Bruce and Polly Gerencser, May 1978, two months before our wedding
For those of us raised in high-demand religious sects, we know how much we missed out on while we were busy worshipping Jesus every hour of every day, week in and week out. I spent the majority of my life deeply immersed in the teachings of the Bible and the machinations of the ministry. All told, I attended over 8,000 church services, revival meetings, youth rallies, and Bible conferences. At least three times a week for the first fifty years of my life, I could be found within the four walls of Bible-believing, Bible-preaching churches. I was a committed, devoted follower of Jesus, as was my partner, Polly. When we married in 1978, we made a commitment to follow Jesus all the days of our lives. Our children were born into and lived in a home where Evangelical Christianity permeated everything we did. This is not to say that Polly and I were perfect Christians. We were not. Both of us sinned, and, on occasion, grievously so. That said, the bent of our lives was towards holiness, without which, the Bible says, “no man shall see the Lord.”
The Bible — my interpretation of it, anyway — was the foundation of our family. Thus, there were a lot of things we didn’t or couldn’t do because of our beliefs. This means we missed out on doing many of the things — good, bad, and indifferent — our peers did. Polly, in particular, lived a sheltered life, attending an Evangelical Christian high school. I was more worldly in the sense that I attended a large public high school and was more exposed to the world than she was. That said, Jesus, the Bible, and the church were the sum of our lives until we were in our late 40s.
Polly will turn sixty-seven in October, and I turned sixty-eight in June. Both of us are on the short side of life; I, in particular, with all the health problems I have. As we reflect on our pasts, we can’t help but regret missing out on so much of life. In recent years, we’ve decided to do some of the things we were forbidden from doing. Our only rule these days is this: we are free to do whatever we want to do. No God or Bible to consult. All that matters is whether we want to do something, and if we can afford it, off we go, experiencing and enjoying what little life we have left.
This is especially true when it comes to music. Over the past three years, we have attended numerous “secular” concerts, so much so that several workers at one venue know us by name. So far this year, we have heard (main acts):
Girl Named Tom
The Fray
Augustana
1985 (a tribute band)
Fleetwood Mac Tribute Band
Buffalo Rose
Parmalee
Four Horsemen (Metallica Tribute Band)
Dorothy
Redferrin
In October, we plan to see Killer Queen (a tribute band) at The Clyde Theater in Fort Wayne and Seether, Daughtry, and POD at the Michigan Lottery Amphitheatre in Sterling Heights, Michigan. In November, a Blackstone Cherry concert is on the schedule, as is One Dark Night (a Halloween-themed concert, theatrical production). You might think that we are attending a lot of concerts — and we are — but consider how limited I am physically. I can walk short distances with a cane, but anything more than that requires a wheelchair. Fortunately, we have found three music venues that are ADA-friendly; places where we aren’t stuck in a back corner somewhere, out of sight, out of mind. Besides, we have eclectic music tastes. We love live music, so we are to be found at everything from country to heavy metal concerts.
Are you a former member of a high-demand religion that put onerous requirements on how you lived your life? How has your life changed? Have you experienced things now that you missed out on in your Christian days? Please share your experiences in the comment section.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
I have been blogging for seventeen years. I have had several blogs over the years. This one has been live since 2014. Titled The Life and Times of Bruce Gerencser, this blog focuses on my journey from Evangelicalism to atheism, with a lesser focus on sex crimes committed by Evangelical preachers and critiques of Christianity in general.
While this blog has a biographical bent, it is not, strictly speaking, a biography. Over the years, I evolved theologically and changed my beliefs on all sorts of social issues. For example, I entered the ministry as a hardcore, King James-only, Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB). Over time, my beliefs have evolved, so much so that the Bruce Gerencser of 1983 would not recognize the Bruce Gerencser of today.
When new readers frequent this site, they rarely read all of my biographical writing. Brought by a search engine to this site, they might read one, two, four, or even fifty posts, thinking that is sufficient to understand by story and beliefs. It’s not, and this leads readers to reach wrong conclusions about me. For example, countless Christian readers have told me that my problem is that I was raised and schooled in the IFB church movement. Is this claim true? No. I left the IFB church movement in the mid-80s, twenty years before I deconverted. Sadly, pigeon-holing me this way allows critics to dismiss my story out of hand. “No wonder he’s an atheist. He was an IFB preacher.” Lost on my critics is the fact that I only pastored three IFB churches; that I also pastored Sovereign Grace, Christian Union, Southern Baptist, and non-Denominational churches. The last church I pastored was a Southern Baptist congregation in Michigan. One Sunday, a young man who was a member of a church I pastored for eleven years in southeast Ohio came to hear me preach at this Southern Baptist church. Afterward, he told me that my preaching had changed; that I was now preaching a “social gospel.” And to some degree, He was right. My beliefs had changed, a reflection of my deep immersion in Mennonite and progressive Christian theology.
Many readers pick a point on my timeline and judge me accordingly. What they fail to see and understand is that I was no longer at that point, belief-wise; that my theology had changed, as had my understanding of social issues. Today, I am an atheist, secular humanist, liberal, progressive, socialist, and pacifist. Twenty-five-year-old Bruce would have despised sixty-eight-year-old Bruce.
With these thoughts in mind, let me address several false judgments Evangelicals and other Christians make about my life.
First, some critics say that I left the ministry (2005) and Christianity (2008) because I was unhappy as a pastor. This idea is not anywhere in my writing, but taking disparate stories and putting them together, critics often conclude that I was unhappy was a pastor. This claim is patently untrue. I was generally happy as a pastor. I loved preaching and teaching the Bible and helping those in need. Did I battle with depression as a pastor? Sure, but that doesn’t mean I was unhappy. My depression — as it is today — was driven by perfectionist tendencies, obsessive-compulsive personality disorder (OCPD), and a Type A personality. When I couldn’t meet impossible expectations put on me by church members and myself, depression ensued. This is true to this day, though years of therapy have helped me see myself in a different light. I still find myself “driven” to perform, but one thing serious health problems have done is make it impossible for me to meet my lofty self-imposed standard.
