What are the core fundamental beliefs of Baptists that are shared with these “non-denominational” churches? Also what separates Charismatics/Pentecostals from Baptists? They look mostly the same.
Nondenominational is Greek for Baptist. Theologically, there is little to no difference between nondenominational and Baptist churches. Go to a nondenominational church’s website, read their official doctrinal statement, and then compare it to the official beliefs of the National Association of Evangelicals and the Southern Baptist Convention. Any deviations are minor/insignificant. On secondary issues such as eschatology, pneumatology, ecclesiology, Calvinism, and Arminianism, there are differences of opinion, but none of which should cause the other to say, “You are not a real Christian.” Of course, there are always outliers, especially when you reach the outlands of Evangelicalism. I knew Calvinists who believed that Arminians were lost or Pentecostals who thought that you had to speak in tongues to be saved. All these exceptions do is prove the rule.
I should note, in passing, that many Charismatic churches are nondenominational. While their services may resemble a scene from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, their core doctrines are as Baptist as any of the churches I pastored. Word of Faith churches and prosperity churches are an exception to this observation. Quite frankly, most of these churches are either heterodox or downright heretical.
There’s a difference between Charismatic churches and Pentecostal congregations, though that line has blurred somewhat over the years. I have attended numerous Charismatic and Pentecostal church services. I even preached for several Charismatic/Pentecostal churches. I generally found that Pentecostal churches were deeply influenced by the holiness movement, and many of them were appalled by what they saw in Charismatic assemblies. Charismatics seem to have no guardrails. “If God is moving, who are we to object?” the thinking goes. What started with speaking in tongues, has turned into all sorts of crazy, including raising the dead, hysterical laughing, and gold fillings magically growing in mouths. Just go to YouTube and search for Charismatic church services for evidence of my claims. Lots of cray-cray.
Sameness is in the eye of the beholder. I admit I have a sharply critical eye, so I tend to spot differences that casual church attendees might not see easily.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 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.
“Their rape-and-pillage policy left carnage and destruction in its wake, not unlike the Charismatic movement during the same time period.”
What did the Charismatic movement do? Also, unrelated, do you have any recordings of your old sermons from your IFB days, Calvinist days, and liberal days? It would be interesting to hear the progression and changes.
I began my ministerial career in the late 1970s. The Charismatic movement was in its infancy at this point, with little difference between them and their Pentecostal brethren. Charismatic churches advertised themselves as “alive” and “filled with the Spirit.” Why go to a dead Baptist church when you can come to a church where God is “moving,” souls are being saved, and people are being healed and delivered? the advertising said. And for many staid Protestant churches, the advertising had a deep, lasting, deleterious effect. Seemingly overnight, stable churches were destabilized as scores of people left for Charismatic congregations — looking for life in all the wrong places.
In the 1980s in rural northwest Ohio, large Charismatic churches were common. Most of their new members came from established Protestant churches. People are free to go to church where they want, but this church growth was the result of advertising and manipulation, and not some sort of move of God. Today, these once-large Charismatic churches are shells of what they once were, often looking like the dead Baptist churches they condemned decades ago.
Where the Charismatic movement made a lasting mark on Christianity is music. Charismatics were one of the first sects to use contemporary Christian music and praise and worship teams and bands. Today, many churches have praise and worship teams — even mainline churches, regardless of how atrocious the music is. Hymns have been marginalized, giving way to syrupy, Jesus-is-my-boy-friend choruses and songs.
I have tried to find recordings from my preaching days, without success. I have contacted former congregants, asking them if they had any cassette tapes of my sermons. There should be thousands of cassettes floating around, but I suspect most of them have been discarded or recorded over with music from AC/DC or Twisted Sister. 🙂
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 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 am often accused by readers of misrepresenting Evangelicals in my writing; that my descriptions and criticisms of Evangelicalism don’t apply to a reader’s sect, their church, or to them personally. I have heard, more times than I can count, Evangelicals say: my church is different, my pastor is different, my denomination is different, my college is different, I’m DIFFERENT, DIFFERENT, DIFFERENT!While it is certainly true that not all Evangelicals are the same, often the alleged differences are little more than the differences between ice cream flavors. Same basic ingredients with different flavors and toppings. Evangelicals can whine, bitch, moan, and complain about my writing, but the fact remains that I was part of Evangelicalism for 50 years, an Evangelical pastor for 25 of those years, and have Evangelical family members — including pastors, evangelists, and missionaries — and closely follow the machinations of the Evangelical community. I am confident I have a good handle on Evangelical beliefs and practices.
