Gary Keen, Bruce Gerencser, Mike Fox, Greg Wilson, Midwestern Baptist College, 1978
Last Monday, I tested positive for COVID, as did my wife and our oldest daughter. Thanks to vaccines — we are triple-vaxxed, having received our last vaccination in May — and, in my case, Paxlovid, an anti-viral drug, we avoided hospitalization and possible death (a likely outcome for me without the vaccines). While Bethany is back to her ornery self and Polly is mostly recovered, save for a nagging cough and sinus drainage, my recovery, as expected, has been much slower. I still have a good bit of congestion and I am quite weak. Much better? Absolutely! All praise be to science! But, I suspect it will take some time before I return to my normal sickly self where pain is my biggest problem.
I have spent a lot of time in bed over the past nine days trying to combat weakness and fatigue. Of course, spending time in bed doesn’t necessarily lead to sleep. Pain often precludes me from sleeping, and when it does, I try to “rest,” watching YouTube videos, catching up on recorded TV programs, and surfing the Internet. Sometimes, resting eventually brings sleep, other times it doesn’t. I learned long ago to not fight my body when it comes to sleep.
Last night, I stumbled upon the Facebook profile of a man I knew back when both of us studied for the ministry at Midwestern Baptist College in the 1970s. This man, a megachurch pastor’s son, was an usher for my wedding. After perusing his Facebook wall, I took a look at his friend list. (Yes, his list was public, a really bad idea.) I noticed that he was friends with lots of people who were also students at Midwestern back in the day. With lots of time on my hands — after all, how much time can you spend reading the Bible and praying 🙂 — I started stalking my former college friends, looking at what they had posted on their Facebook walls. Click, scroll, click, scroll, click, scroll . . . and as I did so, I found myself becoming increasingly depressed. After looking at three dozen or so profiles, I concluded that I had made a mistake; that knowledge wasn’t power.
Every person — and I mean EVERY — was still either an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) Christian, or, at the very least, a right-wing Evangelical. The hatred and vitriol toward the “world,” atheists, liberals, progressives, Democrats, socialists, Joe Biden, and Barack Obama was on full display. To the person, they were Trump-loving, gun-loving, forced birthers, anti-LGBTQ Republicans. And proudly so. I looked in vain for anyone who was a Democrat, a member of a mainline Christian denomination, or who had lost their faith altogether. Taken together, what I found was a monoculture, a cult-like enclave where fealty to rigid, narrow, unbending beliefs was required for admission. What troubled me the most was the devotion to Trump. Even after two impeachments and the January 6th hearing, they still supported the disgraced immoral ex-president.
This shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. If I could break free from IFB thinking, why can’t others? What is it that insulates Fundamentalists from reality? Is there nothing that can change their minds? I recognize that I am, for whatever reason, an exception to the rule, as is my wife. Sure, scores of IFB congregants exit stage left, moving on to friendlier confines, but it seems that few pastors, evangelists, missionaries, and professors are willing to do so, especially once they have been in the ministry for decades. Why is that?
While I found myself depressed over what I saw, I also felt gratitude. I escaped. I found a way to break free. Am I special? Nope, I am lucky. While I continue to struggle with guilt and regret over the harm I caused my family, my counselor reminded me that life could be a lot worse for me and my family had I remained Pastor Bruce Gerencser, the family patriarch. Imagine how life might be for Polly and our children had I remained in the ministry; had I maintained my rigid Fundamentalist beliefs and practices? I can’t think of any way in which that would have been a good thing. So, while it depresses me that my former college friends have matured very little from the days we roamed the hallways of the Midwestern dormitory, I am grateful that I escaped.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
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Fake Dr. David Tee, whose real name is Derrick Thomas Thiessen, has been on a roll lately. Earlier this year, Tee said he was going to stop writing about me and Ben Berwick. Having written dozens of posts about me over the past three years, Tee concluded that I wasn’t listening to him; that there was no chance that I would see the light, relent, and return to Christianity. Over this time period, I have featured Tee in the “Christians Say the Darnedest Things” a few times. The rest of my posts featuring him were responses to articles he wrote about me; articles littered with lies, distortions, and attacks on my character.
Tee is known for his defense of child molesters, rapists, and sexual predators. By all accounts, Tee is not a good person. I’ve seen nothing in his behavior that suggests that he is a Christian. Tee shows no evidence in his life of the fruit of the Spirit, nor does it seem that he has ever read the Sermon on the Mount.
Recently, someone with a personal, intimate connection to Tee contacted me to share documents that show he has a secret past, that he fled the United States years ago, and he is now living in the Philippines under an assumed name. I have seen these documents firsthand, so any suggestion by Tee that they are third and fourth-hand information is not true. I know Tee is familiar with these documents and the person providing them to me, but has made no effort to defend himself. Instead, Tee claims that he is just like the soon-to-be-crucified Jesus standing before the Sanhedrin.
What follows is an excerpt from a recent post written by Tee titled We Worry About It Too. My response is indented and italicized.
BG [when writing about preachers who commit crimes, sexually assault children, rape teenagers, and take sexual advantage of vulnerable women (and men)] takes the low road and tries to embarrass, harass, and do many other negative things.
It makes him look bad when he puts out his red and black collar articles. As if Christians need his help in spotting bad preachers. But it is not his call (nor MM’s) who gets to minister in any given church.
BG = Bruce Gerencser and MM = Meerkat Musings, AKA Ben Berwick. Tee refuses to address us by our names. I suspect he’s too lazy to do so or it’s his way of showing disrespect. Either way, doing so is unprofessional.
After all, BG quit on God and MM never tried to be a believer. Both of these people and many others like them should learn to mind their own business They just do not have a better alternative to offer anyone. In fact, they have nothing to offer anyone and they have no real spiritual advice to say to anyone.
Tee continues to assert that I am quitter; that I quit on God; that I quit on the ministry. Evidently, no one is allowed to change his or her mind. Tee refuses to accept my story at face value, even though he has allegedly read numerous posts on this site. I have published over four thousand posts since 2017. The reasons I deconverted are clearly shown in post after post, yet Tee deliberately ignored these explanations. Instead, he continues to attack my character and smear my name. Such behavior is contrary to the teachings of the Bible; the book Tee says he loves, believes, and practices. I have pointed out these things to Tee over the years. His response? Self-justification or silence.
We [I] do not embarrass, belittle, judge, attack, or publicly humiliate anyone. We [I] write what we [I] feel God wants us [me] to write and leave the conviction to him. We [I] are [am] not judges, jury & executioners. Nor do we [I] call for anyone to fire these people. Not our [my] place.
