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Tag: Independent Fundamentalist Baptist

How IFB Churches Handle Teens Listening to Rock Music

evil rock music

Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. (I John 2:15)

Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ. (Colossians 2:8)

The Bible is clear: Christians are not to love the world (as a philosophical system), nor are they to love the things of the world. Christians are duty-bound to oppose the philosophies of the world (how the world thinks and reasons). Take the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church movement. The IFB church movement came into existence during the battle against modernism (liberalism) in the twentieth century. I came of age during the heyday of the IFB church movement. Many of the largest churches in the United States were IFB congregations. The 1960s-1980s brought explosive attendance growth. Today, the IFB church movement is a shell of what it once was. That said, there are still thousands of IFB churches in the United States, numbering in the millions attendance-wise. Bus ministries used to bring primarily children to church were once popular, but not so today. What remains the same is the IFB’s opposition to the “world.”

While it can be argued that Jesus (and later Paul) called on his followers to be counter-cultural, IFB churches tend to be anti-culture. Instead of learning to be sojourners in a strange land, IFB pastors teach church members to withdraw from the culture. I taught and believed for many years that Christians should avoid interaction with the world. Outside of buying necessities such as groceries and gas from “worldly” businesses, I believed Christians should seek out businesses that support or are friendly to their beliefs and practices. I eventually learned that this was impossible to do. As an Evangelical pastor (I left the IFB church movement in the 80s), I took a different approach. Instead of being anti-culture, I believed Christians should engage and influence our culture. This meant getting “worldly” for Jesus. Or as the one preacher who raced dirt track cars on Sunday evenings in the summer said, “Christians need to get dirty for Jesus.” (Both positions, by the way, are supported by Scripture.)

Most IFB churches and pastors are anti-culture. Instead of engaging culture, they withdrew, building a separate world for church members. That’s why the IFB church movement pushes private Christian education and homeschooling. Children are sheltered from the world. After graduation, many IFB children attend IFB (or other Fundamentalist) colleges. This means that many IFB children are in their 20s before they enter the “world” and have to fend for themselves. Many young IFB women graduate from high school, but don’t go on to attend college. They have been told their entire lives that God wants them to marry (preferably a preacher, missionary, or youth pastor), bear (lots of) children, keep the home by doing all the domestic work, and meet the every want/need of their husband — especially sexually. But, Bruce, didn’t your wife go to college? She did, but her reason for going to college was oh-so typical IFB: she went to Midwestern Baptist College to find and marry a preacher boy. Why? Because Polly believed God had called her to be a preacher’s wife. This is not surprising since she repeatedly heard growing up that “There’s no greater calling in life than to be a preacher’s wife.” (Boys heard similar claims. “There’s no greater calling, boys, than to be a preacher. You could become president, but that would be a step down from being a God-called preacher.”)

bob gray jacksonville florida preaching against elvis
IFB Pastor Bob Gray preaching against Elvis, 1956. Gray would later be accused of sexual misconduct. Gray allegedly was a serial child molester for 50 years.

Many cradle IFB church members make it to the grave 60, 70, or 80 years later without being soiled from contact with the “world.” While people are free to live their lives as they wish, for many IFB congregants, they don’t know any other world but the IFB one.

For those of us raised in IFB churches, we heard countless sermons on the evils of the “world.” In particular, our pastors railed against rock music, calling it evil, immoral, and Satanic. What did teens and young adults do in such settings? Some of them, such as the Pollys and Bruces of the world, toed the line. Others tried to play by the rules, but failed. (And let me be clear, Polly and I were not pure as driven snow. We broke numerous dating rules in college that forbade any physical contact with the opposite sex.) And then, some youthful members ignored the preaching against the “world” and engaged in all the same behaviors as their counterparts in the “world.” What this led to, of course, was a lot of fear, guilt, and sneaking around.

IFB preachers know that that many church teens and young adults are NOT practicing what they preach from the pulpit. Pastors know that if they go to the church parking lot and turn on the radio in every car, that many of them would be tuned to “worldly” stations. So, IFB preachers turn to other approaches to the rock menance.

