The Life and Times of Bruce Gerencser

Tag: Independent Fundamentalist Baptist

  • Should We Expect Evangelicals to Read and Know the Bible?

    Seven months after my partner and I married, we left Midwestern Baptist College in Pontiac, Michigan, and returned to my birthplace, Bryan, Ohio. By then, Polly was six months pregnant.

    We immediately found a church to attend: Montpelier Baptist Church. Not long after we joined the church, Pastor Jay Stuckey asked me to be his unpaid assistant; to primarily work with and expand the church’s languishing bus ministry. On Easter that year, we brought eighty-eight riders to church, and soon added a second bus.

    Montpelier Baptist was a typical Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church. A growing congregation that reached five hundred in attendance on our last Sunday there, the church was, by all accounts vibrant and exciting. It was, after all, the late 1970s; a time when IFB churches were rapidly growing and were some of the largest churches in the United States.

    Montpelier Baptist had a big advertising sign on Route 15 that stated the “essence” of the church: The Blood, The Book, and The Blessed Hope. The book was, of course, the King James Bible, which was considered inspired, inerrant, and infallible. You would think in such a setting that both the pastors and the congregants really believed the Bible and practiced its teachings. You would think Pastor Stuckey’s preaching was focused on teaching the whole counsel of God, from table of contents to concordance. You know, preaching THE BOOK.

    Both Pastor Stuckey and I were products of the time. Our sermons were topical or textual. In Pastor Stuckey’s case, most of his sermons focused on two subjects: salvation and prophecy. Again, this was typical of the time in IFB and Evangelical congregations. I heard countless sermons on the rapture, the tribulation, the millennium, and even out-there subjects such as the illuminati, the Rothschilds, and the mark of the beast. Exciting times, to be sure, especially for a congregation primarily aged forty years and under. From an overflowing nursery to packed pews, people came to hear Pastor Stuckey’s sermons. It’s too bad that congregants only heard sermons on topics or texts Pastor Stuckey deemed important. I’m not faulting the man as much as explaining the times. In 1979, I had never heard an expository sermon — not one. As a result, church members, no matter how long they attended a particular church, never heard sermons on all sixty-six books of the Bible. Unfortunately, this bred ignorance, producing members who loved THE BOOK, but didn’t know much of what it taught.

    Decades later, not much has changed. If anything, Bible ignorance is worse, an epidemic. Sermons focus on salvation and felt-needs, instead of competently and exhaustively teaching the Bible. Congregants are still “encouraged” to read and study the Bible, but I suspect most pastors have given up making this a reality. Today, the only Bible teaching many Evangelicals get is a thirty-minute sermon on Sunday, and maybe thirty minutes more at a group or weeknight Bible study. These studies are typically shallow too, often using pre-published materials written by the latest, greatest Evangelical “star.”

    This is not to say that this is the case for every Evangelical church and pastor. I may disagree with what Evangelicals believe, but I do know of churches and pastors who consistently and faithfully teach the Bible. I can’t fault their devotion and commitment, even if I have big issues with their interpretations.

    In the mid-1980s, thanks to John MacArthur and the Puritan authors I was enamored with, I embraced Calvinism, abandoned preaching topical and textual sermons, and started preaching expositionally — verse by verse, chapter by chapter, book by book. No more pulling sermon titles and texts out of a hat or preaching what God “laid upon my heart”. I let the text guide my preaching week by week. For example, over the course of a year or so I preached 120 sermons on the book of John. I turned my focus from hyper-evangelism to being the best preacher and expositor I could be. I felt I owed congregants a well-crafted sermon that taught them the Word of God and inspired them to do good works — without which faith is dead,

    Were my congregants Biblically smarter than the average Evangelical? Some were, to be sure, but many members treated me as their sole source of Bible knowledge. That’s one of the reasons I thought it important to teach church members all of the Bible. Instead of haranguing people for not reading and studying the Bible, I decided to meet them where they were. Way too many preachers are more concerned about where they want people to be than where they are. When I finally learned this, it transformed the way I looked at people who called me “Preacher.”

    Evangelicals claim to love the Bible, but for most of them, it’s a shallow, superficial love. (Why that is beyond the scope of this post.) When quizzed about their beliefs, you quickly learn their knowledge is a mile long and an inch deep. And sadly, many preachers aren’t much better. Worse, you have those who think they know the Bible, but, in fact, all they know is what they’ve heard or read in books by Evangelical authors. The goal is maintaining fidelity to certain doctrines and practices — the faith once delivered to the saints, as interpreted by the pastor. Dare to challenge their assumptions and you’ll be labeled a liberal and an apostate.

    Just because Evangelicals “say” they know the Bible doesn’t mean they do. Remember that when you engage in discussions with Evangelicals. Take the long road and be patient with them. Resist the temptation to insult them; that is, unless your goal is to be an ass. I try to treat conversations like I would chatting with a friend on a Friday night at the pub. Always live to drink another day.

  • Bruce, the Teenage Bible Thumper

    bruce gerencser 1971
    Bruce Gerencser, Ninth Grade, 1971

    I attended Central Junior High and Findlay High School, both in Findlay, Ohio from 1970-1974, with brief excursions away from FHS in the spring of my sophomore year (Rincon High School, Tucson, Arizona) and the fall of my junior year (Riverdale High School, Mt. Blanchard, Ohio). All told, I attended Findlay city schools for three and one-half years — my longest enrollment in any school district.

    After attending Calvary Baptist Church for several months, our family decided to attend Trinity Baptist Church, then located on Trenton Ave. Trinity was a fast-growing Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) pastored by Gene Milioni, a graduate of the inaugural class (1953) of Baptist Bible College in Springfield, Missouri. Ron Johnson served as the church’s assistant pastor, and Bruce Turner — who came on board several months after we started attending Trinity — was its youth pastor. (Please see Dear Bruce Turner.)

