My wife, Polly, and I were talking about death: about how we are the youngest of the older adults in her family; that we could have a spate of deaths over the next decade. Polly’s parents are in their 80s and her surviving aunts and uncles are getting up there in age too. (Since I wrote this post in 2017, Polly’s father died, as well as several of her aunts and uncles.) Death comes for one and all. Sooner, and not later, death will come knocking on our doors and say it’s time to go. We will be permitted no protestations, given no second chances. For me personally, at that moment I will have written my last blog post, watched my last Reds game, and hugged and loved my family for the last time. Death brings an end to everything but the memories we leave behind in the minds of those who loved us or called us friend.
The permanence of death is one of the reasons men invented Gods, the afterlife, Heaven, and Hell. Most people have a hard time believing that this life is all there is. Believing that humans are somehow, someway superior to other animals or are their deity’s special creation, people hope life continues after death. For Christians, the Bible promises them if they worship the right God, believe the right things, and live a certain way, that one day their God will resurrect them from their graves, give them new bodies that will never suffer, age, feel pain, or die, and grant them title to a mansion in a New Heaven and a New Earth. Those of us raised in Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) churches likely remember the song, Mansion Over the Hilltop:
I’m satisfied with just a cottage below A little silver and a little gold But in that city where the ransomed will shine I want a gold one that’s silver lined
[Chorus]
I’ve got a mansion just over the hilltop In that bright land where we’ll never grow old And some day yonder we’ll never more wander But walk on streets that are purest gold
Tho’ often tempted, tormented and tested And, like the prophet, my pillow a stone And tho’ I find here no permanent dwelling I know He’ll give me a mansion my own
I’m satisfied with just a cottage below A little silver and a little gold But in that city where the ransomed will shine I want a gold one that’s silver lined
I’ve got a mansion just over the hilltop In that bright land where we’ll never grow old And some day yonder we’ll never more wander But walk on streets that are purest gold
Tho’ often tempted, tormented and tested And, like the prophet, my pillow a stone And tho’ I find here no permanent dwelling I know He’ll give me a mansion my own
This song perfectly illustrates the view of eternity held by millions and millions of Christians. Life is viewed as little more than a preparation time for death and moving into new digs in the sweet by and by. Atheists, on the other hand, place great value on this life, on the here and now, because this is the only life we will ever have. Once we draw our last breath, we will either be turned into ashes or worm food.
I woke up to find Polly in something of an agitated mood — an uncommon state of mind for her. Her IFB mother had called earlier in the morning to let her know that her elderly IFB preacher uncle was in the hospital. He had to have emergency surgery to remove 12 inches of his bowel that had turned septic. Polly told her mom about the conversation we had last night about how everyone is getting old and dying. Polly mentioned to her mom that our oldest son had been looking at some old family photographs and said of one photo, sixty-six percent of the people in this picture are dead. Polly’s mom replied, well you know, only those of us who believe in Heaven have hope.
That’s been Mom’s approach of late, to begin every sermon one-liner with well, you know, reminding her daughter that what she plans to say next Polly already knows. Out of respect for her mom, Polly says nothing, but I fear the volcano is rumbling and will someday erupt. Polly said to me, this is what I should have told her: Those of us who don’t believe that shit don’t have to worry about getting into Heaven or worry about did we pray the prayer, believe the right things, or do the right things. If Polly actually said these things to her mom what would cause the most offense and outrage is that Polly said the word shit. 🙂 Imagine the outrage if it became known that Polly can, on occasion, use the F word. I am sure that her salty speech would be blamed on her continued corruption at the hands of Satan’s emissary, Bruce Gerencser.
I have no doubt that Mom is feeling her mortality and she wants to make certain that she will see Polly again in Heaven after d-e-a-t-h. You know, the whole unbroken family circle thing. While Polly understands her mom’s angst and wishfulness, she does find the mini-sermons irritating and offensive. Mom likely thinks, with death lurking in the shadows, that she needs to put as many good words in for Jesus as she can; that repeating Bible Truths® will turn back her daughter’s godlessness and worldliness; that if just the right words are spoken, the Holy Spirit will use them to pull Polly kicking and screaming back to the one true IFB faith. Now THAT would be entertaining!
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Several weeks ago, a reader sent me an email, asking me two questions. What follows is my response.
For Independent Fundamental Baptists, I’ve watched a couple of Steven Anderson’s sermons, and I see the congregation agreeing and saying amen to everything pastor Anderson has said (even if it is rude and hateful). Why do the Independent Fundamental Baptists have to agree with their pastor?