Readers of this blog are likely on the floor laughing as they read Tee’s description of his behavior. None of what he writes here is true.
[BG wrote] Can any of us say that Tee is a good person?
It won’t be BG or MM, that is for sure. They do not know us [me], never met, talked, or spent time with us. Their big problem with us [me] is that we [I] will tell the truth and won’t join them in leading children to sin and disobedience to God.
LOL 🙂 No, I haven’t met, talked, or spent time with the fraud David Tee. Nor would I want to — ever. I have, however, been reading his writing for at least three years. His writing, along with information provided to me by people who personally know him, tells me all I need to know about Derrick Thomas Thiessen.
The reason I don’t think Tee is a good person is this: he is an arrogant, nasty, vicious, hateful, self-righteous liar. You are the problem, David, not your beliefs. I interact with Evangelicals all the time who have beliefs similar to Tee’s. Few of them spend an inordinate amount of time attacking me on their blogs. Tee fashions himself as some sort of prophet. On several occasions, Tee has compared himself to Jesus. It’s hard not to conclude that Tee has some sort of God complex. He has no church, and few readers, yet he sees himself as the conscience of Evangelical Christianity. He has spent years on the Internet courting persecution. Tee is known for leaving caustic comments on atheist and Christian blog alike. When he wears out his welcome — and he always does — owners of these sites ban him. Of course, Tee never considers what he might have done. Much like he does on this site, Tee blames others, claiming persecution.
They get 2nd, 3rd, and 4th hand information, think it is the gospel truth, and then form their opinions about us [me]. We understand they do not like our [my] message and that is understandable. We [I] are [am] in two different worlds and unbelievers, as the Bible tells us [me], will laugh and scoff at the truth.
Tee is referring to recent information I received about his nefarious past. This information comes from first-hand and second-hand sources, particularly a sworn deposition in Thiessen’s own words. Tee continues to say, without justification, that the real issue is his beliefs. Nope, on this issue, it’s YOU, Derrick. Certainly, Tee has horrendous beliefs, i.e., his recent posts about forcing a ten-year-old rape victim to carry her baby to term. Even worse, Tee said that even if the child was five-years-old, he would force them to have her baby. I can’t think of a more vile belief than this one. And since you cannot separate a skunk from its smell, I have concluded that Tee is a despicable man; a man who would rather see a rape victim die if it meant he was being true to his Fundamentalist religious beliefs.
Then, the Bible says that no one is good and by no one, it means us as well. So technically, without Christ, we [I] are [am] not good people. We [I] do our [my] best to live the Christian life and we [I] are [am] not perfect. however, unbelievers and even Christians will hold your [my] mistakes over your [my] head forever and refuse to forgive even though the offense did not happen to them.
Much like many Fundamentalist Christians, Tee uses his theology to hide bad behavior toward his family. He fled the United States to hide, hoping he could start over without anyone ever knowing what he did. Well, the chickens have now come home to roost. Tee wants people to forgive him and move on, yet he refuses to own his behavior, both in the past and present. Much like serial sexual predator David Hyles, Tee hides behind the unconditional love of God and the blood atonement of Jesus. Jesus has forgiven him, so should everyone else. Until Thiessen admits that he has been living a lie and makes things right with those he has harmed, I’m not inclined to give him a pass. Confession, David, is good for the soul.
We [I] have written about how tough it is to be a Christian. BG should know that, he could not handle the Christian life and quit on Jesus. He and MM have no moral or other foundation to cast the stones they cast. Nor do any other unbeliever or former Christian.
Tee continues to assert that it is “hard” to be a Fundamentalist Christian. It’s not. After all, you don’t have to think, you just have to do. Instead of owning his behavior, Tee continues to disparage me and Ben Berwick, along with every non-Evangelical (the only true Christianity according to Tee) who reads this blog.
Instead of hanging in there, they all gave up and then blame or blamed other Christians for their decisions. Christians can be as tough or tougher than unbelievers and really make it difficult for some believers to succeed.
The more BG talks about his ministerial experience, the more we [I] understand why he failed and left the faith. He lacked a lot of wisdom and understanding. he didn’t realize that taking a sabbatical was not quitting on God.
It was a biblical thing to do as one needs to wait for the Lord to renew their strength. A sabbatical is just one way to be obedient to those words. We [I] see this time and again when BG talks about his ministerial life. He didn’t follow God during his ministry, he followed his own ideas of what he thought God wanted.
Tee concludes his screed by going all MMA on my ass. I am a quitter, a failure, weak, I lacked wisdom and understanding, and I followed my own ideas instead of God. Refusing to accept my story at face value, Tee has constructed a caricature of me in his mind, a straw man that bears no resemblance to the real Bruce Gerencser. Such is the nature of the Internet.
I don’t plan on having a renewed battle with Tee. That said, when he attacks me by name, I will respond. In time, Tee will return to his lair, lamenting that no one would “listen” to him; that he is being persecuted for his beliefs. All he is really doing is harming the cause of Christ. Based on Thiessen’s behavior, who would ever want to follow in his steps and become a Christian?
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 follow a few “deconstruction” Facebook groups. I rarely comment, but I try to take a few minutes each day to read the new posts and comments. In doing so, I have noticed a disturbing trend: when someone says they are deconstructing and having doubts about the existence of the Christian God, members are often quick to tell such people that they can still hang on to God; that deconstruction doesn’t need to lead to a loss of belief in God. Often, deconstruction that leads to atheism or agnosticism is viewed as failure; the desired outcome always leads to some form of God belief.
I have concluded that many people see deconstruction as changing one’s clothes, taking off Evangelicalism, and putting on cooler, snazzier, more colorful God clothing. This leads, then, to group members asking questions such as “I am looking for a new IFB church to attend. Suggestion?” Or asking about finding a “better,” more “accepting” Evangelical church in this or that community. What we have here are people who, deep down, desperately want to hang on to their past beliefs, discarding anything they don’t like or offends them. Such people often look for LGBTQ-friendly Evangelical churches, genuinely believing such congregations exist. Surely there are Evangelical churches that unconditionally love gay people as they are, right?
Recently, a Christian lesbian posted a question asking for recommendations for local churches that are “accepting” of LGBTQ people. Evangelicals quickly jumped into action, smelling blood in the water, and suggested that their churches “love” gay folks to death. It was left to me to rain on the parade. I told the lesbian woman that there was only one “open and affirming” church in Defiance County: St. John United Church of Christ, pastored by my friend Jim Brehler. There are a couple of mainline churches that are friendly and accepting of LGBTQ people, but are not open and affirming. Only St. John’s publicly loves and accepts LGBTQ people as they are; embracing them as family. Local Evangelicals talk a good game, but their goal is conversion, turning LGBTQ people into heterosexuals, or, at the very least, demanding they live celibate lives.