Some IFB preachers bring in alleged experts on the evils of rock music to teach churches about why it is a sin to listen to rock. The first such expert I heard was Bob Larson in 1971. Yes, THAT Bob Larson. Later, I heard David Benoit. Both men allegedly exposed the Satanic evil that was behind the music. Attendees were introduced to issues such as backmasking and syncopated beat. Congregants were called on to get rid of their rock records, either by putting them on the church altar or casting them in a fire.

Other IFB preachers encourage church parents to remove the radios from the cars of their children so they can’t listen to “worldly” music. One pastor I knew replaced the radios with cassette players. His children only listened to music he gave them. This, of course, did not keep his children from listening to the AC/DC or Beatles cassette tapes hidden underneath their seats. Teens gonna do, what teens gonna do, right?

jesus loves metal

Towards the end of my minsterial career, there was a shift in some IFB churches over rock music. Realizing their sermons were not having the desired effect and prohibition was a failure, some pastors and churches decided that what church youth needed was ALTERNATIVES to the world’s music. Young people were introduced to CCM (contemporary Christian music) music. Before long, many IFB churches were using drums and guitars in worship. (Many IFB churches objected to the CCM infiltration. Their services today are not much different from what they were sixty years ago.) What IFB preachers failed to see is that, YES, church youth would happily start listening to CCM, but they wouldn’t stop listening to the world’s music. All they did was add the CCM to their listening queue. (I managed a Christian bookstore in the late 80s. The store had a comparison chart on the wall that compared CCM bands to “worldly” bands. Like Simon and Garfunkel? You will like the Christian band, Small Town Poets.)

One unresolved issue for IFB preachers is that there is no singular definition for the word “world.” Go to an IFB preacher’s meeting and you will hear discussions about whether this or that is worldly. No two preachers or churches had the same list of worldly behaviors. While all IFB churches opposed rock music, others allow pop and country music. This debate over music reveals that churches are hopelessly divided over music. This suggests that rules/laws/standards about music are of human origin, governed by the theological interpretations and feelings of the men behind pulpits.

Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Yes, Christian Fundamentalism Really Did Keep Us From Listening to the Devil’s Music

rock its your decision ad

Recently, I wrote a post titled How Christian Fundamentalism Robbed Us of the Opportunity to Listen to the Devil’s Music. A Fundamentalist preacher disagreed with what I wrote:

Really? Christian fundamentalism stopped them from listening to sinful rock and roll? Granted, the attitude when rock first came out was very rigid against that type of music, and in some cases, it was very warranted because the music was not the best.

But was it Christian fundamentalism that robbed anyone of listening to the music? It was played everywhere, so just about every child and teenager at the time could hear it whenever they wanted.

So it is highly doubtful that Christian fundamentalism was the reason. It may have been the personal beliefs of the people at the time that stopped them from playing this music. It could be that those beliefs were a bit misguided, not that classic rock was great music and people were missing out, but that they did not have a solid foundation in the truth to truly evaluate the music.

In other words, I am a liar — a false allegation this disgraced preacher has hurled my way many times. This preacher wrongly thinks that there is a difference between “Christian Fundamentalism” and the “personal beliefs” of the people at the time that stopped them from playing this music.” It is theological and social beliefs that drive Christian Fundamentalism. Objection to secular music was common, and rock music in particular was the subject of frequent criticism and attack from the pulpit.

While I listened to secular music on the AM radio in my car, and heard it when attending junior high dances, outside of that, my life was inundated with Christian music, at church and home. I only owned a handful of records, but all of them were Christian. Why would I not have obeyed what my pastors were teaching? The same goes for my partner, Polly. Both of us primarily listened to Southern gospel music and mixed-group Christian music. Sure, we knew the lyrics of a few secular songs, but our minds’ catalog of music was overwhelmingly Christian. We were, in every way, true blue, Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) Christians. Maybe the preacher quoted above wasn’t a committed follower of Jesus as a Christian. If so, that’s his problem, not mine.