While some people paint Steven Anderson, pastor of Faithful Word Baptist Church in Tempe, Arizona, as some sort of extremist within the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist church movement (even suggesting he is NOT IFB), Anderson is typical of what I saw and experienced as an IFB church member and pastor. Granted, Anderson is more public about his abhorrent beliefs and practices than many IFB preachers, but he hasn’t said or done anything that is uncommon among Fundamentalist Baptists. (Please see Understanding Steven Anderson, Pastor Faithful Word Baptist Church, Tempe, Arizona.)
IFB churches typically believe that their pastors are chosen by God, ordained to be their leaders. Most IFB churches are led and controlled by one man, the pastor. The pastor is viewed as a divine oracle of sorts, one who speaks on God’s behalf. The pastor is a gatekeeper, the hub around which the church turns. Church members are conditioned and indoctrinated to submit to their pastor’s rule and authority.
Thus, when the man of God stands to speak to the people of God, from the inerrant, infallible Word of God, congregants believe his words are straight from the mouth of God. IFB pastors work for God, not the church, a belief that is often reinforced through preaching on subjects such as pastoral authority and the dangers of going against the man of God. So, then, it should come as no surprise that church members hang on their preacher’s every word, showing their agreement with shouts of AMEN!, THAT’S RIGHT PREACHER!, or PREACH IT!
Also, why do they seem to hate liberals, Catholics, homosexuals, Jews, etc?
Hatred of others is part of the DNA of IFB churches, colleges, preachers, and church members. IFB churches aren’t counter-cultural, they are anti-cultural. Congregants are taught to hate the world.
1 John 2:15-16 says:
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. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world.
Thus, it is not surprising that IFB believers hate liberal Christians, Catholics, LGBTQ people, Democrats, abortionists, atheists, socialists, and anyone else who believes or lives differently from them. In Steven Anderson’s case, he wears his hate proudly. Other IFB adherents hide their hate behind the closed doors of their homes or the safe confines of their churches. Whether out and proud or hiding behind an “I love Jesus” smile, IFB Christians hate.
Years ago, I made the case that there was no difference between Fred Phelps, of Westboro Baptist Church fame, and Southern Baptist luminary Al Mohler. While Phelps wore his hate on his sleeve and Mohler couched his hate in politeness and ten-dollar words, both were Fundamentalists and Calvinists with a “righteous” hatred of the “world.”
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 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.
Last Friday, I was interviewed by Doug Berger for the Glass City Humanist Podcast. The podcast is a production of the Secular Humanists of Western Lake Erie. I spoke for their in-person group meeting several weeks ago. If you didn’t have a chance to watch the video, you can check it out here:
Please let me know what you think in the comment section. Be nice. 🙂
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 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.
Guest post by ObstacleChick. Previously published in 2017.
During fifth through twelfth grades, I attended a fundamentalist Christian school. Our school had been fairly popular in the 1970s and early 1980s, but by the year I graduated (1988) it was clear that such a strict type of Christian school was on the decline, at least in our area. Other less-strict Christian schools had cropped up and were thriving. Our school was started in 1969 by a Bob Jones University graduate and his wife. Many of the teachers had graduated from Bob Jones, Pensacola Christian College, or some other fundamentalist Christian college. A handful of the other teachers had graduated from secular universities (our high school math teacher, Mrs. C, had graduated from Northwestern University in Chicago). While a large number of teachers had taught there for many years, we experienced an influx of younger teachers who would stay a few months or even just a few years. The pay was very low (most teachers had to work a summer job or occasionally a part-time job to make ends meet), yet each middle school or high school teacher had to teach a minimum of four different classes. Grades kindergarten through five were taught by a single teacher in a classroom (with music classes conducted by the music teacher) as usual. All students were required to take Bible class. Middle school and high school students took Bible class which met three days a week with chapel services on the other two days. Chapel services were like a regular church service, and only male teachers or guests were allowed to preach the sermons.
Students and teachers alike were held to strict rules surrounding gender-based dress codes and conduct codes. While there were no official restrictions on students attending movies, teachers were not allowed to attend movies in a movie theater as it may “damage their witness.” Most of the teachers rented movies at the video store and would freely discuss movies with the students. This hypocrisy was not lost on me. Students could be expelled for being caught smoking, doing drugs, drinking, or having sex, even if any of these activities took place off campus. During my sophomore year, two of my classmates and a senior were expelled because another student overheard them talking about a party they had attended on the weekend that had drinking. Two girls after I graduated were expelled for pregnancy. Students could be suspended for disrespect to teachers. My own brother was expelled in third grade for mouthing off to his teacher and not showing proper remorse during his punishment.