Over the years, I have perused the doctrinal statements of numerous Evangelical sects, churches, and parachurch organizations. The agreement I find in these documents allows me to determine what Evangelicals believe. For twenty-five years, I pastored seven Evangelical churches, so I think I have a good handle on the “faith once delivered to the saints.”
But, Bruce, Evangelicals don’t agree with one another ona host of theological beliefs! I understand that, but such differences are tangential to the cardinal doctrines (almost) all Evangelicals profess to believe. Thus, Charismatics speak in tongues, Baptists don’t. Holiness Christians believe in entire sanctification, Baptists don’t. Some Evangelicals are Calvinists some are Arminians, and others are Calminians. Evangelicals are all over the place when it comes to eschatology and ecclesiology. Some believe baptism is required for salvation, others don’t. The list of differences is extensive. See, Bruce, you are proving my point! No, I am not. If you look underneath these peripheral differences — often called “distinctives” — you find unity of belief:
The inspiration, infallibility, and inerrancy of the Bible
The sinfulness, depravity of man
The deity of Christ
The virgin birth of Christ
The blood atonement of Christ for man’s sin (usually subscribing to the substitutionary atonement theory)
The resurrection of Jesus from the dead
The second coming of Christ
Separation from the world
Salvation from sin by and through Jesus alone
Personal responsibility to share the gospel with sinners
Heaven and Hell are literal places
Anyone who claims to be an Evangelical yet denies one or more of these cardinal doctrines is Evangelical in name only. The fringe of the Evangelical tent is littered with pastors, professors, and congregants who hold all sorts of liberal/progressive Christian beliefs, yet refuse to own what they are. And I get it. Towards the tail end of my ministerial career, some of my beliefs were definitely not Evangelical. Yet, Evangelicalism was home. It was all that I had ever known. I couldn’t bring myself to abandon my metaphorical family, even though I was liberal/progressive belief-wise. Even today, sixteen years removed from walking away from Christianity, I still, at times, miss my family. Not Jesus, not the ministry, but the social connection I had with many loving, wonderful people.
Often, Evangelicals think I am misrepresenting them when I have the audacity to claim that Evangelicals are Fundamentalists. This argument alone has led to all sorts of objections from Evangelicals who scream from rooftops, I AM NOT A FUNDAMENTALIST! However, as I show in my post, Are Evangelical Fundamentalists?, Evangelicals are inherently Fundamentalists both theologically and socially. There’s simply no way to be a consistent Evangelical and not be a Fundamentalist.
Well, Bruce, I don’t care what you say, I am an Evangelical, and I am not a Fundamentalist! You can self-identify any way you want, but just because you do so doesn’t change the fact that your theological beliefs and social practices are Fundamentalist. If you walk, talk, and act like a Fundamentalist, you are one.
I get it. Evangelicalism is one of the most hated religious groups in the United States. Thoughtful, kind, generous Evangelicals hate what Donald Trump and his merry band of culture warriors have done to our country. However, is the answer to stay on the deck of the Titanic as it rolls into the sea? If you are truly not a Fundamentalist, then join up with sects and churches that reflect your progressive/liberal beliefs and practices. Stop enabling the Evangelical monster. Let it die the death it so richly deserves.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 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 1983, I started a new Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church in Somerset, Ohio. I would remain the pastor of Somerset Baptist Church until March 1994. Somerset was a community of 1,400 people located in Perry County — one of the northernmost counties in the Appalachian region. It was here that I learned what it meant to be a pastor; to truly involve yourself in the lives of others.
The membership of Somerset Baptist was primarily made up of poor working-class people. Most church families received some form of government assistance — mostly food stamps and Medicaid. In many ways, these were my kind of people. Having grown up poor myself, I knew a good bit about their struggles. I deeply loved them, and they, in return, bestowed their love on me.
I grew up in a religious monoculture. The only churches I attended were Evangelical/Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) congregations. I attended a Methodist church one time, but that was only because I was chasing a girl who went to that church. I was twenty-six years old before I attended the services of any other church besides a Bible-preaching Evangelical church.