You see, I actually believed and trusted my pastors. I never doubted that they were telling me the truth. So, if they said rock music was evil and listening to it was sinful, I believed them. When evangelists such as Bob Larson and David Benoit decried the evils of rock and roll, I believed them. When youth camp speakers brought the wrath of God down on rock music, I believed them. Dare I not trust and obey — for there’s no other way, to be happy in Jesus — these men of God? Over the years, I heard scores of sermons condemning “worldly” music, and I believed every word. This approach bled into other areas of our lives. Polly and I were virgins on our wedding day. Why? We heard numerous sermons about the evil of premarital sex. Rarely did a week go by without a teacher or a pastor mentioning the importance of chastity. Many of our churchmates listened to secular music and gave in to their sexual desires. Was rock music to blame? Our pastors said it was; that rock music stirred the passions, leading to fornication.

For good or ill, Polly and I believed and practiced what we heard from the pulpit. How could it have been otherwise? Were you a devoted Christian as a teen and young adult? Did you practice what your pastors preached? Please share your experiences in the comment section.

Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

My Response to IFB Evangelist “Dr.” Arv Edgeworth — Part Five

peanut gallery

Part One — Part Two — Part Three — Part FourPart Five

“Dr.” Arv Edgeworth, an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) evangelist, sent me another email. Here’s what he had to say

I have a question for you.  I saw the list of IFB pastors and their sexual sins.  I didn’t read any of the information, it would be too depressing.  I know of a number of incidents like that in churches I have been associated with, sad to say.  However, in your opinion, which should be considered worse: an IFB preacher who was guilty of sexual misconduct; or an IFB preacher who did a complete turn around and denied Christ, and tried to get others to do the same thing?  Sexual misconduct, or spiritual misconduct?  In your opinion, which would do the most damage? 

I assume that Edgeworth is talking about the Black Collar Crime series. Edgeworth wants to know which is worse: an IFB preacher who raped church children or an IFB preacher (me) who deconverted and now tries to get others to do the same? What’s worse, Edgeworth asks, sexual misconduct or spiritual misconduct? I assume he thinks “spiritual” misconduct is worse because it leads to eternal consequences.

Let me be clear, sexual misconduct in all its forms is morally wrong and often leads to lifelong consequences. IFB churches are notorious for ignoring or covering up sex crimes. Worse, offenders often leave the churches where the offenses occurred and move on to other churches. More than a few IFB churches are pastored by preachers who have committed sex crimes. God has forgiven them of their sin. How dare anyone keep them from their calling! God forgives and forgets, and so should we. Or so the thinking goes, anyway.

Edgeworth’s claim that I committing spiritual misconduct is absurd. Am I taking advantage of people? Am I fulfilling the lusts of my flesh by spiritually assaulting and raping people? Of course not. I am just one man with a story to tell. I am not an evangelist for atheism. All I do is share my story and carefully examine the central claims of Evangelical Christianity. I write, people read. I have never forced myself or my beliefs on another person.

How is it spiritual abuse to encourage people to rationally think for themselves? Shouldn’t that be the goal for Christians and unbelievers alike? Edgeworth will search in vain for one post that remotely suggests that I tried to get Christians to deny the Messiah. Have some people said that my writing played an instrumental part in their deconversion? Sure, but all I did was answer their questions. Or maybe my personal testimony resonated with them. Regardless, I have never forced anyone to deny Jesus and become an atheist.

Should I not tell my story, Arv? You came to my blog and told yours. Why is it okay for Evangelicals to go from IP address to IP address, preaching the gospel, even to people who have no interest in what they are peddling? I have been told several times that I should shut up and keep my story to myself. One preacher told me he feared that if people read my story that they would deconvert. Really? Am I so powerful that my words carry such power — more powerful than God — that they can cause people to lose their salvation? Trust me, I am not that powerful. More often, my writing is just one step in the process of deconversion.

Instead of worrying about Evangelical-preachers-turned-atheists leading IFB church members astray, I would worry more about sexual predators who have infiltrated churches, using the love, kindness, and forgiveness of congregants to hide their evil actions. Sadly, church members can be naive, thinking a man of God would never, ever commit a sex crime. This is a delusion, one that leads to harm, both to church members who are abused and to vulnerable adults who are taken advantage of.

