John “Jesus Lover” Baptiste recently graduated from an unaccredited Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) college. After three or four years of superficially studying the Bible, John received his degree in Jesus-Loving, Devil-Chasing, Sin-Hating Pastoral Ministry. Now what?
Graduates are encouraged to go into all the world — well mainly the United States, preferably where White people live — and win souls for Jesus. The best way to do this is to start a new church.
Here is what John “Jesus Lover” Baptiste needs to do to start a brand spanking new Independent Fundamentalist Baptist church.
First, find a town where there are churches on every corner and convince yourself that ALL of those churches are liberal, apostate, using the wrong Bible translation, or using worldly music.
Second, conflate your own desire and ambition with the Holy Spirit leading you and God calling you to start a new church.
Third, rent a meeting place or building. Make sure you get the building as cheaply as possible. If the building owner is a Christian, lay a spiritual guilt trip on him to get him to lower the rent and then invite him and his family to the first service.
Fourth, put a puff piece in the newspaper telling locals why you are starting a new church in their community. DON’T tell them that you think ALL the other churches in town are liberal, apostate, using the wrong Bible translation, or using worldly music. You want to be able to poach members from other churches later, so no one must know what you really think of every other church in town.
Fifth, every day pray that God will bless your endeavor. Convince yourself that God put you in the community to win everyone to Jesus, and that without you they will all go to Hell.
Sixth, tell your wife and children that you love them, but they are going to have to understand that Jesus comes first, and you will have to neglect them for a GREAT church to be built. Also, tell them that they will have to mow the churchyard, clean the church, play the piano, work in the nursery, teach Sunday School, and do anything else you ask them to do. Try to explain to them that, yes, God called YOU, but he expects you to bring luggage.
Seventh, much like the Jehovah’s Witnesses, knock on every door in town and witness to everyone who dares to answer. Lie to them by saying, I am not here to take you from your church home. All that is important is that you know Jesus as your Savior. Don’t let them know that if they get saved you will expect them to come to the church that cared enough to lead them to Jesus. And get baptized. And attend services every time the church doors are open. And tithe. And obey every edict uttered by you from the pulpit.
Eighth, run some ads in the local newspaper and put up flyers on every public bulletin board. Church-hopping members (please see The Fine Art of Church Hopping) from nearby IFB churches will notice the ads and see this as “God leading them” to leave their churches. This is the quickest way to start a new church. And just remember, when they leave your new church a few years later for a newer church, you were willing to sacrifice your integrity for numerical gain. You are now ready for your first service. Remember one thing: most new church plants fail, especially IFB churches. Perhaps, it would be better if you join up with one of the other churches in town and help them. Silly me, you will never do that. You are a God-called, Holy-Spirit-powered, Independent Fundamentalist Baptist pastor, and such a calling deserves its own church, and a BIG sign that says, in BIG type, JOHN BAPTISTE, PASTOR.
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 live in rural northwest Ohio, an area dominated by Evangelical Christianity. Even local mainline churches tend to skew to the right theologically and socially. The last church I attended before leaving Christianity was a United Methodist church in Ney. This church’s pastor was every bit as Evangelical as I was back in the day. I know of only one church that openly accepts LGBTQ people into their membership — St. John United Church of Christ in Defiance. (Please see Open and Affirming: St John United Church of Christ, Defiance, Ohio.)
Living in such a religious monoculture can be difficult for someone such as I. I love country living, so I have learned to adapt to my environment, even when I want to, at times, cuss, scream, and bang my head on the wall. All of my children and grandchildren live within twenty minutes of my home. Every time I write a letter to the editor of the Defiance Crescent-News, I pause for a moment to contemplate how my words might affect my progeny. I don’t want to cause them harm, yet, at the same time, I can’t and won’t be silent. If I don’t speak up for atheism, reason, and liberal politics, who will? For several years, it seemed like I was the atheist lone ranger, alone in my challenges to local Evangelicalism. Recent years have brought a handful of new voices to the editorial page of the Crescent-News. Not all of them are unbelievers, but we do share a common view of Evangelical Christianity and its negative, harmful influence on our local communities.
Today’s post is another opportunity to challenge the local Evangelical status-quo. Several years ago, I was checking out a local Facebook group and I came upon a discussion about starting a countywide youth group. The woman who suggested this surely had good intentions: let’s all work together for the common good. Several people suggested that there was no need for such a group. “We have the YMCA, and several churches have established youth groups,” they said. One person mentioned Xperience Church in Defiance. “Are they accepting of LGBTQ youth?” one commenter asked. A member of Xperience Church replied, “We accept anyone no matter what.”
Xperience Church is the latest in a long string of local cool hipster Evangelical churches. Xperience currently meets in million-dollar plus digs at the Northtowne Mall — a facility that will seat 825 people. The following video features Experience Church pastor Kyle Brownlee giving his “vision” for the future. Please try to listen for two or three minutes, if you dare. After that, you may need a barf bag.
After listening to Brownlee’s “vision,” you know what I wanted to do? Run! The Evangelicals are Coming! The Evangelicals are Coming! Run for Your Life!
Imagine for a moment, that you are a member of Xperience Church, and week after week you listen to Brownlee’s peppy, inspiring sermons. Imagine hearing over and over Brownlee’s “vision” for Defiance and the surrounding communities. You might conclude that Xperience Church really does “accept anyone no matter what.” However, as I will show below, Xperience Church — beneath all the loud music and relational sermons — is, belief-wise, a garden-variety Evangelical church; not any different from dozens of other churches in rural northwest Ohio. (Xperience Church is affiliated with the Association of Relational Churches.)
Brownlee and Xperience Church believe, and I quote:
We believe that the Bible is God’s Word. It is accurate, authoritative and applicable to our everyday lives.
We believe in one eternal God who is the Creator of all things. He exists in three persons: God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. He is totally loving and completely holy. We believe that sin has separated each of us from God and His purpose for our lives.
We believe that the Lord Jesus Christ as both God and man is the only One who can reconcile us to God. He lived a sinless and exemplary life, died on the cross in our place, and rose again to prove His victory and empower us for life.
We believe that in order to receive forgiveness and the ‘new birth’ we must repent of our sins, believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and submit to His will for our lives. We believe that in order to live the holy and fruitful lives that God intends for us, we need to be baptized in water and be filled with the power of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit enables us to use spiritual gifts.
We believe in the power and significance of the church and the necessity of believers to meet regularly together for fellowship, prayer and growing in our faith.
We believe that God has individually equipped us so that we can successfully achieve His purpose for our lives which is to worship God, fulfill our role in the church and serve the community in which we live.
We believe that God wants to heal, set us free, and transform us so that we can live healthy and blessed lives in order to help others more effectively.