    As I reflect on the years I spent at FHS and Trinity Baptist, I see two Bruce Gerencsers, with a born-again experience separating the two. Before I became a Christian, I was an ornery, temperamental teen. While I attended church every time the doors were opened, my behavior, language, and dress reflected a young man who didn’t know the IFB Jesus. It was not uncommon for me to wear a white tee-shirt, frayed Levis, and combat boots to midweek prayer meeting — definitely not IFB approved dress. I wasn’t afraid of using expletives when with my church friends. One time, while attending a youth hayride at the home of Bob and Bonnie Bolander, Bob hollered at me for horsing around. I replied, fuck off. Needless to say, that didn’t go over well. I loved having fun and playing practical jokes, irritating those who expected better behavior from church teens. One Saturday, I was helping paint the walls in the church annex. Pastor Milioni stopped by to “admire” my work, I mean criticize my painting. I stood up, threw my roller in the paint pan, and told Milioni that he could do it himself if he didn’t like my painting. From these incidences and others, my pastors and other church adults concluded that I was an angry, temperamental teenager. It was evident, to them, that I needed Jesus.

    In the spring of 1972, after fourteen years of marriage, my parents divorced. Several months later, my mother married her first cousin, a recent parolee from the Texas prison system, and my father married a nineteen-year-old girl with a baby. My parent’s divorce and remarriages upended my life. Making matters worse, Pastor Milioni performed the wedding ceremony for my father and his teenage bride. Both of my parents, along with my two siblings, stopped attending church. I, however, continued to attend church every time the doors were open. Trinity provided me a stable family of sorts. Most of my friends attended the church.

    In June of 1972, I celebrated my fifteenth birthday. In September of ’72, I had a life-changing experience. Evangelist Al Lacy held a meeting that fall at Trinity. I attended every night of the week-long revival. One night, as I sat in one of the left side pews with my friends, I came under conviction. At that moment, I knew I was a sinner, and I knew I needed to be saved. So when the time came for the invitation, I stepped out of my pew and went forward. I was met at the church altar by Ray Salisbury, one of the church’s deacons. I told Ray why I had come forward. He led me through what is commonly called in IFB churches the Romans Road, and then I prayed the sinner’s prayer, asking Jesus to forgive me of my sins and come into my heart to save me. At that very moment, I was a changed man. The next Sunday, I was baptized, and several weeks later, I stood before the church and declared that I believed God was calling me to preach. It was not long after that I preached my first sermon.

    The changes in my life BC (Before Christ) and AC (After Christ) were instantaneous and dramatic. I started reading my Bible and praying every day. I started dressing up for church, and I no longer used swear words. Every aspect of my life was transformed. I was an on-fire, born-again Christian.

    I want to illustrate this transformation with several stories. As you shall see, “Jesus” had transformed my life.

    I started carrying my Bible to school every day. I also tried to evangelize my classmates, inviting them to attend church with me. Overnight, I became an insufferable Fundamentalist. I remember writing a paper for one of my classes about Baptists being the true church. I got an A on the paper. My teacher wrote the word “interesting” at the top of my paper and underlined it. I suspect she defined “interesting” differently from the way I did. I would give the correct answers on tests in my biology class and then write the “Biblical” answers below. I do not doubt that I irritated the hell out of my teacher.

    I took seriously the interpretations of the Bible preached by my pastors. I was all in. Wanting to be morally pure, I made a list of dating rules for myself. My goal was to remain a virgin until my wedding day. My dad found my dating rules on top of the refrigerator, read them, and then laughed at me. Sure, my rules were funny (and delusional) but him laughing at me only caused me to hate him more.

    I loved listening to preaching. In the fall of 1972 or 1973, Trinity hosted the monthly meeting of the Ohio Baptist Bible Fellowship. I skipped school that day so I could hear the big-name IFB preachers preach. I was enamored by these men of God, thinking I would one day be just like them.

    I also learned at this meeting that preachers could be hypocrites. After one of the preaching sessions, I was standing outside with Pastor Turner and several other preachers. I hung on every word these pastors said. I looked up to them. One of these preachers told a joke about lust. He told us that lust was looking at a woman, turning away, and turning back to look again. And then he said, “just make sure your first look is a long one!” Everyone laughed, but as a devout, committed IFB Christian, I was troubled by his “joke.” For the first time, I learned that what preachers said from the pulpit they didn’t necessarily believe. I knew that I didn’t want to be like that pastor.

    Bruce, the teenage Bible thumper went on to become Bruce, the IFB college student, and Bruce, the pastor. I preached my first sermon at Trinity in the fall of 1972. Thirty-three years and 4,000+ sermons later, I preached my last sermon (at Hedgesville Baptist Church in Hedgesville, West Virginia).

  • Short Stories: Midwestern Baptist College — The 1978 Yearbook Incident

    midwestern baptist college freshman 1976
    1976-1977 Midwestern Baptist College freshman class. Polly is in the first row, the first person on the left. Bruce is in the third row, the eighth person from the left.

    From 1976-79, my wife and I attended Midwestern Baptist College (IFB) in Pontiac, Michigan. Midwestern, an unaccredited Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) institution, was established in 1954 by the famous IFB pulpiteer Dr. Tom Malone. More than sixty years later, the college campus has been sold and commercially redeveloped, Tom Malone is dead, and the church he once pastored, Emmanuel Baptist Church, is shuttered, with weeds growing around the buildings and through the cracks in the parking lots.

    In the spring of our sophomore year, Malone gathered the student body in the chapel so he could “talk” to them. Students were told to bring the recently released 1978 yearbook with them. As the students settled into their seats, Malone stood up and came to the pulpit. It was clear that he was quite upset about something. We quickly learned that Malone was livid about three of the yearbook pictures. Mike Veach, currently the pastor of First Bible Church, a Fundamentalist church in Staten Island, New York, shot the photographs. Mike was (is) an excellent photographer. A few months after what students would later call “The Yearbook Incident,” Polly and I went to nearby Cranbrook Gardens so Mike could take pictures of us. We still have these pictures, reminders of the youngsters we once were some fifty years ago.

    What was so offensive about these photographs that a noted IFB pastor and college chancellor would deem it necessary to talk to the entire student body about them? See for yourself.

    1978 midwestern baptist college yearbook

    Photograph number one was taken during Founder’s Day. Always held on the Friday after Thanksgiving (students were not allowed to go home for Thanksgiving), Founder’s Day was a day set aside for showing off the college to prospective Fundamentalist high school students. Part of the day’s events included a singing talent show. This picture is of a group from a nearby IFB church.