The Tennessee Association of Christian Schools (TACS) was formed to provide an organization whereby Christian schools in Tennessee could obtain Christian guidance and educational services which would enhance the academic and spiritual credibility of member schools. A further purpose was to provide an opportunity for Christian schools, who subscribe to TACS’s Statement of Faith, to maintain high standards of spiritual and academic excellence.
Since the primary purpose of a Christian school is academic excellence and conforming young lives to the image of the Lord Jesus Christ, TACS was organized accordingly and is committed to complementing the educational and spiritual goals ordained by each school through professional services.
* To establish educational integrity and excellence. * To establish guidelines and services which are truly Biblical and creationist in philosophy and methodology. * To maintain and improve the quality of Christian schools through professional services and programs. * To provide counsel and onsite assistance in establishing and developing Christian schools. * To promote the development of guidelines for all courses, curriculum, and other educational programs from a Biblical framework and perspective. * To promote high standards of behavior consistent with the moral and spiritual standards of Biblical Christianity as set forth in the Scripture. * To provide quality curriculum materials. * To provide staff development and school improvement opportunities. * To promote and assist schools in maintaining financial integrity. * To preserve the freedom of Christian schools to exist as an alternative to public and private schools. * To monitor state legislation. * To establish and maintain a nonintrusive relationship with the State Department of Education.
Each year the TACS would put on competitions among member schools at the regional and state levels for academics, music, art, and specific Bible categories such as preaching, verse memorization, and quizzes. Competing age groups were Grades K-6, Grades 7-9, and Grades 10-12. Typically, students competing in academics were at the highest level of the age category, but for other categories ages varied based on interest and ability. Each school was allowed to send two submissions for each category if they wished (for example, a school could send 2 students for Grades 10-12 math, two students for Grades 7-9 classical piano, etc.). Our teachers typically selected the students who would compete. As my grade’s top student through middle school and high school, I would compete in almost every academic category when I was in grades 9 through 12. And as a musical student, I would typically compete in choir, sometimes small group vocals, and in piano. The first day of competition was for test-taking, so I would end up taking a test in each academic area — I was there all day long! The second day of competition was for music and preaching competitions, so I may have competed in choir, maybe a smaller singing group, and piano if I was one of the students selected. The best pianist at our high school was in my grade, my friend Tom* — we had the same piano teacher. So in junior year he competed in classical piano and I competed in sacred piano. But in grade 12, our mutual piano teacher suggested that I switch to classical as well to give Tom some much-needed competition as he was becoming insufferably arrogant about his piano skills. The competitor in me was happy to fulfill my teacher’s request.
In the TACS competition, the top two winners in each category in the regional competition would go to the state competition to compete. For Grades 10-12, the winner of the TACS state competition was eligible to compete at the AACS national competition held at Bob Jones University. When I was a junior in high school, I competed at AACS National competition in sacred keyboard, and as a senior in high school I competed in classical keyboard and in history at BJU. I have no idea how, but the judges gave me higher scores than Tom and I won the state classical piano title. Tom actually came in third place.
As a teenager, I didn’t know much about BJU except that it was a conservative Christian unaccredited university in South Carolina. Many of my teachers had attended, and they made a big deal about Harvard supposedly being unaccredited as well (so BJU must be great academically like Harvard, am I right?). Hearing their stories, it didn’t sound like any type of school I would ever want to attend, with all its rules concerning nearly every aspect of life. Besides, I was determined to attend Vanderbilt University one day. I lived with my grandparents, and my grandfather was obsessed with Vanderbilt (he never was able to attend), and I guess his influence rubbed off on me. As a teenager, I worked at the university during the summer and fell in love with the campus. Despite the fact that my grandfather was a deacon at a fundamentalist Baptist church, he drilled into my head that my education came first, that I needed to have a career, and that I should NEVER be dependent on a man for my support. He lived to see me graduate from his beloved Vanderbilt University, but he never knew that I grew up to become the primary salary earner in my family. I believe he would have been pleased. (And my daughter will be attending Vanderbilt next fall.)
I had the opportunity to visit BJU twice during high school for the AACS competitions (1987 and 1988). I believe that the competitions were legitimate competitions, but they were also recruitment tools for BJU. After we checked into our assigned dorms (all competitors were required to stay in the dorms with current students), we went to a chapel service and then were divided into groups for tours. My first year I stayed in a dorm with Sarah* (a student to whom I was assigned) and another girl whose name I do not remember. Sarah was a senior majoring in elementary education, and she was engaged to Ben* who was preparing to be a pastor. They would be getting married in June as soon as they both graduated. Sarah was looking forward to getting married, teaching in a Christian school, and becoming a pastor’s wife. My second year there I stayed in the dorm with Jane* who was the older sister of the aforementioned Tom. Jane was 2 years older and had spent her freshman year in college at Belmont University – she transferred to BJU because Belmont was “too liberal” and she didn’t like it. Also attending BJU were Josh* and Christy* who had graduated from my high school and were both freshmen. It was interesting to meet with Jane, Josh, and Christy to find out more about their college life at BJU.