We believe that our eternal destination of either Heaven or Hell is determined by our response to the Lord Jesus Christ. We believe that the Lord Jesus Christ is coming back again as He promised.
We will be authentic in order to reach people who don’t know Christ. To reach people no one is reaching, we’ll have to be real with where we’ve been and what God’s done to transform us. We’re not a group of perfect people, we are a group of people being perfected.
….
We believe the local church is the hope of the world. We believe church is amazing. The church is God’s rescue plan for humanity and a place to introduce them to Jesus. Around here, we have a heart for building God’s House.
We will lead the way with irrational generosity. We truly believe it is more blessed to give than to receive.
We always bring our best. Excellence honors God and inspires people.
We are faith-filled, big thinking, risk takers. We’ll never insult God with small thinking and safe living. There is no cost too high, no price too great. We will stop at nothing to see our city reached with the love and grace of God.
We are committed to staying relevant even if it means changing at times. Blessed are the flexible for they shall not snap.
We are committed to providing opportunities for relationship building. We know life change occurs best in a small group of people doing life together.
We will be authentic in order to reach people who don’t know Christ. To reach people no one is reaching, we’ll have to be real with where we’ve been and what God’s done to transform us. We’re not a group of perfect people, we are a group of people being perfected.
We are spiritual contributors not spiritual consumers. The church does not exist for us. We are the church and we exist for the world.
It’s all about Jesus. It always has been and always will be.
We believe the local church is the hope of the world. We believe church is amazing. The church is God’s rescue plan for humanity and a place to introduce them to Jesus. Around here, we have a heart for building God’s House.
Having read these official statements of belief and philosophy, does anyone really think that Xperience Church would “accept anyone no matter what?” Of course not. This is nothing more than classic Evangelical subterfuge. (Please see Just Remember, Evangelicals Always Have an Agenda and The Bait and Switch Evangelistic Methods of Evangelicals.) Yes, anyone is welcome to walk in the doors of Xperience Church and attend their services. Whosoever will let them come, right? However, is Xperience Church really “accepting of LGBTQ youth?” Again, sure, as long as you don’t think about the question too hard. I am sure local LGBTQ students are welcome to attend the monthly youth meeting and weekly Sunday services. However, are the same students free to date other same-sex students? Are they free to speak openly and positively about their sexuality? If I attended Xperience Church, would I be permitted to preach the gospel of humanism and pass out Bart Ehrman’s books? Knowing what you know about Evangelical social beliefs, does anyone think Xperience Church truly has an open-door, live-as-you-want, be-true-to-self, policy? Of course not.
What the church member should have said is this: “We accept anyone no matter what, but thanks to Jesus and his awesome redeeming grace, we expect that unbelievers will be saved and become dutiful members of Xperience Church. We expect that the “anyones” will be transformed by the power of the Holy Ghost; that their addictions, perversions, and sins will be washed away by the mighty blood of Jesus Christ.” In other words, “Yes, you are free to visit Xperience Church, but we will not leave you alone until you see things our, oops, I mean God’s way!”
I know people who attend Xperience Church, including family members, so I am not suggesting the church and its hipster pastor are evil. I do not doubt that they have good intentions. However, it is evident, at least to me, that Xperience Church is NOT open and accepting in the same way as St. John United Church of Christ.
Look, I don’t care what people do on Sundays. If people want to spend their Sunday mornings worshipping a mythical deity, fine. However, when it comes to going after unbelievers whom Evangelicals deem sick, broken, sinful, and in need of fixing, you can expect me to object. I am more than happy to share the same terra firma as worshippers of Jesus. All I ask is that they keep their beliefs to themselves. Now who is delusional, right? Confrontational Evangelism is part of Evangelicalism’s DNA. Brownlee makes that clear in his “vision” video. When you believe your family, friends, and neighbors are vile enemies of God in need of salvation, it stands to reason you would do whatever is necessary to reach these lost heathens for Jesus. What remains to be seen is whether Brownlee and his church will stay “on-fire” for Jesus as time goes along. Or will Xperience Church become just like every other institutionalized, incestuous Evangelical church? My money is on the latter. ‘Tis the nature of Evangelical churches. Time and reality take the wind out of the best of “vision” statements. Once local churches have been raided and sinful locals harassed until they get saved, what’s left for “cool” churches to do? I mean, isn’t church really all about who has the best worship band or the best preacher? What will happen when Xperience Church and its pastors become boring? Why, God will lead yet another church planter to static, dying Defiance County to establish a new church.
Just what we need, another hamburger joint.
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.
If where you live is anything like northwest Ohio, new Evangelical churches are sprouting up like weeds in a gravel parking lot. You know — the weeds that keep returning no matter how much Roundup you spray on them. Here in Defiance County, they have spiffy new names, hiding the fact that they are generic, mostly Baptist or Charismatic churches. They present themselves as fresh, new, exciting places to worship God, complete with a relational pastor and the best damn worship band in town (props to the Ohio State marching band). One local new church called itself Fresh Life. Two years later, “Fresh Life” turned into the same old shit, different building, and the pastor felt called to go somewhere else.
Here in Defiance County, Ohio, there is zero need for new churches. We already have more than one hundred churches for 37,000 people. The population is aging and in decline, and almost everyone professes to be a Christian. God, guns, and Republican politics are on display everywhere one looks. Out-of-the-closet atheists are few, and even traditionally liberal churches tend to be conservative. Why, then, is there a plethora of new Evangelical churches?
I’ll give the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church movement credit for one thing: their churches are initially and primarily built on evangelism. Granted, they think everyone who doesn’t believe as they do is non-Christian and headed for Hell, but they do make a concerted effort to evangelize the “unchurched.”
I was taught in Bible college that the best way to start a church was to find the meanest, baddest man in town and win him to Jesus. If this man became a Christian and started living for Jesus, it would be the best possible advertisement for the church. Here in Defiance County, I am not the meanest, baddest man in town, but I am considered the resident atheist who hates God and Christianity. I would think that pastors would be lining up at my door trying to win the preacher-turned-atheist to Jesus. In the sixteen years my wife and I have lived in the shadow of five Evangelical churches, not one preacher has knocked on our door. Why is that?
In the 1970s, the Charismatics came to this area and began pillaging established churches. Overnight, churches lost membership and income. In the 1980s and 1990s, these new churches experienced meteoric membership and income growth. Today, these same churches are in decline as their members move on to the latest, greatest churches in town. You see, it’s not about Jesus, worship, or even doctrine. It’s all about getting the best show for the dollar. Entertainment-driven Evangelicals want to be pampered and have their “felt” needs met. Fail to do this and they will leave, complaining that they are not being fed or God is leading them elsewhere. If you want to study religiously-driven narcissism, just stop by one of these new Matt Chandler-Rick Warren-Joel Osteen-Ed Young-Andy Stanley-Perry Noble-Tim Keller-John Hagee-Rod Parsley-Steven Furtick-wanna-be churches. Services are consumer-driven buffets for fat Christians who are only interested in having their “felt” needs met.
