Polly and Bruce Gerencser, Our Father’s House, West Unity, Ohio Circa 2000
Several years ago, Kenneth asked:
I am currently married to a Southern Baptist woman who is likely never going to change her mind about her beliefs. I deconverted late last year and am now an atheist. I’m curious as to how your wife ended up an atheist seemingly around the same time as you? I guess deep down I want her to see my views as an atheist but if anyone knows how hard it is to talk to a Christian as an atheist, it is you. My question is, can you tell us more about how Polly came to the same conclusions as you during the time of your deconversion? Maybe she can give us some input too. In a lot of scenarios, one spouse is still stuck as a believer while both the atheist and theist struggle with now being in a “mixed” marriage — I’m in one of them now. Thanks!
After we decided in 2005 we no longer wanted to be Pastor and Mrs. Bruce Gerencser, we spent a few years trying to find a church that took seriously the teaching of Jesus. Not finding such a church frustrated us and led us to conclude that the Christianity of Jesus no longer existed, and most churches were just different flavors of ice cream; same base ingredients with different added flavors. (Please see But Our Church is DIFFERENT!) The last church we attended was Ney United Methodist Church, four blocks from our home
For most of 2008, I had been doing quite a bit of reading about the history of Christianity and the Bible. From Bart Ehrman to Robert M. Price to Elaine Pagels, I read dozens of books that challenged and attacked my Christian beliefs. Polly and I spent many a night discussing what I had read. I often read large passages of this or that book to her and we would compare what we had been taught with what these books said. While Polly was never one to read nonfiction, she did read several of Bart Ehrman’s books. Over time, both of us came to the conclusion that what we had been taught wasn’t true. We also concluded that we were no longer, in any meaningful sense, Christian. The last Sunday in November 2008, we walked out of Ney United Methodist, never to return. Several months later, I wrote the infamous Dear Family, Friends, and Former Parishioners, which I sent to hundreds of Evangelical family members, friends, and former church members.
For a time, both of us were content calling ourselves agnostics. I soon realized that the agnostic label required too much explanation, so I embraced the atheist label. While Polly is hesitant to use the atheist moniker, her beliefs about God, Christianity, and the Bible are similar to mine. She’s not one to engage in discussion or debate, content to go about her godless life without having to define herself. I often wish I could be like her.
When we left Christianity, I feared that Polly’s deconversion was a coattail deconversion; that she was following after me just like she was taught to do in the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church. Some of my critics, unwilling to give Polly credit for doing her own thinking and decision-making, have suggested that Polly was/is being led astray by me. Fundamentalist family members have voiced their concern over Polly being drawn into my godlessness, rarely giving her credit for being able to think and reason for herself. Their insinuations only reinforce her belief that she made the right decision when she deconverted. Polly graduated second in her high school class and has a college degree. She is quite capable of thinking for herself. Granted, this ability was quashed for many years thanks to being taught that she should always defer to me as the head of the home. That I was also her pastor only made things worse. I can confidently say that Polly is her own person, and her unbelief is her own.
Where our stories diverge a bit is the reasons why we deconverted. While both of us would say we had intellectual reasons for abandoning God and Christianity, Polly’s deconversion had a larger emotional component than mine did. We’ve spent countless hours talking about the past, this or that church, and the experiences each of us had. Polly spent most of her married life under the shadow of her preacher husband. I’m amazed at how differently she views our shared past, now free to speak openly. While I was the center of attention, heaped with praise and love, she was in the shadows, the afterthought, the one who had to do all the jobs church members had no time for. It should come as no surprise that her view of the 25 years we spent in the ministry is much different from mine.
As I’m writing this post I am thinking to myself, Polly needs to be telling this story. I can’t tell her story. While I can give the gist of it, I think it is better if she tells her story, that is if she is willing to do. I do know that she has no desire to relive the “wonderful” ministry years. She’s quite content to be free of God, the church, and the Bible, free to just be Polly. Not Polly, the pastor’s daughter, not Polly, the preacher’s wife, just Polly. And I can say the same for myself. While I am noted for being a preacher-turned-atheist, an outspoken critic of Evangelicalism, I am content just to be Bruce. Most of our life was swallowed up by the ministry, so we are quite glad to be free and we enjoy the opportunity to live our lives on our own terms.