Second, some critics think I deconverted because of how poorly churches paid me over the years. This assertion reveals that they really haven’t read much of my biographical writing. Had they done their homework, they would have learned that I would have pastored churches for free; that I was bivocational on and off during the twenty-five years I spent in the ministry. I was never a part-time pastor. Instead, I often pastored full-time while working outside the church. As a result, I worked long hours, often six or seven days a week. If there is one thing I would never do again, it is giving the ministry priority in my life. Both Polly and I devoted ourselves to every church I pastored, regardless of the time and effort it took. We felt, at the time, that this was God’s calling for us. In college, Polly was reminded by professors that she would have to accept playing second fiddle in Bruce’s ministerial orchestra. The same went for our children. The church always came first. It took me twenty years to change my ways.
Third, some critics claim that I deconverted because the “church” hurt me. When asked for evidence for their claim, none is provided. How, then, do they know the church hurt me? Supposedly, they can read the “hurt” in my writing or by looking into the eyes of a photograph of me. I have not once suggested that “hurt” was a reason I deconverted. This claim is an assumption made without evidence for the truth of it.
Have I ever been “hurt” by church members? Sure, but never to the degree that I wanted to leave Christianity. Most of the hurt came after I deconverted; when lifelong friends and colleagues in the ministry turned on me after I left Christianity. From nasty emails and letters to sermons especially about me, I quickly learned that fidelity to certain theological beliefs was the glue that held our relationships together. Once this fidelity evaporated, I was branded an apostate; a tool of Satan; a false prophet; an enemy of the one true faith.
Okay, Bruce, why DID you leave Christianity? I deconverted because Christianity no longer made sense to me. I came to believe that the central claims of Christianity were false — especially its supernatural claims. I no longer believe the Bible is inerrant and infallible. I no longer believe that Jesus was in any way supernatural. Jesus was an apocalyptic Jewish preacher who lived and died — end of discussion. I concluded that I couldn’t believe these things and still be a Christian. Unlike many Christians, I was unwilling to close my eyes to errors and contradictions in the Bible and the harm caused by its teachings. Once I started treating the Bible as I did other books, everything changed. Sure, I could have faked it as many Christians do, but I’m not one to lie about what I believe.
I hope this clears up the misunderstandings readers have about my story. If you still have questions, please ask them in the comment section. If you have not read the posts on the Why? page, I encourage you to do so. Still have questions? Email me and I will try to answer them.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
For those of us raised in Evangelical churches, we are acutely familiar with a song titled Happiness is the Lord:
Happiness is to know the Saviour, Living a life within His favour, Having a change in my behaviour, Happiness is the Lord. Happiness is a new creation, Jesus and me in close relation, Having a part in His salvation, Happiness is the Lord.
Real joy is mine, No matter if the teardrops start, I’ve found a secret, It’s Jesus in my heart.
Happiness is to be forgiven, Living a life that’s worth the livin’, Taking a trip that leads to Heaven, Happiness is the Lord.
Real joy is mine, No matter if the teardrops start, I’ve found a secret, It’s Jesus in my heart, Jesus in my heart. Happiness is to be forgiven, Living a life that’s worth the livin’, Taking a trip that leads to Heaven, Happiness is the Lord, Happiness is the Lord, Happiness is the Lord.
If you dare, watch the following video. You will immediately have an earworm that you can’t get rid of.
Released in 1972, Happiness is the Lord is a song that children sing over and over and over again in Evangelical churches. I was in ninth grade when this song came out, and it quickly became a hit among the church’s teens.
What is this song teaching children about happiness?
Happiness is Jesus
Happiness is living a life in Jesus’ favor
Happiness is changed behavior
Happiness is a new creation (in Christ)
Happiness is a close relationship with Jesus
Happiness is having a part in Jesus’ salvation
Happiness is to be forgiven
Happiness is living a life worth living
Happiness is a trip to Heaven
From their nursery years forward, Evangelical children are indoctrinated and conditioned to believe that happiness only comes through Jesus. Without Jesus, children live meaningless lives. Want a life worth living? Want to have your sins (and don’t worry, kids, we will tell you all the behaviors that are sins and affronts to Jesus) forgiven? Want to go to Heaven when you die? Who doesn’t, right? According to Evangelicals, Jesus is the answer to every one of these questions.
Of course, what naturally follows is the idea that without Jesus, you can’t be happy. Your life isn’t worth living, and when you die, you will go to Hell. When life is framed in this manner, is it any wonder that the majority of Evangelical children make salvation decisions by the time they are out of elementary school?
Is happiness possible without Jesus? Of course it is. People were happy for thousands of years before Jesus arrived on the scene, and countless people have been happy since then, all without believing in and worshipping a dead Jew.
Google defines happiness this way:
Happiness is a state of well-being and contentment, often described as experiencing joy, satisfaction, and fulfillment. It’s a subjective experience, meaning what brings happiness to one person might not be the same for another. Happiness can be found in both fleeting moments and overall life satisfaction.
Note that the definition doesn’t mention Jesus as the source of happiness. Millions of Evangelicals lustily sing Happiness is the Lord, but their lives reveal that these words mean little to them. I pastored lots of unhappy believers; people who sang Happiness is the Lord on Sundays, and lived miserable, unhappy lives the rest of the week.
I deconverted seventeen years ago. Did unhappiness overwhelm me after I divorced Jesus? Nope. What changed was the locus of my happiness. As a Christian, my happiness was rooted in Jesus. As an atheist, my happiness is found in the simple things of life: Polly, our six children, our sixteen grandchildren, and four cats. Lots of happiness to go around for the Gerencser family. I also find happiness in nature and observing the lives of others. We did some shopping tonight at the Aldi store in Auburn, Indiana. I was in a good mood, even though I was in a lot of pain. I chatted with several shoppers. One Amish woman (we have a large Amish community near where we live) was shopping with her teen daughters and a toddler. I watched as the toddler ran down the aisles, evading her older sisters. I briefly talked to the mother, commenting on her daughter’s energy. We both laughed, traded a few pleasantries, and continued shopping. You know what I felt in that moment? Happiness.
None of us needs God/Jesus to be happy. If you think you do, you have been indoctrinated and conditioned. Life is what you make it, and even in the midst of suffering and loss, happiness can be found. We bought some hot dogs for the feral/stray cats that frequent our yard. Tonight, there were four adult cats and five kittens at our back door. I cut up hot dogs and put them on the porch. It was every cat for herself. I was delighted to see the kittens eating solid food. Again, how did I feel? Happy. Later tonight, four coons that have been visiting us at night will make an appearance. Their antics provide loads of entertainment. How will I feel? Happy. Happy for the sake of being happy, and happy that the coons made to our yard without getting hit on the highway in front of our home.