There were a lot of rules at BJU, and I don’t think I even scratched the surface of the breadth and depth of rules that a student must know. First, of course, was the dress code. Girls had to wear dresses or skirts of appropriate length at all times. Their neckline must be no more than 4 finger-widths from the collarbone. Girls also had a dress code for gym classes, but I believe girls weren’t allowed to wear pants while traveling from dorm to gym (though I could be mistaken). Boys were supposed to wear pants with shirts tucked in and a belt, and I believe their hair had to be cut to a certain length. I don’t recall seeing any boys with facial hair. Jane said that girls had to wear dress hats to attend Sunday church services on BJU campus, but hats were not required for weekday chapel services.
Boys and girls, of course, were not allowed in each other’s residence halls. Every evening, there was “mail delivery” – boys could send hand-written notes to girls which were delivered in the evenings. (I wonder if they send emails these days – but then again, their emails are probably closely monitored). My second year there, Josh wrote a note to Jane and me inviting us to meet Josh and Christy at the grill for lunch, an on-campus casual restaurant. Underclass boys and girls were not allowed to date at BJU, but a mixed group of four of us meeting for burgers was somehow okay.
My first year there I made a faux pas at the dining hall. We were told to go to the dining hall at set times for our meals, so I went through the cafeteria line, got my tray of food, and sat down at a table to eat. I was promptly informed that protocol dictated that everyone was to remain standing behind their chair until the last person had gone through the line and found a spot at the table. At that point someone was to say a prayer of thanks for the food. After the prayer, everyone was allowed to sit down to eat. By the time I was able to commence with eating my food, it was cold.
Another thing that I found odd was that there was a curfew for the time students must be inside their dorms and also a literal lights-out time. A hall monitor would come by to check each room to make sure all lights were off and no one was up past bedtime reading. I thought, what is this, summer camp? It really felt like 1950s. My mom attended a secular college fromin 1961-1963, and even then, things were more open than what was happening at BJU.
As far as I could tell, the entire campus was fenced. Students were only allowed to leave campus for certain reasons, such as to attend an approved off-campus church. Any time a student needed to leave campus, he or she must receive permission, and my friends told me that they were not allowed to leave campus alone.
Bear in mind that the vast majority of the students were age 18 or older. Age 18 is considered a legal adult in the USA. However, these students were NOT treated like legal adults. Practically every action was monitored, from the times they were allowed to eat in the dining hall to what they should wear to when they should go to bed to whether they could come and go from the campus. There was a cumulative demerit system tallied for infractions. I suppose if one received too many demerits, one would be disciplined, possibly expelled.
I couldn’t believe that students who were legal adults would willingly follow these rules. As a student who was counting the days until the end of my restrictive education, there is no way that I would have chosen to attend BJU. You could not have paid me to go there. Contrast that environment to Vanderbilt University where I worked each summer. Students were free to come and go as they pleased. Some lived in co-ed dormitories. Students dressed as they pleased. There was no curfew, either for dormitories themselves or for bedtime. Students were treated as adults – for they were adults, able to make their own decisions (even dumb decisions).
When my grandparents picked me up at the end of my first visit, I told them everything I had learned about the school. Honestly, I think they wouldn’t have minded if I had attended there as I would have been completely sheltered and “safe,” but since my grandfather was obsessed with Vanderbilt, they didn’t suggest that.
I wondered how it was possible for BJU students who were so completely sheltered to be able to function in the real world. Truthfully, many BJU graduates go on to become pastors and Christian school teachers. Many stay in the fundamentalist Christian world where everything is about maintaining one’s testimony and evangelizing for Jesus. Josh transferred to Clemson University and went on to become headmaster of the school we had attended until it closed (his parents had both been teachers there when I was a student); I am not sure what he is doing now. Apparently, our school’s rules were relaxed a lot under his tutelage, but for some reason – probably too much competition – the school did not survive. I haven’t kept in contact with Christy – on social media I see that she is a divorced mom but most of her posts are about Jesus. Jane graduated from BJU and is an art teacher at a Christian school. Jane’s younger brother Tom graduated from BJU, went to medical school, and now markets himself as a Christian pediatrician (not sure how that differs from a regular pediatrician). Many of my former teachers have retired, some still teach in public or private schools, and many moved on to other careers including nursing, human resources, and medical insurance. Many former students and teachers are still entrenched in the fundamentalist world. Many others switched over to a more progressive form of Christianity. A handful of us are “apostates.” A few male students came out as gay after graduation. I suppose if one is really dedicated to staying within the fundamentalist “bubble” without exposure to “the flesh” or “the world,” then BJU is the place to be.