In many ways, our story is not typical. I’ve received scores of emails from people who deconverted and are now in mixed marriages. Like Kenneth, they want to share their unbelief with their spouses, but are unable to do so because of their spouse’s Christian beliefs or because they fear outing themselves will destroy their marriages. (Please see Count the Cost Before You Say I Am an Atheist.) Polly and I fully realize that if one of us had remained a Christian it could (would?) have ended our marriage. We are grateful that we’ve been able to walk this path together hand in hand. The farther away we get from the years we spent in the ministry, the more we realize how good we have it. Our deconversion could have destroyed our marriage and alienated us from our children, but it didn’t. Instead, we’ve been given a new lease on life; the opportunity for each of us to seek our own path. We deeply love one another, have six wonderful children and thirteen grandkids, and are, in every way, b-l-e-s-s-e-d.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Son number four stopped over after work and he is sleeping on the couch. He is babysitting Bethany so Polly and I can go to Grand Rapids and eat pizza at a restaurant for which we have a Groupon.
Son number three dropped off his two youngest so we could babysit them for a bit. He knows that we are going out tonight and he said he would be on time to pick them up. I thought, sure you will. Five p.m. and son number three walks through the door. He’s early. I make a mental note to put a gold star beside his name. Maybe he has finally learned to tell time.
Polly and I both scurried around getting ready for our big night on the town. As we got ready to walk out the door I said to Polly, I am driving tonight. She said, really? I gave her THAT look and took the keys. She is likely wondering if this will be her last day on earth.
After we picked up our mail, we drove east on Route 15. As I put the turn signal on to turn left at The Bend Road, Polly said, what are you doing? I replied, I am going up to Route 6. Polly: No we need to take old Route 24. I said, I really think we need to take Route 6. No, she was certain we needed to take old Route 24. So we took Route 24.
I was right.
And we didn’t even fight about it.
Maybe there is hope for our marriage.
The pizza joint only had one waitress on the floor and was totally unprepared for the extra customers the Groupon would bring. It took her 20 minutes to get our drinks. The owner finally came out to help her take orders and proceeded to service the three tables that were seated after us. The pizza was okay, nothing special, and I doubt that we will drive 40 minutes to eat it again.
Before going home we decided to stop at Meijer in Defiance. Polly needed a belt and I needed acetaminophen to replace the government-mandated acetaminophen reduction in my Vicodin prescription.
As we walked in the door, I looked down the long main aisle by the registers and I saw Bob, a former church member. I thought, Oh shit. I told Polly, hurry . . . there’s Bob and I don’t want him to see us. If it were just him, all would be well, but I knew his wife Margo would not be far away (names changed to protect the guilty),
I met Bob and Margo almost 20 years ago when I pastored Olive Branch Christian Union Church in Fayette. When I left Olive Branch and moved five miles south to West Unity to start a church, they came along with me.
Bob is a quiet man, content to sit in the background and not say a word. Margo more than makes up for him, a constant talker regardless of whether she has anything to say.
Margo’s sister attended the church when she could. She was home-bound most of the time and couldn’t drive. Countless times we picked her up for church or took her to a doctor’s visit an hour away in Toledo. Her sister? Margo couldn’t be bothered and would demand gas money for every trip she made to her sister’s house.
Bob and Margo attended the church infrequently and never could get there on time. It was not uncommon for them to arrive at the morning service 20 minutes before it was over. I often wondered why they bothered.
When we remodeled the church nursery, Margo bought some Jesus Junk® to hang on the wall. (I could write a whole post on Jesus Junk® donated to the churches I pastored over the years. Lighted velvet Jesus anyone?) She wrote her name on the back of the plaque she paid a dollar for at a garage sale and told me she wanted it back if we ever stopped using it. When we closed the church, with great delight, I threw the plaque away.
Somewhere in the late 1990s Bob and Margo stopped attending the church. According to Margo, I committed a terrible sin by allowing the women of the church to have a rummage sale IN the church building. Bob? He never said a word and followed Margo out the door.
Good riddance.
When I saw Bob I knew we needed to run as fast as we could. If they saw us they would — well she would — want to talk to us. Then we would have to spend 20 minutes pretending that we were friends.