None of us needs Jesus to find happiness. Even if you are a Christian, Jesus is not the sum of your happiness. Expand your horizons and embrace life. You will find all the happiness you will ever need.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
Scores of Evangelical Christians are questioning their beliefs, leading to what is commonly called “deconstruction.” Deconstruction is a process used to carefully examine beliefs and practices. Some people who deconstruct stay in their chosen belief system. Changes are made around the edges, belief-wise, but core doctrines remain unchanged. Others leave Evangelicalism, moving on to different sects and beliefs. Many people choose to reject religions, embracing spiritualism instead. And for others, deconstruction leads to a rejection of Christianity altogether. Many of these people become agnostics or atheists.
As more and more Evangelicals deconstruct, preachers take to their pulpits to “explain” why people deconstruct. More often than not, these preachers lie through their teeth as they give reasons for people deconstructing.
Over the weekend, I listened to a number of preachers attempting to explain why people deconstruct and leave their churches. Without exception, these so-called men of God lied about those leaving the faith. These preachers may be ignorant about deconstruction, but facts are but a Google search away. At best, these preachers are lazy. At worst, their objective is to smear the character of former believers, using former Christians as sermon illustrations or using them as a warning sign from God. I have critics who do this very thing by saying my health problems are a warning sign from God. “Look at what happened to Bruce Gerencser,” these preachers say. The problem with this line of stupidity is that my health problems predate my loss of faith. Any time I have a serious problem in my life, Evangelicals will claim that God is judging me for my alleged rebellion against the Almighty. How these Nostradamuses know their pronouncements are true is never stated. When I draw my last breath, you can count on these same critics taking to the Internet and their pulpits to say that I am now burning in Hell, facing the just consequences of having a doubting, questioning mind.
By far, the number one reason Evangelical preachers give for why people deconstruct is that the church has hurt them. While church hurt certainly plays a part in the deconversion process, I don’t know of anyone who says that “hurt” is the sole reason for walking away from Christianity. That said, Evangelical churches are known for shooting the wounded, sometimes causing mortal wounds. Go ahead and cross the preacher or disagree with him and see what happens. Go ahead and do or say something that the church’s power brokers (and every church has them) object to and see what happens. Oh wait, you know what will happen, because you have experienced it. Dare to walk your own path, expressing questions and doubts, and you will find yourself marginalized, ostracized, or excommunicated. Why would people want to remain in churches where they are treated as outsiders?
Another reason preachers use to explain why people deconstruct is that they secretly want to sin. Specifically, those who deconstruct want to commit licentious sexual immorality. Numerous critics of mine say that I left Evangelicalism because I am a closeted gay man. This, of course, is patently untrue. I don’t know of anyone who deconverted solely did so because they wanted to “sin.” Besides, the church has lots of “sinners” in its midst. The Black Collar Crime Series records the criminal behavior of over a thousand preachers — mostly Evangelicals who committed sex crimes. I have yet to read an article or hear a sermon about the problem Evangelicalism has with sexual misconduct. Why not focus on the “sin” within instead of judging, criticizing, and condemning those who are without?
Let me give you one more reason Evangelical preachers give for why people deconstruct. Preachers love to paint those who deconstruct as ignorant, superficial people; people who know very little about the Bible. This, of course, is patently untrue. Most of the people I know who deconverted spent countless hours re-examining their beliefs. What these preachers are most upset about is that the deconversion process exposes the shallowness of their preaching and calls into question what they teach and preach. Worse, it reveals that most Evangelical preachers are unable or unwilling to answer serious, challenging questions about Christianity and the Bible. When no suitable answers are forthcoming, people are told to just faith-it; that in time, God will soothe all doubts and answer all questions. People might have to wait until they die and enter the Pearly Gates, but all questions will one day be answered.
Most people deconvert because Evangelical Christianity no longer makes sense to them. Why are preachers afraid to admit that this is the primary reason people deconvert? To do so would call into question their ministry; their teaching, preaching, and way of life. Instead of serious introspection, preachers blame those who have lost their faith. (Please see The Michael Mock Rule: It Just Doesn’t Make Sense.)
If preachers truly want to know why people deconvert, I suggest that they actually talk to people who deconverted. Rarely does this happen. Most articles about deconversion are opinion pieces that lack any interviews with former Christians. Will preachers do this? Of course not. They have kingdoms and checkbooks to protect. I would love to be invited by local Evangelical churches to come share my journey from Evangelicalism to atheism. Surely, one former Christian’s testimony is no threat to the beliefs of others? Doesn’t the Bible say, “Greater is he that is in us, than he that is in the world?” I am no match for God, yet preachers fear that I will lead people astray if they ever hear from the horse’s mouth why I deconverted. Regardless, most Evangelicals have the Internet, and countless doubting/questioning Christians have contacted me for help. What reason do these people give for contacting me? Their pastors couldn’t or refused to answer their questions, or gave shallow, childish answers that they found unsatisfactory.
I suspect nothing will stem the tide of people deconstructing. It is clear, at least to me, that Evangelical churches/pastors/colleges have no answers for those who are desperately trying to hold on to their faith. Most doubters and questioners don’t want to deconvert, but the more they read and study, the more they realize that Evangelicalism no longer has answers for them. And when answers aren’t forthcoming, people will look elsewhere.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
Many of these programs are call-in shows that encourage Christians to call in and defend their faith or answer questions about various teachings of the Bible. The answers upchucked by many of these Evangelical zealots are usually shallow, contradictory, and, at times, heretical. These defenders of the faith attend church multiple times a week, hearing the Word of God taught and preached. Some of the people who call in are pastors, evangelists, missionaries, and college professors. Sadly, many of their arguments and explanations are just as bad as people with no Bible college or seminary training. Some of these preachers need to quit preaching and go back to college to get a real education. Of course, a “real” education can and does lead to a loss of faith.
It is not uncommon for those who call these shows to complain about all the atheist programming on YouTube and TikTok. “Can’t you just keep your beliefs to yourself? Why do you have to cause people to doubt (or lose) their faith? Of course, when I put the shoe on the other foot and apply the same standard to Evangelicals, they stupidly think that only atheists should keep their mouths shut; that Evangelicals are commanded by God to preach the gospel to the ends of the earth. However, what is good for the proverbial goose is good for the gander.