I should add that if anyone is committing spiritual abuse, it is IFB preachers. I could spend months talking about preachers who spiritually abused the churches — myself included. That’s what cults do.

Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

When Evangelicals Claim “The Bible Says,” This is What They Mean

bible has all the answers

One of the most common statements made by Evangelicals is this: The Bible Says . . . Evangelicals believe the Bible is the inerrant, infallible Word of God, meant to be read and interpreted literally. It means what it says and says what it means. If these claims are true, why do Evangelicals have such varied beliefs, even on the basics such as salvation, baptism, membership, and communion? How do we determine which sect is right? If the destiny of our eternal soul rests on us believing the right things, shouldn’t Christians speak with one mind on the core doctrines of Christianity?

The confusion of beliefs is a sign that Christianity is a human construct. The Bible doesn’t say anything. It is a book of words that must be read, interpreted, and explained. When I say, “The Bible Says . . .” it should be understood that I’m speaking from my past theological training, experiences, and interpretations. In other words, the Bible says what Bruce says it does. This is true for EVERY Christian. If there’s one thing I have learned about the Bible, it is this: It can be used to prove almost anything. Put a Calvinist, Arminian, Campbellite, Independent Baptist, Apostolic, Charismatic, Pentecostal, and Episcopalian in a room and ask them fifty theological questions. What will you get? Countless interpretations and explanations, each believing they are right. They all can’t be right, so how do we determine which sect/church preaches the True Christianity?

Sadly, many Evangelicals believe that their understanding of the Bible = God says. How can they possibly know this? They will authoritatively claim that the words of the Bible are God’s words, and when they speak the words of the Good Book, they are speaking God’s words. That’s why I have had countless Christians tell me when I object to something they said, “God said it, I didn’t.” Oh, the arrogance behind such a claim. I know of no way that someone can infallibly know that what they are reading or saying is the words of God. Humans wrote the Bible, and for 2,000 years now, Christians have been interpreting and reinterpreting the Bible. Every generation of believers shapes, molds, and interprets the Bible based on their personal opinions, beliefs, and worldviews. Even with intractable sects such as the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist church movement, beliefs and practices change over time. How they define “old-fashioned” is very different today from what it was sixty years ago. As an IFB teen in the 1960s and 1970s, my pastors declared that “Godly” men didn’t have facial hair or long hair. Today, it is common to see IFB men with beards and long hair. The same goes for dress standards. Women wearing pants was verboten years ago. Today, it is not uncommon to see Baptist women wearing slacks.

Change is inevitable, even among groups who think that Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forever. A few years back, my partner’s IFB uncle, Jim Dennis, died after pastoring the Newark Baptist Temple for fifty years. Polly’s parents attended the church for decades. Polly’s mom told me that she was proud of the fact that Jim believed the same things he did when he died as he did when he was a young preacher. In her mind, Jim was a pillar of sound doctrine and practice; a man who was steadfast in his beliefs and behavior. This, of course. was patently untrue. I can point to numerous beliefs and practices that Jim changed his mind about over the years.

I would argue that changing our beliefs is essential to personal growth. If my life story is anything, it is a testimony to the power and importance of change. As a Christian, my beliefs changed a lot. When I came to a new or different understanding of the Bible, I was unafraid to share it. This, of course, led to me being called a liberal or an apostate. All I knew to do was to honestly align my life with my changed beliefs. And I don’t live differently today. How about you? Have your beliefs and practices changed over the years? Do you have Christian friends who pride themselves on not changing their beliefs? Please share your experiences in the comment section.

Let me conclude this post with a short video by Dr. Dan McClellan on the subject, “No, the Bible Doesn’t Say So.”

Video Link

Dan has a new book coming out, The Bible Says So: What We Get Right (and Wrong) about Scripture’s Most Controversial Subjects. Dan does an awesome job tackling many of the claims Evangelicals make about the Bible.

Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Is God the Author of Confusion?

man wearing blue dress
Photo by Luis Quintero on Pexels.com

For God is not the author of confusion, but of peace, as in all churches of the saints. (1 Corinthians 14:33)

Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! (Psalm 133:1)

Endeavouring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body, and one Spirit, even as ye are called in one hope of your calling; (Ephesians 4:3-4)

These verses clearly teach that God expects his body (the church) to dwell together in peace and unity. If there is confusion (disorder, instability), God is not its author. In other words, if you see disorder in a church, its members are to blame, not God.

According to the Bible, the Holy Spirit lives inside every believer. He is their teacher and guide. Further, the Bible says that followers of Jesus have the mind of Christ. If these verses are true, what are we to make of all the confusion, disorder, conflict, and instability we see in churches? Sure, I know more than a few Christians who are good examples of what it means to be a follower of Christ. But, I also know more than a few Christians who are nasty, mean, hateful sons of bitches. I’ve watched church business meetings turn into shouting matches, and countless people leave churches in a huff, all because they couldn’t get their way or their preacher believed something they felt was wrong.

As an Evangelical pastor, did I experience peace and contentment? Did the churches I pastored have long periods when peace, harmony, and joy were experienced by most congregants? Sure. On balance, I thoroughly enjoyed being a pastor. Church services were enriching and fulfilling. That said, there were times when the ministry was burdensome due to church turmoil and conflict. Most of the disharmony was needless, the result of selfish people wanting their way. On occasion, meaningful disagreements cropped up, but typically the church conflict I experienced was, to put it bluntly, stupid; little more than childish disagreements over minor points of doctrine or decisions I made.

The last church I pastored was a small Southern Baptist congregation in Clare, Michigan. When I candidated, I warned the church that I had no stomach for church conflict. I had reached a point in my ministry where I just wanted to preach and teach the Bible and help people in need. Six months in, conflict arose. Ugly stuff, to say the least, yet the church was shocked when I resigned. Did I not warn them that I had no interest in dealing with the petty bullshit that plagues most churches.

I don’t expect churches to be perfect. However, I do expect them to practice what they preach. According to one source, there are over 40,000 Christian denominations — each with their own beliefs. How does this square with the Bible claim that there is “One Lord, One Faith, and One Baptism?” Simple, Bruce, my church/denomination is right. We represent True Christianity! All those other churches/denominations are false. This, of course, is just another version of No True Scotsman. Besides, if you pay attention to True Christian churches, you will see lots of internecine conflict.

If confusion, disunity, and disagreement are common among followers of Jesus, what should unbelievers think about Christianity? Is Christianity some sort of grand ideal, or is it transformational? It seems, at least to me, that the former is true. And if faith in Christ doesn’t transform lives, what good is it? Is the goal passing a test on doctrinal beliefs and praying the right prayer, or is the objective to love God and love your fellow man? James himself said, Faith without works is dead. Jesus said in Matthew 25 that true belief will be judged by how they treat the least of these in our society.

I am convinced that the central claims of Christianity are false. Since it is unlikely that anything will be forthcoming that will change my mind, I doubt I will ever become a Christian again. That ship has sailed. Currently, I have a low opinion of Christianity — especially Evangelicals. If Christians truly practiced what they preached, I might, at the very least, admire the religion. But as long as tens of millions of American Evangelicals continue to support Donald Trump and his draconian policies that harm undocumented workers, working-class people, and the poor, I see nothing to admire. As long as I hear Christians demean and degrade the “least of these” and support genocide, racism, xenophobia, and bigotry, I want nothing to do with their religion.

All of us should practice what we preach. I admit that all of us fall short and should do better. What bothers me about many Evangelicals is that they see their hatred, genocide, racism, xenophobia, and bigotry as a badge of honor. Consider that people such as Dr. David Tee, Revival Fires, John, and a cast of hundreds think they are good Christians, even though they behave in ways contrary to the teachings of the Bible.

Are you an unbeliever? Does Christian behavior affect how you view Christianity? Please share your thoughts in the comment section.

Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Dear Jesus

jesus
Painting by Jessie Kohn

Updated and corrected, March 5, 2025

Dear Jesus,

I’m almost sixty-eight years old, and there has never been a moment when you were not in my life.