I didn’t like Margo when I was her pastor. She was a gossipy, self-centered narcissist. I may have had to be her pastor, but I didn’t have to be her friend. So, when I saw Bob I knew we had to practice our avoidance technique, a skill we have honed to perfection since leaving the ministry and Christianity.
We got all of our shopping done and made our way to the checkout. As I looked down the long aisle I saw that Bob was still sitting there. I thought, nothing has changed. Still waiting on her to talk her way through the store. I told Polly, we need to check out on this end. Bob is still there. She replied, are you sure it is Bob? I said, yes I am sure. So we used the self-checkout, bagged our purchases, and started to make our way out of the store . . .
I looked up for a moment and there were Bob and Margo. I thought, shit. I said to Polly, there they are . . . hurry. I DON’T want to talk to them. We quickly made our way out the door and into the parking lot, avoiding having to play the Fake Friends Game® for the umpteenth time.
I used to feel guilty when I avoided former church members in the store, but I don’t anymore. Most of them aren’t like Bob and Margo, but coming face to face with them still requires us to make polite talk without mentioning the horns that are on our heads. Everyone knows that Pastor Bruce Gerencser is now an atheist. They read the letters in the paper and they have bumped into other Christians who have said, DID YOU KNOW? By now, I assume everyone knows.
So we avoid people. This is not the kind of people we are, but we hate chit-chatting and pretend-we-are-friendsconversations. It is not that we hate them personally or dislike them. It’s just that we don’t have anything in common with them any more. I am sure some of them have done the same thing when they see Polly and me in the distance at one of the local stores.
How about you? How do you deal with running into people from your Christian past? Do you avoid them? Do you feel uncomfortable talking to them? Please share your thoughts in the comment section.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Over the weekend, I received the following email (sent twice) from an Evangelical man named Bill Clark. Clark is a Christian psychologist at Valleydale Christian Counseling in Birmingham, Alabama. (Clark is a recommended counselor on Focus on the Family’s website.) His business bio states:
Dr. Clark’s experience is unique in that he worked simultaneously in a community mental health center as the Clinical Director/Assistant Executive Director and in private practice as a professional Christian counselor since 1983. His knowledge of psychological and spiritual issues has allowed him to integrate both disciplines into a holistic approach that addresses the body, mind, and soul.
Dr. Clark has been a Licensed Professional Counselor in the State of Alabama since 1985. He specializes in a variety of problem areas: mood and anxiety disorders, marital and family conflict, anger management, domestic violence, and stress management. He is certified by the National Board of Certified Counselors. Dr. Clark is also a Counseling Supervisor in the State of Alabama. He provides supervision to those seeking licensureas professional counselors.
Dr. Clark has a Ph.D. in Psychology from North Central University, a Doctor of Ministry degree (D.Min.) in Christian counseling from Luther Rice Seminary, a Master’s degree in Christian counseling from Trinity International University, a Master’s degree in Psychology from Eastern Kentucky University, and a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology from the University of North Alabama.
In March 2015, Dr. Clark retired from community mental health with over 32 years of service. In September of the same year, he relocated his private practice to Huntsville, Alabama and was there for 4 years. In September 2019, he retired again and moved to Birmingham to be closer to his children. In December 2020, he came out of retirement and opened Valleydale Christian Counseling.
Clark makes all sorts of claims, so I thought I would respond to him with a post. My response is indented and italicized.
I find it quite interesting that your 25 years of pastoring is strewn with multiple resignations and even one excommunication.
Pastors typically change churches every three or four years. The reasons for this are many, but there’s nothing nefarious about my ministerial record. I have openly admitted that I have wanderlust; that I bore easily. I make no apology for being who I am. Most people change jobs numerous times over their lifetime. Why should I be faulted for doing the same?
The first church I worked for was Montpelier Baptist Church in Montpelier, Ohio. I was the church’s assistant pastor — an unpaid position. After seven months, I resigned and we moved to Newark, Ohio.
The second church I worked for was Emmanuel Baptist Church in Buckeye Lake, Ohio. This was a new Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church my father-in-law and I planted. I served as Dad’s assistant for two and half years, working primarily with the church’s youth. In June of 1983, I resigned from the church to go start a new church in Somerset, Ohio.
The third church I worked for was Somerset Baptist Church — a new church plant in Somerset, Ohio. I pastored Somerset Baptist for eleven years, resigning in 1994 to become the co-pastor of a Sovereign Grace Baptist church in Elmendorf, Texas.
