Here is an email I received from a man calling himself Rick Sones.
Dear Rick,
First, I doubt you read as much of my site as you allege. Had you done so, you might have learned a few things about me, such as the fact that I did not remain a Fundamentalist Baptist; that I left the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church movement in the late 1980s; that I do not continually boast about my understanding of the Biblical text.
Second, my life as a Fundamentalist Baptist was, all in all, quite happy. Again, had you done a bit more reading you might have learned that I have many good memories of my days as a pastor.
Third, I am not angry with God. You do realize I am an atheist, right? Being “angry” with God would be akin to being angry with Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. Since the Christian God does not exist, it would be a colossal waste of time for me to be angry with said God.
Fourth, please put on your big boy pants and share with me the voluminous misquotations and errant interpretations you have found in my writings. Let’s mano a mano enter into a public discussion about your claims. Let’s see who is the ignorant idiot. I’m game, are you? Or are you just bullshitting, Evangelical-style?
Fifth, threatening me with judgment from the Big Kahuna has no effect on me. Again, you do know I am an atheist, right? Threatening me with judgment from a nonexistent God is similar to threatening me with judgment from Thor. I am not going to lose any sleep over your threats.
Finally, if you knew that other people had already told me what you said in your email, why write me anyway? What was your objective? Surely it couldn’t have been to witness or put in a good word for Jesus. Calling someone an idiot is a sure discussion stopper.
Rick, let me thank you for providing me yet another example of why I am so glad that I divorced Jesus. With people like you in the family, I am quite happy to be considered an Ex.
Bruce Gerencser
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
My partner, Polly, and I have six adult children, ages thirty-one to forty-five. We have sixteen grandchildren, aged four to twenty-three. I regularly see most of my children and grandchildren every week or two. Now that the NFL season has started, I will see several of my sons and their families when they stop by to take advantage of my Sunday Ticket Package on YouTube TV. Over the past two weeks, I have seen all our children and thirteen of our grandchildren. I have texted our granddaughters who are now in college at Ohio State University and Miami University — Oxford, respectfully. Our family is dysfunctional, but we are close.
Because I am close to my spouse, children, and grandchildren, I naturally have some influence over them. Not controlling influence as was common during our Fundamentalist Baptist days, but influence in giving advice or sharing my opinion. And I am opinionated, as I always have been. I love discussions and debates about religion, politics, philosophy, economics, and the state of the Cincinnati Reds and Bengals. Years ago, I expected our family to be of one mind, but those days are long gone. Now I genuinely want to hear Polly’s opinions and those of my children and grandchildren. I am fascinated by how their thinking and beliefs have evolved post-Evangelicalism.
Libertarian free will is a myth. According to Got Questions, an Evangelical site, libertarian free will:
. . . is basically the concept that, metaphysically and morally, man is an autonomous being, one who operates independently, not controlled by others or by outside forces. According to the Pocket Dictionary of Apologetics & Philosophy of Religion (InterVarsity Press, 2002), libertarian free will is defined as “in ethics and metaphysics, the view that human beings sometimes can will more than one possibility. According to this view, a person who freely made a particular choice could have chosen differently, even if nothing about the past prior to the moment of choice had been different.” In the libertarian free will paradigm, the power of contrary choice reigns supreme. Without this ability to choose otherwise, libertarian free will proponents will claim that man cannot be held morally responsible for his actions.
Interestingly, most of the Internet sites offering up definitions of libertarian free will are Christian. Regardless, libertarian free will posits that people operate independently, not controlled by outside influences or people. This is patently false. Free will is fiercely argued, with some philosophers believing people don’t have free will. Others believe we have free will in a limited sense. These discussions are above my pay grade, but I generally believe all of us are influenced by outside sources. From the time we are born, we are influenced by people, events, and circumstances. As an old man, I have pondered the people and things who have deeply influenced my life. Could it be otherwise for a husband, father, and grandfather?
What I don’t have is controlling influence; influence that demands obedience and conformity. In our Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) years, I demanded my spouse and children obey me as the patriarch of the family. I believed, as did Polly, that this hierarchy was commanded by God and taught in the Bible. Post-Christianity, Polly and I adopted an egalitarian worldview. This required us setting our children free to think for themselves and make their own decisions. While I always appreciate them asking me for advice — what old man doesn’t want to feel needed? — their decisions are theirs. I may share my beliefs or opinions with them, but there’s no demand to conform. Thus, whether to believe in God (any God), go to church, or follow the teachings of the Bible is up to them, not me. Whether they end up in the Evangelical Hell is on them, not me. Yes, I am an atheist, as is their mother, but I make no effort to evangelize them. Am I happy that none of my children attend Evangelical churches, and some of them are atheists or agnostics? Of course.
Of course, the question in the title is only asked by fearful Evangelicals; people who are afraid of being punished by God and going to Hell. I understand their fear, having walked in their shoes for the first fifty years of my life. Deconverting helped to break and dispel my fear of God and Hell. There is no God, no Heaven/Hell, no fear. All Polly and I know to do is to live a fear-free life and raise a bit of hell. 🙂
But, Bruce, you can’t know for certain whether there is a Hell. True, but I can’t be sure Lizard People don’t walk among us either. All I know to do is to skeptically and rationally look at the central claims of Christianity (and Lizard People), and live accordingly. I live a God-free and Hell-free life before not only my family, but my neighbors. I want them to see authenticity — sans God, Christianity, and the Bible. Much as I did as a Christian, I let my little light shine. If my spouse, children, or grandchildren find an affinity with my beliefs and way of life, that’s on them, not me. They are free to live their lives as they wish. I will love and support them regardless of what they believe or how they live their lives. Our objective is for all of us to live openly, freely, and honestly.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
Comment: I wonder what the apostles and martyrs of the christian faith would day to you….? I feel sad that your convictions, after having “pastored” are so mushy. I do hope you get converted back someday. I feel sorry for your children and your blog followers. You Atheism is as inspiring as you “theism”. You should express yourself through a hobby rather than preaching your humanist void…I never write to people I encounter on the web, but I find your material disgusting, but I guess that ud fine with you anyway. May the void bless you.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
One of the common lines of attack Evangelical critics use against me is what is commonly called the “No True Scotsman” fallacy. Rational Wiki explains the “No True Scotsman” fallacy:
The No True Scotsman (NTS) fallacy is a logical fallacy that occurs when a debater defends the generalization of a group by excluding counter-examples from it. For example, it is common to argue that “all members of [my religion] are fundamentally good”, and then to abandon all bad individuals as “not true [my-religion]-people”.