One of my responsibilities as an IFB pastor was to preach against false pastors and their teachings. On Sundays, I would preach against Catholics, Southern Baptists, Charismatics, mainline churches, and any other sect I deemed heterodox or heretical. As a fully certified, circumcised, and lobotomized IFB preacher, I had a long list of things I was against. The goal, of course, was to make sure that congregants didn’t stray. They were members of the “best” church in town. Why go elsewhere, right? I saw myself as a gatekeeper, a divinely called man given the responsibility to protect people from false teaching. And protect them I did — from every false, harmful teaching but my own.
One Sunday afternoon, I decided to attend a Charismatic faith healing service at the Somerset Elementary School gymnasium. I thought, “if I am going to preach that Charismatic movement is from the pit of Hell, I’d better at least experience one of their services.”
I arrived at the service about fifteen minutes early. I brought one of the “mature” men of the church with me, a man who wouldn’t be swayed by the false teachings we were going to hear. There were 50 or so people in attendance. Songs were sung, a sermon was preached, and an offering was collected. Pretty standard Baptist stuff. But then it came time for people to have the pastor lay hands on them and deliver them from sickness and demonic possession. People started speaking in tongues as the preacher walked down the front row “healing” people. According to the preacher, numerous people were being healed, though I saw no outward evidence of this. This so-called man of God would stand in front of people, ask them their needs, lay his hand on their heads, and pray for them. And just like that, they were “healed.”
Near me was sitting a dirty, scraggly woman. Her black hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. It had a sheen that said, “last washed with used motor oil.” When it came time for the preacher to lay his hand on top of the woman’s head, he refused to touch her greasy, dirty head. Instead, he held his “healing” hand just above her head, prayed for her, and quickly moved on to the next mark. I thought, “What a fraud. Why not put your hand on this woman’s head? What’s a little grease on your hands?”
I attended other Charismatic services during my eleven years as pastor of Somerset Baptist, but there’s nothing like your first one, right?
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 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.
Older readers might remember shopping at the stores of discount retailer Kmart and seeing what was commonly called a “blue light special.” Blue light specials were sudden discounts offered to shoppers during their shopping experience at Kmart. A store employee would roll a cart with a police-like blue light attached to a pole near the aisle where the sudden discount was going to be offered. At the customer service desk, another employee would announce to shoppers, for example, “ATTENTION KMART SHOPPERS! There’s a blue light special going on right now on GE light bulbs in aisle three!” The employee in charge of the blue light would switch it on, and with its flashing/rotating light, the blue light would guide customers to their exciting just-for-them discount on light bulbs. Woo-hoo!
For eleven years in the 1980s and 1990s, I pastored the Somerset Baptist Church in Mt. Perry, Ohio. I started this church in 1983, and remained its pastor until I resigned and moved to San Antonio, Texas in 1994 to become the co-pastor of Community Baptist Church. For a few years, Somerset Baptist was the largest non-Catholic church in Perry County. The church was known for its fiery redheaded preacher and its International Harvester-colored red and creme buses that bused in church attendees from Muskingum, Perry, and Fairfield counties. Reaching high attendances in the low 200s, this country church reached thousands of people for Christ.
The church also attracted more than a few people who had — in my Baptist eyes, anyway — screwy beliefs. One such person was the mother of a woman who was a member of the church (along with her husband and two children). I had visited this woman and her husband several times at their home, hoping that they would join their daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren in worshiping Jesus at the “fastest-growing church in Perry County.” I knew the woman had some charismatic tendencies, but I thought I could preach all that nonsense right out of her if she would only give me the opportunity to do so.
For those of you who are not aware of what charismatic beliefs are, let me describe them this way: all the miraculous spiritual gifts found in the Bible — healing, raising the dead, speaking in tongues, to name a few — are in force and valid today. The favorite gift of charismatics is speaking in tongues — an unintelligible prayer language God gives to people who are filled/anointed/baptized with the Holy Ghost. As a Baptist, I believed that when a sinner was saved he received all of the Holy Ghost, and there was no more of Him to be had. All Christians needed to do was utilize the power that was already within them. Charismatics tended to be an emotionally excitable lot, at least while worshiping Jesus. (I preached at several Charismatic/Pentecostal churches during my tenure at Somerset Baptist.) In their minds, babbling nonsense they believed was given to them by the Holy Ghost was a sign of God’s presence and power. Just turn on any of the dozens of national Christian TV channels and in short order, you’ll see tongues-speaking on display.