The fourth church I worked for was Community Baptist Church in Elmendorf, Texas. I was the church’s co-pastor. After seven months of conflict between my fellow pastor, Pat Horner, and me, I resigned. Horner refused to accept my resignation, saying the church had to grant me permission to leave. Days later, we packed up our belongings and returned to Ohio. The day we were leaving, the church held a business meeting and excommunicated me. (Please see I Am a Publican and a Heathen — Part One.)
The fifth church I worked for was Olive Branch Christian Union Church in Fayette, Ohio. I resigned after seven months.
The sixth church I worked for was Grace Baptist Church, renamed Our Father’s House, in West Unity, Ohio. I pastored Our Father’s House for seven years. I resigned in 2002, and did not pastor again until 2004. We spent most of 2003 in Yuma, Arizona, hoping the weather would bring improvements to my health.
The seventh church I worked for was Victory Baptist Church in Clare, Michigan — a Southern Baptist congregation. This would be last church I pastored. I left Victory Baptist after seventh months. We moved to Newark, Ohio to live near Polly’s parents, and in 2005 we returned to northwest Ohio where we remain to this day.
Every church is a different chapter in my life. (Please see What Happened to the Churches I Pastored?) I had successes and failures at every church I pastored. All of them grew numerically, yet with four churches I had seven-month tenures. Why is that? I have often wondered about significance of seven months. Coincidence? I still haven’t come to a satisfactory answer.
In the case of Olive Branch, an old, old, old established denominational church (the only such church I pastored), I grossly underestimated how dysfunctional and entrenched the congregation was. I was not the man to lead them. All of the men who pastored the church after me were retired ministers, elderly men content to maintain the status quo. I was thirty-eight, a man with a church planting background; a man with an entrepreneurial spirit; a man who had grand plans for an old, inwardly grown church. The church and I were a bad fit.
I never should have pastored Victory Baptist Church. I had numerous opportunities to pastor, yet because Victory contacted me first, I felt obligated to become their pastor. (I have a hard time saying no.) The church was, by far, the most dysfunctional church I ever pastored. I thought, at the time, I can “fix” this church. I naively saw myself as a man who could ride in and rescue dying churches. I now know better. Dysfunctional churches know they need to change, but cannot or will not do what’s necessary to do so. Many of them should be left along the side of the road to die. Such churches go through pastors one after another, chewing them up and spitting them out (with the blame always being ascribed to the chewed up pastors).
Things came to a head at Victory over some toys that a church member (who wanted to be a preacher) put in the nursery. I asked her not to put the toys in the nursery. They were unsafe. She ignored my request, so I took the toys out of the nursery. This led to conflict. A church meeting was called to settle the conflict. The meeting quickly became heated. I had told the church before I became their pastor that I had no heart for conflict. I was flat worn out. Conflict came anyway, and at the conclusion of the meeting where it was decided the unsafe toys had to be returned to the nursery, I resigned. Two years later, the church closed, unable to find anyone to pastor them.
The circumstances surrounding my resignation (and excommunication) from Community Baptist Church are explained in the series I Am a Publican and a Heathen.
And finally, I left the first church I worked for, Montpelier Baptist Church, primarily for financial reasons. Unable to secure a good-paying job (the church refused to help us financially in any way), we decided to move to Newark, and live with Polly’s parents for a few months. I secured employment with Arthur Treacher’s as a general manager. Polly took a job at Licking County Christian Academy, teaching third grade. Leaving Montpelier Baptist was the best thing for me to do for my family. I make no apology for doing so.
I am now sixty-four years old, an atheist, and a humanist. I have had fourteen years to reflect on the twenty-five years I spent in the ministry. Counseling has helped me take inventory of my ministerial career, and life in general. I have made a lot of mistakes, but who hasn’t, right? I have tried to be open and honest about my past, owning my mistakes and poor decisions.
Your behavior was characterized by being blunt, abusive, arrogant, temperamental, and unteachable.
Characterized by whom? Temperamental and direct? Sure. But abusive, arrogant, and unteachable? Nope. Who is making these claims? If Clark is going to make provocative claims such as these, he needs to provide evidence for them. Not a disgruntled member here and there — every church has them. I know of no former church member who has said these things — and I have interacted in recent years with scores of people who once called me Preacher or Pastor.