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NTS can be thought of as a form of inverted cherry picking, where instead of selecting favourable examples, one rejects unfavourable ones. The NTS fallacy paves the path to other logical fallacies, such as letting the “best” member of a group represent it. Thanks to these remarkable qualities, the NTS fallacy is a vital tool in the promotion of denialism.
Simply put, “No matter what you say, Bruce, you never were a REAL Christian.”
I was part of the Evangelical church for fifty years. I spent twenty-five of those years pastoring Evangelical churches in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. At age fifteen, I made a public profession of faith at Trinity Baptist Church in Findlay, Ohio. Coming under the Holy Spirit’s conviction, I went forward during the invitation, knelt at the altar, repented of my sins, and asked Jesus to save me. Several weeks later, I went forward again and professed publicly to the church that I believed God was calling me to preach. From that time forward — until I walked away from Christianity in November 2008 — my heart and mind were set on worshipping, serving, and following Jesus. I committed myself to daily prayer and reading and studying the Bible. At age nineteen, I enrolled for classes at Midwestern Baptist College in Pontiac, Michigan. While at Midwestern, I met and dated the beautiful dark-haired daughter of a Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) preacher. We later married, had six children, and invested our lives in building churches, helping others, and evangelizing the lost. Simply put, we loved Jesus, and whatever the Holy Spirit led us to do, we did it — even if it cost us socially or economically.
That’s not to say we were perfect Christians. We weren’t. Speaking for myself, I was temperamental, prone to mood swings that ranged from palpable excitement to brooding darkness. I now know that I was dealing with undiagnosed depression; that what I really needed was competent professional help. It took more than a decade for me to see a therapist once I realized I needed help. Why so long? I grew up in a home with a mother who had serious mental health problems. (Please see Barbara.) I knew the shame that came from having a loved one who was viewed by others as “nuts” or “crazy.” I certainly wasn’t my mother — as my counselor has frequently reminded me — but I didn’t want my wife and children to have to bear the stigma of having a husband/parent who had mental problems. It was enough that they had to bear the brunt of my mood swings behind closed doors. I didn’t want them to bear that burden in public.
I am sure an Evangelical zealot or two is itching to ask, “Bruce, did you ever “sin” against God?” Silly boy, of course I did. I daily sinned in thought, word, and deed; sins of omission and commission. Let me ask you the same question, “Have you ever sinned against God?” That’s what I thought. Of course, you have. Whatever failures I had in my life, and they were many, doesn’t negate the fact that I loved Jesus (and the church) with all my heart, soul, and mind. I spent the prime years of my life — ruining my health in the process — laboring day and night in God’s vineyard. I chose a life of poverty so I could provide the churches I pastored with a full-time preacher. There’s not one former congregant who can say of me that I didn’t give my all to the church; to preaching the gospel to sinners, and teaching the saints the Word of God. Critics will search in vain for anyone who knew me at the time who would say of me, “Bruce was not a real Christian.” Several years ago, a woman who knows me quite well, told a family member, “If Butch (my family nickname) wasn’t a Christian, no one is!” And that’s my testimony too. There’s nothing in my story, when taken as a whole, that remotely suggests that I wasn’t a real Christian.
What happens, of course, is that my Evangelical critics skim over the book of my life, choosing instead to just read the last chapter; the chapter where Bruce, the Evangelical pastor is now Bruce, the atheist; the chapter where Bruce rejects, criticizes, and stands against everything he once believed; the chapter where it is clear to Bruce’s critics that he is a reprobate and apostate. After reading the last chapter, my critics conclude, “Bruce, you never were a real Christian.” Once critics come to this ill-informed conclusion, it is impossible to change their minds (and I no longer try to do so).
The biggest problem my critics face is their theology. Most Evangelicals, particularly Baptists, believe that once a person is saved, his salvation cannot be lost. Once adopted into the family of God and married to Jesus, you are forever a member of the Christian family. The Apostle Paul makes this clear in Romans 8:31-39:
What shall we then say to these things? If God be for us, who can be against us? He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things? Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God’s elect? It is God that justifieth. Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter. Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. My Father, which gave them me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father’s hand.
Did my long years as a Christian show that I was a sheep who had heard the voice of Jesus and followed him? Of course, they did. If that is true, and it is, then based on the inspired, inerrant, infallible Word of God, I was a born-from-above child of God who had been granted eternal life by God himself.
Many of my critics can’t bear to admit that I was ever a “real” Christian. They can’t bear to think of spending eternity in Heaven with me, an avowed atheist. So they take a lice comb to the hair of my life, looking for anything in my beliefs, practices, or conduct that reveals that I was not, according to their peculiar standard, a real Christian. Their minds are made up: I was a fake Christian. I was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Never mind that the evidence of my lived life suggests otherwise. Instead of admitting the obvious, these keepers of the Book of Life strain at the gnat and swallow a camel finding ways to “prove” I wasn’t a real Christian.
On the one hand, I agree with them. It is absurd to think that I am now a Christian, and that Heaven awaits me after I die. There’s nothing in my present life that remotely suggests that I am a follower of Jesus. A few critics, unable to square their theology with the sum of my life, take a different approach. According to them, I am still a Christian, and there’s nothing I can say or do to change that fact. This line of argument is equally absurd.
It is not up to me to help my critics make their theology fit the narrative of my life. All I know is this: I once was a Christian, and now I am not. I think of my life this way: At the age of fifteen, I married Jesus. We had thirty-five years of blissful marriage. However, at the age of fifty, I divorced Jesus, and fell in love with rationalism and freedom. When asked about my marriage to Jesus, I say, “All in all, we had a good life together.” There are times when I wistfully look at my marriage to Jesus and yearn for the “good old days.” Stupid thoughts, to be sure, knowing that humans tend to sanitize their past, ignoring or blocking out the bad things that happened. Sure, Jesus and I had a good life together, but he’s no match for my current lover. I could never go back to the leeks, onions, and bondage of Egypt, having tasted and enjoyed the wonder and freedom of the Promised Land.