Let me be clear, there’s no such thing as a “good” Evangelical or Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church. Why? Such churches believe all of us are broken (sinners) and need fixing (salvation); that people who reject the Evangelical gospel will spend eternity in the Lake of Fire being tortured for their unbelief and sin (or be annihilated or tortured for a while before being granted entrance into the eternal Kingdom of God). Such beliefs cause untold psychological harm. Perhaps, it is holding on to these beliefs that lead people to tell others going through the deconstruction process not to throw the proverbial baby out with the bath water — never considering that there might not be a baby at all. Fear of judgment and Hell keeps people from following the deconstruction path to its logical conclusion: atheism, agnosticism, and humanism. Many well-meaning people simply cannot envision life without the Christian God.
I encourage people to follow the path wherever it leads. Any move away from Evangelicalism is a good one. If someone pulls up short on their journey and finds a comfortable resting place still believing in God, who am I to object? All I am suggesting is that people follow the deconstruction process to its logical conclusion: that the central claim of Christianity cannot be rationally sustained. If you can still hang on to God after that, so be it.
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.
John Piper recently delivered the commencement address at Bethany College and Seminary in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Titled Seventy Years Without Shipwreck, Piper humble-brags about the fact that he has been a Fundamentalist Christian for seventy years; that God has never forsaken him; that he never deconverted.
Piper begins his address by letting students know that he doesn’t like the word “deconversion.” Piper thinks the word is trendy; a word devised by Satan to mask what is really going on; a word that has no basis in reality (since, according to Piper’s Calvinistic theology, it is impossible to “deconvert”).
The word deconversion is not in the Oxford English Dictionary. At least, not yet. Words are created to name reality, not the other way around. But we didn’t need the word deconversion. The Bible abounds with words and descriptions of some forsaking Christ:
apostasy (2 Thessalonians 2:3)
falling away (Matthew 24:10)
shipwreck of faith (1 Timothy 1:19)
turning back from following the Lord (Zephaniah 1:6)
trampling underfoot the Son of God (Hebrews 10:29)
going out from us (1 John 2:19)
cutting off of a branch (John 15:2)
becoming disqualified (1 Corinthians 9:27)
turning away from listening to the truth (2 Timothy 4:4)
denying the Master who bought them (2 Peter 2:1)
We didn’t need a new word. My guess is that the new word deconversion came into existence so that the old, foolish, tragic, heart-breaking reality could feel as trendy as the word. How shrewd is our enemy.
The overarching premise of Piper’s address is that people deconvert not for unresolved questions about “history, science, logic, or ethics,” but because they have a deep-seated love for “darkness” and sin. Yes, the reason you and I walked away from Christianity is that we wanted to sin; that our faith precluded us from fulfilling our lusts and desires, so we divorced Jesus so we could fuck, steal, lie, cheat, and murder to our heart’s content.
While this argument may work with those uninitiated in Evangelical Christianity, those who spent their lives working in God’s vineyard (and coal mine) know better. There’s plenty of fucking, stealing, lying, cheating, and murdering going on among God’s elect. Murder, you say? Yes, murder. One church member I pastored murdered his infant daughter by shaking her to death. Another church member slaughtered his ex-girlfriend with a knife in a fit of rage. He is presently serving a life sentence. While neither of these men were “committed” followers of Jesus, they both professed saving faith in Jesus Christ. Besides, I personally know a number of on-fire Christians, pastors, evangelists, missionaries, and college professors who committed adultery and fornication — both heterosexual and homosexual. Piper has been in the ministry too long not to know these things. There’s no difference between how Christians live and how the unwashed, uncircumcised Philistines and Jezebels of the world live.
Piper goes on to list five ways the deconverted sin. First, they have a love for “life’s cares, riches, and pleasures. Second, they have a “love for the present age.” Third, the deconverted “reject a good conscience.” Forth, they become “re-entangled in worldly defilements,” and finally the deconverted have been led astray by the “deceitfulness of sin.”
Piper sums up his five points this way:
I don’t think you will find any exceptions to this in the Bible. The root cause of apostasy, or falling away, or making shipwreck of faith, or deconversion, is not the failure to detect truth, but the failure to desire holiness. Not the absence of light, but the love for the dark. Not the problems of science, but the preference for sin.
In other words, Piper only sees one reason for our apostasy: sin. No matter what we say, no matter how many times we tell our stories and explain ourselves, the Pipers of the world refuse to accept we what say at face value. I can only conclude, then, that Piper and his ilk deliberately lie about unbelievers and their motivations, using their apostasy to justify their theological beliefs.
Piper concludes his address by saying that Christians who deconvert were never True Christians®. Of course, he does . . .
Piper states:
We all know — you have been well taught — that God never loses any of his elect. Not one of his predestined children is ever lost. “For those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified” (Romans 8:30). None of them deconverts finally. The ship of saving faith always makes it to the haven. “They went out from us, but they were not of us; for if they had been of us, they would have continued with us. But they went out, that it might become plain that they all are not of us” (1 John 2:19).
With a quote from the Bible and a wave of his arrogant, self-righteous hand, Piper dismisses millions of people who were once devoted followers of Jesus; people who loved the Lamb and followed him wherever he went; people who committed their lives to sacrificially serving the King of Kings, and Lord of Lords; people who were Christian in every possible way. I was part of the Evangelical church for fifty years, and a pastor for twenty-five years. Much like Piper, I was a Christian for a long, long time. Imagine if I dismissed Piper’s faith out of hand. After all, he has not lived a sinless life; marital problems, disaffected children, and all sorts of less-than-Christian behavior. Piper would rightly be offended if I dismissed the totality of his life, focusing, instead, on his “sins.” Maybe the good pastor secretly has hedonistic desires, and not the Christian kind that he loves to preach about.
How about we accept each other’s stories at face value? That’s what decent, thoughtful people do. When a Christian tells me their conversion story, I believe them. I expect the same treatment in return. I once was a Christian, and now I am not. But, Bruce, the Bible says ____________. That’s your problem, not mine. My past life was one of devotion to Jesus and the work of the ministry — in thought, word, and deed. It’s your thinking that needs to change, not mine. And as long as Piper and his merry band of keepers of the Book of Life continue to ignore the stories of those who have walked away from the faith, they will never truly understand why an increasing number of believers are exiting the church stage left.
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.