    1978 midwestern baptist college yearbook

    Photograph number two is a picture of Julian Lyons, Emmanuel Baptist Church’s bus pastor. Lyons and I did not get along. He considered me a slacker because I didn’t want to work in the bus ministry after my freshman year. (All students were required to work in the bus ministry their freshman year.) I considered Lyons a racist because he stopped running the buses in Detroit. (The overwhelming majority of the kids from Detroit were poor and black.) One day, as I was exiting the school building, he and I ran into each other and had words, each telling the other what we thought about them. We never spoke again. I was surprised that I did not get expelled from school for what was surely viewed as insubordination.

    1978 midwestern baptist college yearbook

    Photograph number three was shot during one of the chapel services. Pay close attention to the student in the middle of the picture.

    I am sure you are scratching your head right now, trying to figure out what is wrong with these pictures. Can’t you see it? Look closely. Put on your IFB alternate reality glasses®. Still nothing?

    In the first picture, the boys (not Midwestern students) have long hair, and in the second picture, it looks like Lyons’ hair is over his collar. Midwestern had/has a strict policy against men having long hair. Male students were required to keep their hair short, with the college even going so far as to legislate that the back of men’s hair had to be tapered and not block cut. Hair on the collar, ears, or long bangs were forbidden. Men caught breaking the hair rule received demerits and were ordered to get a haircut immediately.

    And the third photograph? The student “looks” like he has bushy, long hair on the back of his head. What he really had was the student’s hair in front of him, that student being my future wife, Polly. As photographers know, perspective and angles can do strange things to photographs. Sadly, Malone was only concerned with the “appearance of evil” (I Thessalonians 5:22).

    Malone was furious over these photos, so much so that he took one of the yearbooks and tore it in two right in front of the student body. What a man, right? Hercules, himself. He then ordered the yearbooks collected. They were later returned, but not before the offending photographs had been marked-out with black, permanent ink felt markers.

    So why do I have an unaltered copy of the yearbook? I refused to turn my yearbook in to prison authorities. Even then, as Fundamentalist as I was, I knew that Malone was acting like a crazed wild man over these photographs. It made no sense to me to mar the yearbook that I paid for just because three of the pictures showed men “allegedly” with long hair. If Malone was serious about giving “sins” the black permanent marker of death, why not mark out:

    • The photographs of the man who was having an affair with the wife of the dean of men
    • The photographs of the gay teacher who lived in the dorm
    • The photographs of dorm students who committed fornication

    These “sins” were well known by students, yet they were pushed into the deep recesses of the Midwestern closet. Instead, very ‘70s-looking hair became the target of Malone’s “righteous” indignation and wrath.

    I know this story sounds bat-shit crazy to some readers, but this is an excellent example of the Fundamentalism I was raised in and a part of for many years. To this day, there are IFB pastors and churches who preach against the “sin of men having long hair.” A man with long hair is considered rebellious and effeminate. If you have not read my post, Is it a Sin to Have Long Hair? please do so. I think it will help you understand the kind of thinking that goes into someone concluding that men having long hair is a mortal sin, one worthy of anger and rage from Tom Malone.

  • The Good and Bad of Midwestern Baptist College in Pontiac, Michigan

    polly shope bruce gerencser 1977
    Polly Shope and Bruce Gerencser, February 1977, Midwestern Baptist College Sweetheart Banquet

    Several years ago, a man named Steven Tassell left the following comment:

    I attended Midwestern from 1973-1979

    I had my problems however I’m not trying to destroy anyone. If you had a problem with sex at school that was on you. I was a chaplin [sic] for USAF, taught school at Fort Knox and I’m a pastor with my Doctorate in counseling. So instead of telling the bad because any school has that tell the good.

    Polly and I attended Midwestern Baptist College from 1976-1979. Polly’s father attended the college from 1972-1976, and her uncle James Dennis, attended Midwestern in the 1960s. None of us knows a Steven Tassell. Now, that doesn’t mean he didn’t attend Midwestern. There were a number of married students who attended the college that neither Polly or I personally knew. We were dorm students for two years, marrying during the summer between our sophomore and junior years.

    I attempted a cursory search on Tassell’s name. That returned very little information other than Tassell is the pastor of New Hope Baptist Church in South Pekin, Illinois. I am uncertain as to why Tassell felt the need to recite his “important” work history, especially since it bears no relevance to the post he commented on. Tassell says he had a “Doctorate” in counseling — a D.Min, not a typical PhD. As readers know, most Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) preachers sporting doctorates either “earned” them at unaccredited schools or through online classes, or were given an honorary degree. (Please see IFB Doctorates: Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Everyone’s a Doctor) Polly’s uncle had an honorary doctorate from Midwestern, a reward for supporting the college and Tom Malone. I have no idea if Tassell’s doctorate was earned at an accredited institution. My gut tells me no.

    Now, to Tassell’s comment. In classic passive-aggressive fashion, Tassell stated, “I had my problems, however I’m not trying to destroy anyone.” He, too, had “problems” while attending Midwestern, but unlike Bruce, the atheist, he’s not trying to destroy anyone. I find it interesting that, according to Tassell, by telling my story and sharing my experiences as a student at Midwestern, I am trying to destroy people. Tassell suggests that I not speak of the bad things that happened at Midwestern and only speak of the good that I saw and experienced. That I refuse to only tell half the story makes me, in Tassell’s eyes, a bad person. How dare I speak poorly of the college, Dr. Tom Malone, my professors, or my fellow students. Just tell GOOD stories, Bruce! Sorry, but I can’t do that. I decided twenty years ago to be an honest, open, transparent storyteller. If that meant casting a bad light of myself and others, so be it. How can readers ever understand my experiences at Midwestern if I only tell them the good stuff? Honesty demands telling the truth, as best I remember it.

    I have many fond memories of the three years I spent at Midwestern. Dorm life, even at an IFB college, was a blast!  I will never forget the fun, crazy times I shared with my fellow dorm students. Three weeks after moving into the dorm, I asked a preacher’s daughter named Polly if she wanted to go out on a date with me. She said yes, and fifty years later, we are still going on dates, loving one another’s company, and roundly irritating the Hell out of each other. Ah, marital bliss.