Some readers, particularly lifelong atheists, often ask, “Why does this matter to you, Bruce? The Christian God is a myth. Christianity is built on a foundation of lies. There’s no judgment, no Heaven, no Hell. Your life as a Christian was built on a fairytale!” As a godless heathen, I certainly agree with these sentiments. However, I WAS a devoted Christian for many years. I WAS a committed, sacrificial pastor for decades. It’s impossible to honestly and faithfully tell my story without sharing the fifty years I spent in Evangelicalism. Years ago, I had a social worker offer me some advice on how to write an effective résumé. She thought that my religious education and ministerial job history were turnoffs or red flags to many prospective employers. She suggested leaving these things off my résumé. I replied, “So what do you want me to do with the huge holes in my work history? Should I just put “I was in prison for twenty-five years?” She was not amused.
My past is part of who I am. I can’t and won’t ignore the “Christian years” to make my story more palatable. Nor can I ignore the chapters that are presently being written. Are not all of us the sum of our experiences? Why is it we have no problem when someone says, “I was married and now I am divorced? Several months ago, I met someone who might be the right person for me.” That’s my life. I was married to Jesus, divorced him, and seventeen years ago I met someone new; someone who has become just the right person for me. All I ask from Christians is that they accept my story at face value; and that they allow me to tell my story honestly and openly without attempting to deconstruct my life. When Christians comment on this blog, I accept their claims of faith without question. Even when they promote bad theology or say contradictory things, I allow them to tell their stories on their own terms. If I have learned anything over the years it is this: there are millions of Christianities and millions of Jesuses. No two Christians believe the same things or worship Jesus in the same way. To discern who is and isn’t a “real” Christian is an impossible task. Who am I to say to a follower of Jesus: you are NOT a real Christian? All of us bring unique books to storytime. Mine just so happens to be one of devotion to Jesus and loss of faith. Regardless of what my critics say about my past, I know what I know. After all, who knows my life better than I do? And so it is with you.
Several years ago, I had a Christian contact me, asking for advice on how to set up a blog and how to rank well with search engines such as Google and Bing. I gave him some general advice. The first thing I told him is this: “I encourage everyone, Christian or not, to tell their story. Blogging is an excellent way to do so.” I am convinced that the best way to help others is by telling our stories. Sure, there’s a time and place for polemical writing; attacks on the text and teachings of the Bible. I am certainly more than willing to take an axe to the roots of Christianity and the Bible. However, I have learned, as a public speaker and writer, the most effective way to reach people is by telling my story. As such, this blog will always remain “one man with a story to tell.”
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
It is not uncommon for Evangelical apologists to assert that atheism is a religion; that atheists put their faith in science. Apologists also claim that we all worship something, be it God, science, or self. Are any of these claims true?
Let me define atheism. Atheism is the lack of belief in the existence of God or gods. That’s it. From this starting point, atheists go on to believe all sorts of things. I am an agnostic atheist and a humanist. Atheism defines my view of God. Humanism defines the moral and ethical framework by which I govern my life. In no instance do I worship anyone or anything.
Worship means respectful devotion—loving, honoring, and obeying someone who deserves our highest regard. Worshipping God means acknowledging and celebrating His power and perfection in gratitude.
Based on these definitions, do atheists worship? No.
Evangelical apologists also claim that we all put faith in something; that atheists put their faith in science. First, atheism and science are two different things. Atheism, as stated above, is the lack of belief in the existence of God, or gods. No faith is necessary to be an atheist. Either you believe God exists or you don’t. Many apologists wrongly connect atheism and evolution. Sure, most atheists accept evolution as a scientific fact, but accepting evolution is not required to be an atheist. Atheists believe all sorts of things, including woo. These beliefs, however, have nothing to do with atheism. Many Christians accept evolution as the best explanation for how our biological world operates. Should we then say that Christianity and evolution are connected? Of course not. So it is with atheism and evolution.
Faith: not wanting to know what is true.
Friedrich Nietzsche
Faith is defined as the trust or confidence in someone or something. Regarding science, I put my faith in men and women who have spent their lifetimes in various scientific fields. I lack the requisite education necessary to speak authoritatively on anything related to science. I know what I know, and, most importantly, I know what I don’t know. Some people have spent years getting advanced degrees in science, and after university, they have devoted their lives to specific scientific disciplines. I put my faith in their expertise; a reasoned faith that values expertise.
Religion is defined as the belief in and worship of a supernatural power or powers, especially a God or gods or a particular system of faith and worship. Based on these definitions, is atheism a religion? Of course not. Again atheism is the lack of belief in the existence of God, or gods. Nothing more, nothing less. Atheism doesn’t have clerics, church buildings, Bibles, hymnbooks, or prescribed modes of worship. Atheists don’t have shrines or collect offerings to support houses of godless worship. I can’t think of any meaningful way that atheism is a religion.
While there are some religions that are atheistic (certain sects of Buddhism, for example), that does not mean that atheism is a religion. To put it in a more humorous way: If atheism is a religion, then not collecting stamps is a hobby.
Despite the fact that atheism is not a religion, atheism is protected by many of the same Constitutional rights that protect religion. That, however, does not mean that atheism is itself a religion, only that our sincerely held (lack of) beliefs are protected in the same way as the religious beliefs of others. Similarly, many “interfaith” groups will include atheists. This, again, does not mean that atheism is a religious belief.
Sadly, Evangelicals, either ignorantly or deliberately, spread the lie that atheism is a religion. Ken Ham and Bodie Hodge are liars extraordinaire; men who go to great lengths to disparage atheists. How else do we “defend” their explanation of atheism:
Almost all atheists claim that, because (supposedly) there is no God, their own worldview is not a religion. Many of them would argue that they have a “nonbelief.”
One of the definitions of religion in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, however, is this: “a cause, principle, or system of beliefs held to with ardor and faith.”
Atheism certainly fits that definition, and many of its adherents are quite zealous about their faith system.
Atheists have an active belief system with views concerning origins (that the universe and life arose by natural processes); no life after death; the existence of God; how to behave while alive; and so much more. Honest atheists will admit their worldview is a faith. Atheism is a religion!
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While atheism is a blind faith, its followers will still cry out, “We are not part of a religion!” Why do they plead this? First, if atheism were identified as a religion, atheists fear that their views might get kicked out of public places, like government-run schools. Second, these secularists will be less likely to be able to deceive children into thinking that their teachings (supposedly “neutral”) are not in conflict with the religious beliefs of students.
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Anyone who claims that they are not religious and then makes judgments about religious topics (e.g., the deity of Christ, the existence of God, the morality regarding adultery, the truthfulness of the Bible, and so on) has made a religious statement. Though they may “claim” to be irreligious, they reveal that they are indeed religious when they attempt to refute another religious view.