One apologist bitterly moaned and complained that atheists were using the Internet to target children. Guilty, as charged, though most social media providers have rules that prohibit young children from using their services. If your eight-year-old son is watching The Atheist Experience on Sundays, that’s on you, parents. Or you might question why your children are watching atheist programs like the ones mentioned above. If Christian children are watching atheist shows, it is a sign that they are not getting the answers they need from their parents, pastors, and churches. Children are Internet savvy. They know that the answers to their questions are a few clicks away. I have had numerous Christian teenagers and young adults contact me. I have had a few youthful readers send me questions to answer for a Christian school project of theirs. I always politely and honestly answer their questions, planting seeds that I hope will sprout and grow in time. I don’t press, push, or evangelize. I’m content to answer their questions, hoping that they develop rational, skeptical thinking skills.
I have been repeatedly asked over the years to stop publicly telling my story; that I was causing people to lose their faith. Here’s what I know: if the mere telling of my story directly causes Evangelical Christians to deconvert, their faith was on shallow ground to begin with. Many people already have one foot out the church door before they stumble upon my content. Regardless, I have no intention to stop telling my story or critiquing Evangelical Christianity.
Unlike many Evangelical churches, questions are always welcome on this site. I will do my best to answer them, and if I can’t, I will point questioners to authors and websites that can. More times than I can count, I have recommended readers read one or more books by Dr. Bart Ehrman. I know that doing so is the cure for Christian Fundamentalism and Bible inerrancy. Sadly, most people whom I recommend Ehrman to refuse to read his books. Why? Their pastors warned them about reading Bart’s books lest they lose their faith. It is a shallow faith, indeed, if one book can cause you to lose it. No single book caused me to deconvert. It took numerous books and podcasts to lead me out of the doors of the church. I suspect many of the readers of this blog will say the same thing.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
“Dr.” Arv Edgeworth, an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) evangelist, sent me another email. Here’s what he had to say
I have a question for you. I saw the list of IFB pastors and their sexual sins. I didn’t read any of the information, it would be too depressing. I know of a number of incidents like that in churches I have been associated with, sad to say. However, in your opinion, which should be considered worse: an IFB preacher who was guilty of sexual misconduct; or an IFB preacher who did a complete turn around and denied Christ, and tried to get others to do the same thing? Sexual misconduct, or spiritual misconduct? In your opinion, which would do the most damage?
I assume that Edgeworth is talking about the Black Collar Crime series. Edgeworth wants to know which is worse: an IFB preacher who raped church children or an IFB preacher (me) who deconverted and now tries to get others to do the same? What’s worse, Edgeworth asks, sexual misconduct or spiritual misconduct? I assume he thinks “spiritual” misconduct is worse because it leads to eternal consequences.
Let me be clear, sexual misconduct in all its forms is morally wrong and often leads to lifelong consequences. IFB churches are notorious for ignoring or covering up sex crimes. Worse, offenders often leave the churches where the offenses occurred and move on to other churches. More than a few IFB churches are pastored by preachers who have committed sex crimes. God has forgiven them of their sin. How dare anyone keep them from their calling! God forgives and forgets, and so should we. Or so the thinking goes, anyway.
Edgeworth’s claim that I committing spiritual misconduct is absurd. Am I taking advantage of people? Am I fulfilling the lusts of my flesh by spiritually assaulting and raping people? Of course not. I am just one man with a story to tell. I am not an evangelist for atheism. All I do is share my story and carefully examine the central claims of Evangelical Christianity. I write, people read. I have never forced myself or my beliefs on another person.
How is it spiritual abuse to encourage people to rationally think for themselves? Shouldn’t that be the goal for Christians and unbelievers alike? Edgeworth will search in vain for one post that remotely suggests that I tried to get Christians to deny the Messiah. Have some people said that my writing played an instrumental part in their deconversion? Sure, but all I did was answer their questions. Or maybe my personal testimony resonated with them. Regardless, I have never forced anyone to deny Jesus and become an atheist.
Should I not tell my story, Arv? You came to my blog and told yours. Why is it okay for Evangelicals to go from IP address to IP address, preaching the gospel, even to people who have no interest in what they are peddling? I have been told several times that I should shut up and keep my story to myself. One preacher told me he feared that if people read my story that they would deconvert. Really? Am I so powerful that my words carry such power — more powerful than God — that they can cause people to lose their salvation? Trust me, I am not that powerful. More often, my writing is just one step in the process of deconversion.
Instead of worrying about Evangelical-preachers-turned-atheists leading IFB church members astray, I would worry more about sexual predators who have infiltrated churches, using the love, kindness, and forgiveness of congregants to hide their evil actions. Sadly, church members can be naive, thinking a man of God would never, ever commit a sex crime. This is a delusion, one that leads to harm, both to church members who are abused and to vulnerable adults who are taken advantage of.
I should add that if anyone is committing spiritual abuse, it is IFB preachers. I could spend months talking about preachers who spiritually abused the churches — myself included. That’s what cults do.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
I’m often asked if I had a personal relationship with Jesus — the Evangelical gold standard for what it means to be a Christian. Many Evangelicals think that I can’t have had a personal relationship with Jesus; that a true relationship with Jesus stays steady and sure until death. That I am now an atheist means I never had a super-duper personal relationship with the second part of the Godhead. If this claim is true, it means that I spent the first fifty years of my life as a deceived Christian. No matter what I point to in my life that suggests otherwise, Evangelicals say I was deceived. Imagine the sheer level of deception required for me to pull off such a feat. This should be enough for Evangelicals to see that their claim that I was (and still am) deceived is wrong, but their soteriology keeps them from doing so. You see, my story poses a big problem for Evangelicals who believe in once-saved- always-saved or eternal security. By necessity, they must conclude that either I never was a Christian or I am still a believer. Both claims are, on their face, irrational, contradictory, and absurd. As I have told such Evangelicals countless times before, “Just because you can’t square your peculiar theology with my story is your problem, not mine.” I know what I know. I once was saved, and now I am not.
Over the years, I have asked people who claim I never was a Christian for evidence for their claim. The only evidence forthcoming is proof texts from the Bible — as interpreted by my critics. However, doesn’t the Bible say that we judge a person by the fruit he produces; that good works are the measure of a man or a woman? Have you never noticed that judgmental, hateful Christians always want to focus on theology, not how they live out their beliefs? They know their behavior betrays their beliefs, so they focus on theological or philosophical arguments instead. However, the Bible is clear: the measure of a person is how he lives.