Today, an Evangelical (IFB?) woman named Donna Flowers came to this site and read one post: Emotionally Manipulating IFB Church Members through Music and Preaching Styles before sending me an email. Afterward, she read the post titled Why I Hate Jesus. Flowers read none of my autobiographical material, showing the curiosity of a dead armadillo in the middle of a rural Texas road on a hot July day. That’s “none” for you who are metaphor-challenged. 🙂
Here’s what Flowers had to say:
My heart goes out to you. I will pray for you that you will turn your life around and go back to the place you decided to walk off from Jesus in your Christian walk. Jesus loves you! Have a blessed day!
Not much to respond to here. I’m inclined to just say “sigh” (Why I Use the Word “Sigh”) and move on, but it’s Monday so I am raring — well actually in a lot of pain and fighting nausea — to respond to several emails and comments I have received in recent days.
Flowers’ email is dripping with Evangelical “love.” You know the kind: cheap, superfluous, and conditional. Her “heart” goes out to “me.” Goes out to who, exactly? Flowers made no attempt to read anything about me besides the two posts mentioned above. She made no effort to understand my story; how and why I became an atheist. Instead, she offers cheap Christian love, the equivalent of “I’m praying for you.”
Based on what she wrote, Flowers evidently believes I am still a Christian; that I am just backslidden. All I need to do is return to the Lord. I just need to find that moment in time where I walked away from Jesus and return to that spot and start serving (preaching?) the Lord again. Is it really that simple? Can I undo the past fifteen years? How absurd. First, my wife is no longer believer. Second, my children are no longer believers. Third, my life is better in every way post-Jesus (except my health, which Flowers will likely attribute to God’s chastisement). Fourth, even if I embraced some sort of religious faith again, I most certainly would not return to Evangelicalism. Never, ever, not in a million, billion, trillion years. Evangelicalism causes harm (as we see in the recent overturning of Row v. Wade) and in its extreme expressions is a full-blown cult.
How does Flowers know Jesus loves me? Did he tell her? By all accounts, I am an apostate and a reprobate. It’s likely I am not elect. I would love Flowers to theologically explain to me how she knows “Jesus loves me.”
Flowers ends her missive by telling me to have a “blessed” day. I shall, all without the God of the Christian Bible. Having a “blessed” day is not contingent on faith. I will gladly explain this fact to Flowers if she’s interested.
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.
Recently, a man named Bradley Brown left the above comment on YouTube. Brown wants to know if I returned the money I earned pastoring churches when I became an atheist. Evidently, Brown’s Bible doesn’t include the verse that says a “laborer is worthy of his honor” and that a pastor/elder is worthy of “double honor” (pay).
I spent twenty-five years pastoring Evangelical churches in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. All told, I averaged less than $10,000 a year as a pastor. Two churches paid me no money, one church paid me $26,000 and provided housing, and the rest of the churches I pastored paid roughly $8,000-10,000 a year. Total that up and I made around $250,000 as a pastor.
Not one church provided health benefits or any other benefits. We relied on Medicaid or paid cash for our medical care. We only went to the doctor if it was an emergency. Our children went years between doctor’s visits.
Our hillbilly mansion. We lived in this 720-square-foot mobile home for five years, all eight of us.
Only one church provided us housing. The rest of the time, we lived in rentals or two mobile homes we purchased. For five years, our family of eight lived in 12’x60′ mobile home — 720 square feet. Most years we drove cars that cost a few hundred dollars. We did buy a new Plymouth Horizon in 1984 for $6,000, putting 102,000 miles on it in two years. We also bought a spartan low-mileage 80s Chevy Cavalier for $2,900. We junked it at 176,000 miles.
Every church I pastored had my full attention, as I worked full-time even when I was paid paltry wages. In addition, I worked secular jobs to provide for my family. Every dime I ever made, I earned. So, to answer Bradley Brown, no I am not going to return the money I EARNED pastoring churches.
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 grew up Jewish in cultural identity, only never once stepping inside a synagogue for family services except to attend preschool, Purim parties, and my friends Bar/Bat Mitzvahs. I never had a Bat Mitzvah. The word “God” was never mentioned except in swear words. I knew, without my parents saying anything, that they did not believe in God.
The area in which I grew up was predominantly Jewish and Catholic. I had Jewish and Catholic friends and a few Protestants too. I also had a friend whose family was Christian Science. I noticed that her family was kind to one another. They had a framed saying in their house that said things about how to treat others that I wished my family had followed. They went around the dinner table talking about one good thing in their day. I wished my family had done that. My Protestant friends’ families were nice too. I wanted a nice family.
My entire childhood was fraught with physical and emotional abuse via the hands and mouth of my mother. She is not really my “mother” but just the person who birthed me into this world. Besides that, there was no mothering, just abuse and consequently, a lifetime of therapy.
It was from my Catholic friends that I heard about God, Heaven, and Hell. I would spend the night at their house and go to church with them the next day. I wondered what I was missing out on in life such as how to live, how to be kind, how to treat others. One day, I recall sitting in my friend’s church thinking, “When I grow up, I’m going to convert ‘cause I want to go to Heaven.”
I knew I would not be allowed to do that while still in my parents’ house since we were Jewish. My dad had a lot of pride in being Jewish. He also had animosity towards those who persecuted Jews. His own parents and siblings fled the Czar of Russia from Poland to come to the US. He was the last child and was born in the US. He was livid toward the Germans, and we were not allowed to buy anything German.
When I was 16, I got curious about Judaism and started going to a synagogue every Friday night. At 18, I moved out of the house and started “searching for the truth.” At 20, I became a Christian through my sister who also became a Christian. My parents disowned me. My dad didn’t speak to me again for the next six years — until two weeks before he died unexpectedly three days before my 26th birthday. I have hope that, had he continued to live, our relationship would have been restored.
For the next 33 years, I was a full-fledged believer. I truly surrendered my life to Christ. I felt like I had the Holy Spirit in me guiding me. I married a believer, and we had 3 kids, all of whom we tried to brainwash as well. We attended church every week and on Wednesdays. I went to all the Ladies Bible studies, circles, groups, retreats, etc. I have to say a lot of it was helpful because I truly did not know what love was and learned a lot about how to treat one another. I can’t say I ever really truly felt God’s love. It was hard for me to accept, due to my mom’s abuse. I also never truly believed in Heaven and Hell as much as I wanted to and inasmuch as that was the driving force for me to convert. Whenever someone died and everyone would be “rejoicing that person is with the Lord” and “walking on the streets of gold in Heaven” I doubted and did an internal eye roll. However, besides that, I was a tried-and-true believer.