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Does atheism oppose the religious claim that God exists? Again, yes. Thus, atheism is religious.
I don’t have faith, faith is the excuse people give for believing something when they don’t have evidence.
MATT DILLAHUNTY
As Evangelicals often do, Ham and Hodge conflate evolution and atheism. They are two separate propositions/claims. No matter how many times Ham and Hodge say atheism is a religion or requires faith, their claims are false. They have been corrected numerous times, but Ham and Hodge continue to lie about atheism.
Let me conclude with an excerpt from an Atheist Alliance International article titled Is Atheism a Religion:
‘Theism’ means ‘belief in a god or gods’. Believers usually sign up to the values and principles of a godly belief system: it’s an ideology. Theistic ideologies are commonly known as faiths or religions. Many ideologies have the suffix ‘ism’; for example, liberalism, socialism, and communism but, in the case of ‘atheism’, the ‘ism’ ending has merely been inherited from its root: ‘theism’. The prefix ‘a’ turns the meaning around to the negative, that is, ‘not a belief in a god’, so ‘atheism’ is as far from a faith or religion as it’s possible to get.
Atheism is not a belief system so that should end this article right here, but theists will likely not be satisfied. They might point to the things atheists and religions have in common: religions form churches, atheists form associations; churches and atheist associations appoint members to formal roles such as bishop and president; church members give offerings, atheists pay subscriptions; churches hold services, atheist hold meetings. Churches and atheists both have literature they value and people they admire.
The problem is, these are superficial similarities and if they make atheism a religion, they make political parties and table tennis clubs religions too. That is obviously absurd.
There is one organization that makes it their job to decide which group is a religion and which is not, and that’s The Internal Revenue Service (IRS) in the USA. Religions receive highly favorable treatment in the USA and the IRS wants to avoid giving these advantages to organizations that are not genuine religions. So the IRS has a set of criteria they apply to any group claiming to be a religion. The primary criteria are listed below with how atheist groups qualify [shown in parenthesis].
Distinct legal existence [Some atheist groups are legal entities.]
Recognized creed and form of worship [No creed or forms of worship.]
Definite and distinct ecclesiastical government [No ecclesiastical governance.]
Formal code of doctrine and discipline [No doctrine.]
Distinct religious history [No religious history.]
Membership not associated with any other church or denomination [Atheists may join any number of atheist groups.]
Organization of ordained ministers [No ministers of any kind.]
Ordained ministers selected after completing prescribed courses of study [No courses of study.]
Literature of its own [No literature reserved for one group.]
Established places of worship [No worship.]
Regular religious services [No religious services.]
Sunday schools for the religious instruction of the young [No instructing the young.]
Schools for the preparation of its members [No atheist schools.]
With only one criterion applicable to atheists (and that one all political parties and many clubs share), the IRS won’t be granting religious tax exemptions to atheist groups any time soon.
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Why then do the religious so often claim atheism is a religion? We don’t know, you’ll have to ask religious people that question. Perhaps it is an attempt to drag atheism down to the level of a religion—a set of unsubstantiated beliefs, in a landscape where beliefs are held only on faith. If so, they would be completely wrong about that too.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
An Evangelical pastor whom I have known for over forty years sent me some questions, the answers to which appear below. He previously asked me some questions which I answered in a post titled, Four Questions from an Evangelical Pastor. I found his questions sincere and honest, unlike many questions I receive from Evangelicals. Far too often, ulterior motivations lurk behind some questions, but I don’t sense that here. Hopefully, readers of this blog will find my answers helpful.
Are There Different Levels of Atheism
The short answer is no. Atheism is defined thusly: disbelief or lack of belief in the existence of God or gods. That’s it. Unlike Christianity — a hopelessly fragmented group — all atheists agree on one thing: atheism is the disbelief or lack of belief in the existence of God or gods. From that point, atheist beliefs go in all sorts of directions.
Strong theist. 100% probability of God. In the words of Carl Jung: “I do not believe, I know.” De facto theist.
Very high probability but short of 100%. “I don’t know for certain, but I strongly believe in God and live my life on the assumption that he is there.”Leaning towards theism.
Higher than 50% but not very high. “I am very uncertain, but I am inclined to believe in God.” Completely impartial.
Exactly 50%. “God’s existence and non-existence are exactly equiprobable.” Leaning towards atheism.
Lower than 50% but not very low. “I do not know whether God exists but I’m inclined to be skeptical.”
De facto atheist. Very low probability, but short of zero. “I don’t know for certain but I think God is very improbable, and I live my life on the assumption that he is not there.”
Strong atheist. “I know there is no God, with the same conviction as Jung knows there is one.”
Atheists debate amongst themselves Dawkins’ scale, and whether agnostics are, in fact, atheists. Agnostics believe that the existence of God, of the divine, or the supernatural is unknown or unknowable. (Wikipedia) Another definition of agnosticism is as follows:
In the popular sense, an agnostic is someone who neither believes nor disbelieves in God, whereas an atheist disbelieves in God. In the strict sense, however, agnosticism is the view that human reason is incapable of providing sufficient rational grounds to justify either the belief that God exists or the belief that God does not exist. In so far as one holds that our beliefs are rational only if they are sufficiently supported by human reason, the person who accepts the philosophical position of agnosticism will hold that neither the belief that God exists nor the belief that God does not exist is rational. (Richard Rowe, Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy.)
Enlightenment deism consisted of two philosophical assertions: (a) reason, along with features of the natural world, is a valid source of religious knowledge, and (b) revelation is not a valid source of religious knowledge. Different deist authors expanded on these two assertions to create what Leslie Stephen later termed the “constructive” and “critical” aspects of deism. “Constructive” assertions— assertions that deist writers felt were justified by appeals to reason and features of the natural world (or perhaps were intuitively obvious) — included:
God exists and created the universe.
God gave humans the ability to reason.
“Critical” assertions— assertions that followed from the denial of revelation as a valid source of religious knowledge— were much more numerous. They included:
Rejection of all books, including the Bible, that are claimed to contain divine revelation.
Rejection of the incomprehensible notion of the Trinity and other religious “mysteries”.
Rejection of reports of miracles, prophecies, etc.