Where do most of the members of these types of churches come from? Other local churches. Overwhelmingly, their growth is transfer growth. One new church in Defiance has multiple services filled with people who used to attend other local congregations. Church leaders think they are being blessed by God, but what they are really doing is cannibalizing other churches. I am sure there are a few new converts, but, for the most part, the growth is driven by people changing pews.
And here’s the thing . . . a decade or so from now, another new, glitzy, we-have-the-most-awesome-hip-preacher-in-town church will come to town and Christians will leave the old-new church for the new-new one. I have watched this happen time and again, like the rising and setting of the sun. Evangelicalism is driven not by devotion to God, concern for the lost, or care for the sick and hungry, but by a narcissistic need to be relevant. This is why they spend enormous amounts of money on buildings, staff, technology, and feed-lot fattening programs for Christians.
What’s really happening is that wandering Evangelicals are changing which club they belong to. And that’s fine as long as Evangelicals are willing to admit “why” they are doing so. However, they aren’t willing to acknowledge that their new hippity-hoppity church is just their old church with a bigger sound system, better drum player, more charismatic worship leader, better coffee, and a preacher who can really “speak” to them.
I watch from afar, amused at the self-absorbed attempts of churches to be churches in a culture that increasingly has no interest in what they are selling. Much the same as when a town becomes saturated with fast-food restaurants and they begin trying to steal each other’s customers, new Evangelical churches come to areas already saturated with Jesus and steal members from other churches. It’s fun to watch. May the best band win.
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.
House we rented in White Birch, a wooded, gated community north of Farwell, Michigan for $750 a month. At the time, I was pastoring Victory Baptist Church, Clare Michigan 2003
In July 2002, I resigned from Our Father’s House in West Unity, Ohio, thinking I had pastored my last church. Five years previously, I had been diagnosed with fibromyalgia. The disease was manageable as long as paced myself and managed to regularly rest. Polly and I decided to seek out a church to join, one we could help with our money and skills. Eight months later, we were thoroughly discouraged, wondering if there was a church anywhere that took seriously the teachings of Christ. By then, much like an athlete who retires, I started feeling “God” wanted me to pastor again. Of course, “God” was Bruce. The ministry was so much a part of who I was, that it was silly for me to think that I could ever stop preaching and doing the work of the ministry.
In March 2003, I sent my resume to several Southern Baptist area missionaries in Ohio and Michigan. These men quickly circulated my resume among churches looking for a pastor, and overnight my phone began to ring. The first church to call was a small church in Clare, Michigan, Victory Baptist Church. The Sunday before Easter, I went to Clare to preach for them. We were well received by the 40 or so people who were in attendance. Bruce, the entrepreneur saw potential, but I wondered what dysfunction lurked below the surface that was not readily apparent. Churches always hide their dirty laundry from prospective pastors, especially if they really want a certain man to become their next pastor. In retrospect, I should have demanded the congregation empty their proverbial closets so I could ascertain the true condition of the church. Alas, I did not. Bruce, the preacher just wanted to get back to preaching. How bad could things be, right?
Two weeks later, I went back to Clare and preached for the church again. Later the following week, the church unanimously voted to call me as their next pastor. Soon after, we packed up our belongings and moved to Clare, leaving behind our three oldest children.
By late October 2003, Polly and I and our three youngest children returned to northwest Ohio. While we accomplished much while at Victory Baptist — major building remodel, new church sign, increased attendance, refinancing the church’s mortgage, implementation of proper financial controls, and cleaning up church membership roll — institutional dysfunction and conflict with several long-time members, led to me resigning.
I called for a business meeting, hoping to resolve our disagreements. I had warned the church that I would not fight with them. I was at a place in life where I had no interest in conflict. I was naive in thinking I could pastor a BAPTIST church without conflict.
One week before the meeting, a church member asked if she could put some outdoor toys in the nursery for the children to use. I took a look at the toys and told her that they were not safe for use in a nursery with younger children. There is too much risk of injury, I told her, thinking that would be the end of it. A day later, I came to the church and found the toys in the nursery anyway. Angry, I removed them, telling the woman — who saw herself as a preacher, an apologist — that the toys could not be used in the nursery; that they were not safe for young children. She replied we will see about that.
A big crowd awaited me when I arrived at the church for the business meeting. What should have been a discussion about the future of the church turned into a debate about nursery toys. I told the church that someone had to make the final decision on the toys, and that someone was me. Some congregants wanted to have a vote on the toys, which I rebuffed, saying, the toys are not safe for young children. I thought that would put an end to the toys issue, but several members were intent on defending the honor of the offended member. One of the deacons spoke up and said, you are the best preacher I have heard in fifty years, but we can’t allow this to happen. I knew, at that moment, my time at Victory Baptist Church was over. Another member — the church treasurer who hadn’t balanced the church books in five years — let me know that my vision for the church had never been theirs. Her words cut me to the quick. I had been spending 30-40 hours a week on the church remodeling project, spending that $10,000 that the church treasurer didn’t know the church had because she couldn’t be bothered to balance the books. My sons came up several times to help with the project — a new church platform, new carpet and lighting in the auditorium, three new classrooms, new nursery, and repairs and paint throughout. I spent countless hours hanging drywall, wiring lights, and hanging doors. The only extra help I had was a retired church member who had extensive construction experience — a real lifesaver and a great guy — Polly and the kids, when she wasn’t working, and the Tero family that came from Georgia to help with the project. Not one other member meaningfully helped with the months-long project. I should have known then that my vision was not theirs.
I reminded the church that I had told them that I would not fight with them. Since it was evident that the church and I were on different pages, I resigned. Afterward, not one church member contacted us. On the day we moved, we were all alone. Our oldest children came to help us move, a reminder when it comes right down to it, all you have is family. Even the church family of twelve who literally lived right across the street from us — people with whom we were very close — left early in the morning on the day we moved, not saying a word to us. It was as if we didn’t exist.
In retrospect, I never should have pastored Victory Baptist Church. Quite frankly, they didn’t deserve to have me as their pastor. We sacrificed greatly to come to Clare. Polly left her well-paying job at Sauder Woodworking, taking a job at a local laundromat that paid a pittance compared to what she made at Sauder’s. My salary? $250 a week, with no insurance benefits. (We received Medicaid insurance and food stamps while we lived in Clare.) We got by, but it wasn’t easy. Polly and I, along with our children, are survivors. Not one time did anyone ask how we were doing.