According to this standard, I measure up quite well. I spent most of my adult life loving and serving others, including the poor, the imprisoned, and the homeless. I invested myself in the lives of my parishioners, at times at the expense of my partner and children. I preached with or without pay. Why? Because I believed I had a higher calling to preach the gospel to the unsaved and teach the Bible to Christians. What mattered was the work of the ministry. I selflessly devoted myself to this calling for twenty-five years.
If I never was a Christian, how do my critics explain the aforementioned evidence to the contrary? I have repeatedly challenged my critics to find one person who knew me at the time I was a pastor who would say they knew I never was a Christian. I’m confident that no evidence will be forthcoming. I am not perfect, not now, nor when I was an Evangelical pastor. I “sinned” just like every other Christian, yet the bent of my life was towards holiness. At best, I was an imperfect, falible man who sincerely wanted to help others. And that, my friend, is what I still try to be today.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
In 2023, Richard, an Evangelical Christian, sent me an email, to which I responded in the post Dear Richard, the Evangelical Christian. Richard did not respond to my post, either by commenting or sending me an email. In 2024, Richard sent me another email, Dear Richard, the Evangelical Christian — Round Two. In what is turning out to be an annual affair, Richard sent me another email, which follows. I will attempt to respond to Richard again. (All spelling, grammar, and punctuation in the original.)
Bruce, it has been awhile since I last corresponded with you. I noticed that you provided a couple of updates on 3/5/2025 where you shared a bit more about your life growing up. At times, it sounded pretty tumultuous, like life can be. Jesus certainly did not have it easy either.
In what way did Jesus have it “hard”? Outside of the 48-72 hours detailing his arrest, crucifixion, and burial, I find nothing in Scripture that suggests Jesus had a hard life. He might have had such a life, but we have no evidence that justifies such a claim. Even when we consider his suffering, it didn’t last long and does not compare to those who suffer years on end. (Please see I Wish Christians Would Be Honest About Jesus’ Three Day Weekend.)
King Herod wanted to kill him, so Joseph was instructed to take the family to Egypt and he quickly did as he was told. There was a certain similarity between the one you thought was your Dad and Joseph.
Robert Gerencser was no Joseph. He was largely an absentee father who repeatedly moved his family across the country because he couldn’t pay the rent or properly care for his wife and children. Dad didn’t attend my school or sporting events, never sent my children gifts for Christmas after promising to do so year after year, and stole money and property that belonged to me. Imagine being sent to school without lunch money or having to shoplift to have clothes.
As far as Dad’s motivations, I suspect he wanted to be viewed by others as successful and financially well-off. Simply put, he lived beyond his means, and his family suffered. For years, I hated my dad for all the moving, and the fact that I attended ten schools in three states. This was no way to raise and care for children.
You found out considerably later in life that you undoubtedly had another Dad you had never met. Joseph had been advised by Gabriel that Jesus’ Dad was God the Father, although it sounds quite clear from the Bible that his parents never revealed his origin in life to Him. Fear of being at odds with the religious establishment of the day was probably why Jesus and his half-brothers were not told of His supernatural beginnings by His mother and step-father. I do not believe that their role in His life caused them to love Jesus any less than the other children they had.
I found out who my biological father was via a DNA test. You make a lot of claims about Jesus and his parentage but provide no evidence for these assertions. A DNA test for Jesus would be nice. I get it, by faith you believe the supernatural claims in the Bible. However, I am not a person of faith, so if you want me to believe your claims, I will need more evidence than personal opinions. You are free to believe what you want, but I suspect your emails are an attempt to persuade me of the truthfulness of your claims. So far, I am unpersuaded.
Growing up in life, I was always told that a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. One of the major problems with the doctrine of eternal security is that human beings and angels both have free wills. Satan chose to rebel against God, along with a third of the angels in heaven, and, as a result, they were cast out of heaven for their attempted insurrection/rebellion. We, as human beings, can choose to follow Jesus or we can choose to walk away from Him.
There is so much wrong with this paragraph that I don’t know where to begin.
First, both Calvinism and Arminianism — in all their flavors — are taught in the Bible. I concluded long ago that the Bible can be used to prove almost anything; when determining which Christian sect is right, I decided all of them are. Each sect, church, pastor, and individual Christian appeals to the Bible as justification for their beliefs. Who is right, and who is wrong? How do we determine who is right?
I reject the notion that humans have libertarian free will. I didn’t believe this as an Evangelical, and I certainly don’t believe it now. A lifetime of Evangelical and rightwing indoctrination and conditioning largely determined what I would believe, both as a child and an adult. There was nothing “free” about this process. If you would like to have an in-depth discussion about free will, let me know, and I will write an in-depth post (or series of posts) on this subject.
Let me add that Satan is not mentioned anywhere in the Old Testament. Evangelicals make a lot of assumptions about Satan. For example, most Evangelicals believe that the snake in the Garden of Eden was Satan. However, there’s not a shred of evidence for this claim.
Judas Iscariot was given numerous opportunities by Jesus to avoid the path of destruction his life ofbetrayal charted for him, but the love of money was too strong a temptation for him to resist. It also did not help that he was a thief as well.Jesus was certainly willing to forgive him.
Not according to the Bible. Judas was the Son of Perdition, chosen by God to betray Jesus. Since Jesus was a lamb slain before the foundation of the world, every aspect of Jesus’s birth and death were predetermined. God is sovereign over all things, including Jesus’s life and death.
Where does the Bible say Jesus was willing to forgive Judas? No, Jesus, the God-man, knew exactly what would happen to him. He knew when, where, and how Judas would betray him.
Initially, when the two thieves were being crucified with Jesus, they both railed against Him and were as abusive as the others who were mocking Him. (Matthew 27:44). Yet, in Luke 23:39-43, we read that when one of the thieves asked Jesus in humility to remember him when He came into His kingdom, Jesus was quick to assure him that he would be with Him in paradise that very day. In this life, what counts is how we finish and not how we start out. The thief who had the best ending never even got baptized.
All of us are privileged to be alive at this time in human history. There is much deception and an inordinate amount of erroneous information. The Bible tells the good, the bad, and the ugly. It has nothing to hide. When Jesus was crucified, his disciples concluded that he would stay dead, yet he showed Himself to them on multiple occasions prior to ascending into heaven. From being totally dispirited and discouraged, they became transformed and turned the world upside down with the Good News that death was defeated and we could be reconciled to God because Jesus died in our place for our sins.