The woman I mentioned above was a babbler, and this worried me a bit, but I thought that my Bible-saturated preaching would deliver her from charismaticism. Not only did this woman speak in tongues, she also believed that Jesus spoke to her, audibly. That’s right, this woman had conversations with Jesus.
As was our custom for many years, the church had a testimony time on Sunday evenings. This was time allotted for church members and visitors to stand up and share with everyone in attendance what Jesus had done for them over the past week. Sometimes, these brag-on-Jesus times turned into narcissistic, look-at-what-I-did-have-done-do-for-Jesus sessions. Often, testimony time was a time for congregants to lie about their relationship with God. One dear woman, who had been a smoker her entire adult life, stood up one Sunday and praised Jesus for delivering her from the filthy sin of smoking. We had a quite a praise-fest that night, thanking our Lord for delivering Sister R from her addiction. Years later, I learned that Sister R had, in fact, never stopped smoking, and that the only reason she said that she did was so she could have the appearance of a victorious Christian life like the rest of us. Oh, if she had only known that NONE of us, including her preacher, had victory over sin, she might not have felt compelled to lie. Sister R felt so guilty about not being as spirit-filled as the rest of us that she was willing to lie to her friends (and God) about her deliverance from smoking. Not long ago, Sister R died of cancer. I do hope that she found peace and rest. While her smoking most certainly contributed to her death, she had other qualities that deserved praise and admiration. Sister R was a kind, compassionate woman, but sadly, in the IFB church she attended, all that mattered was her sinful habit. As her dumb ass preacher used to say, smoking won’t send you to Hell, but it sure will make you smell like you have been there! (Please readKen Ham, Answers in Genesis, Dinosaurs, and the SIN of Smoking)
On one particular Sunday night, the charismatic lady mentioned above decided to attend church with her daughter. She had visited several times before, and let it be known that she really liked my “old-fashioned” preaching. Prior to my sermon, I asked if anyone had a good word they wanted to put in for Jesus. Several people raised their hands, signifying that they wanted to brag a bit on their Lord and Savior. The charismatic woman excitedly raised her hand, anxious to let everyone know about a recent encounter she had with Jesus. When it came time for her to testify, she popped up from her seat and said this (as recounted from thirty-five years ago):
I was asleep last night, and all of a sudden I awoke, feeling a “presence” in my bedroom. As I stood to see this presence, my eyes saw a blinding blue light. Now, I knew that Satan could present himself as an angel of light, so I spoke to this light, saying, If that’s really you Jesus, please make yourself known to me. And right then and there I heard, Attention K-Mart Shoppers! (Okay, that last sentence was a bit of literary fiction, also known as preaching.) And right then and there I heard a voice that said, it’s me, Jesus. Praise, the Lord. I knew then that the presence in my room was Jesus.
For those of you raised in the IFB churches, imagine my homicidal thoughts as this woman was regaling congregants with her version of a blue light special. I was oh-so-happy when she stopped testifying, and later let it be known among church members that her testimony was NOT an approved meeting with Jesus. We Baptists only talked to Jesus in English, and only while we were on our knees praying; and even then our talks with Jesus had to align with what the Bible said. In other words, ATTENTION CHURCH MEMBERS! There will NOT be any blue light specials at Somerset Baptist Church.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 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.
The Sounds of Fundamentalism is a series that I would like readers to help me with. If you know of a video clip that shows the crazy, cantankerous, or contradictory side of Evangelical Christianity, please send me an email with the name or link to the video. Please do not leave suggestions in the comment section. Let’s have some fun!
Today’s Sound of Fundamentalism is a video clip of Evangelical evangelist Todd White and his acolytes “healing” people. White is the president of Lifestyle Christianity University in Watauga, Texas
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 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.
The Revival Hub is a Charismatic Christian ministry located in Holiday City, Ohio, 20 minutes from my home. According to the church’s Facebook page, they are in the midst of a protracted revival meeting. Souls are being saved and their peculiar God is working miracles in their midst. One such miracle is a woman’s pacemaker being dissolved and disappearing from her chest. Now that’s quite a miracle, right? Of course, no evidence is provided for this claim. No medical reports, no scans, just the claim of miracle-working apostles, Pete & Alice Garza, and their mark.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 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 spent the first fifty years of my life attending church. During my Independent Fundamentalist Baptist days, I attended or led four church services a week, plus revivals, mission conferences, Bible conferences, and sundry other meetings. Over the years, I have heard fellow church members speak in tongues, audibly praise Jesus, fart, belch, snore, or say AMEN (for the fart)! 🙂 One of the more annoying sounds I heard in church was the high-pitched sound made by improperly adjusted hearing aids. This whistle can be quite annoying, especially when the person wearing the hearing aids can’t hear it. Not once did I mistake this sound for the presence of God in our midst.