*names have been changed
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 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.
It never ceases to amaze me how Evangelicals think assertions are facts or truth. In classic presuppositionalist fashion, they assume, without evidence, that their assertions are self-evident, and only people who suppress the truth deny them. This allows them to dismiss out of hand anyone who disagrees with them.
Most Evangelicals are not taught to “think.” Instead, they are encouraged to regurgitate the “truth” preached from church pulpits. Even those who show intellectual ambition typically only read books and listen to people who reinforce their beliefs. I read lots of books, heavy theological tomes, as an Evangelical pastor. However, every book in my library of over 1,000 books reinforced my beliefs. Sure, I was challenged around the edges of my beliefs, but I didn’t read one author that challenged my core beliefs. I was almost fifty years old before I read books that caused me to question my beliefs about the inerrancy and infallibility of the Bible and the central tenets of Christianity.
God’s word stands on its own. We can argue for and against it, but it isn’t affected by either. God is in charge. We are not. I will say this. If you are unsaved now, you always were.
Justin asserted:
The Protestant Christian Bible (KJV?) stands on its own.
The Bible is impervious to criticism.
God is in control (sovereign).
If I am unsaved now, I never was saved.
Justin provides no evidence for his claims. He just baldly, arrogantly, and self-righteously asserts that they are true. He assumes, wrongly, that these “truths” cannot be challenged; that they are “facts” that reasonable people know are true.
In what ways does the Bible stand on its own? After all, it’s just a collection of books, mostly written by unknown authors. Surely, Justin is not claiming the Bible, either at the manuscript or translation level, is without error? If so, I wonder if he knows and understands that this claim cannot be intellectually sustained?
I will make the same offer to Justin I have made to other Evangelicals: I will have shipped to your home one of Dr. Bart Ehrman’s books on the nature and history of the Bible. Free of charge. All I ask is that you read it and meaningfully engage me on its content. Fourteen years in, I have yet to have one Evangelical take me up on my offer. Why is that?
You see, when you live in the Evangelical bubble, and even more so in the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) bubble, you are walled off from any and all “truth” but your own. Certain that you are right, you see no need to engage beliefs contrary to your own. As I have said numerous times before, certainty breeds arrogance.
Justin asserts that “God is in control,” but outside of select Bible verses, there’s no evidence for his claim. All one needs to do is look at the world to see that the God of the Bible is not in control, and if, perchance, he is, he should be fired immediately. The evidence suggests that we are on our own and that we alone can affect change. Evangelicals admitted this much when they abandoned preaching the gospel and winning souls for raw, naked political power.
Finally, Justin, unable to square my story with his peculiar theological beliefs, attacks me personally, saying that I never was saved. I have provided mountains of evidence that suggests otherwise, but, Justin, with a wave of his hand, dismisses the fifty years I spent in the Christian church and the twenty-five years I spent slavishly and devotedly following Jesus Christ, preaching the gospel, winning souls, and living according to the teachings of the Bible. (And I would be more than happy to have a Christian dick-measuring contest with Justin if he is interested in doing so. I’m John Holmes confident that my life as a Christian more than measures up to his.)
Best I can tell, Justin read all of one post on this site. I encourage him to read the posts found on the WHY? page before ignorantly passing judgment on my life. God’s Holy Word says in Proverbs 18:13: Answering before listening is both stupid and rude. Justin, if you are reading this, please listen to God. 🙂
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 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.
It has taken me almost sixty-four years to admit and understand how much trauma I have had in life. In 2009, I saw a counselor for the first time. Over the next twelve years, he helped me understand my past (and present), peeling back the layers of my life one ply at a time. This process was excruciating and painful, but necessary. While we talked about the various traumas I have experienced in my life, no attempt was made to understand them collectively. Left unanswered was how these traumas affected and informed my present, how they affected me psychologically, and how they influenced my decision-making.
Late last year, I started seeing a new counselor. While I talk with her about many of the same things I talked about with my first counselor (both are psychologists), my last session with her showed me how deeply I have been affected by trauma. She recommended I read Dr. Bessel Van Der Kolk’s seminal work, The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma, which I am currently doing.