Where does the Bible say one of the thieves got baptized? Both died on the cross, and were either left on the cross to rot or were thrown in an unmarked grave for criminals. I suspect Jesus ended up in a similar grave. There’s nothing in the Biblical account that suggests either thief was baptized.
Did the disciples really turn the world upside down? What evidence do you have for this claim? Jesus, at the time of his death, was largely a failure. When his followers gathered in the Upper Room after his death, how many were there? About 120. Jesus was largely ignored by both Jews and Gentiles alike, and it would be hundreds of years, thanks to Constantine, before Christianity numerically grew. I am not saying the disciples didn’t spread the gospel, but most Evangelicals grossly overestimate the influence Christians had on society during the early years of Christianity.
One of the biggest stumbling blocks that Satan uses today are “Christians” who become his mouthpieces/servants by words they say and actions they take. You had your share of such people crossing your path over the years Bruce. Even Job had to contend with that. His wife and his three friends were not much of a comfort to him during his trials. Jesus does not behave that way.
Let me be clear, I deconverted because I no longer believed the central claims of Christianity were true; that the core teaching of the church no longer made sense to me. (Please read The Michael Mock Rule: It Just Doesn’t Make Sense.) I didn’t leave Christianity because I was hurt, bitter, angry, or any of the other false reasons ascribed to my deconversion story. Most of my negative experiences with Christians came AFTER I deconverted, not before. While I have certainly met some kind, thoughtful Christians post-Jesus, I have received countless emails, blog comments, social media messages, and snail mail letters from hateful, mean-spirited, nasty bullies-for-Jesus. I am talking about thousands of such interactions. The Bible says you can judge believers based on the fruit their lives produce. All I see is a rotting corpse.
Although in recent years, you have been working overtime to convince others there is no God, God in His mercy still very much loves you. He came into this world to save sinners. We are all sinners in need of a Saviour.
Speak for yourself; I am not a sinner.
You can’t possibly know if God loves me. I could be an apostate or a reprobate. I see no evidence for a God who “loves me, cares for me, and has a wonderful plan for my life.” All I see is an absentee God who doesn’t give a shit about me. Of course, I don’t think God exists, so my argument is with the Bible’s God — a divine being created by humans. Let me add in passing, do you know there are numerous deities in the Bible, beginning in Genesis 1? I encourage you to check out Dr. Dan McClellan’s work on this subject.
I spend very little time trying to convince people of anything, let alone atheism. I am just one man with a story to tell. If people find my story helpful, I am grateful. However, I DO NOT evangelize people for atheism. Sure, I critique Evangelical Christianity, but I do not attempt to bring people to the light. I am content to write, and let people do with my writing what they will. Unlike Richard and countless other Evangelicals, I have never gone to a Christian blog or website and tried to get people to deconvert.
You have a multitude of physical ailments Bruce but you are still alive. Where there is life, there is hope.
Hope for what? You seem to think that I am lacking in some way; that my life is missing something important. How can you possibly know this? Yes, I have serious health problems. Yes, I will likely die sooner, and not later. I know my days are numbered. Yet, you want me to waste my time worshipping a non-existent deity? No thanks. Been there, done that. I have weighed the claims of Christianity in the balance and found them wanting.
I do not believe God sends anyone to hell. He gives us a free will. We choose to live how we want to live. The actions we take are what decide our final/ultimate destination. Romans is a very good book which explains the difference between living for the flesh or walking in the Spirit. The flesh and its fleshly appetites bring death. The Spirit gives life. We all need to choose life!
If God is the sovereign creator of all things and the giver and taker of life, then our eternal destiny rests solely with him. Our salvation rests in God’s hands, not ours. According to the Bible, every word, thought, and deed is controlled by God. It seems in Richard’s theology, God is the only one who doesn’t have free will.
It is evident that Richard thinks my life is inferior and that what I need is what he has — Jesus. And if I would only read the book of Romans, I would understand this. First, I exegetically preached through the book of Romans twice. I know what the book says. Second, I am not interested in what the Bible says about anything. That’s why I ask people NOT to send me preachy emails. Richard ignored my request and has now sent me THREE preachy messages, as if he could possibly say something I haven’t heard countless times before.
Apart from chronic pain and chronic illness, I have a good life. I have been married to a wonderful woman for almost forty-seven years. We are blessed to have six adult children, three daughters-in-law, and sixteen awesome grandchildren. We own our home, drive a newer model automobile, and have four cats. I have, in every way, a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious life. Yes, death is stalking me, and, at times, I can feel its breath upon my neck. I try each and every day to live life to its fullest. I have no need for God, the church, or the Bible. Richard lives in a blinkered world where all that matters is Jesus. If that works for him — fine, but such a life does not interest me.
Saved by Reason,
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
I’m almost sixty-eight years old, and there has never been a moment when you were not in my life.
Mom and Dad talked about you before I was born, deciding to have me baptized by an Episcopal priest. They wanted me to grow up with good morals and love you, so they decided putting water on my forehead and having a priest recite religious words over me was the way to ensure my moral Christian future.
A few weeks after my birth, Mom and Dad gathered with family members to have me baptized at the Episcopal Church in Bryan, Ohio. I was later told it was quite an affair, but I don’t remember anything about the day. Years later, I found my baptismal certificate. Signed by the priest, it declared I was a Christian.
Jesus, how could I have been a Christian at age four weeks? How did putting water on my head make me a follower of you? I don’t understand, but according to the certificate, I was now part of my tribe’s religion: Protestant Christianity.
I turned five in 1962. Mom and Dad decided to move 2,300 miles to San Diego, California, believing that success and prosperity awaited them.
After getting settled, Mom and Dad said we need to find a new church to attend. Their shopping took them to a growing Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) congregation, Scott Memorial Baptist Church, pastored by Tim LaHaye. It was here that I learned that my tribe had a new religion: Fundamentalist Baptist Christianity.
I quickly learned that our previous religion worshiped a false God, and my baptism didn’t make me a Christian at all. If I wanted to be a True Christian®, I had to come forward to the front of the church, kneel at the altar, and pray a certain prayer. If I did these things, I would then be a Christian — forever. And so I did. This sure pleased Mom and Dad.