Mom and Dad talked about you before I was born, deciding to have me baptized by an Episcopal priest. They wanted me to grow up with good morals and love you, so they decided putting water on my forehead and having a priest recite religious words over me was the way to ensure my moral Christian future.

A few weeks after my birth, Mom and Dad gathered with family members to have me baptized at the Episcopal Church in Bryan, Ohio. I was later told it was quite an affair, but I don’t remember anything about the day. Years later, I found my baptismal certificate. Signed by the priest, it declared I was a Christian.

Jesus, how could I have been a Christian at age four weeks? How did putting water on my head make me a follower of you? I don’t understand, but according to the certificate, I was now part of my tribe’s religion: Protestant Christianity.

I turned five in 1962. Mom and Dad decided to move 2,300 miles to San Diego, California, believing that success and prosperity awaited them.

After getting settled, Mom and Dad said we need to find a new church to attend. Their shopping took them to a growing Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) congregation, Scott Memorial Baptist Church, pastored by Tim LaHaye. It was here that I learned that my tribe had a new religion: Fundamentalist Baptist Christianity.

I quickly learned that our previous religion worshiped a false God, and my baptism didn’t make me a Christian at all. If I wanted to be a True Christian®, I had to come forward to the front of the church, kneel at the altar, and pray a certain prayer. If I did these things, I would then be a Christian — forever. And so I did. This sure pleased Mom and Dad.

Later, I was baptized again, but the preacher didn’t sprinkle water on my forehead. That would not do, I was told. True Baptism® required me to be submerged in a tank of water. And so, one Sunday, I joined a line of people waiting to be baptized. I was excited, yet scared. Soon, it came time for me to be dunked. The preacher put his left hand behind my head and raised his right hand towards Heaven. He asked, “Bruce, do you confess before God and man that Jesus Christ is your Lord and Savior?” With a halting child’s voice, I replied, “Yes.” And with that, the preacher, with a hanky in his right hand, put his hand over my nose, dunked me in the water, and quickly lifted me up. I heard both the preacher and the congregation say, “Amen!”

Jesus, the Bible says that the angels in Heaven rejoice when a sinner gets saved. Do you remember the day I got saved? Do you remember hearing the angels in Heaven say, “Praise be to the Lamb that was slain! Bruce Gerencser is now a child of God. Glory be, another soul snatched from the hands of Satan?”

After a few years in California, Mom and Dad discovered that there was no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and our family was just as poor in the Golden State as they were in the dreary flat lands of rural northwest Ohio. And so we moved, a process that happened over and over to me throughout the next decade — eight different schools.

As I became more aware and observant of my environment, I noticed that Mom and Dad had changed. Mom, in particular, was quite animated and agitated over American social unrest caused by hippies, niggers (a word routinely used by my parents), and the war in Vietnam against the evil forces of communism. Mom and Dad took us to a new church, First Baptist Church in Bryan, Ohio — an IFB church pastored by Jack Bennett. We attended church twice on Sunday and Wednesday evening.

I attended Bryan schools for two years. Not long after I started fourth grade, Mom and Dad decided it was time to move yet again. This time, we moved to a brand-new tri-level home on Route 30 outside of Lima, Ohio. It was there that I started playing basketball and baseball — sports I would continue to play competitively for the next twenty or so years. It was also there that I began to see that something was very wrong with Mom. At the time, I didn’t understand what was going on with her. All I knew is that she could be “Mom” one day and a raging lunatic the next.

I was told by my pastors, Jesus, that you know and see everything. Just in case you were busy one day and missed what went on or were on vacation, let me share a few stories about what happened while we lived in Lima.

One night, Mom was upstairs, and I heard her screaming. I mean SCREAMING! She was having one of her “fits.” I decided to see if there was anything I could do to help her — that’s what the oldest child does. As I walked towards Mom’s bedroom, I saw her grabbing shoes and other things and violently throwing them down the hallway. This was the first time I remember being afraid . . .