My descent into unbelief, or should I say, ascent, is as quick as switching a light switch. But I must give a little background into my 27-year marriage for it to make some sense. My marriage was also fraught with emotional abuse by my now ex. (A common occurrence if one grows up with an abusive parent is to marry an abuser). There were a lot of criticisms, not being able to do anything right, my cooking was no good, my hair, clothes, way I decorated the house, the groceries I bought, how I raised the kids, all not good enough. He also was not there for me during some major medical incidents. Left me miscarrying all by myself so he could go play ball with his friends. Left me while on bed rest with our two other small children when I thought we might lose our third child at 24 weeks of pregnancy. It was his birthday weekend and he was furious I got put on bed rest and “ruined” his birthday so he went out to have a good time. He’d work all week and on Saturdays and then be too tired to do anything with the family. He admitted later he was gone on purpose so he didn’t have to help me with the kids.
We went to numerous Christian counselors who pointed the blame at me since I “was the one who came from the screwed-up background.” I was told I was “emasculating” my spouse if I asked him to help me. I was told to “make sure you cook his favorite meal, keep the house clean, keep the kids quiet, be more submissive.” I tried to do all that and more and nothing worked.
Finally, I went to a counselor who told me I was being emotionally abused. I was like, “what???” I started reading about the subject and listening to podcasts. I couldn’t believe it. I could have written the books. I heard the term narcissist and narcissistic abuse. I scarfed down all the information I could get my hands on. Everything was making sense now. That is exactly what I had been living in for 25 years.
I knew I had to get out before this discovery, but I also had to go back to school for a way to support myself. I got my graduate degree in counseling and still tried to make the marriage work. It wasn’t until I discovered some texts on my spouse’s phone and learned that he had been sneaking around behind my back, that it was finally over. I asked him to leave. He, of course, blamed the affairs on me. He left after trying to bully me around.
The very next Sunday after asking him to leave, I went to church by myself. I went into the sanctuary where we were singing worship music. It was at that moment it hit me like a ton of bricks that God is a narcissist too. Here we are singing praises to some creature. We are all supposed to bow down and worship this being, and if we’re lucky, he may throw us a bone or crumb every so often after begging and praying a ton. I couldn’t stomach the singing. I stopped singing and just stood there with this enlightenment.
I went to Sunday School where they followed up on the sermon. I recalled the sermon made negative mention of homosexuality. I didn’t like that. In Sunday School, it was more of the same, the judgement. I didn’t want any part of that. I didn’t like the hate. When it came time for prayer requests, I saw how all these people who are supposedly trusting in Jesus, were very anxious, asking for God to make their life go a certain way. I had already come through all of that, praying for God to save my marriage. It didn’t work. What did work for me was accepting life as it was and doing what I could to make my life better.
You would think I would not have gone back to church, but I did the following week just to be sure. I went to worship, and, again, could not stand the worship music to this narcissistic being. We all have to “lose our lives” for this invisible being. I realized this is all insane. This narcissistic God does not exist. It was an instant switch flipping for me. That was the end. I went straight home, didn’t even go to Sunday School. I never went back to church since that day more than seven years ago.
It was a rough time in my life. I had just separated after 25 years of marriage. We had to sell our beautiful family home. I went through empty nest at the same time. I lost all my friends since they were all Christians. I had to try to build my private practice cause the ex was playing games financially. I do not care to repeat any of that time of my life.
Sundays were hard for a couple of years until I got used to it. I found local Freethinker and atheist groups and also groups on Facebook. I talked to one of my Christian friends and she told me she’s not a believer anymore either but hadn’t come out yet to anyone. That was refreshing having her. I read a lot of books as well as tons of podcasts from others who didn’t believe anymore along with books discussing errors in the Bible etc. I think that’ll be a lifelong journey.
When I look back on my beliefs now, I’ve done a 180 on all social issues. I shake my head in disbelief that I was so hoodwinked into that belief system. I still have Christian friends who make sure they tell me they are praying for me, or how God is helping them. Again, another internal eye roll. They have told me I am mad at God. I tell them I can’t be mad at something I don’t believe in. They tell me the reason I am suffering so much (during that horrible time of my life) is because I don’t believe in God. I told them I don’t need to make up a God to get through this. I need to face this pain head-on and live in reality.
It’s taking a lot of time to find a new community of nonbelievers, and I’m still working on it since I just moved recently. But, I’m glad I’m free from the ludicrousness.
In case anyone is wondering, two of my three kids did not fall for the Kool-Aid. The third is on the fence and hasn’t been to church since the pandemic. She uses her brain and got vaccinated and wears a mask, and we’re aligned on all social and racial issues. She could see how Trump was a narcissist and also couldn’t understand how Christians could fall for him. I’m relieved I didn’t totally screw her up.
So, that’s my conversion and deconversion story with bits of my life scattered in along the way. Hope it was helpful to someone 🙂
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
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My wife, Polly, and I will celebrate forty-four years of blissful, happy, serene, uneventful — wait for a minute while I get a hysterically laughing Polly off the floor — marriage. 🙂 Life has blessed us with six children, ages twenty-nine to forty-three — damn they are getting old — and thirteen grandchildren, ages two to twenty-one. And I must not forget our son-in-law and daughters-in-law. Without them there would be no grandchildren, and, though we don’t say it enough, we love and appreciate them. On balance we have lived a good life, blessed in every way.
Yet, as a slowly dying, frail sixty-five-year-old man with fibromyalgia, gastroparesis, osteoarthritis, and chronic, unrelenting pain, I can’t help but reflect on my life. My new counselor has told me that I have a good sense of self-awareness. This, of course, can lead to me thinking too much about the past and my culpability in things that did or didn’t happen in the lives of my wife and children. I’ve been faulted for dwelling too much on the past, but this is who I am. Besides, I wouldn’t have much to write about if I let the past be the past. The important thing for me is that I don’t live in the past. I use the past as a teaching tool, as a way to measure progress in my life; as a reminder of what not to do. Being a committed, devoted Fundamentalist follower of Jesus Christ, a man with a slavish devotion to the literal teachings of the Bible resulted in me making choices and decisions I now regret.
While not everything on the list below is religion-related, many of them are. For the nominal, cultural Christian, their faith doesn’t make much difference in their lives. However, for those of us who were saved, sanctified, filled-with-the-Holy-Ghost believers; people who immersed themselves in the Bible, a book they believed was the inspired, inerrant, infallible Word of God; people who governed their thoughts, words, and deeds by the Bible and the leading of the Holy Spirit; people who devoted themselves to the work of the church and the ministry; people who gave thousands and thousands of dollars to their churches and other ministries; people who witnessed to and evangelized unbelievers; people who separated themselves from the world; people who homeschooled their children or sent them to private Christian schools; people who put God/Jesus/church/ministry above their families, friends, and job — their faith and its attendant beliefs and practices made an incalculable mark on their lives. And now that we are no longer believers or have moved on to less demanding expressions of faith, it’s hard not to look back on our lives without regret. In my case, I spent fifty years of my life in the Christian church, and half of those years pastoring churches full-time. It’s hard not to conclude, then, that I spent much of my life devoted to a lie, sacrificing my wife and children for an imaginary deity.