As I painfully and honestly reflect on my life, I can now see and try to understand past traumas, especially those during a five-year period in my life: 1968-1972.
During this period of time:
I attend five different schools.
I lived in eight different houses.
My parents divorced and remarried (Mom married her first cousin, a recently paroled robber and drug addict, and Dad married a nineteen-year-old girl with a baby).
My mother, who had been repeatedly molested by her father and had battled mental illness most of her life, tried to kill herself numerous times. In one year, Mom overdosed on prescription medications, pulled her car in front of a truck, and slit her wrists. At the age of eleven, I came home from school and found Mom lying in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor. (In 1991, Mom killed herself. She was fifty-four. Please see Barbara.)
Dad had an affair with an unknown woman.
Dad was investigated by the FBI for robbery and the ATF for illegal gun sales.
Dad embezzled $10,000 from Combined Insurance Company.
I contracted measles, mumps, and chicken pox in one year, missing thirty-nine days of school.
I was treated for muscle and joint problems (wrongly labeled “growing pains” at the time).
I came of age in the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church movement. Trauma was not acknowledged or talked about. In fact, such discussions were frowned upon. I was taught that Jesus changes everything, that he was the answer to every question, the solution to every problem. Instead of dwelling on the past, I was told to move on, let go and let God. Pastor after pastor said that not having victory in my life was a “sin,” a lack of faith, trust, and dependence on God. Imagine being a traumatized child sitting in the pews hearing that your problems were insignificant in light of the suffering of Jesus on the cross; that all your “problems” will magically disappear if you get saved and follow Jesus. I would later learn that the very preachers preaching these things had their own traumas, their own secrets, their own “sins.” As an adult and a pastor myself, I learned that these preachers of holiness and godliness were just as fucked up as I was. In fact, I never met a preacher who didn’t have traumas and secrets, things they hid from congregants because church members expected them to be winners.
By not helping me embrace, understand, and deal with my trauma (and by not encouraging me to get professional help), my pastors, youth directors, and teachers unwittingly furthered the trauma in my life. Their words and behavior towards me left deep, lasting scars. How could it be otherwise? Trauma begets trauma. I entered college, marriage, and the ministry with deeply-seated, unresolved trauma. This, of course, caused all sorts of problems in my marriage, relationships with my children, and the churches I pastored. Is it any surprise that a young life of constant upheaval and moving fueled an adult life of upheaval and moving? That even now, I am restless, a wanderlust spirit?
It’s regrettable that I had to wait until I was almost sixty-five years old to fully understand how trauma has shaped and affected my life. Will I finally put these traumas to rest? Maybe. I now know there is a lot of work I must do, with the help of my counselor and family, to find peace and happiness in my life. Maybe it is too late for me. Maybe not. All I know to do is try . . .
My Evangelical critics will see this post as an admission that I was damaged goods, that I had no business being a pastor. Maybe. I am more inclined to think that my trauma helped me to be more kind, loving, and compassionate towards the people I pastored; people who had their own traumas. I don’t know one pastor who doesn’t have baggage. I spent thirty-five years, both as a teen preacher boy and a seasoned pastor, interacting with pastors, youth directors, evangelists, and missionaries. I know their secrets, their traumas, their sins. Trust me, things are not what they seem. I suspect that can be said for all of us.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 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.
Last Tuesday, I spoke at the monthly meeting of the Secular Humanists of Western Lake Erie. Polly recorded my talk on my iPhone 13 — her first attempt at recording a video. Who says you can’t teach old, old, old dogs new tricks? 🙂
Let me know what you think in the comment section. If you are so inclined, please LIKE the video on YouTube. Your subscriptions will be appreciated too. In the coming weeks, I plan to post more material to YouTube and Spreaker (podcast). Your support and helpful suggestions are appreciated.
This is my first in-person appearance since COVID-19. I’ve done a number of podcasts during the pandemic, but I really enjoyed speaking publicly. This Friday, I will be interviewed for two podcasts, Secular Humanists of Western Lake Erie and Harmonic Atheist. I’ll post the interviews when they are posted on YouTube.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
I always find it interesting when two people can have similar experiences yet come to wildly different conclusions about those experiences. Take me, Bruce Gerencser, and Mark Milioni, the president of Baptist Bible College in Springfield, Missouri. Both of us attended Trinity Baptist Church in Findlay, Ohio — an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) congregation affiliated with the Baptist Bible Fellowship. Trinity was pastored by Gene Milioni, Mark’s father. Ron Johnson was the church’s assistant pastor and Bruce Turner was the youth pastor. (Please see Dear Bruce Turner.)