Yesterday, CHARISMA News, the official record for all things Charismatic, published an article by Sara Whitten titled Year of the Whistle. Whitten’s bio states she is an:
author, speaker, equipper and founder of Arrows of Zion Ministry. She and her husband are pastors for the youth at Impact Christian Fellowship in Kerrville, Texas. Sara is a prophetic writer that has been featured on Elijah List, Spirit Fuel, Charisma and more. She hosts Hear God Everyday on Charisma Podcast Network, a podcast with tools to help amplify the voice of God amidst the noise of everyday life. Sara also co-founded One Spark International, an organization that sponsors Bible-based training and education in unreached and restricted nations in order to see the gospel reach all people groups. She is also an active part of groups that train and invest in professionals wanting to use their business or marketplace skills to transform unreached nations for the kingdom.
Last Sunday, Witten was attending church when she “heard” the Christian God:
As I was worshipping at church last Sunday, the presence of the Lord felt heavy in the room. I felt the Lord whisper, “Blow! I am breathing now.” I pursed my lips and exhaled. To my shock, from somewhere else in the room came a loud whistle. For a moment, I even stopped to make sure it wasn’t me.
Throughout the rest of the worship set, even over the loud music, an intermittent whistle would sound. God said, “This will be known as the year of the Lord’s whistle.” The word “whistle,” as we know it today, actually is derived from an old Norse word “hvīsla” meaning “to whisper.”
I cannot hear the word “whisper” without thinking of Elijah in 1 Kings 19. He was hunkering in a cave, waiting to meet the Lord. First, a wind that literally shattered rock whipped through the mountains. Then the earth quaked. Then a raging fire broke out. Through all of these, Elijah waited.
Then came a whisper and, at the sound of a whisper, Elijah came out. In America, amidst the spiritual ripping winds, earthquakes and fires, God is about to release a “whisper” to call the Elijahs out. This year, the new level of warfare that has kept people in their caves is going to usher out a group of Elijahs that have been in the hidden place, waiting for the word of the Lord.
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A new level of knowing His voice and returning with a passion to His written Word is going to break out like a whistle.
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In a rapid movement of God, there is going to be a “pushing past” obstructions and a spiritual opening. God is summoning and decreeing, and He is “blowing the whistle” on the enemy. Enough is enough. As I turned to the Scriptures for references to whistling, I was stunned. Zechariah 10:8 (NIV) reads, “I will signal (whistle) for them and gather them in. Surely I will redeem them: they will be as numerous as before.”
This verse occurs amidst a chapter that is a resounding call to prayer. Their world, at the time, was riddled with confusion as people worshipped idols, wanted to choose their own truth and morality and squandered their potential at fruitfulness. In response, God said, while crying out in prayer, that He would answer them, give them back the governing authority they had lost, help them overcome their enemies and restore peace and faith in their own country.
As this same thing happens in our world today, God’s promises are the same. Isaiah 5:26 also mentions whistling, saying, “He lifts up a banner for the distant nations, he whistles for those at the ends of the earth. Here they come swiftly and speedily!” This verse is somewhat unsettling. The people in this passage were “wise in their own eyes,” not wanting to listen to the Lord but thinking their own way was best.
Just as mayhem ensued and the Lord whistled to the nations, God then raised up Isaiah to be a source of clarity and for his own people. Just as with Elijah, the calamity came with a new prophetic release. Psalm 9:2-7 also speaks of whistling and reads in the Message translation: “I’m whistling, laughing, and jumping for joy; I’m singing your song, High God. The day my enemies turned tail and ran, they stumbled on you and fell on their faces. You took over and set everything right; when I needed you, you were there, taking charge. You blow the whistle on godless nations; you throw dirty players out of the game, wipe their names right off the roster. Enemies disappear from the sidelines, their reputation trashed, their names erased from the halls of fame. God holds the high center, he sees and sets the world’s mess right.”