Ten Things I Regret
I regret not teaching my children to swim. We spent very little time at places where our children could swim and I had no time due to my commitment to Jesus and the church to take them to swimming lessons.
I regret not letting my children play organized sports. There was one hard, fast rule in the Gerencser household: the church always, and I mean ALWAYS, came first. Since practice and game schedules conflicted with the church calendar, there was no discussion to be had: no sports for the Gerencser children. Why play baseball when you can go soulwinning and street preaching with your preacher father, right? While I played baseball and basketball in school, I didn’t afford my children that same opportunity.
I regret not taking my family on vacations. The only “vacations” the Gerencsers took were trips to events or churches where I was preaching.
I regret not taking off time from toiling in God’s vineyard to enjoy nature with my children. We lived in a lot of beautiful, wildlife-filled places, yet I was too busy to take the time to enjoy what was right in front of me. Hell was hot, death was certain, and Jesus was coming soon! Who had time for trees, flowers, hills, rivers, mule deer, and bobcats? Souls needed saving and Jesus was fixing to split the Eastern Sky as he returned to earth to judge the living and dead.
I regret using disciplinary methods with my three older children that I now think are child abuse. While I moved away from such disciplinary practices later in life, there’s no other way to view the whippings and beatings my older sons received as anything other than ritual, Bible-inspired, Jesus-approved child abuse. I would not blame my oldest sons if they hated me and wanted nothing to do with me. That they still come around and we have good relationships is a testimony of love and forgiveness.
I regret using my children as unpaid laborers for the churches I pastored. My children spent countless hours working with their father on church projects. While they learned many skills that they still use today, I can’t help but regret viewing my children as construction workers janitors, and groundskeepers. They were never given a choice. Preacher Dad said ______________. End of discussion.
I regret not letting my kids be kids. Certainly, my sons and daughters did plenty of kid stuff — especially when I wasn’t around — but they lived in a glass house where appearance and perception were everything. God, church members, and the “lost” were always watching, I told my children, so we must always be kind and polite — even to assholes — and on our best behavior.
I regret not exposing my children to a secular worldview. Instead, I built a bubble around them, protecting my children from the big, bad, evil world. While they have recovered nicely from the Fundamentalist indoctrination and conditioning of their youth, I can’t help but think these things harmed them as young adults.
I regret not telling my children I loved them. I blame this directly on growing up in a dysfunctional home where my mom or dad rarely, if ever, expressed love for me. While I am a lot better with this now, I still could do even better. When I first embraced my youngest daughter and told her that I loved her, she had a shocked look on her face that said, “are you dying”? I can’t emphasize this enough: emotional distance between parents and children is often generational. I know it was for me. I look at my grandparents and parents and I clearly see this distance. They passed this on to their children. The only thing I know to do is to recognize this and do better.
I regret being a hypocrite. As a pastor, to church members and the world, I was a pillar of morality and virtue, a man who always had his life under control; a man who rarely expressed anger. Behind closed doors, I could be a different man, far more temperamental, more easily provoked to anger. Oh, the stories that could be told to illustrate this point. I hope to get some of my children (and Polly) to come on my podcast and talk about these things someday.) Today, I want to focus on why I was this way. I was a loving, kind, generous man, especially towards church members and unbelievers. Yet, when it came to my family, I could, at times, be unloving, unkind, and lacking in generosity. Granted, I’ve come to this opinion thanks to hindsight. At the time, I thought I was just being a good Christian husband and father. Why was I this way? My version of Christianity demanded that I deny self, take up my cross, and follow Jesus. In doing so, I lost all sense of self. Thus, when I was behind closed doors, pent-up frustrations would come out, often in anger. If I had had a healthy view of self, I suspect things would have been different. I know that TV (which I deemed sinful) wouldn’t have gone flying out the front door. 🙂
The past is the past. There are no do-overs. At best, we get second chances to right the wrongs of the past or at least model and show that we have learned from the bad things we did previously. I know that’s the case for me. I see my grandchildren as an opportunity to do things differently, and I hope in the latter years of my life to forge better relationships with Polly and my children.
Does this mean that I was a bad man, unfit to pastor churches? I am sure some will come to that conclusion — thus finding yet another reason to dismiss my story out of hand — but I see myself as a broken, flawed man, someone deeply affected and scarred by his upbringing and immersion in Independent Fundamentalist Baptist Christianity. It would take me five decades before I realized how much harm IFB (and later Calvinistic) beliefs and practices had caused me, harm I passed on to Polly and our children (and Polly had her own dysfunction to deal with). I see that growing up with a mentally ill mother who tried to kill herself numerous times, constantly living in new houses and attending new schools, being sexually abused as a boy, and being left to fend for myself during the most formative years of my life, extracted a horrific price from me. Sure, I survived, but not without lasting scars. All I know to do is make an uneasy peace with the past and try to do better. I will leave it to those I love to decide if I have successfully done so. If not, I will keep trying. What else can any of us 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.
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One of the ways evangelicals have processed a growing awareness of religious abuse has been through starting conferences. The Exiles in Babylon Conference offered many helpful insights to racial trauma but continued to advance narratives that have caused sexual trauma in the church. The Restore 2022 Conference brought complementarians like Karen Swallow Prior and egalitarians like Scot McKnight together to discuss topics such as where God is during abuse, healing from religious trauma, and how churches enable abuse. Their goal was to address these issues within the framework of “restoring faith in God and the church.”
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But too often with these conferences, there are underlying theological assumptions that fuel power dynamics that do not get questioned to the degree that they should. And when your stated goal is to restore faith in the church, you have theological territory to protect and are invested in a certain outcome that people who have been traumatized by the church may not be ready for or interested in.
Many people are having enough and deciding to leave evangelical churches while mourning the loss of their communities and hoping to discover a healthier experience of Christianity.
But many are leaving Christianity altogether.
Because conservative evangelical media outlets such as The Gospel Coalition continue to bloviate about those who are either deconstructing or deconverting, one has to wonder: Are conservative evangelicals at all willing to sit quietly and listen to those who have left?
And are progressive evangelicals any healthier at silent listening?
Imagine a space for processing such religion-fueled trauma that is led by formerly religious people for formerly religious people. Would it be possible for religious people to sit in silence and learn from atheists and agnostics about how their religion has caused deep trauma, consider how the formerly religious are healing, and learn from their insights in order to heal themselves?