True Christianity
All deists rejected the Bible as a book of divine revelation. If you define “a Christian” as a person who accepts the stories in the Bible as true, divine revelations, the deists were not Christians. They rejected the miracle stories in the Bible and rejected the divinity of Jesus. Many, however, accepted Jesus as an actual historical person and held him in high regard as a moral teacher. (This position is known as Christian deism and was Thomas Jefferson’s motive for assembling his famous Jefferson Bible.) On the other hand, if you define “a true Christian” as a person who regards the historical human person Jesus as a great moral teacher and attempts to follow Jesus’ moral teachings, many deists considered themselves to be true Christians. Some deists were of the opinion that Jesus taught timeless moral truths, that those moral truths were the essence of Christianity, and since those truths are timeless, they predate Jesus’ teachings.
I have long believed that someone could look at the night sky and conclude that a deity of some sort created the universe; and that after creating the universe, this deity said, “There ya go, boys and girls, do with it what you will.” This God is unknowable and non-involved in our day-to-day lives. Believe in this deity or not, it exists. Some readers of this blog will call this deity divine energy or power. Of course, it is not beyond the realm of possibility that what we call “life” is, in actuality, a Westworld-like alien game simulation. Once I was freed from the authority and bondage of the Bible, I was free to think more freely about human existence. Who knows, maybe “reality” is an illusion.
Here is my take: I am an agnostic atheist. I cannot know for certain whether a deity of some sort exists. It is possible, though unlikely, that a deity of some sort might reveal itself to us someday. Possible, but improbable. For me, it is all about probabilities. (And the probability of the existence of any deity, let alone the Evangelical God, is minuscule.) On the Dawkins scale I am a six. The currently available evidence leads me to conclude that there is no God or gods. I am open to the possibility of the existence of one or more deities should evidence of their existence ever be provided, but, until then, I live my day-to-day life as an atheist. The only time thoughts about God enter my mind is when I am writing for this blog.
That said, let me be clear: I am not an anti-theist. Some atheists are vociferously and stridently anti-religion. I am not one of them. This has led to all sorts of criticisms and attacks from what I call the Fundamentalist wing of atheism. On occasion, I have had anti-theists tell me that I am not a True Atheist®. I laugh when such arguments are made, thinking, “Is this not the same argument Evangelicals use against me when they say I was never a “True Christian®?”
Do All Atheists Rely Strictly on Science and History for Answers?
Strictly or solely? No. Once we move from the base definition of atheism, atheists go in all sorts of directions philosophically, politically, socially, and even religiously. Yep, you will run into atheists who view themselves as “spiritual.” I have been blogging for seventeen years. I have met all sorts of atheists. Over the years, several pro-Trump, anti-abortion, anti-homosexual atheists/agnostics have commented on this blog. I don’t understand their viewpoints and logic, but I don’t have to. Atheists are free to meander every which way from “atheism is the disbelief or lack of belief in the existence of God or gods.” One can be an atheist and be irrational; and believe me, more than a few atheists are as dumb as rocks. Some atheists will comment on this blog and leave me scratching my head, saying “huh?” I rarely respond to such people. I let them say their piece, hoping my silence tells them all they need to know.
This would be a good point to mention the fact that most atheists are humanists. There’s nothing in atheism that gives a person moral or ethical grounding. Atheists look to humanism to find a framework by which to live their lives. The Humanist Manifesto remains the best summary of humanism:
Humanism is a progressive philosophy of life that, without supernaturalism, affirms our ability and responsibility to lead ethical lives of personal fulfillment that aspire to the greater good of humanity.
The lifestance of Humanism—guided by reason, inspired by compassion, and informed by experience—encourages us to live life well and fully. It evolved through the ages and continues to develop through the efforts of thoughtful people who recognize that values and ideals, however carefully wrought, are subject to change as our knowledge and understandings advance.
This document is part of an ongoing effort to manifest in clear and positive terms the conceptual boundaries of Humanism, not what we must believe but a consensus of what we do believe. It is in this sense that we affirm the following:
Knowledge of the world is derived by observation, experimentation, and rational analysis. Humanists find that science is the best method for determining this knowledge as well as for solving problems and developing beneficial technologies. We also recognize the value of new departures in thought, the arts, and inner experience—each subject to analysis by critical intelligence.
Humans are an integral part of nature, the result of unguided evolutionary change. Humanists recognize nature as self-existing. We accept our life as all and enough, distinguishing things as they are from things as we might wish or imagine them to be. We welcome the challenges of the future, and are drawn to and undaunted by the yet to be known.
Ethical values are derived from human need and interest as tested by experience. Humanists ground values in human welfare shaped by human circumstances, interests, and concerns and extended to the global ecosystem and beyond. We are committed to treating each person as having inherent worth and dignity, and to making informed choices in a context of freedom consonant with responsibility.
Life’s fulfillment emerges from individual participation in the service of humane ideals. We aim for our fullest possible development and animate our lives with a deep sense of purpose, finding wonder and awe in the joys and beauties of human existence, its challenges and tragedies, and even in the inevitability and finality of death. Humanists rely on the rich heritage of human culture and the lifestance of Humanism to provide comfort in times of want and encouragement in times of plenty.
Humans are social by nature and find meaning in relationships. Humanists long for and strive toward a world of mutual care and concern, free of cruelty and its consequences, where differences are resolved cooperatively without resorting to violence. The joining of individuality with interdependence enriches our lives, encourages us to enrich the lives of others, and inspires hope of attaining peace, justice, and opportunity for all.
Working to benefit society maximizes individual happiness. Progressive cultures have worked to free humanity from the brutalities of mere survival and to reduce suffering, improve society, and develop global community. We seek to minimize the inequities of circumstance and ability, and we support a just distribution of nature’s resources and the fruits of human effort so that as many as possible can enjoy a good life.
Humanists are concerned for the well being of all, are committed to diversity, and respect those of differing yet humane views. We work to uphold the equal enjoyment of human rights and civil liberties in an open, secular society and maintain it is a civic duty to participate in the democratic process and a planetary duty to protect nature’s integrity, diversity, and beauty in a secure, sustainable manner.
Thus engaged in the flow of life, we aspire to this vision with the informed conviction that humanity has the ability to progress toward its highest ideals. The responsibility for our lives and the kind of world in which we live is ours and ours alone.
Knowledge of the world is derived by observation, experimentation, and rational analysis. Humanists find that science is the best method for determining this knowledge as well as for solving problems and developing beneficial technologies. We also recognize the value of new departures in thought, the arts, and inner experience—each subject to analysis by critical intelligence.