I am certain that no evidence from Clark will be forthcoming.
Those watching on the sidelines correctly predicted that you would eventually spin out.
Who predicted I would “spin out” (whatever the hell that means)? If people predicted I would “spin out,” I would love to know who they are; people who at the moment believed I would one day lose my faith and become an atheist? Much like the people who claim I was never a Christian, there’s no evidence that I was anything but a devoted follower of Jesus; a man who loved the people he pastored and tried to minister to their needs.
As I stated above, I am certain that no evidence from Clark will be forthcoming.
Unfortunately, it did happen and you appear to have carried all of the psychological baggage with you.
The reasons for how I have lived my life are many. Live long enough and you will have baggage. My life is what it is. Would I do some things differently? Of course. Woulda, coulda, shoulda, right? Unfortunately, there are no do-overs in life. I own my life, as it is, hoping to do better every day.
You have just switched sides and maintained the same character defects.
At this point, I am ready to sigh. Clark only read a handful of posts on this site, so it’s evident that he hasn’t read most of my autobiographical writing. Would it have made a difference if he had? Probably not. Clark “knows” what he knows. He has weighed my life in the balance and found it wanting. That’s the price I pay for being transparent about my life.
Maybe it runs deep, Bruce and you ought to drill down on your family of origin issues.
What runs deep? Family of origin issues? What do I need to know about my family that I don’t already know? Again, I have been open and honest about my upbringing. What does Clark know that I don’t? Or is he just making shit up, hoping to cause me psychological harm?
Honestly, no one cares to read or listen to your rants anymore. You have become irrelevant.
Finally, we get to Clark’s motivation for writing what he did about me. He doesn’t like my writing. I suspect it angers and upsets him. And instead of asking himself why that is, Clark attacks the messenger — a classic Evangelical tactic.
Clark says that no one cares to read my writing anymore; that I have become irrelevant. This site’s traffic numbers suggest otherwise. Another classic Evangelical tactic: try to minimize my influence, suggesting that no one reads my blog, when, in fact, this site will serve up 750,000 page views this year. I have done more newspaper, podcast, and video interviews this past year than any other time. Evidently, I am not as irrelevant as Clark says I am.
Give it up.
Not a chance. As long as I am physically able to write, I will continue to do so.
Postscript
After sending this post off to Carolyn, my editor, to edit, I decided to see if I could find “Bill Clark” online — which took me all of ninety seconds. Clark used the email address associated with his business to email me, and since it was listed on his website, he was not hard to find.
I was surprised to learn that Clark is a licensed counselor with over thirty-five years of experience. I have been seeing a secular counselor for years. I can’t imagine my counselor ever writing an email such as the one Clark sent me. Not only is Clark’s email judgemental and ill-informed, it is also unprofessional. I can’t remember a time I have ever written a stranger such an email. Instead of attacking my character, perhaps Clark might want to look in a mirror. As a supposed follower of Jesus, he might want to ask himself if Jesus would have sent such an email. WWJD! Perhaps Clark would like me to list all the teachings and commands found in the Bible he broke with his email to me, you know the verses about how to treat your enemies, or the verses about lying and corrupt communication, or the verses about the fruit of the Spirit. Maybe, Clark was just pissed off over my writing and responded accordingly.
Long-time readers know about the dysfunctional home I grew up in. They know about my Mom’s mental health problems, drug addiction, multiple suicide attempts, and eventual successful suicide. They know that my dad was not my biological father (which I learned a year ago). They know I moved numerous times as a child, attending a new school every year or two. They know I grew up in poverty, experiencing things no child should ever have to experience. They know my life is messy and complex. Yet, they continue to read my writing. Some readers have been following me for fourteen years — Loki bless them. 🙂 Why do so many people read my writing? Why do scores of people email me each year asking for my help? I suspect people read my writing because it resonates with them. Why do so many people thank me for being a help to them? I suspect my story rings true to them; that my story gives authenticity to their own. They see a preacher who is willing to be honest about what really goes on in Evangelical churches, a pastor who dares to share club secrets. And that’s always been my goal: to help other people. I don’t care one wit about what the Bill Clarks of the world think about me. Such people are buzzing gnats around my head on a warm summer day. Annoying to be sure, but a quick swat puts an end to that. Consider yourself swatted, Dr. Clark.