We see in this passage both a whistle for joy and a whistle of justice. With one whistle, injustices that have been allowed to continue are called out and taken down. As I prayed into this year, I see a year of shaking as “whistles” are blown to bring justice where there has been neglect for the Lord. I also see a year of “whistles” awakening and quickly moving people out of places of hiddenness or immobility and into new, individual roles, as they prophetically carry the voice of the Lord into all sectors of society.
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In this next year, God is pouring the oil of anointing and healing on the mountains of society. Media, government, family, entertainment, ministry, education and business are going to receive anointing and healing where the thief has beaten and stripped them. Just as in 1 Kings 19, don’t fear when the “wind rips through the mountains,” the earth quakes or fires rage. Wait for the whistle. Then listen for the prophetic whisper of the Lord.
Throughout the worship service, Witten heard a “whistle,” even when the band was banging out the latest “Jesus is your Boyfriend” praise and worship song. Witten immediately assumed the “whistle” she heard was God speaking to her. Not feedback from the church’s AV equipment. Not from a hearing aid. Not from the HVAC system. Nope, G-o-d. The creator of the universe took time out from his sovereign rule of the universe to intermittently whistle to a woman with “supernatural” hearing.
Witten provided no evidence for her claim. All she would need to do is provide a recording from the church service. Of course, Witten will likely say that God was “whistling” to her alone, not the congregation, so no such evidence exists. Of course not . . .
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 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.
Several years ago, I pondered ways to generate income. I thought, I can’t be a porn actor or stripper, but maybe I could return to what I know — preaching and pastoring churches. What do you think, dear readers? Should I tell Jesus, sorry Dude, I was wrong. I repent of my evil blog posts and reaffirm my membership in the One True Faith®? I know, Lord, that the calling of God can never be taken away, so I plan to start a brand-new church in sinful, dark Defiance, Ohio. There’s lots of Christian churches in Defiance, Lord, but none of them is pastored by a man with a testimony such as mine. Imagine, Lord, what I can do for Y-O-U!
Perhaps the Lord will tell me that there are enough churches in Defiance. While I certainly would be disappointed, I know there are other “opportunities” for me in the Lord’s vineyard. How about a traveling evangelistic ministry, Lord?
A former charismatic pastor by the name of Jim is a dear friend of mine. He and I have a lot in common, including a lifetime spent loving, worshiping, and serving a fictional deity. Jim now lives in Arizona, but I have had thoughts about how he and I might be able to make a lot of money by putting our past ministerial skills to work. I thought, we should get a big tent, a trailer to hold the tent and ministry essentials, and an expensive motor home to pull the trailer and provide creature comforts for Jim and Bruce — two humble, suffering servants of J–E–S–U–S. On the side of the motor home we could put life-size pictures of Preachers Jim and Bruce, along with the name of our scam, I mean ministry — (please leave possible ministry names in the comment section).
Off we would go, night after night, telling our stories of deliverance from godlessness. Jim, having the gifts of healing and exorcism, could lay hands on people, delivering them from atheistic demons. I, having the gift of helps, could pray for people, all the while sticking my hand in their purses and back pockets. Oh, sorry sister, I didn’t mean to give you The Donald®! Throw in a hot worship band with a sexy female leader in leather pants — why, I bet we could be rolling in cash in a matter of weeks! After each night’s show, uh I mean mighty move of God, Jim and I could go back to the motor home and talk about what great deeds our God hath done. One for me, one for you. One for me, one for you.
Does anyone doubt that preachers Jim and Bruce could successfully fleece the flock? I know I don’t. I guarantee you that either of us could dust off our Bible, put on our Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes, go to an Evangelical church and preach a soul-saving, sin-chasing, bringing-down-the-Shekinah-glory sermon that would leave parishioners praising our anointing and begging us to preach again (in many ways, good preaching is like good sex — always keep them begging for more). We know how to look the part, play the game, and put on our “Christian” veneer. The skills honed over a lifetime didn’t disappear the moment we said we no longer believed. If women can fake orgasms, I am quite certain Jim and Bruce can fake being filled with the Spirit.