One day, I got off the school bus and quickly ran down the gravel drive to our home. I always had to be the first one in the door. As I walked into the kitchen, I noticed that Mom was lying on the floor unconscious in a pool of blood. She had slit her wrists. I quickly ran to the next-door neighbor’s house and asked her to help. She summoned an ambulance, and Mom’s life was saved.

Mom would try again, and again to kill herself: slitting her wrists, overdosing on prescription medication, driving in front of a truck. At the age of fifty-four, she succeeded. One Sunday morning, Mom went into the bathroom, pointed a Ruger .357 at her heart, and pulled the trigger. She quickly slumped to the floor and was dead in minutes. Yet, she never stopped believing in you, Jesus. No matter what happened, Mom held on to her tribe’s God.

Halfway through my fifth-grade year, Mom and Dad moved to Farmer, Ohio. I attended Farmer Elementary School for the fifth and sixth grades. One day, I was home from school sick, and Mom’s brother-in-law stopped by. He didn’t know I was in my bedroom. After he left, Mom came to my room crying, saying, “I have been raped. I need you to call the police.” I was twelve. We didn’t have a phone, so I ran to the neighbor’s house to call the police, but my Christian neighbor wouldn’t let me use her phone.. There would be no call to the police on this day. Do you remember this day, Jesus? Where were you? I thought you were all-powerful? Why didn’t you do anything?

From Farmer, we moved to  Deshler, Ohio for my seventh-grade year of school. Then Mom and Dad moved us to Findlay, Ohio. By then, my parent’s fifteen year marriage was in shambles. Dad never seemed to be home, and Mom continued to have wild, manic mood swings. Shortly before the end of ninth grade, Dad matter-of-factly informed me that they were getting a divorce. “We don’t love each other anymore,” Dad said. And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me to wallow in my pain. That’s how Dad always treated me. I can’t remember a time when he embraced me or said, “I love you.” I would learn years later that “Dad” was not my biological father; that my real father was a truck driver Mom met at age seventeen while working at The Hub — a local truck stop. I wonder, Jesus, was this why he kept me at arm’s length emotionally?

After moving to Findlay, Mom and Dad joined Trinity Baptist Church — a fast-growing IFB congregation pastored by Gene Millioni. After Mom and Dad divorced, they stopped attending church. Both of them quickly remarried. Dad married a nineteen-year-old girl with a baby, and Mom married her first cousin — a recent Texas prison parolee. So much upheaval and turmoil, Jesus. Where were you when all of this was going on? I know, I know, you were there in spirit, but you had more important things to do than loving and caring for a vulnerable, hurting teenager.

Mom and Dad may have stopped going to church, but I didn’t. By then, I had a lot of friends and started dating, so there was no way I would miss church. Besides, attending church got me away from home, a place where Dad’s new and improved wife made it clear I wasn’t welcome.

One fall weeknight, I sat in church with my friends listening to Evangelist Al Lacy. I was fifteen. As is the custom in IFB churches, Lacy prayed at the end of his sermon, asking, “with every head bowed, and every eye closed, is there anyone here who is not saved and would like me to pray for them?” I had been feeling under “conviction” during the sermon. I thought, “maybe I’m not saved?” So, I raised my hand. Lacy prayed for those of us who had raised our hands and then had everyone stand. As the congregation sang Just as I am, Lacy said, “if you raised your hand, I want you to step out of your seat and come to the altar. Someone will meet you there and show you how you can know Jesus as your Lord and Savior.” Much to the surprise of my friends, I haltingly stepped out from my seat and walked to the front. I was met by Ray Salisbury — a church deacon. Ray had me kneel as he took me through a set of Bible verses called the Roman’s Road. After quizzing me on what I had read, Ray asked me if I wanted to be saved. I said, “yes,” and then Ray said, “pray this prayer after me: Dear Lord Jesus, I know I am a sinner, and I know you died on the cross for my sins. Right now, I ask you to forgive me of my sins and come into my heart and save me. In Jesus’ name, Amen.” After I prayed the prayer, Ray said, “AMEN!” “Did you really believe what you prayed?” I replied, “yes.” “Then you are now a child of God, a born-again Christian.”