Let me conclude by talking about the successes I have experienced in life: forty-three years of marriage to a beautiful, wonderful heathen; six grown children who are gainfully employed and think for themselves; thirteen wonderful grandchildren (all of whom live twenty minutes or less from our home). We own our own home and drive a 2020 Ford Edge. After retiring, I returned to a hobby from my youth: collecting O-gauge Lionel trains. I am a professional photographer. I look like Santa Claus (or an Amish man, Jewish Rabbi, or an Italian mobster, depending on the coat and fedora I’m wearing). Man, I am b-l-e-s-s-e-d. Ho! Ho! Ho! I am also proud of all this blog has become over the years. Millions and millions of pageviews, countless new acquaintances, and a bushel or so of people I consider friends. I am grateful that I have had such wonderful people come alongside me as I struggle with chronic pain and illness; people who love me as I am and respect the work I do.
And now, it’s time for me to tell Bill Clark to fuck off. 🙂
Thank You!
After this post went live, Clark took down his business website.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
In 1995, there was a popular contemporary Christian song entitled “Jesus Freak.” Its topic was commitment to Jesus, even at great personal cost. The song, written and performed by DC Talk, included a stanza about John the Baptist and how he was beheaded by King Herod because John refused to compromise when it came to telling the truth.
….
There ain’t no disguising in the truth.
The lyrics came back to me recently when I read that Kevin Max, one of the band members who wrote and performed that song, announced he is an “ex-evangelical.”
The news was stunning, and I felt quite grieved inside.
How could this man, who was a very devoted Christian, at least by the evidence of the songs he helped to write and sing, now declare publicly that he has left the faith he once defended? On a broader scale, how could anyone who has had genuine fellowship with Jesus choose to reject the gospel and walk away from Him?
It’s hard to fathom, but sadly it happens. And even more sadly, it seems to be happening more frequently in our day.
….
Not surprisingly, there is a common theme among these defections from Christianity. They view the gospel message as being too narrow and, in doing so, reject the biblical doctrine regarding sin. They have come to the conclusion it is too harsh.
….
Those who choose to walk away from Christianity do so to embrace a philosophy that is contrary to the Bible but is more palatable to us as fallen sinners. They desire a different Jesus than the One revealed in scripture.
Simply put, they desire a Jesus who does not judge sin. They desire a Jesus (or a Jesus-like Messiah) who offers heaven to all without regard to the penalty of sin. Kevin Max even sings about a “universal Christ” in his songs these days. But this Jesus does not exist.
Sadly, the decisions we live with today we die with tomorrow. And then what for those who have rejected Jesus as their Savior?
This is how it is stated in John 3:17-18: “God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through Him. Whoever believes in Him is not condemned but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because they have not believed in the Name of God’s one and only Son.”
The choice belongs to us.
According to Dunn, people deconstruct/deconvert for the following reasons:
They view the gospel as too narrow
They reject the Biblical doctrine of sin
They embrace a philosophy contrary to the Bible
They desire a Jesus different from the one revealed in the Bible
They desire a Jesus that does not judge sin
They desire a Jesus who offers Heaven to everyone
Readers know what I am going to say next: sigh. Why is it that Evangelical preachers think it is their duty to ‘splain why people leave their churches? Dunn gives six reasons people deconstruct/deconvert; six reasons that not one former Evangelical would say were the primary motivators for their loss of faith. It’s evident that Dunn hasn’t spent much if any time actually talking to former Evangelicals, reading their blogs, or listening to their podcasts. Seek and ye shall find, Pastor Dunn.
Dunn admits that an increasing number of people are walking (running) away from Evangelicalism. And not just church members, either. Pastors, evangelists, missionaries, worship leaders, musicians, professors — men and women trained in theology — are deconstructing/deconverting in record numbers.
Dunn says:
How could anyone who has had genuine fellowship with Jesus choose to reject the gospel and walk away from Him? It’s hard to fathom, but sadly it happens. And even more sadly, it seems to be happening more frequently in our day.