Humans are an integral part of nature, the result of unguided evolutionary change. Humanists recognize nature as self-existing. We accept our life as all and enough, distinguishing things as they are from things as we might wish or imagine them to be. We welcome the challenges of the future, and are drawn to and undaunted by the yet to be known.
Do All Atheists Believe in Evolution?
Since I am not party to what all atheists believe, I can’t speak authoritatively on the matter. I can say that all of the atheists I know generally accept biological evolution as a scientific fact. While the word “belief” can be used in a variety of ways, in the context of evolution, atheists don’t believe in evolution. Belief, in this context, much like with religion, implies the use of feelings to come to a conclusion. Most atheists I know would say that their acceptance of evolution and other scientific conclusions rests on evidence, facts, and probabilities, not their feelings.
For most of my life, I was illiterate when it came to science. I believed that Genesis 1-3 told me all I needed to know about biology, cosmology, and the like. God created everything just as it is recorded in the inspired, inerrant, infallible Bible — end of discussion. I had a few creationist-oriented Evangelical apologetical books in my library. All these books did for me was affirm that I was “right.” It wasn’t until I was disabused by Dr. Bart Ehrman and others of the notion that the Bible was some sort of perfect, supernatural book that I was able to question what it was exactly I believed about science.
Let me be clear, I am not a scientist. I know a hell of a lot more about science today than I did a few years ago, or when I was a Bible-believing preacher, but that doesn’t mean I can speak authoritatively on matters of science. I continue to educate myself, but at my age, I will likely run out of time before I master any specific scientific discipline. I hope that one or more of my grandchildren will do so and become what their grandfather could not. Many of my grandchildren are straight-A students, so I have high hopes that some of them will enter STEM programs post-high school.
I know where I am lacking knowledge-wise, and I do my best to not speak beyond that which I know. Want to talk about the Bible, Evangelicalism, theology, photography, Lionel O Gauge trains, or Windows-based computers? You will find that I generally know what I am talking about. However, when it comes to biology, astronomy, cosmology, geology, archeology, and other scientific disciplines, I am, in every way, a novice. It is for this reason that I rely on experts to tell me what I need to know about science. Smart is the person who values expertise. I have certain scientists I trust to tell me the truth. “So, Bruce, does this mean you put “faith” in what they say?” Yes. Many atheists shy away from the word faith because of its religious connotations. However, I refuse to let religion hijack certain words. Faith means “confidence in a person or plan.” There are scientists that I put great confidence in; when they speak, I listen. No, these men and women are not infallible, but they have given their lives to understanding this or that science discipline, so I trust what they say.
In Christianity, There is so Much Disagreement! How About Among Atheists?
There’s no doubt that Christianity is the most fragmented religion on the planet. I have long argued that if Christians were unified theologically that I might at least pause for a moment when considering the “God question.” However, there are thousands and thousands of Christian sects, each with its own version of the “faith once delivered to the saints.” This disunity says to me that Christianity is very much of human origin.
I wish I could say that atheism is monolithic, and everyone thinks and believes the same things. Sadly, atheism is quite divided too. Not so much on the core belief: “atheism is the disbelief or lack of belief in the existence of God or gods.” Every atheist I know believes this statement to be an accurate definition of their view on God or gods. However, recent years have brought attempts by some to expand the definition of atheism to include social justice issues. This spawned a group called Atheism+. While there was a moment when I thought Atheism+ might be worthwhile, I quickly thought better of it after seeing who it was that was driving this attempt to redefine atheism. Socially and politically, I am as liberal as you come, but I saw Atheism+ as a purity test; an attempt to divide atheism between us and them. I concluded that the proponents of Atheism+ were using methodologies eerily similar to those I saw in Evangelicalism. No thanks. And let me be clear to Atheism+ flag-wavers, I have zero interest in re-ligating this issue with you in the comment section. Been there, done that, still bleeding.
Here’s one thing I know about most atheists. We can heartily disagree with one another and later enjoy each other’s company at a pub or restaurant. Back in my Evangelical days, every disagreement had eternal significance. Not so with most atheists. I don’t understand how an atheist can support Donald Trump or the present iteration of the Republican Party, but I am not going to let that affect our relationship (if we have one). I have booted several pro-Trump atheists off this site, not because of their politics, but because they were assholes. And as much as I hate to admit it, there are atheist assholes; people who don’t play well with others; people who think throwing feces at people on social media is “good conversation.”
I hope I have adequately answered my Evangelical friend’s questions.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
Several years ago, an Evangelical pastor whom I have known for over forty years sent me some questions, the answers to which appear below. I found his questions sincere and honest, unlike many questions I receive from Evangelicals. Far too often, ulterior motivations lurk behind some questions, but I don’t sense that here. Hopefully, readers of this blog will find my answers helpful.
Bruce, do you ever feel like you’re wrong?
I am sixty-seven years old. I have been wrong more times than I can count. Over the past seventeen years, I have, on occasion, written about my wrongness, be it beliefs I held or decisions I made. As a pastor, my beliefs evolved over the course of the twenty-five years I spent in the ministry. One of the mistakes my critics make is picking a certain point in my life, and judging me from that moment in time. In doing so, they mistakenly or deliberately ignore what has come before and after. Yes, I entered the ministry as an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist. Yes, I at one time was a Jack Hyles supporter. However, my beliefs and associations continued to evolve. By the time I left the ministry in 2005, my beliefs were, compared to those I entered the ministry with, quite liberal. I entered the ministry with a narrow, judgmental view of people who called themselves Christians. I believed that my little corner of the Evangelical tent was reserved for True Christians®. Twenty-five years later, the front door of the church I pastored said, “The church where the only label that matters is Christian.”
The same could be said of my evolution politically. For many years, I was a diehard Christian nationalist who only voted Republican. I listened to Rush Limbaugh every day. In 2000, for the first time, I voted for a Democrat. By the time I moved to my current home, I was a liberal and a democratic socialist.
And finally, the same could be said of my social beliefs. I entered the ministry as an anti-abortion, patriarchal homophobe. I pastored a Baptist church in southeast Ohio for eleven years. I was well-known for my public pronouncements against abortion, women’s rights, and homosexuality. Yet, three decades later, my views have dramatically changed. I am now considered a defender of choice, women’s rights, and LGBTQ people.