Sadly, there are thousands of thousands of Victory Baptist churches in the United States; congregations that chew up and spit out pastor after pastor, believing that these men are the problem, not them. Rarely will they look in the mirror and see that their incestuous dysfunction and tribalism are the problem, not the pastor. (And don’t get me wrong, pastors can be a problem too.)
I never should have pastored this church. As a church planter, I saw Victory Baptist as an opportunity for Bruce to work his magic as he had done several times before. I loved the challenge. I misread the true nature of this church, and for that, I take full responsibility.
As Polly and I drove out of Clare in our U-Haul truck, we decided to drive by the church one last time. As we did, there was the toy lady standing on a ladder with a razor scraper, scraping my name off the sign. And just like that, I never existed. Not long after, several families left the church — including several large tithers — and the church closed its doors.
I would try once again to pastor in 2005 — candidating at two Southern Baptist churches in West Virginia — but my heart wasn’t in it. My preaching days were officially over.
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.
We live on a small, insignificant rock, surrounded by countless galaxies, stars, and planets. We know very little about what lies beyond the Milky Way, and despite our progress, there is still much we don’t know about Earth and its inhabitants. Yes, we humans continue to push into the unknown, but despite our inquisitiveness, we remain insignificant creatures with itty-bitty brains living on what Carl Sagan famously called a “pale blue dot.”
It’s 2023. We supposedly live in the age of science and technological advancement. Yet, the majority of Americans believe God created the universe and the Bible is the Word of God. Young earth creationism flourishes and Evangelical Christianity dominates the political scene. How enlightened and advanced are we really if the majority of people worship as if their lives depended on a Jewish man named Jesus who died 2,000 years ago? Ponder for a moment Christian theology; the core beliefs that millions of people believe are true. (Please see The Michael Mock Rule: It Just Doesn’t Make Sense.) Sunday after Sunday, church houses are filled with people singing praises to a dead man; promising to obey the teachings of a Bronze Age religious text. Pray tell, how enlightened are we really?
According to a 2017 Christianity Today story, there are almost 400,000 Christian churches in the United States. Many of these churches are Fundamentalist, falling broadly under the Evangelical tent. (Please see Are Evangelicals Fundamentalists?) The farther to the right you move, the more shrill the Fundamentalists become. One group you will find on the extreme right of Evangelicalism is the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church movement. Numbering millions of congregants in thousands of churches, the IFB church movement is fiercely separatist, believing that they preach the One True Faith®, and all other sects are either heretical or heterodox. (Please see What is an IFB Church?)
I grew up in the IFB church movement. I attended an IFB Bible college in the 1970s, pastored several IFB churches, and was deeply invested in IFB doctrine and practice. In 1983, I started an IFB church in the southeast community of Somerset, Ohio. It wasn’t that Somerset needed another church — it didn’t. Somerset had five churches within its village limits, and countless more in surrounding communities. Somerset was, in every way, Christianized, yet Rev. Bruce Gerencser, IFB preacher extraordinaire, believed that Somerset needed one more church — a church that preached the One True Faith®. Ponder, for a moment, the arrogance it took to come to this conclusion. Every time I see a newspaper story about yet another Evangelical church coming to the county I live in, I shake my head and say, “just what we need, another fucking church.” All church planters think “God” is leading them to plant a new church, regardless of how many churches already exist. Church planters convince themselves that they are “special,” and that their churches will be different and unique. And as sure as the sun comes up in the morning, over time their churches become just like every other church in town.
Think of the arrogance and lack of awareness required for an IFB preacher — who takes up a square foot or two on this insignificant planet of ours — to think that his church is “right” and all other churches are wrong; to think that his church is a solitary beacon of light in a world he believes is filled with darkness; to think that virtually everyone outside of that particular church has wrong beliefs, worships the wrong God, and is headed for eternal damnation and Hell unless they see, know, and embrace the “truth.” Truth being, of course, the God-given beliefs of the One True Faith®.
In the grand scheme of things, we are little more than specks of dirt on a pale blue dot. We live and die, and before long are forgotten, a footnote in the history of humankind. What better way to drive away insignificance than to convince yourself that you are special; that God speaks to you and has a divine plan for your life? I planted five churches during my time as an Evangelical pastor. There’s nothing more thrilling than starting a new church. Every Sunday is filled with excitement and anticipation. Over time, you attract people who like you as a person or are drawn to your preaching or personality. As the church grows, you begin to think, “I’m special. God is really using me!” In 1986, the IFB church I was pastoring at the time became the largest non-Catholic church in the county. I proudly advertised, “Perry County’s Fastest Growing Church.” I just knew that I was right and every other church/pastor was wrong. My church was growing, and other nearby IFB churches were not, so I began to think that there was something wrong with them; that maybe there was some sort of defect in their beliefs and practices; that maybe they didn’t work as hard as I did. Isn’t that the American dream? Work hard, and good things will happen. Yet, when I resigned from Somerset Baptist Church in the spring of 1994, the glory days were long over. I had moved on from the IFB church movement, embracing Calvinism and starting a private Christian school. My credo was quality over quantity. Did leaving the IFB church movement make me more ecumenical? Not at first. You see, Calvinism is its own special club. Ironically, most of the Calvinistic Baptist — Reformed Baptist, Sovereign Grace Baptist — preachers I knew were former IFB pastors. Much as I did, these preachers had a Paul-like Damascus Road experience and converted to the One True Faith® — Evangelical Calvinism. What this merry band of predestinarians did was just move one more step to the right. Certain that they finally had found THE “truth,” these preachers of John Calvin’s gospel derided their previous beliefs, doubting that those still in IFB churches were really Christians.
The next time you drive by an IFB church or a Sovereign Grace/Reformed Baptist church, just remember that the pastor of the church and his congregation believe that their church is right and every other church is wrong. And remember most of all the insignificant part they play on planet earth. Oh, they believe otherwise, that God is doing a mighty work in and through them, but the fact remains that they are just another speck of dust on a pale blue dot.