Or must Christians always be leading and talking?
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Theology by definition is concerned about the ultimate questions in life: questions about whether there is a God, why there is something rather than nothing, the purpose of life, our relationship with ourselves and everyone around us, and what happens after death.
As children, we long for the love and affirmation of our parents. And yet, we’re afraid of how big the world is and how insufficient our understanding of it feels.
In some ways, we’re asking, “Are we OK? And are we safe?”
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[Janice] Selbie told BNG: “People embrace religions because they were born into them or turned to them during times of transition and vulnerability. Religion promises certainty, security, order and community. People remain religious for those very reasons, as well as fear of hell.”
For the formerly religious to walk away from their certainty, security, order and community can be one of the most vulnerable decisions anyone ever makes. “Divorcing religion means loss of family, community, support and identity. It is too hard for many even to consider,” Selbie said.
To walk away from the certainty of heaven is to embrace the possibility of hell. To walk away from the theology of your family is to embrace the disapproval that you spent years trying to avoid. To walk away from the support of your church community is to embrace the possibility of nobody being there for you when you face a life-threatening illness or when you simply want to hang out with familiar friends.
Deconstruction and deconversion can be like Pinocchio leaving the identity-forming, punishment threatening world of Pleasure Island and moving toward Monstro the whale — the ultimate danger everyone around you fears — for the sake of being present with who you’re learning to love, namely yourself and your neighbors.
But abusive theology preys on our mental, social, spiritual and sexual longings and infuses within us an identity that we’re fundamentally a problem and that we’re forever going to be punished.
Darrel Ray, founder and president of Recovering From Religion, explained during his session, “It’s like you can’t utter the word ‘sex’ without the word ‘sin’ coming out within the same sentence in almost any religious environment, especially if it’s conservative or fundamentalist. … The ideology itself plays a role in the trauma you experience.”
Of course, many kinder, gentler evangelicals might object, thinking that somehow you can hold to theologies that form negative self-identities and that celebrate justice through violence without being abusive, or suggesting that Christians are much kinder than in centuries past. To that defense, Ray asserts: “We may not be lopping people’s heads off. But I’m telling you, I’ve met plenty of Baptists who have been traumatized by the ideology of their Baptist faith and their church because there’s nowhere for a child to escape if they’re in that church and they’re constantly being told the outside is dangerous.”
In a recent podcast episode, author and former megachurch pastor Rob Bell said: “The water, if you’re a fish, is so difficult to see. The reason it’s so difficult to see is because everyone around you is swimming in it. There’s no observance of it because it’s the thing everybody’s immersed in. It’s too close to see.”
Formerly religious people have had the experience of swimming in the water that religious people exist in, yet currently have the perspective from standing on the beach.
According to [Janice] Selbie, it is not merely enough for Christians to redefine the water they’re swimming in to a more progressive understanding. She believes true perspective and the fullest healing comes when people leave the water altogether.
“I think even progressive Christians are still ‘drinking the Kool-Aid.’ I don’t typically invite still-religious people to speak at CORT because I think continued affiliation with the Bible is unhealthy when it comes to the LGBTQ community, safety of children and women’s rights.”
Progressive Christians tend to object. “In public and private, I receive angry input from ‘progressive’ Christians for not inviting them to speak at CORT. I won’t risk further traumatizing attendees by doing so, although I do still have Christian family. I do not think it’s possible for evangelicals or other religiously entrenched people to be trauma sensitive with regard to religious trauma, although they vehemently disagree.”
While Selbie would admit that not even all her conference speakers would agree with her belief in the necessity of leaving the water altogether, her assertion that religion encourages “fantasy over reality and often creates massive division (in family and nation) and trauma (individual and collective)” has been demonstrably true.
Atheists and agnostics who spend significant time invested in the church are especially positioned to bring clarity to how theology fosters abuse because they know the theology, they’ve experienced the power dynamics involved, and because they are free to question every facet of Christian theology and power.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
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Why are so many Evangelical preachers arrogant and full of themselves? While it would be easy to answer this question simply by saying that these so-called “men of God” are narcissistic Assholes for Jesus®, the correct answer is more complex and nuanced. In both yesterday’s and today’s posts, I will use the fifty years I spent in Christianity and the twenty-five years I pastored churches in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan as a backdrop in an attempt to answer this question. While no two life stories are exactly the same, I am confident that I can pick things out of my own story that can also be found in the life stories of many Evangelical preachers.
In the 1960s, my parents moved to San Diego, California hoping to improve their lives financially. Unfortunately, their California dream proved to be an illusion. Two years later, Mom and Dad packed up our earthly belongings and moved back to Ohio. The Robert and Barbara Gerencser who left Ohio for the promised land of California were very different people when they returned to Bryan, Ohio. While in California, my parents and I were saved at an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church — Scott Memorial Baptist Church. Overnight, Mom and Dad became devout followers of Jesus. Not long after I asked Jesus into my heart, I told Mom that I wanted to be a preacher when I grew up. I was six years old.
At the age of fifteen, during an Al Lacy revival meeting at Trinity Baptist Church in Findlay, Ohio, I made another public profession of faith in Christ. I remember feeling a deep sense of conviction over my sin, and once I prayed to Jesus to forgive me of my sins and save me, the shame and guilt I felt over my sins was gone. Several weeks later, feeling, yet again, a deep sense of God working in my heart, I went forward during an invitation — a time at the end of church services where people are asked to come forward to the altar to do business with God — and publicly confessed to the church that I believed God was calling me to preach. At that moment, I became the latest member of a special group called “preacher boys.”
Preacher boys, called by God to do the most important job on earth, are viewed by pastors and churches as the future of Christianity. Without a steady supply of preacher boys, churches wouldn’t have pastors, new churches wouldn’t be started, and the lost would go unsaved. Thus, preacher boys are treated in ways that make them feel unique and special. Pastors love to brag about how many preacher boys were called to preach under their ministry. Similar to gunslingers putting notches on their six-shooters’ wooden grips every time they killed someone, pastors see preacher boys as notches on their ministerial guns.