People who have never changed their minds about anything — a common trait among religious Fundamentalists — look at my journey and see a man who is unstable. I, on the other hand, see a man who is willing to change his mind when confronted or challenged with facts and evidence that render his beliefs untenable.
Intellectual and personal growth only comes when we are willing to admit we are wrong. Closed-minded Fundamentalism stunts our thinking. One need only visit an IFB church to see what happens when people shut themselves off from the world and refuse to investigate and challenge their beliefs.
So, yes, I have been wrong, and I have no doubt that I will continue to be wrong. A well-lived life is one where there is ongoing progress and maturity. If I regret anything, it is that I waited way too long to give in to my doubts and questions; that I waited way too long to expose myself to people who think differently from me; that I waited too long to admit to the love of my life and my children that I was wrong.
Bruce, have you ever hesitated at all in deciding to become an atheist?
The short answer is yes, especially when I first deconverted. For a time, my mind was plagued with thoughts and fears about being wrong and God throwing me into Hell. I feared God punishing me for disobedience. I lay in bed more than a few nights wondering, “What if I am wrong?”
Over time, my doubts and fears faded into the fabric of my life. It’s been years now since I had such thoughts.
Perhaps this pastor is asking me a different question, wondering if I was hesitant about publicly identifying as an atheist. I have never been one to hesitate when I am confident that I am right. I am not the type of person who hides who and what he is, even if it would make life easier for me if I did so. In this regard, my wife and I are as different as day and night. Now, I don’t go through the streets screaming, “I am an ATHEIST,” but I don’t shy away from the label. I have often warned people who have contacted me about their own questions and doubts to NOT look at my life as a pattern to follow. (Please see Count the Cost Before You Say I am an Atheist) Each of us must choose our own path. I don’t judge or criticize atheists who choose to keep their unbelief private. Each to his own.
When I started blogging in 2007, one question I asked myself was whether I wanted to write anonymously. I chose to use my real name, but there have been moments when I wondered if I made the right choice. I have been brutally attacked and threatened by Christian zealots. The pain these people inflict leaves deep, lasting scars. This blog will soon celebrate its tenth anniversary. Anyone who has ridden Bruce’s crazy train for years knows that me making it to ten years is surprising. On at least three other occasions over the years, I have stopped blogging and deleted all of my posts due to savage attacks from Christian Fundamentalists (and, at one time, Fundamentalist atheists).
My life is pretty much an open book. I try to be open and honest, owning past mistakes and transgressions. Are there moments when I wish I had used a pseudonym instead of my real name? Sure, but it’s too late now to do so. The horse has left the proverbial barn. Even if I stopped blogging tomorrow, it would be impossible to erase my Internet footprint.
Bruce, was your transition difficult for you to accept?
I want to answer this question from two vantage points. First, was my transition from Christian to atheist hard for me to accept? Not at all. I have always believed truth matters. My life appears to my Evangelical critics to be one of a wanderer, a double-minded man (whom the Bible says is unstable in all his ways). My battle with depression is a sure sign to them that I am weak-kneed mentally. Perhaps, but I am the kind of person who is unafraid of changing his mind or being viewed as odd or different. In 2005, my late mother-in-law and I had an epic blow-up. I have written about this in the past. This blow-up, by the way, totally altered our relationship — for the better, from my perspective. Several days after our titanic battle, my mother-in-law called me. We talked about many things. During our conversation, Mom said, “Bruce, we always knew you were “different.” And she was right. I have always been the kind of person who follows the beat of my own drum, both as a Christian and an atheist. I do not doubt that my singular drum beating has caused me problems and affected the relationships I have with Polly, my children, and my extended family. I am who I am, and I have reached a place in life where I no longer apologize for being Bruce Gerencser.
Second, was my transition from a pastor to a commoner hard for me to accept? Absolutely. My entire life was wrapped up in Jesus and my calling to preach the gospel. The ministry was my life. I enjoyed being the hub around which everything turned. I enjoyed the work of the ministry, especially studying for and preaching sermons. To this day, I miss standing before people and saying, “Thus saith the Lord.” I miss the love and respect I received from congregants. I miss the place I had in the community due to my position as a minister.
Walking away from the ministry and Christianity meant abandoning my life’s calling; abandoning everything I held dear. Doing so meant, at the age of fifty, I had to answer countless questions that I hadn’t thought about in years. Fortunately, Polly walked hand in hand with me when I deconverted. I can only imagine how different our lives might have been had I become an atheist and Polly remained a Christian. I highly doubt our marriage would have survived.
Do I still miss certain aspects of the ministry? Sure. Fortunately, writing has become a ministry of sorts for me. This blog and its wonderful readers are my church. I digitally preach sermons, hoping that people find them encouraging and helpful. The traffic numbers suggest that a few people, anyway, love and appreciate the content of my post-Christian sermons. And all Loki’s people said, AMEN!
Bruce, do you wonder at all about any form of an afterlife?
I do not. I have come to accept that life is short, death is certain, and once we draw our last breath we cease to exist. There was a time, post-Jesus, when I hoped there was some sort of life beyond the grave. It’s hard to comprehend not existing. I have had numerous thoughts about non-existence; about going to bed at night and never waking up; of being alive one moment, and dead the next. I have thought about how life might be without Polly lying next to me; of not hearing the keys in the door and her voice ringing out, “I’m home.”
As much as I might want for there to be life after death, the facts tell me that no such thing exists. What evidence do we have for an afterlife? None, except the words in this or that religious text. I am no longer willing to build my life and future on what the Bible does and doesn’t say. This is a good spot for me to share the advice I give on the About page:
If you had one piece of advice to give me, what would it be?
You have one life. There is no heaven or hell. There is no afterlife. You have one life, it’s yours, and what you do with it is what matters most. Love and forgive those who matter to you and ignore those who add nothing to your life. Life is too short to spend time trying to make nice with those who will never make nice with you. Determine who are the people in your life that matter and give your time and devotion to them. Live each and every day to its fullest. You never know when death might come calling. Don’t waste time trying to be a jack of all trades, master of none. Find one or two things you like to do and do them well. Too many people spend way too much time doing things they will never be good at.
Here’s the conclusion of the matter. It’s your life and you best get to living it. Some day, sooner than you think, it will be over. Don’t let your dying days be ones of regret over what might have been.