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 United States is awash in Evangelical churches. I live in the rural northwest Ohio community of Ney — population 356. There are seven churches within five miles of my house, and six of them are Evangelical. Surely Ney, Ohio, has all the churches it needs, right? It does, but back in my Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church-planting days, I would have looked at the religious demographic for Ney and concluded that the town didn’t have a church preaching the “truth.” You see, the Church of God, the other Church of God, and yet another Church of God, the garden-variety Evangelical church, the Methodist church, the charismatic church, and the Catholic church all preach from the same Bible as IFB churches do, but, in my mind at the time, none of them is true to the faith once delivered to the saints as an IFB church would be. So, with God on their sides and a wind of prayer at their backs, Evangelical church planters will go to communities already overrun with congregations and start new churches. Most of their “new” members will come from other churches. That’s the dirty little secret Evangelicals don’t like to talk about: that most church growth comes from transfers; people moving from one sect/church to another). “Look at how God is ‘blessing’ our new church. We are growing by leaps and bounds!” Yet, for the most part, these new members are most likely disgruntled people poached from other churches. (The largest church in Defiance County, where I live, is Xperience Church, an Evangelical congregation of almost 1,000 people that recently celebrated its tenth anniversary. The vast majority of the church’s members are transfers from other churches or people who were already Christians. This church is predatory, as are most church plants.) Of course, in the IFB church movement, it is generally believed that Catholics, mainline Christians, and charismatics are not even Christians — that they are following a false Jesus — so it’s okay to steal them from their non-IFB churches.
Calvinists, in particular, are noted for searching far and wide for churches that teach the gospel according to John Calvin. Back in my Calvinistic days, I had congregants who drove 30-45 minutes to our church just so they could sit under a man who preached the “true” gospel. In 1994, I became the co-pastor of Community Baptist Church in Elemendorf, Texas. The church was stridently Fundamentalist and Calvinistic. We had people who had moved all the way from Michigan and Ohio just so they could be members of a church that taught the “truth.” Think about how many thousands of churches they passed on their way to San Antonio, Texas. None of them preached the “truth”? There were several members who believed that the Christian gospel = the five points of Calvinism; that professing Christians who were not Calvinists were likely false Christians; that all the great Arminian preachers of the twentieth century were false prophets who preached an errant, heretical gospel. At Community Baptist, “truth” mattered. This led to numerous squabbles over doctrine; you know, one “truth” battling another “truth,” both believing they were right, straight from God himself.
According to the Bible, Pilate said to Jesus, “What is Truth?” You would think that after 2,000 years, Christians would have the answer to that question figured out; that by now they would be united around ONE LORD, ONE FAITH, ONE BAPTISM. Instead, Evangelicals fight among themselves over the slightest of doctrinal differences. Much blood has been spilled over how a person is saved and the method by which he is baptized. Evangelicals fight over eschatology, ecclesiology, pneumatology, soteriology, and a host of other “ologies.” Evangelicals tend to be literalists who believe the Bible is the inspired, inerrant, infallible Word of God. In their minds, the Bible is a divine roadmap, a blueprint or handbook for life. Thus, every jot or tittle matters; every word has divine meaning. That’s why many Evangelicals believe certain Bible translations are “true” and others just contain the “truth.” On the extreme fringes of Evangelicalism, you have IFB churches that believe the King James Bible is the “pure” inerrant Words of God. Over the years, I heard several preachers say that if the person who led you to Jesus used any Bible but the KJV, it was very possible that you weren’t even saved. In their minds, the KJV of the Bible was some sort of magic book, supernatural in nature, chucked by God over the rampart of Heaven 412 years ago.
It is for these reasons and others that Evangelicals continue to start new churches in communities already saturated with Christian churches. Why, even in the Baptist Belt, new churches are being planted. Why? I ask. Isn’t everyone in the deep South already saved? The real truth is that Evangelical church planting is much like opening a new hamburger joint. There’s a McDonald’s, Wendy’s, Burger King, Sonic, Jack in the Box, Carl’s Jr, and Five Guys in town, yet the community “needs” yet another hamburger restaurant. So it is with church planting. Evangelical church planters convince themselves that such-and-such town NEEDS a new church — an Evangelical one. When a new hamburger restaurant comes to town, where does most of its business come from? Other restaurants. People have a fixed amount of discretionary money, so for a new restaurant to grow and thrive, it must poach patrons from other restaurants. All the new restaurant does is weaken the other ones. So it is with churches. They are predatory in nature. Rarely, if ever, do you find congregations that started with new converts. For all their talk about saving souls, Evangelical churches rarely increase their attendance through “winning the lost.” Why do the necessary hard work of winning souls when you can just steal members from somewhere else?
To answer the “what should I do” question, I say this: stop looking for Theological Nirvana®. It doesn’t exist. I don’t know of a community that needs more churches. How about trying to make one of the churches that already exist better? But, Bruce, God told me to start a new church! Sure, he did. As a former church planter, I know better. Church planters start new churches because they need the Jesus Buzz® that comes from planting a new church; that feeling of everything being new. People seek out new churches because they too are looking for a Jesus Buzz®. New churches are exciting. When Evangelicals can’t “feel” the Lord like they used to, they look for that feeling elsewhere. Where better to “feel” the presence and power of Jesus than in a new church? The problem, of course, is that new churches will one day become old, established churches, just like the ones people left years before. That’s the nature of the human experience, be it marriages, churches, or hamburgers.
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.
Storefront meeting place for Somerset Baptist Church, 1983
In July 1983, I started a new Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church in the southeast Ohio community of Somerset. I rented a storefront, spent a couple of weeks cleaning up and remodeling the space, and then on the second Sunday in July, Somerset Baptist Church held its first service. There were sixteen people in attendance, including Polly and our two youngest children. At the time, we lived half an hour north of Somerset in the lakeside community of Buckeye Lake. I worked for the village as a grant writer, litter control program manager, workfare program manager, and property code enforcement officer. In September of 1983, we moved from Buckeye Lake to New Lexington, ten miles south of Somerset. We didn’t live but a few months in New Lexington, thanks to our rented home having a horrible odor from the previous renter’s animals peeing all through the house. Our landlord replaced the carpet and shellacked the underlying wood floors, but the awful smell remained. In early December, we packed up our meager belongings and moved to a ramshackle farmhouse near Glenford.
Our new home had been moved from Glenford proper to the top of a hill just outside of town. It was an uninsulated, drafty house that had free natural gas for heating. Perry County had a lot of oil/gas wells, including the one that sat behind our house. It was good that the gas was free. Ohio winters can be cold, and the winter of 1983-84 was one such winter. We set the furnace at eighty degrees, running it constantly, just to keep the house warm enough to live in. One of the side effects of having a natural gas well nearby was that our water well was infiltrated by the gas. Drinking water had to sit before use so the gas could dissipate. The gas levels were such that we could light the gas straight out of the kitchen faucet. Fun times. Worse yet, the gas made the water quite hard, so we had to use water-softening agents when we took baths.