Lest a handful of readers miss that this post is Bruce in snark-mode, No, I am not considering a return to Christianity. That ship sailed and fell off the edge of Ken Ham’s flat earth. Christianity, in all of its forms and nuances, is firmly in my rearview mirror. While it saddens me to leave so much cash on the table, I know that integrity, honesty, and truth matter more than money. I will continue to be an itinerant preacher of secularism, humanism, and skepticism, regardless of whether it pays well. In this regard, I am no different from the Evangelical Bruce Gerencser. The message and helping people are far more important than making a buck. Yes, I need more money . . . I’m thinking . . . how about a stripper Santa Claus. What do you think, Polly? Women stuffing twenties in my g-string? Tis the reason for the season, I say. 🙂
Snark-off.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 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 am often accused by readers of misrepresenting Evangelicals in my writing; that my descriptions and criticisms of Evangelicalism don’t apply to a reader’s sect, their church, or to them personally. I have heard, more times than I can count, Evangelicals say: my church is different, my pastor is different, my denomination is different, my college is different, I’m DIFFERENT, DIFFERENT, DIFFERENT!While it is certainly true that not all Evangelicals are the same, often the alleged differences are little more than the differences between ice cream flavors. Same basic ingredients with different flavors and toppings. Evangelicals can whine, bitch, moan, and complain about my writing, but the fact remains that I was part of Evangelicalism for 50 years, an Evangelical pastor for 25 of those years, and have Evangelical family members — including pastors, evangelists, and missionaries — and closely follow the machinations of the Evangelical community. I am confident I have a good handle on Evangelical beliefs and practices.
Over the years, I have perused the doctrinal statements of numerous Evangelical sects, churches, and parachurch organizations. The agreement I find in these documents allows me to conclude what it is Evangelicals believe. Add to that the fact that I pastored seven Evangelical churches, and I think I have a good handle on the “faith once delivered to the saints.”
But, Bruce, Evangelicals don’t agree with one another on a host of theological beliefs! I understand that, but such differences are tangential to the cardinal doctrines all Evangelicals profess to believe. Thus, Charismatics speak in tongues, Baptists don’t. Holiness Christians believe in entire sanctification, Baptists don’t. Some Evangelicals are Calvinists some are Arminians, and others are Calminians. Evangelicals are all over the place when it comes to eschatology and ecclesiology. Some believe baptism is required for salvation, others don’t. The list of differences is extensive. See, Bruce, you are proving my point! No, actually, I am not. If you look underneath these peripheral differences — often called “distinctives” — you find unity of belief:
The inspiration, infallibility, and inerrancy of the Bible
The sinfulness, depravity of man
The deity of Christ
The virgin birth of Christ
The blood atonement of Christ for man’s sin (usually subscribing to the substitutionary atonement theory)
The resurrection of Christ from the dead
The second coming of Christ
Separation from the world
Salvation from sin by and through Christ alone
Personal responsibility to share the gospel with sinners
Heaven and Hell are literal places
Anyone who claims to be an Evangelical yet denies one or more of these cardinal doctrines is Evangelical in name only. The fringe of the Evangelical tent is littered with pastors, professors, and congregants who hold all sorts of liberal/progressive Christian beliefs, yet refuse to own what they are. And I get it. Towards the tail end of my ministerial career, some of my beliefs were definitely not Evangelical. Yet, Evangelicalism was home. It was all that I had ever known. I couldn’t bring myself to abandon my metaphorical family, even though I was liberal/progressive belief-wise. Even today, sixteen years removed from walking away from Christianity, I still, at times, miss my family. Not Jesus, not the ministry, but the social connection I had with many loving, wonderful people.
Often, Evangelicals think I am misrepresenting them when I have the audacity to claim that Evangelicals are Fundamentalists. This argument alone has led all sorts of objections from Evangelicals who scream from rooftops, I AM NOT A FUNDAMENTALIST! However, as I show in my post, Are Evangelical Fundamentalists?, Evangelicals are inherently Fundamentalists both theologically and socially. There’s simply no way to be a consistent Evangelical and not be a Fundamentalist.
Well, Bruce, I don’t care what you say, I am an Evangelical, and I am not a Fundamentalist! You can self-identify any way you want, but just because you do so doesn’t change the fact that your theological beliefs and social practices are Fundamentalist. If you walk, talk, and act like a Fundamentalist, you are one.
I get it. Evangelicalism is the most hated religious group in America. Thoughtful, kind, generous Evangelicals hate what Donald Trump and his merry band of culture warriors have done to our country. However, is the answer to stay on the deck of the Titanic as it rolls into the sea? If you are truly not a Fundamentalist, then join up with sects and churches that reflect your progressive/liberal beliefs and practices. Stop enabling the Evangelical monster. Let it die the death it so richly deserves.
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 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.