Later, I was baptized again, but the preacher didn’t sprinkle water on my forehead. That would not do, I was told. True Baptism® required me to be submerged in a tank of water. And so, one Sunday, I joined a line of people waiting to be baptized. I was excited, yet scared. Soon, it came time for me to be dunked. The preacher put his left hand behind my head and raised his right hand towards Heaven. He asked, “Bruce, do you confess before God and man that Jesus Christ is your Lord and Savior?” With a halting child’s voice, I replied, “Yes.” And with that, the preacher, with a hanky in his right hand, put his hand over my nose, dunked me in the water, and quickly lifted me up. I heard both the preacher and the congregation say, “Amen!”
Jesus, the Bible says that the angels in Heaven rejoice when a sinner gets saved. Do you remember the day I got saved? Do you remember hearing the angels in Heaven say, “Praise be to the Lamb that was slain! Bruce Gerencser is now a child of God. Glory be, another soul snatched from the hands of Satan?”
After a few years in California, Mom and Dad discovered that there was no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and our family was just as poor in the Golden State as they were in the dreary flat lands of rural northwest Ohio. And so we moved, a process that happened over and over to me throughout the next decade — eight different schools.
As I became more aware and observant of my environment, I noticed that Mom and Dad had changed. Mom, in particular, was quite animated and agitated over American social unrest caused by hippies, niggers (a word routinely used by my parents), and the war in Vietnam against the evil forces of communism. Mom and Dad took us to a new church, First Baptist Church in Bryan, Ohio — an IFB church pastored by Jack Bennett. We attended church twice on Sunday and Wednesday evening.
I attended Bryan schools for two years. Not long after I started fourth grade, Mom and Dad decided it was time to move yet again. This time, we moved to a brand-new tri-level home on Route 30 outside of Lima, Ohio. It was there that I started playing basketball and baseball — sports I would continue to play competitively for the next twenty or so years. It was also there that I began to see that something was very wrong with Mom. At the time, I didn’t understand what was going on with her. All I knew is that she could be “Mom” one day and a raging lunatic the next.
I was told by my pastors, Jesus, that you know and see everything. Just in case you were busy one day and missed what went on or were on vacation, let me share a few stories about what happened while we lived in Lima.
One night, Mom was upstairs, and I heard her screaming. I mean SCREAMING! She was having one of her “fits.” I decided to see if there was anything I could do to help her — that’s what the oldest child does. As I walked towards Mom’s bedroom, I saw her grabbing shoes and other things and violently throwing them down the hallway. This was the first time I remember being afraid . . .
One day, I got off the school bus and quickly ran down the gravel drive to our home. I always had to be the first one in the door. As I walked into the kitchen, I noticed that Mom was lying on the floor unconscious in a pool of blood. She had slit her wrists. I quickly ran to the next-door neighbor’s house and asked her to help. She summoned an ambulance, and Mom’s life was saved.
Mom would try again, and again to kill herself: slitting her wrists, overdosing on prescription medication, driving in front of a truck. At the age of fifty-four, she succeeded. One Sunday morning, Mom went into the bathroom, pointed a Ruger .357 at her heart, and pulled the trigger. She quickly slumped to the floor and was dead in minutes. Yet, she never stopped believing in you, Jesus. No matter what happened, Mom held on to her tribe’s God.
Halfway through my fifth-grade year, Mom and Dad moved to Farmer, Ohio. I attended Farmer Elementary School for the fifth and sixth grades. One day, I was home from school sick, and Mom’s brother-in-law stopped by. He didn’t know I was in my bedroom. After he left, Mom came to my room crying, saying, “I have been raped. I need you to call the police.” I was twelve. We didn’t have a phone, so I ran to the neighbor’s house to call the police, but my Christian neighbor wouldn’t let me use her phone.. There would be no call to the police on this day. Do you remember this day, Jesus? Where were you? I thought you were all-powerful? Why didn’t you do anything?
From Farmer, we moved to Deshler, Ohio for my seventh-grade year of school. Then Mom and Dad moved us to Findlay, Ohio. By then, my parent’s fifteen year marriage was in shambles. Dad never seemed to be home, and Mom continued to have wild, manic mood swings. Shortly before the end of ninth grade, Dad matter-of-factly informed me that they were getting a divorce. “We don’t love each other anymore,” Dad said. And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me to wallow in my pain. That’s how Dad always treated me. I can’t remember a time when he embraced me or said, “I love you.” I would learn years later that “Dad” was not my biological father; that my real father was a truck driver Mom met at age seventeen while working at The Hub — a local truck stop. I wonder, Jesus, was this why he kept me at arm’s length emotionally?
After moving to Findlay, Mom and Dad joined Trinity Baptist Church — a fast-growing IFB congregation pastored by Gene Millioni. After Mom and Dad divorced, they stopped attending church. Both of them quickly remarried. Dad married a nineteen-year-old girl with a baby, and Mom married her first cousin — a recent Texas prison parolee. So much upheaval and turmoil, Jesus. Where were you when all of this was going on? I know, I know, you were there in spirit, but you had more important things to do than loving and caring for a vulnerable, hurting teenager.
Mom and Dad may have stopped going to church, but I didn’t. By then, I had a lot of friends and started dating, so there was no way I would miss church. Besides, attending church got me away from home, a place where Dad’s new and improved wife made it clear I wasn’t welcome.
One fall weeknight, I sat in church with my friends listening to Evangelist Al Lacy. I was fifteen. As is the custom in IFB churches, Lacy prayed at the end of his sermon, asking, “with every head bowed, and every eye closed, is there anyone here who is not saved and would like me to pray for them?” I had been feeling under “conviction” during the sermon. I thought, “maybe I’m not saved?” So, I raised my hand. Lacy prayed for those of us who had raised our hands and then had everyone stand. As the congregation sang Just as I am, Lacy said, “if you raised your hand, I want you to step out of your seat and come to the altar. Someone will meet you there and show you how you can know Jesus as your Lord and Savior.” Much to the surprise of my friends, I haltingly stepped out from my seat and walked to the front. I was met by Ray Salisbury — a church deacon. Ray had me kneel as he took me through a set of Bible verses called the Roman’s Road. After quizzing me on what I had read, Ray asked me if I wanted to be saved. I said, “yes,” and then Ray said, “pray this prayer after me: Dear Lord Jesus, I know I am a sinner, and I know you died on the cross for my sins. Right now, I ask you to forgive me of my sins and come into my heart and save me. In Jesus’ name, Amen.” After I prayed the prayer, Ray said, “AMEN!” “Did you really believe what you prayed?” I replied, “yes.” “Then you are now a child of God, a born-again Christian.”