The one nice thing about this house was that it had a fairly new basement. It became the inside playground for our two young children and our foster child. Of course, there were things our boys could get into. One day I went to the basement only to find our son Nathan and our foster son JR rolling up papers and sticking them in the standing pilot on the hot water tank so they could set them on fire! (The boys had seen me do the very same thing when lighting the pilot.) One spring day, the boys were playing in the basement when Polly called them up for lunch and a nap. At the time, we had two kittens. The boys had been playing with the kittens and left them in the basement when they came up to eat. Unbeknownst to us, they left them in the cooler and shut the lid. This, of course, killed the kittens.
Christmas 1983 was one we would never forget. My grandparents, John and Ann Tieken, along with my mother, her new husband Michael Monshine, and my sister and her family joined us for Christmas. Polly and I were excited about having my family over for Christmas — our first and only such event. The Tiekens joined us for church that morning, and everyone else arrived early afternoon. It was bitterly cold and snowy, and while driving the five miles to our home from church, the radiator on our car froze up, leaving me stranded. I walked to a nearby house, used their phone, and had someone come and get me. Little did I know that my car radiator freezing was the best thing that would happen to me on that day.
The radiator freezing, of course, elicited a lecture from my grandfather about making sure I had enough antifreeze in the radiator. Grandpa’s lectures, warranted or not, were a “gift” he gave me every time he saw me. Having my mom and the Tiekens in the same room was risky, thanks to past violence, sexual abuse, and Jesus-loves-you judgmental behavior. Grandpa was a mean, judgmental son-of-a-bitch who loved Jesus. Ann was more of a passive-aggressive type of person, but she too could cut you to the quick with her self-righteous judgments. Needless to say, the entire afternoon was filled with tension; so much so that Polly and I were relieved when it was over. I made matters worse by not letting Mom or her husband smoke inside our home. I told them they would have to stand outside on our front porch to smoke. The temperature that day? Nine degrees below zero. This “order,” of course, infuriated my mother. She let it be known that she would NOT come to my house again if she couldn’t smoke inside. She kept her word, killing herself a decade later without ever darkening the door of my home again.
1983 was quite the year for the Gerencser family. We would have many more eventful days in the years ahead. In fact, I suspect if I gave a full and honest reckoning of my life, I would find that EVERY year had life-altering moments. Sure, life is filled with the mundane, but there are those days and moments when the circumstances of life alter our present and transform our future. The eleven years Polly and I and our growing family spent in Somerset fundamentally changed us and laid the groundwork for what one day would result in us leaving the ministry and walking away from Christianity.
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.
Pastors Joe Maldonado, Bruce Gerencser, and Pat Horner, Somerset Baptist Church, Fall of 1993
Pat Horner and I had a common theology: Calvinism. Sovereign Grace Baptist Calvinism, to be exact. Outside of that, we were very different from one another. From the way we preached to how we interacted with parishioners, we were as different as night and day. I thought it was important for me to get to know each family in the church, so I did a lot of in-home visiting. When someone was in the hospital, I would visit them. When someone had a family member die, I would attend the funeral. Pat did none of these things. He was much more standoffish than I was. This is not a criticism of him as much as it is an example of how different our personalities were.
This difference began to be a problem when parishioners started to favor me over Pat. After services, I would talk theology with the men of the church, and they found me easy to talk to. It wasn’t long before Pat began to criticize me for being too familiar with parishioners. He told me that it was important to maintain a space between pastor and parishioner. I was told the same thing in college: the pastor can’t be friends with anyone in the church because it will hinder his ability to minister.
Both Pat and I preached expositionally — preaching verse-by-verse, in context — but our styles were very different. I tended to be more human, earthy, and at times humorous in my preaching. Pat tended to be more dogmatic and rarely used illustrations. To him, it was all about doctrine. While I thought doctrine was important, I knew that it was also imperative for me to make a human connection with parishioners. More than once, Pat criticized my preaching for being too light or not doctrinal enough. Again, I suspect this had to do with the fact that, personality-wise, we were very different from one another. I am trying to be charitable to Pat, though I doubt he would grant me the same.
Bruce Gerencser, preaching at Community Baptist Church, Stockdale, Texas, 1994
After a few months, I gathered up a few willing church members and we started new Sovereign Grace Baptist churches in Floresville and Stockdale. Every Sunday morning, we would hold a service at Floresville and then drive 20 miles to Stockdale and hold another service. We would then eat lunch together, then hold an evening service at the Floresville church. During the week, I would take groups from Community down to Floresville and Stockdale, knock on doors, evangelize, and invite people to church. While we worked hard to get the churches established, neither church did well attendance-wise.
If you have been reading this series you can likely intuit that starting these churches and spending Sundays away from Community allowed me to distance myself from Horner.
I also started a street preaching ministry and a nursing home ministry. Being a workaholic, I was busy, and I loved it. Later in the summer of 1994, I helped the church start a Christian school. There were fifty children in the school the first year. Many of the church families homeschooled before the school was started. Several teachers were hired, along with a school principal. Once the school was up and running, I had little to do with it.
Community Baptist Church, Elmendorf, Texas, 1994
During this time, Community built a new 10,000-square-foot building. Horner had a construction background, so he was well suited for overseeing the project. A group of Calvinistic Southern Baptist church builders from Louisiana came in and helped frame, roof, and side the building. A group of undocumented immigrants poured the concrete slab, and various men in the church took care of the plumbing, electric, and HVAC.
The busy-ness of planting churches, starting a school, and building a new building helped me distance myself from the increasing conflict between Horner and me. It seemed like every time we got together there was conflict, and we bickered like two old married people. Neither of us was a shining example of temperance, deference, or respect. In the fall of 1994, I realized that things were not going to work out for me at Community, so I talked to Horner and the elders about it. Things quickly went south — like Mexico-City-south — and it became evident to me that Horner and I were headed for a messy divorce.
I told Horner that we needed to sit down and talk. I asked John Sytsma, one of the elders, to join the meeting. John did his best to bring peace, but it was not to be. We got into an angry shouting match, and I finally told Pat to leave my office. The next day, Pat gathered the elders together at John Sytsma’s home and had a secret meeting where I was the topic of discussion. I found out about the meeting and decided to show up. I was still co-pastor of the church, and I should have been included in the meeting.
During the meeting, Horner and I exchanged angry words and he told me that I had to stop pastoring the churches in Floresville and Stockdale and come and sit in the services at Community for a while. He told me that I was not fit to be a pastor. I suggested that I was willing to leave the church and pastor one of the new churches I had started, but Horner would have none of it. Finally, when it became apparent Horner had his mind made up, I said, Fine, I resign. Horner replied, You can’t resign without our permission. My last words to him were this: Really? Watch me. A few days later, Polly and I packed everything up in a U-Haul truck and we moved back to Ohio. As we were driving down the lane from our home, the church was holding a special meeting to deal with the “Bruce Gerencser problem.” Of course, Horner was the moderator of the meeting.
