. I have to work the list, answer the questions in the order in which they are received. I can’t not answer Logan’s or Samantha’s or even “Dr.” I-Give-Christianity-a-Bad-Name David Tee’s (though he is now banned) questions. Sometimes, I just need to decline to answer, tell them their questions are intrusive/offensive, or maybe, just maybe, I need to tell such people to fuck off. Or, I could just blame dad. 🙂
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
I put out the call to readers, asking them for questions they would like me to answer. If you have a question, please leave it here or email me. All questions will be answered in the order in which they are received.
Logan asked:
Would you perhaps write some about your dad, Robert. Maybe tell some stories about growing up and your thoughts/ feelings now.
Logan has asked me this question before, and I ignored him. I had a complex, difficult relationship with my father. Over the years, I have been hesitant to talk about him. Part of the reason for this is that I don’t want to say anything that will hurt my younger siblings. They have very different memories of our father from mine. Why this is so will become evident by the time you reach the end of this post. I apologize in advance for the length of this post, but I cannot adequately answer Logan’s questions without delving deeply into my relationship with Robert Gerencser.
As some of you might know, “Dad” was not my biological father. In November 1956, Dad, age 20, married my eighteen-year-old mom, then about six weeks pregnant. Unable to marry in Ohio due to state age requirements, Mom and Dad drove to Angola, Indiana, and were married by a justice of the peace. Afterward, Mom and Dad set up house in Bryan, Ohio — several miles away from the farm where Dad grew up.
In June 1957, Barbara Tieken Gerencser gave birth to a beautiful 🙂 9-pound 15-ounce redheaded boy. I would later learn family members questioned how a dark-skinned Hungarian man could be the father of such a fair-skinned boy (though, to be fair, my maternal great grandfather was redheaded). Sixty-two years later, I had a DNA test, and sure enough, “Dad” wasn’t my biological father. After contacting my newly revealed half-brother who lives in Michigan, I found out that it is likely that my biological father, a truck driver, had a fling with my mom, who was, at the time, working at The Hub, a truck stop in Bryan. (I have a half-brother and three half-sisters. I hope to meet them for the first time in September.)
Did Dad know that I wasn’t his son? Did Mom know she was pregnant before they married? Did she know who my biological father was? Did my biological father know Mom was carrying his child? So many unanswered questions. Unfortunately, these questions will never be answered. Dad, 49, died from a stroke after heart surgery in 1987, and Mom, 54, killed herself in 1991 (please see Barbara).
I have stopped writing for a moment, struggling with how best to describe and explain my relationship with my father. Even now, 40 years after seeing my dad for the last time, I am not sure how I feel about the man. There were times I hated Dad, and when he died, I felt . . . nothing.
Dad and I weren’t close. When I was a young child, Dad moved us all over the place — literally. House to house, school to school, I was just a piece of the furniture to him. Then, as a teenager, I became a poorly paid (if at all) employee for Dad’s businesses (a hobby store in Findlay, Ohio, and a gun store in Sierra Vista, Arizona). After my parents divorced when I was 15, I moved back and forth from Arizona to Ohio several times, finally settling in Bryan with my mom in 1976. I was 18. Over the next eleven years, I saw my dad a total of three times: a birthday party, my wedding, and the birth of my second son.
Dad never told me that he loved me, never attended my ball games, and never engaged me meaningfully at an emotional level. He had a very different relationship with my siblings. I am left with the question, why? Was this because I wasn’t his biological son? Was it me? My personality? My hatred for his second wife? The emotional harm he caused me as a child and teenager? So many questions. So much pain.
Here’s what I know:
Dad repeatedly uprooted my life. Every year or so, I had to adjust to a new school and try to make new friends. The longest I attended one school was two and a half years. In five of my eleven school years, I attended different schools, not because of Dad being in the military or job relocations, but due to him not paying the rent or avoiding bill collectors.
Dad had affairs with several women. Granted, my mom was mentally ill. She tried to kill herself numerous times. She spent time at the Toledo State Mental Hospital, undergoing electroshock therapy. Mom could be passionate and brilliant one moment and a raging lunatic the next. Living with her was a challenge, so I understand why Dad sought out the love of other women.