I am five or six years older than Mark. He was a young boy when I was a teenager at Trinity. I attended Trinity from June of 1970 to May of 1974. Both Mark and I were exposed to the same preaching, the same theology, the same social practices. Yet, Mark’s view of his father’s church is very different from mine.
I came from a Baptist church [that was] conservative to the hilt, but it was not legalistic. It was not militaristic. There was not regular preaching on dress code and on worship or on a strong pastoral demanding, authoritative, dictatorship type of leadership.
As I read this, I thought, “did we attend the same church?” To suggest that Trinity and its pastors weren’t legalistic is ludicrous, as any person (except Mark) who grew up in the church will attest. While there wasn’t “regular” preaching on a dress code or church standards, there certainly were, at times, sermons on these subjects. Long hair on men, short skirts on women were frequently mentioned from the pulpit, in Sunday school, and in youth group meetings. Teens were expected to dress a certain way. “Biblical” morality was outwardly enforced, though, as I learned years later, most church teenagers, except me, were fornicating. There was the facade of Baptist morality, and then there was what really went on behind closed doors.
Granted Pastor Milioni wasn’t an authoritarian like Jack Hyles, but he had authoritarian tendencies — a common character trait for IFB preachers. I had several run-ins with Mark’s father. I can tell you from personal experience that Pastor Milioni could be authoritarian. The same could be said for the other pastors. One pastor had a violent temper. I saw him beat his son on two occasions with a belt for failing to have good grades. These authoritarian tendencies were also expressed by some of the deacons and Sunday school teachers.
I have lots of good and bad experiences I could share from my three-plus years at Trinity Baptist. I am sure Mark does too, having spent his formative years as the son of Trinity’s pastor. I don’t think Mark is lying. I am, however, perplexed about how it is we have wildly different experiences. I wonder if Mark is trying to be honest, yet protective, whereas I have no need to protect the testimonies of others. Granted, our family experiences were very different, he the son of the pastor, me the son of a divorced couple. I would love to sit down with Mark and share a meal or a beer (if he is one of those enlightened IFB preachers) and talk about our shared experiences. Maybe we could find some common ground.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 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.
An immodestly dressed woman is like a cigarette at a gas pump. The cigarette does not explode; the explosion comes as a result of the inherent instability of the fuel. But whoever lit the thing is an absolute fool. I can hear the responses being typed furiously all the way from Iowa. “Well, he should control himself!” Amen, sister, amen. He should walk in the Spirit and thus not fulfil the lusts of the flesh. And you should not run around half-clothed.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
The path to the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) pulpit takes many roads. Some IFB preachers had a crisis in their adult lives, got saved, felt the call of God to the ministry, went to Bible college, and then started pastoring a church. Men with substance abuse problems or horn dog tendencies sometimes take this path. I met a number of preachers who were alcoholics or drug addicts before entering the ministry. Others were fornicators and adulterers who thought the ministry would cure them of their sexual urges. As you might imagine, some of these men found that Jesus was no match for their libido.
Other IFB preachers were “backslidden,” got right with God, felt the call of God to the ministry, went to Bible college, and then started pastoring a church. My father-in-law was one such man. At the age of thirty-five, Dad felt God telling him that he had one last chance to get right with God and enter the ministry. Dad heeded God’s call, quit his ten-year job on the railroad, and moved to Pontiac, Michigan to attend Midwestern Baptist College. Four years later, Dad graduated from Midwestern and spent the next few decades working in God’s vineyard as an evangelist, assistant pastor, pastor, and leading church services for nursing homes.
Some men follow either of these roads, except they skip the college part, entering the ministry without any formal training. The only theological training some IFB preachers have is that they can read the King James Bible. Some of the worst preaching I ever heard was by men who thought college and reading any other book but the KJV was unnecessary — a waste of time. These men believe all they need is the Holy Spirit. Years ago, I heard one such man at an IFB church in Lancaster, Ohio. This man thought preaching was reading the text, going verse by verse, and sharing his personal opinion.
Many IFB preachers were what I call seed-to-harvest preachers. These men were raised in IFB homes, attended IFB churches, were active in IFB youth groups, and were either homeschooled or attended IFB schools. After being saved, often as a child, getting baptized, rededicating their lives as teenagers, and acknowledging the call of God on their lives, these young men left home to study for the ministry at IFB or IFB friendly schools such as Bob Jones University, Pensacola Christian College, Crown College of the Bible, Baptist Bible College, Midwestern Baptist College, Hyles-Anderson College, West Coast Baptist Bible College, Trinity Baptist College, Maranatha Baptist University, Heartland Baptist Bible College, Golden State Baptist Bible College, Faith Baptist Bible College, along with a plethora of church-based Bible institutes. All of these schools exist for the express purpose of preparing men to pastor IFB churches. They may offer other programs, but their focus is on training the next generation of “preacher boys” (and providing women for them to marry).