Several church families begged us to stay. Tim Conway had me come over to his home to talk about the matter. Conway suggested that I stay and start a new church; that several families would be willing to leave Community with me and start a new work. While I was flattered by Conway’s offer, I told him that I could not be part of anything that caused a church split.
Shortly before I left, John Sytsma came to me and suggested that perhaps Horner should be the one to go. But, again, I didn’t want to do anything that caused further harm to the church. Weeks later, all those that were in my corner when we moved went over to Horner’s side. Imagine what would have happened to my family and me had we stayed. I knew that nothing I said or did would make a difference. As the old gambler said, You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, and know when to fold ‘em. It was definitely time for me to fold my hand.
I am often asked, What happened? I think what happened was that two strong-willed men with very different personalities wanted to own the same piece of real estate. Since we both were quick-tempered, conflict came easily. I regret the conflict, but my time as co-pastor of Community Baptist Church taught me a lot about myself, and I left Texas a very different man. For the first time, I saw what I had become, and I didn’t like what I saw. It was at this point that my Fundamentalism began to die. It was a slow death, but this was the moment when I began to see what Fundamentalism had done to me, and I knew that I needed to change. Unfortunately, Horner is still a Fundamentalist Calvinistic Baptist. In 1998, Horner left Community, started several churches, and last I heard he was working a secular job and doing mission work in (Nepal?) India. Speaking of Horner (and John Sytsma), Lynn Tagawa, editor of A Stone of Remembrance: The 35th Anniversary of Community Baptist Church (2018), states:
During this time [2003-2008] the church experienced the great loss of Pat Horner and John Sytsma from its membership, along with the long time responsibility of overseeing their missionary endeavors.
Why they left is not mentioned. Sytsma is currently an elder at Tim Conway’s church — Grace Community Church in San Antonio.
In my next post in this series, I want to write about how the church dealt with the “Bruce Gerencser problem.” I also want to write about the vicious discipline the church (Pat Horner) used to manipulate and control parishioners.
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.
Ask anyone from rural Northwest Ohio which local community is the most religious and they will likely tell you Archbold. Home to Sauder Woodworking, a 2,000-employee manufacturing concern started by Mennonite Erie Sauder in the 1930s, Archbold has three large Mennonite churches. For those not interested in the Mennonite flavor of Christianity, there are a plethora of Evangelical and mainline churches to meet their spiritual needs. Several years ago, one of the mainline churches affiliated with the United Church of Christ left the UCC and became an independent Evangelical church. While local mainline churches are certainly more liberal than, say, one of the two Pentecostal churches in Archbold, their liberalness is a matter of degree. Compared to liberal west or east-coast mainline churches, these rural enclaves are quite conservative. Several years ago in nearby Bryan, Ohio, one of the Methodist churches had a pastor who graduated from Bob Jones University, and until recently, the Ney-Farmer United Methodist circuit was pastored by a man who trained at Ohio Christian University. Currently, I don’t know of any local mainline pastor who would publicly tout their liberal theology and social views. I know several pastors who are liberals, but for the sake of congregational unity and a continued paycheck, they keep their heresy to themselves. One small glimmer of hope came two years ago when St. John United Church of Christ in Defiance came out as a LGBTQ-affirming church. Outside of this blip on the liberal radar, the local scene continues to be dominated by Evangelical/Fundamentalist/conservative Christianity with its attendant right-wing Republican politics.
Knowing well the local demographics, I find it hilarious that Toledo-based Northwest Baptist Church has decided to start a church in Archbold. Archbold’s nickname is Jerusalem, a somewhat humorous label meant to reflect the community’s overwhelming religiosity. Simply put, Jesus is not hard to find in Archbold, Ohio. However, I am sure that, as zealots from Northwest Baptist “prayed” about starting a sin-hating, devil-chasing, King James-only Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB), church, they concluded that the Christians in Archbold were not real/true/right kind of Christians. Deemed spiritually suspect or lost, Archbold Christians will now be the targets of aggressive IFB evangelistic techniques. Northwest Baptist is pastored by “Dr.” Andrew Edwards, III, a 1985 graduate of Jack Hyles’ monument to ignorance, Hyles-Anderson College. Joe Ballard, Northwest Baptist’s assistant pastor, is the pastor of Archbold Baptist Chapel. Ballard is a graduate of Providence Baptist College,
Archbold Baptist does not have a website, but Northwest Baptist does, and from its website we can find out what type of church is being planted in Archbold. When IFB churches plant new churches, they typically establish clones of the mother churches. Ignoring demographics and need, IFB churches tend to replicate themselves in new communities. It matters not that Archbold is overwhelmingly Christian. What matters is that there is not an IFB church in town, a congregation that believes the King James Bible is the inspired, inerrant, infallible — even the italicized words — word of God. And if this is not enough a reason, God told Edwards, III to plant a church in Archbold, and when God speaks, well, end of story.
Based on what can be found on Northwest Baptist’s website, Archbold residents can expect to have their Christianity challenged and questioned by Archbold Baptist soulwinners. Northwest Baptist’s website states:
We believe it is the duty and responsibility of every child of God, regardless of age, race, or background, to be personally involved in spreading the Gospel, the good news of salvation. Every week we actively seek to witness to the lost through our Soul Winning Program. Here are the regularly scheduled visitation times: Teen Soul Winning – Wednesday @4:30, Church-wide Soul Winning – Thursday @ 6:00pm & Saturday @ 10:00am
Archbold residents, get ready. The Baptist version of Jehovah’s Witnesses has come to town.
As I mentioned above, Archbold is heavily influenced by Mennonite religious beliefs. While most local Mennonite churches are conservative theologically and politically, a handful are more centrist and focused on social issues. Sadly, many local Mennonites are pro-war, a contradiction if there ever was one. This reflects how deeply Republican politics have infected these congregations. Several years ago, we attended a nearby Quaker church, thinking that it would be anti-war. Imagine our surprise when we found out that the church was a flag-waving, Jesus-loving, gun-toting supporter of Bush’s immoral incursions in the Middle East. I asked this pastor, along with several Mennonite pastors how they squared their pro-war views with historic Quaker and Mennonite belief and practice. All of them told me their denominations take a neutral view on the matter, allowing each congregation to determine its beliefs.