My parents divorced shortly before my fifteenth birthday. Both of them quickly remarried. Mom married her first cousin, a recent parolee from the Texas penal system. Her cousin physically abused her. He later died of a drug overdose. Dad married a 19-year-old woman with a toddler, bringing her into our home, and expecting us to accept her as our new mother. I, of course, already had a mother. His wife and I would have a contemptuous, turbulent relationship. Dad? He rarely, if ever, took my side. One Sunday, I came home from church, and Dad’s wife and I got into a heated argument. She picked up a leather belt, hitting me in the face. I responded by picking her up, throwing her into a cement block wall, fracturing her spine, and knocking her out. We had no phone, so I left her lying on the floor and walked several miles to where Dad worked as a salesman for a carpet store and told him I might have killed his wife. Dad rushed home, while I spent the rest of the day away from the scene of the crime. Two months later, I hopped a Greyhound bus and moved back to Ohio. I later moved back to Arizona for ten months. Outside of seeing Dad’s wife at my wedding, we had no interaction with each other.
Dad was involved in illegal gun sales. He also embezzled $10,000 from Combined Insurance Company. Where this money went remains a mystery. We lived in a new house during this time. My parents drove a late model Pontiac convertible, and Dad bought a $1,200 HO train layout that took up most of the basement of our trilevel home. Mom also tried to kill herself three times: overdose, pulling her car in front of a truck, and slitting her wrists. As a fourth-grade boy, I came home from school one day to find Mom lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Later, we were forced to move from our new home, back to a ramshackle farmhouse owned by Dad’s sister. While living here, Mom was raped by her brother-in-law. I was home from school sick when it happened.
Dad moved us to Findlay the summer before my eighth-grade year of school. Mom and Dad would divorce in the spring of my ninth-grade year. By then, Dad — by passive inaction and indifference — made it clear that I was expected to buy my own clothes and pay for my school lunches. There were times when I would sneak into Dad’s bedroom early in the morning to “steal” money from his wallet to pay for my lunch.
Dad didn’t pay his bills. Imagine going into a flower shop to buy your girlfriend flowers and seeing your Dad’s name on a list of deadbeat customers, or a bounced check of his taped to the wall. Or imagine going to the dentist only to have him refuse to treat you until your dad paid his bill. Or imagine your Dad selling your Lionel electric train collection, guns, and automobile, promising to “send” you the money. I knew he would stick me, and I was right. I am still waiting for his check . . .
Living this way forced me to grow up quickly. I learned that if I wanted anything, I had to work for it. Not a bad lesson to learn in life, so “thanks,” Dad. I hope readers can see the sarcasm dripping from my words.
Dad’s been dead for thirty-four years. Do I miss him? Sure, but not like I miss my mother. God, do I miss Mom. I can only imagine how much she would have enjoyed her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Would Dad have been proud of me, proud that I was a preacher, proud that I married a beautiful woman? Dad made a new life for himself in Arizona. My siblings spent their formative years with him. Both of them still live in Arizona. I recognize that I chose a different path, that Arizona was just a short pit stop for me. I chose the church over my family. I made my own life in Ohio. Thus, Dad and I became like two ships passing in the night.
These days, all I have is regrets.
And to my brother and sister, I say, “I’m sorry” . . .
Postscript:
Surely, Bruce, you have some fond memories of your father? Sure . . . I remember hunting doves with him along the river. I remember hunting rabbits and pheasants with him a few times. And, we went fishing a few times too. All of these memories come from the first twelve years of my life. As a teenager, I remember manning Dad’s table at gun shows and train shows. I learned my business sense and how to interact with customers from him. I remember going to swap meets in Tucson, selling his wares on Sundays after church. And . . . that’s it. Oh wait, he gave me money one time, surely he did? One time, right? Oh, and I remember he bought me school clothes one year at Rink’s Bargain City (Shitty) — a pair of shoes and cheap jeans I was too embarrassed to wear. I did my shopping that year in downtown Findlay, shoplifting my shirts and Levi jeans. When I needed glasses, Dad bought me a pair, the cheapest ones — black plastic frames, welfare glasses. Weeks later, I saved up enough money to buy my own glasses — wire-rimmed frames, you know just like my friends and churchmates wore. So, yes, I have many “fond” memories.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