I do my best to live by this statement. If, perchance, I learn after I die that there is an afterlife, fine by me. I have no worries about the existence of the Christian God and his Heaven/Hell. I am confident that the only Heaven and Hell is that which we make in this life. That said, is it possible that some sort of cosmic afterlife exists? Sure, but I am not counting on it. I am not going to waste this life in the hope that there is some sort of divine payoff after I die
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
Over and over and over again, for two hours, an elderly Charismatic Christian woman in a hospital bed near mine, lay on her bed with hands extended to the ceiling, pleading for Jesus/God to come to her and make his presence known….
Fortunately, after two hours of crying out to Jesus, he finally showed up! Just kidding. What showed up was a nurse with a syringe filled with high-powered narcotics. Soon, the woman fell asleep, ending her pleas to God. When she awoke, family and medical staff alike comforted her so she would no longer hysterically cry out for an imaginary pain-alleviating deity. Her suffering was alleviated, not by God, but by medically trained and compassionate human beings.
It is obvious that unbelievers will not see God or Jesus behind the kind act of the nurse. They only look on the surface of events and do not look for the real action taking place behind that surface view.
Unbelievers fail to realize that God uses people thus a human would be sent with the right medication to alleviate the woman’s pain. Given the fact that deaths due to medical malp[practice [sic] are abundant, the woman receiving the right dosage of the right medicine is an act of God answering her prayers.
Why would it take so long? Well, real life does get in the way of God answering prayers. One reason is that the nurses resisted God’s leading and disobeyed. Another is that they came when they were free as they had other patients to minister aid to and other practical and real reasons.
It is not that God abandoned this woman but that he answers in his time. Unfortunately, according to the author of that post, the woman’s faith was being undermined by family and medical staff. That is another reason God’s aid was delayed.
The post goes on to denigrate God and the Bible but that is also par for the ocurse [sic] as unbelievers never see God in any result of prayer. Not because they do not believe but because they do not look for God’s behind the scenes action.
According to Thiessen, I failed to see “God or Jesus behind the kind act of the nurse.” How could I, or anyone else, for that matter, see God or Jesus behind the nurse caring for this woman? Thiessen makes a claim for which he provides no evidence. Thiessen claims that I just took a “surface” view of the situation. How could I have done otherwise? I have no tool available to me that allows me to detect Jesus/God, so I make judgments based on what I see and hear. If God is the sovereign of the universe and hears every believer’s prayer, why did it take him two hours to show up? Jesus could have immediately revealed himself to her or alleviated her pain, but he didn’t. Instead, she lay on her bed writhing in pain, pleading for Jesus to make an appearance and alleviate her suffering.
Thiessen asserts, without evidence, that the woman finally receiving the right dose of narcotics was “an act of God answering her prayers.” How could he possibly know this? It is far more likely the charge nurse had to get in contact with the doctor before giving her pain meds and this took some time to accomplish or she had already received pain meds and it was too soon for more.
Thiessen suggests that God’s tardiness (not explaining how God could be tardy or absent when he is ever present) was due to “the nurses resisted God’s leading and disobeyed” or “they had other patients to minister aid to and other practical and real reasons.” Again, Thiessen provides no evidence for his claims. He is just making shit up as he goes, trying to make God look good. I was two beds away from this woman in a ward when the events detailed in my post happened. She had nursing staff in her room the whole time. My nurse, an RN, spent thirty minutes with the woman, trying to comfort and settle her down. She had plenty of human help, but supernatural deliverance was nowhere to be found.
Thiessen claims that the woman’s family and her nurses undermined her faith, and that’s why pain relief was delayed. I have no idea how he came to this conclusion. Besides, what kind of God withholds pain relief from one of his followers because of what others did? Why should she be punished for what others do (not that they did what Thiessen alleges)?
Thiessen concludes his post by saying “Unbelievers never see God in any result of prayer. Not because they do not believe but because they do not look for God’s behind-the-scenes action.” Saying God answered a prayer is a claim. If you want me to believe a supernatural claim then you must provide sufficient evidence for your claim. Thiessen, of course, doesn’t do this. As a Fundamentalist presuppositionalist, he believes that his claims are self-evident; and that unbelievers are deliberately deaf and blind to what God is doing in the world. Sure . . . but if Thiessen wants me to accept his claims, he going to have to do more than quote Bible verses, share personal experiences, or make bald assertions for which he provides no evidence. I am not going to take his word for it, and neither should anyone else.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
I am often asked what evidence it would take to convince me of the existence of the Evangelical God; the God of the Bible. Some atheists refuse to answer this question, saying “God knows what evidence would convince me of his existence, so when he provides it, I’ll know it.” Fair enough. The Evangelical God is allegedly omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient, and omnibenevolent. If these claims are true, God knows exactly what will convince unbelievers of his existence. Yet, God is silent, outside of helping Granny find her car keys or Grandpa his hearing aids.
So what could the Evangelical God do to convince the Evangelical-preacher-turned-atheist Bruce Gerencser that he exists? One thing. One thing that God, in all of human history, has never done. One thing that would clearly, and without ambiguity, show me that he is real. What is that one thing, you ask? I would like to see God miraculously regrow an amputated arm or leg. Do this, God, and I will admit that you are real. I may not worship you, but I will believe you exist. Regrowing an amputated limb is not enough to absolve God of his murderous, genocidal acts recorded in the Bible. I can admit this God exists without bending a knee to him.
Okay, God, the ball is in your court.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
A collaboration between Bruce Almighty and Microsoft CoPilot AI.
Here’s a song praising the late Christopher Hitchens, set to the tune of “Blessed Assurance.”
Verse 1:
Blessed with reason, Hitchens we praise, Voice of the skeptic, lighting our ways. Champion of truth, with courage so bright, In the face of dogma, you stood for the light.
Chorus:
Hitchens, Hitchens, bold and free, Your words inspire, your mind a sea. In the quest for knowledge, you led the way, Guiding us through night to the break of day.
Verse 2:
Critic of falsehoods, fearless and strong, In debates and writings, you righted the wrong. With wit and wisdom, you challenged the lies, In your legacy, the truth never dies.
Chorus:
Hitchens, Hitchens, bold and free, Your words inspire, your mind a sea. In the quest for knowledge, you led the way, Guiding us through night to the break of day.
Bridge:
In your prose, we find the spark, Of a mind that left its mark. Though you’re gone, your voice remains, In our hearts, your spirit reigns.
Chorus:
Hitchens, Hitchens, bold and free, Your words inspire, your mind a sea. In the quest for knowledge, you led the way, Guiding us through night to the break of day.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