Dunn wonders how could anyone walk away from Jesus. The good pastor fails to see or understand that Jesus isn’t the problem. The church is the problem, not Jesus. The Bible is the problem, not Jesus. Evangelicalism’s lusty embrace of the modern culture war and Donald Trump is the problem, not Jesus. Jesus has never been the problem for most former Evangelicals. When I look at Evangelical Christianity, I see a sect committed to white Christian nationalism; a sect that rejects science, reason, and skepticism; a sect awash in political extremism and conspiracy theories; a sect known for hating LGBTQ people, atheists, liberals, and everyone else “different” from them; a sect rife with sex abuse scandals and other criminal behavior by supposed men of Gawd. (Please see the Black Collar Crime Series.)
I deliberately paint with a broad brush, knowing that what I wrote above does not describe all Evangelicals. However, Evangelicalism has become a trash can filled with rotting garbage. Sure, there’s a fresh, shiny Red Delicious Apple buried in the garbage, but its deliciousness is hidden by the stinking garbage all around it. While I doubt there’s anything that could convince me of the truthfulness of Christianity (please see The Michael Mock Rule: It Just Doesn’t Make Sense), I might become an admirer again if the apples became the norm instead of the exception.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Recently, The Gospel Coalition’s website featured an article titled 4 Causes of Deconstruction. Written by Joshua Ryan Butler, co-lead pastor of Redemption Church in Tempe, Arizona, the article purports to explain “why” Evangelicals deconstruct/deconvert. As you shall see, Butler trots out the same worn-out tropes used by other Evangelical preachers to “explain” why congregants are walking away from their churches.
Many who deconstruct have been wounded by abusive or manipulative church leaders, or generally unhealthy church cultures. Often these relationships were intimate and formative: the pastor you grew up with, the mentor you trusted. For others, the relationships are more distant. You grew up under the influence of leaders like Ravi Zacharias, Carl Lentz, or Mark Driscoll—whose teaching and charisma powerfully inspired you and formatively shaped you—but then the curtain got pulled back. The betrayal can make the whole thing look like a sham. The pain can be excruciating and disorienting.
It’s easier to throw the baby out with the bathwater when you feel like you’ve been drowning.
Church hurt is real. But deconstruction is a false cure.
Poor Teaching
Some Christians have been led to believe they must choose between faith and science, because of poor teaching on Genesis 1. Others have been led to believe God is a vindictive sadist, from a popular caricature of hell. Best abandon Christian faith entirely on account of some dubious or sloppy teaching, right?
Desire to Sin
Some deconstruct out of a desire to justify their sin. Many friends in ministry have suddenly had “big questions about God”—then proceeded to quickly deconstruct their faith. So many times, it later comes out they’d been having an affair that started well before their deconstruction began.
Street Cred
Doubt is hip. The desire to fit in with the cultural ethos of our moment is strong. That’s why so many deconversion stories sound like everyone’s reading off the same script—its well-worn clichés signaling conformity to accepted norms.
Celebrities are leading the charge. There’s influence to be had, platforms to be built, and money to be made. It gets Rob Bell on Oprah, bolsters Glennon Doyle’s book sales, and lets Rhett & Link host Nacho Libre and Harry Potter on their popular YouTube channel.
A wave of #exvangelical podcasters and TikTok stars are following in the wake, with a whole cottage industry to welcome and cheer them on. There’s clout in distancing oneself from “outdated” views of sex and gender, an “obscure” Bible with talking snakes and forbidden shellfish, and “offensive” doctrines like wrath and hell.
I’m not claiming to know the heart of such influencers. Motivations other than street cred can be powerfully at play. I’m simply observing that social pressure is a powerful carrot on the stick—and not just for celebrities.
The cultural hostility is real. Whether in progressive urban centers (like my hometown of Portland), or university environments (like where I currently live), Christians are decidedly not the cool kids. It’s hard to be the awkward one sitting alone at lunch. Many of us feel the social pressure—and the release valve is a simple Instagram post away.
My first response is sigh. Really? People deconvert because:
They were hurt by their churches/pastors
They were poorly taught
They secretly wanted to fuck their neighor
They wanted to be hip or cool
Ask one-hundred former Evangelicals why they deconverted, and few, if any, will list the causes above. Sure, bad church experiences play a part when people deconvert, but typically the worst of those experiences happened as we were leaving or after we left Evangelicalism. Most of the former Evangelicals I have interacted with since 2007 left Christianity for theological, social, or political reasons. Most left for intellectual reasons (though certainly their emotions played a part in their deconversions).