The next Sunday, I was baptized, and the Sunday after that, I went forward again, letting the church know that you, Jesus, were calling me to preach. I was all in after that. For the next thirty-five years, Jesus, I lived and breathed you. You were my life, the sum of my existence.
At the age of nineteen, I enrolled in classes at Midwestern Baptist College in Pontiac, Michigan. It was here I received training to become a proper IFB pastor, and it was here I met the love of my life, a beautiful dark-haired preacher’s daughter named Polly. We married during the summer between our sophomore and junior years. We were so excited about our new life, thrilled to be preparing to work in God’s vineyard. We planned to graduate, go to a small community to start a new IFB church, buy a white two-story house with a white picket fence, and have two children: Jason and Bethany, and live happily ever after. However, Jesus, you had different plans for us. Do you remember what happened to us? Surely you do, right? Friends and teachers told us that you were testing us! Polly was six months pregnant by early spring, and I was laid off from my machine shop job. We were destitute, yet, the college dean told us, “Jesus wants you to trust him and stay in college.” No offer of financial help was forthcoming, and we finally had to move out of our apartment. With my tail between my legs, I packed up our meager belongings and returned to Bryan, Ohio. I had failed your test, Jesus. I still remember what one of my friends told me, “If you leave now, God will NEVER use you!”
What did he know? After moving, I quickly secured secular employment at ARO and began working at a local IFB church. For the next twenty-five years, I pastored Evangelical churches in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Jesus, you were my constant companion, my lover, friend, and confidante. I sure loved you, and I believed you loved me too. We were BFFs, right? Sometimes, I wondered if you really loved me as much as I loved you. Our love affair was virtual in nature. We never met face-to-face, but I believed in my heart of hearts you were the very reason for my existence. When I doubted this, I attributed my doubts to Satan or me not praying hard enough or reading the Bible enough. I never thought for one moment, Jesus, that you might be a figment of my imagination, a lie taught to me by my parents and pastors. I was a true believer. That is, until I wasn’t.
At age fifty, I finally realized, Jesus, that you were a myth, the main character of a 2,000-year-old fictional story. I concluded that all those times when I wondered where you were, were in fact, true. I couldn’t find you because you were dead. You had died almost 2,000 years before. The Bible told me about your death, but I believed that you were resurrected from the dead. I feel so silly now. Dead people don’t come back to life. Your resurrection from the dead was just a campfire story, and I had foolishly believed it. I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on myself. Everyone I knew believed the same story. All of us believed that the miracles attributed to you, Jesus, really happened; that you were a virgin-born God-man; that you ascended to Heaven to prepare a mansion for us to live in after we die.
It all seems so silly now, Jesus, but I really did believe in you. Fifty years, Jesus. The prime of my life, I gave to you, only to find out that you were a lie. Yet, here I am today, and you are still “with” me. My parents, pastors, and professors did a good job of indoctrinating me. You are very much “real” to me, even though you lie buried somewhere on a Judean hillside. Try as I might, I can’t get you out of my mind. I have come to accept that you will never leave me.
You should know, Jesus — well, you can’t know, you are dead — that I spend my days helping people get away from you. What did you say, Jesus? I can’t hear you. I can hear the voices of Christians condemning me as a heretic, blasphemer, tool of Satan, and hater of God. I can hear them praying for my death or threatening me with eternal damnation in the Lake of Fire. Their voices are loud and clear, but your voice, Jesus? Silence.
Always silent, Jesus. Why is that?
If you ever want to talk to me, you know where I live. Show up at my door, Jesus, and that will be a miracle I can believe in. Better yet, if you can help the Cincinnati Bengals win the Super Bowl, that would be awesome!
If you can’t help my football team win a few games, Jesus, what good are you? It’s not like I am asking you to feed the hungry, heal the sick, or put an end to violence and war. That would require you to give a shit, Jesus, and if there’s one thing I have learned over the past sixty-eight years, it is this: you don’t give a shit about what happens on earth. We, humans, are on our own, and that’s fine with me.
A Sinner Saved by Reason,
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
I have listened to several podcasts and read blog posts by Christian apologists asserting that people who leave Christianity are weak; that if they had more character, backbone, and strength they would have remained Christians. Long-time readers have witnessed Evangelical preachers such as Dr. David Tee frequently suggest that I am weak, a quitter. Such false accusations certainly sting, but I have learned that folks who hurl such things my way are only trying to disparage and hurt me.
Evangelical critics know that it’s anything but easy for committed believers to walk away from Christianity. Such people were not nominal Christians who infrequently attended church. Thus, these critics are gaslighting people when they say that former Christians were weak, and that’s why they deconverted. I contend that most people who deconvert have great strength and courage; and that there was nothing easy about them walking (or running) away from everything they held dear.
In my case, I had been part of the Evangelical church for fifty years, a pastor for twenty-five of those years. As a person of deep faith and love for Jesus, I devoted my entire life to following Jesus and doing the work he called me to do. My partner of forty-six years can say the same. God wasn’t something we just did on Sundays. God, Jesus, the Bible, the church, and the work of the ministry dominated our lives seven days a week. We were not nominal, half-hearted believers, as any former church member and ministerial colleague will attest. Simply put, if we weren’t Christians, nobody was.
Thus, when we walked away from Christianity, it wasn’t because we were weak. If we were weak, we would have remained in the church. If we were weak we would have continued to play the game. Instead, we made the hardest decision in our lives. With much angst and psychological pain, we left all we held dear. we lost our church community, family, and social connections. Overnight we were ostracized and treated as if we were tools of Satan. People we had known all our lives, met in college, or labored together in God’s vineyard, abandoned us overnight. I received nasty, hateful emails, letters, and blog comments from people who previously loved and respected me. Several preachers used my deconversion as sermon fodder, spreading half-truths and lies about me.
Weak, we were not, and neither were others I know who deconverted. How much strength would it have taken for us to stay in the church? Not much. It is always easier to go along than it is to stand up for what you really believe. I don’t fault anyone who takes a different path, but to suggest that I was somehow “weak” because I dared to act upon my beliefs and convictions is untrue. Those who suggest otherwise are guilty of character assassination.
Former Evangelical Christians are some of the strongest people I know; people willing to be true to their convictions and beliefs; people who put intellectual honesty above perception; and people who are willing to make great sacrifices to maintain and practice their beliefs. Many of them have forsaken all to follow reason, skepticism, and rational inquiry. I applaud their commitment to truth. To call such people “weak” is just a cheap attempt to smear their character.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