    I could spend hours sharing stories about the good times I experienced at Midwestern. Doing so, of course, would make Tassell happy. Just focus on the positive. Unfortunately, the bad experiences left an indelible impression on my life and that of my partner. For the first time, we saw the ugly, nasty, judgmental underbelly of the IFB church movement. Should I ignore the gay teacher who groomed younger male dorm students? Should I ignore the affair between the wife of the dean of men and a teacher? Should I ignore the rampant illicit sexual activity by dorm students; people who are now pompous, arrogant moralizers? Should I ignore the oppressive rules and repressive disciplinary system? Should I ignore the weak academics and unqualified teachers? Should I ignore the teacher who taught an IFB form of eugenics? Should I ignore the racism of one of the church’s pastors? (All dorm students had to attend nearby Emmanuel Baptist Church, pastored by Tom Malone.) Should I ignore the fact that Tom’s Malone’s wife and children violated the rules the rest of us were expected to obey, under threat of expulsion? Should I ignore being forced to quit a well-paying job, all because the business owner and Tom Malone had a falling out? Should I ignore . . .  You see, it takes the good and the bad to tell a complete story. And as long as I continue to tell my story, I intend to look at the entire structure, and not just the facade that gives readers a false picture of my life, Midwestern Baptist College, and the IFB church movement. That’s the prerogative of the storyteller.

    (Please see other posts about Midwestern Baptist College)

    Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 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.

    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.

  • Local Man, Dan Gray, Continues to Slander Me

    Cartoon of Dan Gray, Defiance, Ohio

    Libel is writing what you know to be false, and which hurts a person’s good name or reputation. As I shall make clear, Dan Gray, a local Christian man, continues to make accusations about me that he knows are false. I successfully rebutted his claims years ago, yet Gray continues to spread harmful lies about me and my family.

    In 2020, a man named Michael Kitchens asked the following question in the Fighting for Faith Crew group on Facebook — six years ago. Here’s what he said:

    Has anyone here heard of ex-pastor-turned-avowed atheist Bruce Gerencser?

    No one answered this question for six years, and then, nine weeks ago, someone answered.

    Here’s the conversation so far:

    Joyce: Yes. But no sermons or video of his preaching available. Can anyone verify the 25 years evangelical part of his life? I just want a couple of sermons to review.

    Michael: Joyce Boyd Bruce has (or at least had) a website called “The Way Forward”. If it is no longer active, you might be able to find it via the Internet Wayback Machine. The site may have info on his evangelical years.

    Joyce: Michael Kitchens found nothing so far.

    Michael: Joyce Boyd Hmm okay. He probably wanted his info to be scrubbed. If that’s the case, I’m not sure why.

    Bruce: https:brucegerencser.net

    Bruce: Michael Kitchens, You can’t find anything about me on the internet? Lots of stuff, including media interviews I’ve done and stories I’ve appeared in.

    https://brucegerencser.net/media-interviews/

    Bruce Gerencser

    Daniel “Dan” Gray: Joyce Boyd no such person exists. The closest he ever got to the clergy is when he claimed to be a pastor when he got his fake license from an internet website called the Monastery. A place tha over 45 states refuse to recognize including Ohio.

    Bruce: Joyce Boyd,

    https://brucegerencser.net/2015/12/im-now-ordained-though-church-latter-day-dude/

    You know, you could ask me. I’m an open book.

    Bruce Gerencser

    Polly: Here’s his blog: https://brucegerencser.net

    I’m sure he will answer any questions you might have. I’ve known him for fifty years. We took this journey together.

    Dan Gray: Polly Gerencser a complete pile of horse crap. Why is it that no Baptist sect will claim him or admit he worked as a pastor? Why isn’t he listed on any state licensing registration list as is required by law? Why has he continually refusing to name even one church? Sounds like a major fantasy on his part.

    Bruce: Dan Gray, the only fantasy is in your head. All of this information is readily available on my website. Or, since I’m from Bryan, pastored local churches in West Unity and Alvordton, and lots of locals have heard me preach, I’m sure you can find plenty of people who know my back story. Further, I attended First Baptist Church in Bryan. I was attending there in 1976 when I went to Midwestern Baptist College in Pontiac, Michigan.

    I suppose my wife was lying too? Or maybe you could contact my older children, Jason or Nathan. They attended every church I pastored except the last one in Clare, Michigan. Or are they liars too?

    I have plenty of relatives and friends in this area who also know my backstory. I suppose they are all liars too?

    Not sure why you have this axe to grind with me, Dan. I don’t know you, yet you have repeated these lies for years. I value honesty, don’t you? So much so that I’ll give $100 to your favorite charity if you can find one error/mistake/lie of consequence about my storyline on my website. I’m confident you will find none. And when you come up empty, I hope you will return to this group and admit you are wrong. That would be the honorable thing to do.

    Bruce Gerencser

    Three years ago, Michael Kitchens asked this question:

    Has anyone here ever heard of ex-pastor-turned-atheist Bruce Gerencser? He had (and maybe still has) a website called “The Way Forward”. I happened across it while doing an Internet search several years ago. However, it seems that BG isn’t nearly as well known as say, Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, Bart Ehrman, Christopher Hitchens, Stephen Hawking, etc.

    Has he been disavowed by other atheists or something?

    Joni: He mainly points out the hypocrisy….
    Black collar crime!

    Polly: He’s still around. I just slept with him last night. 🤣🤣❤️❤️

    He’s a pretty open guy. Contact him, and I’m sure he will respond.

    Dan Gray: Never was a pastor and when you challenge him to prove it, he either refuses or just goes silent

    Never ends. Gray deliberately libels me. Why? What does he hope to gain? Isn’t lying a sin, one that, according to Revelation 21:8 lands you in the Lake of Fire?

    This is so silly, yet damaging at the same time. Worse, it really annoys me when people like him call Polly or our children liars. Of course, Gray does this to try and hurt me. He is a pettifogger extraordinaire, so I don’t expect him to confess the error of his way.

    More posts about Dan Gray:

    Three years ago, I wrote a post detailing the churches I pastored and what happened to them. You can read this post here.

  • Commenter says, “Bruce, You were No Good as a Pastor and You Hurt Our Family”


    Republished from 2017

    Some time ago, a man who says his name is Andrew Beltz left a troubling comment on the Why I Hate Jesus post. Beltz wrote:

    So Bruce admits he is a hater. O.K. He has legitimized hate.