The next Sunday, I was baptized, and the Sunday after that, I went forward again, letting the church know that you, Jesus, were calling me to preach. I was all in after that. For the next thirty-five years, Jesus, I lived and breathed you. You were my life, the sum of my existence.

At the age of nineteen, I enrolled in classes at Midwestern Baptist College in Pontiac, Michigan. It was here I received training to become a proper IFB pastor, and it was here I met the love of my life, a beautiful dark-haired preacher’s daughter named Polly. We married during the summer between our sophomore and junior years. We were so excited about our new life, thrilled to be preparing to work in God’s vineyard. We planned to graduate, go to a small community to start a new IFB church, buy a white two-story house with a white picket fence, and have two children: Jason and Bethany, and live happily ever after. However, Jesus, you had different plans for us. Do you remember what happened to us? Surely you do, right? Friends and teachers told us that you were testing us! Polly was six months pregnant by early spring, and I was laid off from my machine shop job. We were destitute, yet, the college dean told us, “Jesus wants you to trust him and stay in college.” No offer of financial help was forthcoming, and we finally had to move out of our apartment. With my tail between my legs, I packed up our meager belongings and returned to Bryan, Ohio. I had failed your test, Jesus. I still remember what one of my friends told me, “If you leave now, God will NEVER use you!”

What did he know? After moving, I quickly secured secular employment at ARO and began working at a local IFB church. For the next twenty-five years, I pastored Evangelical churches in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Jesus, you were my constant companion, my lover, friend, and confidante. I sure loved you, and I believed you loved me too. We were BFFs, right?  Sometimes, I wondered if you really loved me as much as I loved you. Our love affair was virtual in nature. We never met face-to-face, but I believed in my heart of hearts you were the very reason for my existence. When I doubted this, I attributed my doubts to Satan or me not praying hard enough or reading the Bible enough. I never thought for one moment, Jesus, that you might be a figment of my imagination, a lie taught to me by my parents and pastors. I was a true believer. That is, until I wasn’t.

At age fifty, I finally realized, Jesus, that you were a myth, the main character of a 2,000-year-old fictional story. I concluded that all those times when I wondered where you were, were in fact, true. I couldn’t find you because you were dead. You had died almost 2,000 years before. The Bible told me about your death, but I believed that you were resurrected from the dead. I feel so silly now. Dead people don’t come back to life. Your resurrection from the dead was just a campfire story, and I had foolishly believed it. I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on myself. Everyone I knew believed the same story. All of us believed that the miracles attributed to you, Jesus, really happened; that you were a virgin-born God-man; that you ascended to Heaven to prepare a mansion for us to live in after we die.

It all seems so silly now, Jesus, but I really did believe in you. Fifty years, Jesus. The prime of my life, I gave to you, only to find out that you were a lie. Yet, here I am today, and you are still “with” me. My parents, pastors, and professors did a good job of indoctrinating me. You are very much “real” to me, even though you lie buried somewhere on a Judean hillside. Try as I might, I can’t get you out of my mind. I have come to accept that you will never leave me.

You should know, Jesus — well, you can’t know, you are dead — that I spend my days helping people get away from you. What did you say, Jesus? I can’t hear you. I can hear the voices of Christians condemning me as a heretic, blasphemer, tool of Satan, and hater of God. I can hear them praying for my death or threatening me with eternal damnation in the Lake of Fire. Their voices are loud and clear, but your voice, Jesus? Silence.

Always silent, Jesus. Why is that?

If you ever want to talk to me, you know where I live. Show up at my door, Jesus, and that will be a miracle I can believe in. Better yet, if you can help the Cincinnati Bengals win the Super Bowl, that would be awesome!

If you can’t help my football team win a few games, Jesus, what good are you? It’s not like I am asking you to feed the hungry, heal the sick, or put an end to violence and war. That would require you to give a shit, Jesus, and if there’s one thing I have learned over the past sixty-eight years, it is this: you don’t give a shit about what happens on earth. We, humans, are on our own, and that’s fine with me.

A Sinner Saved by Reason,

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Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

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