After announcing my call to the ministry, I spent the next four years being handled by pastors who took it on themselves to prepare me for the work of the ministry. In the fall of 1976, at the age of nineteen, I packed my meager belongings into the back of my rust-bucket of a car and moved from my Mom’s trailer three hours northeast to Pontiac, Michigan. Pontiac was the home of Midwestern Baptist College — an IFB institution started in the 1950s by Dr. Tom Malone (who pastored a nearby megachurch, Emmanuel Baptist Church). Midwestern was established specifically for training preacher boys for the ministry. Midwestern was an unaccredited school, so students received no financial aid. Most of the preacher boys had to work full-time jobs while attending classes. These future pastors were also required to work in one or more of the ministries at Emmanuel, along with being in attendance for Sunday school, two worship services, and midweek prayer meetings. Students were busy seven days a week, with little time for relaxation. It should come as no surprise, then, that many students washed out after their freshman year. Men who endured until the end were viewed as battle-tested preachers ready to enter the hard work of the ministry. Filled with pride and given the approval of IFB titan Tom Malone, these newly minted men of God fanned out over the world establishing new churches and pumping new life into older, established IFB churches. Forty years later, most of the men from my class are still plucking grapes in God’s vineyard. I am, as far as I know, the only person who attended Midwestern and later pastored churches who is now an atheist. (Please read The Midwestern Baptist College Preacher Who Became an Atheist.)
Evangelical young men who enter the ministry most often spend their entire lives in what I call “the Evangelical Bubble.” Within this bubble, pastors are sheltered from the world; within the bubble, Evangelical theology and practices make perfect sense; within the bubble, pastors are rarely challenged concerning their beliefs; within the bubble, pastors are viewed as God-called authority figures; within the bubble, pastors receive the praise and adulation of congregants; within the bubble, pastors are revered and treated as demigods; within the bubble, pastors answer only to God; within the bubble, pastors have no equal; within the bubble, pastors put into motion their agendas, their God-given visions for their churches; within the bubble pastors’ birthdays and ministerial anniversaries are celebrated; and within the bubble, God allegedly uses pastors in unique ways to supernaturally advance His kingdom.
Pastors who remain in this bubble are surrounded by like-minded people who believe the same things, sing the same songs, and generally live cookie-cutter lives (at least outwardly). Exposure to the outside world is limited, especially for those who are full-time pastors. I have long advocated for churches forcing pastors to be bi-vocational. Doing so exposes pastors to a world far different from that of the Evangelical bubble. Unfortunately, few churches see the value of having part-time pastors. Churches which, out of economic necessity, pay their pastors part-time wages often demand their pastors give them full-time attention.
Safely ensconced within the Evangelical bubble, pastors go about doing the work of the ministry. These sheltered men frequent pastors’ fellowships and conferences — meetings where pastors get together to whine about how evil the world is and how hard it is to be a pastor. These meetings provide pastors yet another opportunity to have their right beliefs and right practices reinforced and approved by fellow clergymen. Such meetings are pep rallies meant to rally and energize the generals of God’s army.
On Sundays, pastors mount the pulpit and preach sermons they believe God has laid upon their “hearts.” Congregants gather to hear the Word of God from the man of God, showing their approval by shouting “amen,” nodding their heads, and raising their hands. After services, pastors stand at the back of their churches, shaking hands and listening to members tell them how wonderful their sermons were. In the twenty-five years I spent pastoring churches, I never had a church member shake my hand and say, Preacher, that sermon sucked or Pastor Bruce, are you sure God told you to preach that sermon? I preached plenty of bad sermons over the years, but congregants still praised me for giving to them the Word of the Lord. Imagine being in an environment where no matter what you do, everyone tells you what a great job you are doing. Spend enough time being praised and never criticized, and you will begin to think — to speak bluntly — your shit don’t stink.
Taking what I have written above, is it any wonder that many Evangelical pastors become arrogant and full of themselves, especially when their churches grow numerically? Outwardly, these men of God are (sometimes) humble, but inwardly they think, Wow! Look at what God is doing through me — ME! ME! ME! being the operative word. Praised by congregants and peers alike, preachers find it is easy for them to lose touch with reality.
Rare is the man who can withstand a lifetime of praise and adoration without negatively being affected. Over time, pastors start to believe their press clippings, thinking that they have arrived. Sunday after Sunday, congregants file into services to hear THEIR pastor preach. It is not too much of a stretch for me to say that many pastors begin to develop bigger-than-life personalities, thinking that congregants are there to see them perform. Credence is given to this when pastors leave their churches for new ministries. What happens? Many congregants stop attending services. If Pastor Ain’t He Awesome isn’t preaching, I’m not going, they say. Let pastors take a sabbatical or vacation and what happens? Church attendance declines. Evidently, while the proverbial cat is away, the mice play.
Throw in certain personality and psychological traits pastors tend to have, and it should come as no surprise that many Evangelical pastors are insufferable, arrogant, full-of-themselves assholes — especially in the view of those who live outside of the Evangelical bubble. Does this mean that Evangelical pastors are inherently bad people? Of course not. But years spent in the Evangelical bubble can change pastors, often for the worse. I have no doubt that some pastors will whine, complain, and howl over what I have written here, saying I AM NOT LIKE THIS! Others, however, will admit that what I have written here hits too close to where they live.
Pastors can become so immersed in the work of the ministry that they lose all sight of reality. The solution, of course, is for pastors to leave the ministry and devote themselves to reconnecting with humanity by wallowing in the pigsty of the world. As long as they remain in the Evangelical bubble, pastors will not see things as they are. Of course, pastors aren’t going to listen to me. The calling of God is irrevocable, they will tell me, God has CALLED me, and I must not disappoint or disobey Him! And therein lies the problem. Evangelical pastors believe that God is behind their call into the ministry, and that every sermon preached and every decision made is done by the mighty power of the Spirit of God. Until these Gods become men, I fear there is little that can be done to deliver them from the other-world, rarefied air of the Evangelical bubble.
For me, once I finally admitted that I was not what I claimed to be, that the wizard behind the curtain of Bruce Gerencser’s life was not the Evangelical God, but Bruce himself — then, and only then, could I make sense of a lifetime spent in the ministry. Every decision I claimed was made according to God’s leading was, in fact, influenced not by God, but by my parents, pastors, peers, and my own wants, needs, and desires. I now know that I genuinely want to help other people; that I love trying to fix things that are broken; that I love the thrill of building things from scratch. And yes, I now know that I loved receiving the praise and adoration heaped on me by congregants. I loved being the center of attention, the decision-maker, the man with all the answers. Does this mean I was a bad person? I will leave that to others to decide. All I can do is give an honest accounting of my life. In doing so, I hope ex-Evangelicals and those trying to extricate themselves from the Evangelical bubble will gain a bit of understanding about what they have experienced at the hands of God’s men. While I did many good works as a pastor, things that I am proud of, I must also admit that I was not always a good person; that I was, at times, filled with pride and arrogance. Am I better man today than I was as a pastor? Most certainly. I now know what it means to be human. And in reconnecting with my humanity, I have found that I still have much to offer, without, of course, the baggage of Christianity.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
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