    Now I can tell you Bruce that I hate you, you fat disgusting thing, because you were no good as a pastor and you hurt our family.

    Yes, Bruce, I remember.

    I immediately sent Beltz an email. Unfortunately, he used a fake email address, so my email to him bounced. Here’s what I wrote:

    Andrew,

    Before I post your comment, I would appreciate it if you would elaborate more on the claims made in your comment. I have no recollection of pastoring anyone with the last name Beltz. I see that you currently reside in the Goshen, Kentucky area. I have never lived in Kentucky. Perhaps you moved away from one of the areas I pastored. Which church were you a member of or at which church did you have a negative experience with me?

    Thank you for taking the time to respond.

    Bruce Gerencser

    Comments such as this always trouble me, and here’s why: I readily admit that my preaching, beliefs, and ministerial practices were harmful. When I have been able to talk with offended/hurt congregants privately, I have apologized to them for the harm I have caused. While I could justify myself by saying that I too was abused, and that I was simply a product of the religious environment I grew up in, I choose, instead, to own my behavior. I now know I hurt people. I didn’t at the time, but years of reflection have led me to conclude that I hurt my wife and children, along with the hundreds of people who once called me pastor or preacher. While I was a loving, helpful, kind, and compassionate pastor, I know that what I preached and what I modeled to congregants was psychologically harmful. And in some instances, patriarchal beliefs about child-rearing and family structure caused physical harm. That is what Fundamentalism does. It hurts the hurting, harms the harmless, and causes untold damage to people who sincerely buy into the lies. A lifetime of days is not enough for me to say I am sorry. There’s nothing I can do about the past other than speaking about it openly and honestly. In Beltz’s case, I will gladly talk with him if he wants to talk. I WANT to know about how I hurt people. I can’t make things right if I don’t know for sure what I did or who I hurt.

    Former congregants who have contacted me have been, so far, children who grew up in the churches I pastored. Now adults, they too are trying to come to terms with the past. In every instance, they accepted my apology and forgave me. They also told me that I was too hard on myself, that no one forced their parents to attend one of the churches I pastored. They willingly became members, believing as I did that God, the Holy Spirit, empowered my preaching. Many of them just wanted someone to tell them what to believe or how to live their lives, and, being a good Baptist pastor, I was quite willing to fill this need. After all, this is exactly what my pastors, churches, and college professors did for me, shaping me into a man who would then take their teachings and harm several more generations of people.

    While I find Beltz’s words hurtful, I bear them because I know how harmful my preaching, way of ministry, and demands for conformity were to people such as him. I don’t run or try to hide from my past. Anyone who wants to contact me can send me an email via the contact form. I respond to every email, though I can be somewhat slow in doing so. Health problems often keep me from being as timely as I would like to be, but I do answer every email sent to me.

    Now, Beltz may be just a troll. Several commenters over the years have said they knew me or were members of one of the churches I pastored, only to be exposed as liars. One man went so far as to say that my whole story was a lie, that he knew people who lived in several of the areas I pastored, and none of them knew who I was.  In Beltz’s case, I am, until I know otherwise, giving him the benefit of the doubt. I hope he will contact me using a valid email address. I sincerely want to, as much as lies within me, right past wrongs. I hope Andrew will give me a chance to do so.

    Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 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.

    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.

  • Did Dinosaurs Walk the Earth During Noah’s Time?

    Most Evangelicals are young earth creationists, though an increasing number of them are theistic evolutionists — God is the force, the mover behind evolution. Some Evangelicals are old earth creationists or day-age creationists. This allows them to distance themselves from crazy young earth creationists, even though their beliefs are just as nutty. Regardless of the belief, all of them believe the universe came into existence because “God did it.”

    According to Bishop James Ussher’s seventeenth century chronology, God created the universe in six twenty-hour days, 6,029 years ago. While other chronologies exist, Ussher’s seems to be the one that stuck with Evangelicals. Imprecise Evangelicals will say the universe is 6,000, 7,000, or 10,000 years old, but Ussher usually lurks in the shadows, even if few believers remember his name.

    I was a hardcore young earth creationist for most of my life. In the early 2000s, my beliefs bit by bit moved towards scientific consensus, and by the time I deconverted in 2008, I was no longer a creationist.

    As a young pastor, evolution was a favorite sermon target of mine, even though the only science training I had was general science and biology classes in high school, and a worthless biology class in college. I had no business talking about science in my sermons — much like preachers who pontificate about evolution today. “Evolution” is a buzzword used by Evangelical preachers to call the faithful to duty and commitment. “Them evil commies are coming for our kids with Satanic “evil-ution, ho-mo-sex-u-al-ity, rock and roll, Mary Jane, and premarital sex.” None of the church kids in youth group during the days when I heard such sermons became communists as adults. That other stuff? Most of us engage in them to some degree or the other, proof again that this sort of preaching never works (over the long term).

    One Sunday, I was preaching on the second coming of Jesus. He’s still late, decades later. During this fine piece of Baptist oratory, I brought up the hole in the ozone layer — a hot topic of discussion in the 1980s. I heartily laughed, as I thundered from the pulpit, “Who cares if there’s a hole in the ozone layer!” That’s just a bigger hole for Jesus to come through when he returns to earth.” Like that “deep” exegesis? 🤣 Yes, I’m embarrassed that I said dumb shit like that. I was in my 20s and 30s, lacking basic science training past middle school. My understanding of science wasn’t much different from that of my colleagues in the ministry, and most of the people I pastored had no science training beyond high school.

    In the 1970s forward, creationist “experts” traveled the land indoctrinating Evangelical church members in young earth creationism. (This is when Dr. Dino, Kent Hovind, got his start on the creationism circuit.) My first remembrance of a “creation conference” comes from 1979. At the time, I was the assistant pastor of Montpelier Baptist Church in rural northwest Ohio. Montpelier Baptist was a fast growing church, reaching 500 in attendance in October 1979. The church was filled with young adults excited to learn the truth about “science,” cults, and the end times. I still remember the buzz in the packed building when these subjects were addressed by Pastor Stuckey. We heard sermons on all the hot theological subjects and conspiracy theories. Good times? In the moment, yes. Think of being in the front row of a rock concert. Good time? In the moment, yes. However, morning follows night, and now you feel like you have been run over by a truck — twice. That’s how I feel about the 50 years I spent in Evangelicalism, especially the 25 years I devoted to the pastorate.