While Archbold Baptist Chapel will attempt to paint itself as unique or different — the purveyors of the true gospel of Jesus Christ — what they really are is just another bland, generic Evangelical church who thinks Jerusalem needs yet another church. It will be interesting to watch as Archbold Baptist Chapel attempts to establish a beachhead. Will they find sinners to save in Archbold, or will they, as is often the case, be a magnet for disgruntled Baptists and church hoppers who jump from church to church looking for the latest, greatest thing. I do know this: that within fifteen or so miles there are at least ten IFB/GARBC/Southern Baptist churches, all in an area that has a static, aging population. (Please read How to Start an Independent Baptist Church and Evangelical Cannibalism: How New Evangelical Churches Grow.)
Currently, Archbold Baptist Chapel is meeting on Sunday afternoons and Thursday evenings at Archbold High School. Last week, I attended a girls’ high school basketball tournament at Archbold High. As I was leaving, I noticed advertisements for Archbold Baptist Chapel sitting on a table. Earlier in the day, as my wife and I were tooling around Archbold taking photographs of church signs, I mentioned to Polly that the only flavor of church Archbold didn’t have is Baptist. Little did I know that Baptists had indeed come to town, ready and willing to evangelize Archbold’s lost sinners — all two of them, anyway.
I gathered up the advertisements and took them with me, knowing that while churches are free to rent public school facilities, they may not evangelize on school property or leave sectarian materials lying around for students to “find.” (Please read UPDATED: Village of Archbold Removes Christian References From Their Website and Logo.) I am a big proponent of religious freedom, so I support Archbold Baptist Chapel’s right to hold services at Archbold High and to preach the IFB gospel anywhere not prohibited by law. That doesn’t mean, however, that I support their beliefs. I don’t. In fact, I stand opposed to everything they hold dear. IFB beliefs and practices are often cultic and psychologically harmful. It would irresponsible for me to not warn Archbold residents about the new church in town, especially if they attempt to evangelize local children.
Churches come and go. Evidently, God has a hard time making up his mind. One day God tells someone to start a new church, and a year or two later God changes his mind and tells church planters to go somewhere else. It will be interesting to see if Archbold Baptist Chapel can attract a crowd, and if they don’t, how long they will stay before “hearing” God telling them to move on. As is ofttimes the case, God’s “voice” matches the whims, wants, needs, and desires of those who purport to hear his voice. This is particularly the case with IFB churches where great value is placed on certainty, the leading of the Holy Spirit, and doing the perfect will of God. For now, God has clearly led Northwest Baptist to plant a clone of itself in Archbold. It remains to be seen if Archbold Baptist can be a growing church for a coming Lord. My money is on “no.”
Archbold needs fewer churches, not more, and the same came be said for every other nearby community. I told Polly a few days ago that churches should band together and buy the local mall when it closes, turning into a church buffet, of sorts. Think of all the money, time, and effort that would be saved. On Sundays, shoppers, uh, I mean worshipers of Jesus, could choose from any of number of churches to attend. Of course, this would mean local churches would have to admit that, despite all their crowing, Christian churches are all pretty much the same. Setting liturgy, ecclesiology, and worship style aside, the only thing different are the names over the doors. Granted, IFB churches would never support such a Satanic ecumenical affair. Ecclesiastically separated until the bitter end, IFB churches think that they are the holders of the faith once delivered to the saints. If Archbold Baptist Chapel congregants didn’t believe this, there would be no reason for them to have a church in Archbold. But they do, so Archbold residents can expect to have their faith and beliefs questioned. In time, IFB evangelizers will be stopping by, asking them, If you died today, would you go to heaven? Zeus help the people who say, I am a Mennonite. Yes, but are you a C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N? the response will be. Every effort will be made to take every local through God’s plan of salvation. What is that plan?
And certainly, a handful of Archbold residents will get saved, but I suspect most residents will just want to be “saved” from the zealots standing at their doors.
I am sure those associated with Northwest Baptist and Archbold Baptist will wonder why I am “attacking” them. You are an atheist, so why do you care if we start a new church? I care, because IFB beliefs and practices are inherently harmful. As I put the finishing touches on this post, I am listening to a sermon (link no longer active) by Northwest Baptist’s pastor Andrew Edwards, III. In the sermon, Edwards is advocating beating children as God’s ordained way of disciplining children. This is enough for me to say that Northwest Baptist is NOT a church safe for children. You can check out other sermons here. (link no longer active)
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.
Anyone can start a church. In most cases, the new church will be considered tax exempt by federal, state, and local government.
The IRS lists the following generic (albeit very Christian sounding) characteristics of a church:
The term church is found, but not specifically defined, in the Internal Revenue Code. With the exception of the special rules for church audits, the use of the term church also includes conventions and associations of churches as well as integrated auxiliaries of a church.
Certain characteristics are generally attributed to churches. These attributes of a church have been developed by the IRS and by court decisions. They include:
Distinct legal existence
Recognized creed and form of worship
Definite and distinct ecclesiastical government
Formal code of doctrine and discipline
Distinct religious history
Membership not associated with any other church or denomination
Organization of ordained ministers
Ordained ministers selected after completing prescribed courses of study
Literature of its own
Established places of worship
Regular congregations
Regular religious services
Sunday schools for the religious instruction of the young
Schools for the preparation of its members
If a group of people generally exhibit these characteristics they are considered a Church by the IRS. State laws are different from federals laws and vary from state to state.
A Church is not required to file for 501c3 status to be tax exempt. 501c3 status does grant certain additional benefits to the church, BUT it is not required for tax exemption.
Congress has enacted special tax laws applicable to churches, religious organizations, and ministers in recognition of their unique status in American society and of their rights guaranteed by the First Amendment of the Constitution of the United States. Churches and religious organizations are generally exempt from income tax and receive other favorable treatment under the tax law; however, certain income of a church or religious organization may be subject to tax, such as income from an unrelated business.
Churches and religious organizations, like many other charitable organizations, qualify for exemption from federal income tax under IRC section 501(c)(3) and are generally eligible to receive tax-deductible contributions. To qualify for tax-exempt status, such an organization must meet the following requirements:
■ the organization must be organized and operated exclusively for religious, educational, scientific, or other charitable purposes,
■ net earnings may not inure to the benefit of any private individual or shareholder,
■ no substantial part of its activity may be attempting to influence legislation,
■ the organization may not intervene in political campaigns, and
■ the organization’s purposes and activities may not be illegal or violate fundamental public policy.
Churches that meet the requirements of IRC section 501c3 are automatically considered tax exempt and are not required to apply for and obtain recognition of tax-exempt status from the IRS.
Now, get out there and start a church. You can do it!
Bruce, surely it is more complicated than that? I assure you, it is not. I’ve thought about starting a new sect, The Church of Bruce Almighty®. Donations would be tax-deductible and my church could buy buildings, property, cars, and other essential ministry tools and not pay tax.