Seed-to-harvest preachers are typically born to devout IFB parents. Their lives are dominated by the church. I can’t emphasize this point enough. My parents were saved at an IFB church in San Diego, California when I was five. From that time forward, I was in church every time the doors were open: Sunday school, Sunday morning, Sunday evening, youth group, midweek service, revivals, conferences, special prayer meetings, visitation, bus visitation, youth rallies, special youth events, and vacation Bible school. I also played on the church’s softball and basketball teams. When “work days” at the church were announced, I was there. After my call to the ministry, I would skip school so I could attend the Ohio Baptist Bible Fellowship meetings that were held at the church I was attending at the time.
Socially, most of my friends belonged to the same church as I did. Playing sports did allow me the opportunity to have “worldly” friends, but all of my close friends were fellow church members. I only dated “likeminded” girls; girls who either attended the same church I did or attended other IFB churches. I never dated anyone outside of the church. (Such relationships were frowned upon. Be not unequally yoked with the world, the Bible says.)
While I attended a public school, many seed-to-harvest preachers are either homeschooled or attend a Christian school. It is in these settings that these preachers-to-be are deeply indoctrinated in the one true faith. My six children spent virtually every day of their lives in a world where everything revolved around God/Jesus/Bible/Church. The seed-to-harvest preacher spends most of his formative years immersed in the church and the Bible.
Seed-to-harvest preachers learned that being a preacher is best job in the world. They heard pastors tell them that was no greater job than preaching the gospel, saving souls, and building churches. I heard several preachers say that it would be a step down for them to become President.
Seed-to-harvest preachers quickly learned that being a preacher is a place of honor and prominence, a place of love and respect. They likely heard sermons imploring them to become pastors, missionaries, and evangelists. This thinking was reinforced by their youth pastors. Pastors often view “men called to the ministry” much as a gunslinger does after winning a gunfight. Every time a young man enters the ministry, pastors put another notch on their gospel gun. I’ve heard numerous preachers brag about how many men were called to preach under their ministry.
Now take a step back and look at what I have written. What do you see? Indoctrination. Conditioning. Manipulation. Young, impressionable men becoming a means to an end. My oldest son, Jason, was on the seed-to-harvest path. Everyone expected him to become an IFB preacher just like his father, grandfather, and great grandfather. In the spring of Jason’s senior year, he was accepted to study for the ministry at Pensacola Christian College. PCC offered free tuition for pastors’ children. Many IFB schools do the same, using the free tuition as a way to draw other students from the church to the college.
Jason began having doubts about his salvation. I found this strange because he was a rock-solid Christian, devoted to Jesus and the church. I remember sitting down with Jason and talking with him about his doubts. What I learned is that he felt pressured to join the family business; that he really didn’t want to be a preacher. As soon as I told him he didn’t have to be a preacher, his “doubts” disappeared. For years after, his IFB grandfather would publicly lament the fact that “Jake” didn’t become a preacher. While I was disappointed that he didn’t want to follow in my footsteps, I knew that the ministry wasn’t for everyone.
At the age of five, I told my mom that I wanted to be a preacher. I would gather the neighborhood kids together in the backyard and preach to them. At the age of fifteen, I was saved, baptized, and called to preach. Several weeks later, under the tutelage of Bruce Turner (please see Dear Bruce Turner), I preached my first sermon at the Sunday night youth group meeting. I would preach my last sermon thirty-three years later. All told, I preached over 4,000 sermons.
As I look at my life, I can see how my parents, pastors, and other Christians led me down the path that led to the pulpit. Everything in my life led to the ministry. While I worked numerous “secular” jobs over the years, I saw them as a means to an end, a way for me to make money so I could keep pastoring churches.
Could I have chosen another path? I doubt it. The indoctrination, conditioning, and control was such that I never even entertained a different path. After I married Polly, who was also raised in an IFB home, the die was set. It wasn’t until my late forties that I saw a different path for me. I left the ministry in 2005, and three years later, I left Christianity altogether. I have spent the past fourteen years charting a new path for my life, one where I am the captain, one where my choices are endless (within the constraints of my failing health and limited resources).
Were you a seed-to-harvest preacher? Does what I write in this post ring true to you? Please share your experiences in the comment section.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 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.