    The church brought in John Whitcomb to hold a creation conference. The building was filled with people as Whitcomb indoctrinated them in young earth creationism. Henry Morris’ and Whitcomb’s 1961 book, The Genesis Flood, was popular at the time. I owned the book, so I was familiar with his beliefs. I was excited to have an “expert” teach me the truth about science, creationism, Adam and Eve, and dinosaurs.

    These conferences turned ignorant preachers into science experts — in their own minds, anyway. If you have spent any time in Evangelical or Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) churches, you likely have heard sermons about science, evolution, and creationism. Maybe you even attended a creation conference or two. Did you ever question the qualifications of these “experts?” Probably not. Evangelicals tend to give too much respect and deference to men behind pulpits and lecterns. Few people bother to ask if the person speaking is qualified to teach on these subjects. Sadly, way too many “experts” are anything but. Going to an Evangelical preacher for your science knowledge is akin to thinking that eating a Big Mac at McDonald’s is fine dining. No one in their right mind would confuse McDonald’s with Ruth’s Chris Steak House. So it is with trusting Evangelical preachers to teach scientifically correct science. These preachers were indoctrinated just as their congregants were by them. Ignorance is multigenerational in Evangelical churches. It is not surprising that most church members are young earth creationists, and those who aren’t typically keep their mouths shut lest they be outed as “liberals.”

    In the early 80s, I attended a Bible conference at the Newark Baptist Temple in Heath, Ohio, pastored at the time by Polly’s uncle, James Dennis. I believe Jack Hyles was the headliner — uh I mean humble servant of God. 🤣 Afterward, I had a delightful discussion with the Glen West, the principal of the church’s Christian school. We jabbered back and forth before landing on dinosaurs. Both of us believed dinosaurs existed with humans on earth before Noah’s flood.

    Somewhere in the discussion, Henry Morris and John Whitcomb’s book came up. Both of us had read the book — two “intellectuals” discussing the finer points of science. I was pleased that Glen recognized my “scholarly” knowledge. It was nice to talk to someone on my level. Alas, this was little more than the blind leading the blind.

    I want to think Glen’s science knowledge increased over the past forty-five years, but he’s an Evangelical preacher, so I doubt it. Mine, on the other hand, has increased incrementally over years, though I will never be anything more than a rank novice.

    As a grandfather, I’m pleased to watch my older grandchildren choose STEM programs for their training at Ohio State University, Miami University, and Trine University respectively. Other grandkids coming behind them have STEM interests too.

    I can’t imagine — oh, I can, and I shudder to think — what kind of educations these kids would have received had our family remained Evangelicals and Grandpa was still a fire breathing Baptist preacher. Fortunately, the curse has been broken. Two of my granddaughters are taking college evolutionary biology this coming year. I relish the day when we can sit down at the pub and they can school Gramps on science. Maybe we can have a rousing discussion about endogenous retroviruses.🤣

  • Short Stories: The Bus — A Sign From God?

    Years ago, I pastored an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church in southeast Ohio. Nestled in the hills of the Appalachia mountain range, the church ministered primarily to the working poor. The eleven years I spent at Somerset Baptist were revelatory as I learned through on-the-job training to do the work of the ministry.

    I pastored all sorts of people. One such man was a transplant from a nearby IFB church. Greg was looking for a church that preached the perfect Word of God; a church that aggressively won souls for Christ. Recently married, Greg thought Somerset Baptist was a perfect fit for him and his new family.

    Greg died a couple of years ago. Prior to that, he and I had a back-and-forth interaction which culminated in me writing a post titled, Dear Greg.

    Greg and I spent a lot of time together, both socially and professionally. I genuinely enjoyed his company. We would play basketball outdoors and I would help him fix his car. A mechanic, Greg was not. One time, he accidentally drained the oil from his manual transmission, putting five extra quarts of oil in the motor. He then jumped in the car and drove to the church ten miles away to go soulwinning with me. Needless to say, his transmission and motor were smoking by the time he pulled into the church parking lot. Fortunately, Greg didn’t ruin the power train of his car. I helped him get the fluids where they belonged. We had a shared memory I never forgot. Funny, in retrospect, but a mistake that could have cost Greg thousands of dollars.

    Greg was one church member I could count on to show up for visitation or soulwinning. Greg also preached, taught Sunday School, and worked in the bus ministry. He and his family attended church every time the doors were open. (He eventually left because he found out I was a Calvinist — an unpardonable sin, in his mind.)

    While most people, including myself, thought Greg was eccentric, the real issue was undiagnosed obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD). This resulted in Greg having deep, dark psychological struggles. We would talk about these struggles, but I was not much help. I tried to support Greg and be his friend, but I knew nothing about OCD. Years later, I would understand much better after I was diagnosed with OCPD.

    Greg struggled with his OCD, wondering if God was punishing him or Satan was tempting him. Such thinking was common in IFB churches. Blame must be assigned, and I suspect deep down Greg blamed himself. Isn’t that what we were taught?

    Greg had a lot of upheaval in his life, from moving to job changes. I always tried to be there for him (and his dear wife), but I’m sure I could have done more if I had known and recognized the signs of OCD and tried to get Greg into therapy. Instead, I was adamantly against going outside of the church for help. God, the Bible, and the church were all any of us needed, the thinking went. Boy, was I wrong, causing harm to congregants with mental health challenges. And causing harm to myself by spiritualizing my own psychological struggles.

    One time, Greg was looking for a new job. Previously, Greg had driven a bus for a local school district. He thought he would try his hand at driving again for a new school.

    On the appointed day, Greg went to the school bus lot for an interview. While getting on a bus, Greg glanced down and was shocked by what he saw. What did he see? The word “Carpenter.” Huh? Let me explain.

    Carpenter Body Works was a bus-building company in Mitchell, Indiana. They went out of business in 2001. You see, Greg’s last name was Carpenter, and his OCD brain was absolutely certain that this was a sign from God. How else could Greg explain the word “Carpenter” on the bus floor?

    This settled the matter for Greg, and he accepted a driving job. Greg loved driving bus, but with a wife and children to provide for, the bus-driving job didn’t pay the bills. Greg later took a factory job. No further mention was made of the “sign from God.”

    All these years later, I lament how my ignorance and lack of training hurt Greg. Unintentional, to be sure, but I wonder how much more peaceful his life might have been had I been more competent to help. That is, if Greg were willing to accept my help. Psychological problems were typically ignored or shoved under the proverbial church rug. I pastored scores of people with undiagnosed mental health problems. Sunday after Sunday they suffered as I told them Jesus and the Bible were all they needed to find love, peace, and happiness. This, of course, was a lie. It took me years to learn that the church was not the cure-all for what ailed us. By then countless hurting people came and went, going to the “world” to find people to help them. How could it be otherwise? Most Evangelical pastors are unqualified to counsel people about psychological problems. Greg certainly needed my friendship, but he needed a friend that understood his OCD, even if he refused to see and understand it for himself. Sadly IFB beliefs about sin and holiness only fueled Greg’s OCD. For him, minor, insignificant “sins” became full blown crises of faith, leading to extreme restlessness and suicidal thoughts. Greg deserved better than what Pastor Bruce and the church had to offer.

    How did your church and pastor handle the mental health struggles of church members (or their own)? Please share your experiences in the comment section.

    Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 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.

    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.

  • Reader Zero: Thank You, Zoe

    bruce gerencser 1991
    Bruce Gerencser, 1991, Somerset Baptist Academy. Surely everyone can see from this picture that I was a real Christian. 🙂

    Environmental Scientist recently asked “[…] have you reached out to these former students and apologized?”

    Zoe responded:

    Ugh. Heaviness. Sigh.

    I remember coming across Bruce’s blog ages ago. Maybe the dinosaurs were still roaming the earth back then? It was a post where he apologized. I cannot recall the specifics, but it was the first time I had ever heard, whether in person or online or in a book, a pastor apologize.

    To date, he’s the only one.

    I don’t know but I sense that in a way, Bruce’s writing is his attempt to apologize. The weight of sorrow that accompanies decisions made during our former believing days, is ever present. I wish the inventors of Christianity would apologize to me. I wish my ancestors had apologized to me. I am thankful that in my generation, I broke the cycle. Maybe breaking the cycle is our apology. 

    Zoe is a personal friend of mine. She’s been a reader of my writing from almost day one. I appreciate her friendship and support.

    Zoe has seen my highs, lows, and meltdowns. It took me years to learn how best to deal with and respond to aggressive, violent, abusive Evangelical commenters. Years ago, when the pressure got to be too much, I would quit blogging. In late 2014, something clicked for me, and I’ve not stopped blogging since. This does not mean that I’m impervious to the ill treatment I receive from some Evangelical commenters. What’s different is that I have, over time, developed a thicker skin. I’ve also come to understand how deeply indoctrination and conditioning hinders some Evangelicals from having pleasant, thoughtful discussions. Instead, I am viewed as an enemy of Jesus and Christianity, unworthy of kindness and respect. I’ve concluded that many Evangelicals don’t believe the Bible commands governing their behavior apply when dealing with apostates, reprobates, and atheists. Never mind the fact that the Bible has a lot to say about how Christians should treat their enemies.

    Over the years, I’ve been as open and honest as I could possibly be. Do I still have secrets; things I’m uncomfortable sharing with the public? Sure, and I make no apology for having them. That said, I’ve done my best to answer questions from friends and critics alike.

    In 1989, I started a private school: Somerset Baptist Academy. The school was built on a one room school house approach. With 15-18 students, K-12, this was not hard to do. The focus was academic proficiency instead of grade level. Thus, an eleventh grader might be taking reading with fourth graders. Students were slotted based on academic ability. While this proved embarrassing for some older students, it did provide motivation for them to do better.

    Most of the students “fondly” remember Preacher’s weekly timed math facts tests. Every student took the same tests. Passing the tests in a certain amount of time meant students didn’t have to take the tests any more. Eventually, all of the students passed.

    Somerset Baptist Academy was an unchartered private religious school. What this meant, practically, is that the government left us alone, even though we were costing the local school district $75,000-$150,000 a year from lost state funding. That said, I faced no problems with the local school superintendent. In fact, he graciously donated desks for our school to use.

    SBA was a tuition-free school, with unpaid teachers and staff. Polly and I were the primary teachers, with church members helping in areas they were proficient (i.e. home economics, auto repair, small engine repair).

    The school was pass-fail. The goal was proficiency, not grade point average. One third of the students were excellent scholars. The rest of the students had various academic challenges. For these students, public schools had largely abandoned them.

    One highlight was the fact that our little school had computers before the public schools did. Thanks to me being a computer geek and my office being in the same building as the school, older students had access to my computers. They were well ahead of public-school students when it came to computers.

    We decided early on to focus on core academic proficiency. Teach students to competently read, write, and do maths, they can do almost anything. If you can’t read, write, and balance your checkbook, you are in for a hard life.

    The school was started at the same time my theology moved from Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) beliefs to Evangelical Calvinism. This, of course, affected the theology taught in the school — primarily by me. Order and discipline were important. While corporeal punishment was permitted, I only paddled one student. I had no stomach for paddling other parents’ children. Instead, I would send a note home detailing the infraction, asking parents to discipline their children.

    I did, however, use after school detentions as punishment for offenses. And not public school-like detention, either. Students in detention were given work to do after school: pulling weeds, cleaning fence lines, mowing grass, splitting and stacking wood, hauling coal, shoveling snow, cleaning the buildings, and straightening song books for the next service.

    Years later, now an atheist and a humanist, I have mellowed out. I have no doubt I would do things differently if I was operating a Christian school today. But, it was the late 80s, and I had a lot of learning to learn and unlearn. I remain a work in progress. Sadly, some readers refuse to grant me grace. The more open I am, the more critical they become. Another reader, which I plan to dispense forthwith, has been sending me emails accusing me of abusing Polly and being a bad husband, totally ignoring the religious and cultural paradigms that were in play, at the time. We were a patriarchal family, willingly so. Same goes for Calvinism, which directly affected how many children we had.

    I’m generally self-aware. Both of my therapists have told me that I’m too self-aware; that I’m hyper judgmental of self; that I struggle with guilt. Believe me, I want to be well thought of by others. I don’t like conflict, nor do I want people to be angry with me. But, in the real world, church conflict is common. I pastored scores of delightful people, but I also was shepherd to more than a few troublemaking, judgmental assholes. That’s the nature of the ministry. I tried to do my best, but that was never enough, for some people. I apologized when warranted, but refused to do so when I committed no offense. So it is with students at Somerset Baptist Academy.

    Have I apologized to some of the students over the years? Sure. Who they are and what I apologized for is no one’s business except the parties involved. I have had lunch/dinner with several students. I’d say I’m on good terms with ten of the students — all of whom I have met and interacted with over the years. A few years back, I conducted the funeral for the father of four students. I sensed no anger or animosity from any of them.

    Half of the students ended up graduating from college, including two of my sons. I like to think Polly and I, along with other volunteers, put students on a better path. It is, of course, up to them to tell their own stories. If if have learned anything, it is this: experiences are personal; and that no two people have the same experience. I would love to have former students share their SBA “war stories,” but these events are over 30 years old. Most of the students understand their five years at Somerset Baptist Academy in its theological, cultural, and tribal context. They view me as a man who was trying to do the right thing; trying to make life better for them. Did I fail? I will it leave to them to say.

    To Zoe I say, once again, thank you! ❤️

    Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 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.

    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.

  • Why Don’t Most Evangelicals Daily Read or Study the Bible?

    preacher on bible reading

    Evangelicals love to call themselves “people of the book.” The first church I worked for had an advertising sign that said, “The Blood, The Book, The Blessed Hope.” We believed, as Evangelicals do today, that the Bible was inerrant and infallible — without error and true in all it teaches. Yet, for all their talk about the Bible, most Evangelicals don’t read and study the Bible. Oh, they might read it from time to time, but as far as diligently reading and studying the Bible? No time for that, even though they demand unbelievers obey the Bible, not bothering to read it from cover to cover themselves. If this is not the case, why do Evangelical preachers repeatedly “encourage” congregants to read the Bible, warning them about what God will do to them if they don’t. Some pastors throw in the towel and try to at least get church members to read devotional materials such as “Our Daily Bread.” Every day, Christians read a couple of Bible verses and the devotional commentary for said verses, delusionally thinking that they are “studying” the Bible.

    Evangelicals claim the Bible was written by God himself; that it is the most important book (actually collection of books) in human history. Supposedly, the Bible contains everything necessary for life and godliness. This supernatural book tells us how the universe was created and reveals to us the nature of God. Its pages reveal God’s redemptive plan for humanity (or the elect), along with how to have a successful marriage and a happy family. What a book of wisdom and knowledge, right? Yet, most Evangelicals never read the Bible through one time. What’s up with this disconnect? Why do Evangelicals demand the unwashed, uncircumcised Philistines of the world read the Bible when they, themselves, can’t bother to do it?

    Here’s what I learned pastoring Evangelical churches for twenty-five years:

    First, most Evangelicals want to do what is “right.” They want to read and study the Bible, pleasing both God and the maniac who chastises them every week from the pulpit for not being the bestest (and the most giving and obedient) Christians ever.

    Second, life often gets in the way of obey God. Sorry, but that’s just how it is. I was about ten years into my ministerial career before I finally figured out what was going on. Most of the people I pastored were kind, loving, thoughtful people. Sure, I pastored more than a few assholes, but most congregants loved God, loved the church, loved the Bible, and loved me as their preacher. They wanted to read and study the Bible, but after working 40-60 hours a week and taking care of domestic obligations, no time was left for them to devote themselves to the Word of God. Did this make them bad Christians? Of course not. They were tired Christians, not backslidden as I alleged. I was paid to read, study, and preach the Bible. I can’t remember a day as a pastor that I didn’t read the Bible. It was, after all, the most important book in my life. I wanted the Bible to be the most important book in the lives of congregants too, but there were not enough hours in the day for them to do so.

    Polly spent much of her life as a pastor’s wife feeling guilty over her lack of Bible reading, study, and prayer. It didn’t help the matter that her preacher husband kept reminding her to be a “good example.” Eventually, I stopped badgering Polly, realizing that she, too, only had so much time to devote to the Bible every day. She wanted to read and study the Bible as her preacher husband did, but after raising six kids in a 12×60 foot trailer, cooking meals for them, washing loads of shitty cloth diapers every day, doing ALL the domestic chores (because her soulwinning husband was rarely home), entertaining church members almost every weekend, being her husband’s secretary (she was happy when computers delivered her from this task), and happily putting out when her husband asked, there was no time left for Bible reading.

    For five years, both Polly and I taught in our church’s private school. Polly taught church children how to read, spell, and do basic grammar. Our younger students have fond memories of Miss Polly putting them on her lap and helping them read. These same students have different memories of the man they called “Preacher.” I not only taught in the school, I was the principal. Remember, we were Independent Fundamentalist Baptists, at the time. I was the school disciplinarian. No one wanted to be sent to my office.

    Based on what I have already shared, when, exactly, did my partner have time to give anything more than a passing glance at the pages of the Bible? Did this make her a bad Christian? Of course not, even though she felt guilty for not being a sold-out follower of Jesus. Six kids, loads of poopy diapers, cooking countless meals, caring for a 720 square foot hillbilly mansion, and devotedly loving a demanding, driven husband dominated her waking hours. Both of us spent years only getting five to seven hours of sleep a night. In retrospect, it’s a wonder either of us made it out alive.

    As a pastor, I came to understand that the only Bible knowledge most church members had was what they gained from my sermons three times a week. I accepted that no amount of preaching was going to add more hours in their days. No amount of cajoling Polly was going to make her devote time she didn’t have to leisurely reading the Bible. I eventually stopped nagging people about reading and studying the Bible. I figured if God wanted them to read more of the Bible he could tell them himself. Overnight, preacher and congregants alike took a sigh of relief, leaving the matter to God.

    How often did you read the Bible? Did you feel guilty over not reading the Bible as you felt you should (or as your pastor felt you should)? Did you read the Bible from cover-to-cover? Please share your experiences in the comment section.

    Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 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.

    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.