Count me as plumb tired (and irritated) with preachers such as Butler ‘splaining why former Evangelicals left Christianity. How about actually talking to former Evangelicals and finding out the REAL reasons they deconverted? How about reading their blogs, listening to their podcasts, or talking to them face to face? How about accepting their stories at face value?
How does Butler explain the increasing number of college-trained, experienced preachers deconverting? I have interacted with hundreds of former Evangelical pastors, evangelists, missionaries, worship leaders, youth leaders, and professors over the years. Such people do not fit neatly in Butler’s four corner box. Perhaps the real problem is Evangelicalism itself. Look in the mirror, Pastor Butler, you and your fellow Bible thumpers are the problem. Clergymen and congregants alike are fleeing Evangelical churches. Many of them move on to kinder, friendlier, more inclusive churches. Others, upon learning Evangelicalism is a house of cards built on a faulty foundation (inerrancy of the Bible), deconvert. Instead of recognizing the foundational causes that are driving people away, Butler and his fellows at The Gospel Coalition blame the people who left. Hurt. Ignorant. Lustful. Anything but open, honest, and introspective.
Butler says that some people deconvert because it’s cool. Sure, preacher man. It’s cool making yourself a target of Evangelical zealots. Personal attacks. Death threats. Hateful, nasty emails and social media comments (many of which come from Evangelical preachers themselves). What a “cool” life, right? I suspect that Butler knows that former Evangelicals telling their stories is having a meaningful impact on doubting, questioning believers. Instead of listening to stock bullshit answers peddled by Butler and his fellow preachers, these doubting Thomases find people who are willing to listen to them, willing to give voice to their own experiences.
Let me offer up some Biblical advice to Butler and his fellow Evangelical Calvinists at The Gospel Coalition: Answering before listening is both stupid and rude. (Proverbs 18:13)
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Yesterday, I received several emails from Richard “Rich” Schmidt, pastor of Union Grove Baptist Church in Union Grove, Wisconsin, and the operator of Prophecy Focus Ministries. Carolyn, my editor, responded to Schmidt’s emails. I am no longer able to promptly respond to every email (and social media message) I receive. I appreciate Carolyn stepping in and helping me with my correspondence.
I do want to respond to one of Schmidt’s ill-informed judgments of my life and that of my wife. Schmidt stated:
I wrongly assumed that Bruce was an unconverted evangelical Lutheran or other liberal denomination or group. Unfortunately he is an unconverted former pastor of what would be classified as Bible believing churches. According to the now three blogs of his I have read, he has been inundated with well meaning Christians attempting to keep him from the inevitable destiny of Christ rejecters. You already know exactly what I mean.
The only reason I wrote you is deciding whether or not to cite him in my works highlighting people like Bruce who played church for years, and now have decided to fully expose themselves with their true beliefs. Wolves in sheep’s clothing are all too prevalent.
I will never use his name, as giving credence to him would be endorsing his current folly. Maybe, just maybe, Bruce and his faithful wife will one day remember what they taught years ago, turn to the Lord Jesus, and keep themselves from a horrible eternity. Based on his failing health, that reality is all too close. Remember: For by grace are you saved through faith, and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast (Ephesians 2:8-9).
Over the past thirteen years, I’ve been told more times than I can count that I was never a True Christian®; that I was a fake Christian; that I was a follower of Satan; a false prophet. Unable to square my story with their peculiar theologies, Evangelicals dismiss my life out of hand. Doing so requires Evangelicals to put their hands over their eyes, blinding them to what is right in front of them: a well-lived Christian life, a man who devotedly followed Jesus and the teachings of the Bible. Over the course of the fifty years I spent in the Christian church and twenty-five years in the ministry, not one family member, friend, church member, or colleague in the ministry ever said of me, “Bruce is not a Christian.” Not one person saw what Schmidt “sees” after reading a handful of posts on this site. Amazing, right?
Schmidt ignorantly believes that I spent much of my adult life “playing at church.” What evidence does he have for his claim? None. First, he doesn’t know me. Second, there’s nothing in my writing that remotely suggests that I was anything other than a serious, dedicated Christian. Schmidt knows this, but he needs some sort of explanation for my story, so he makes one up.
When a person tells me he is a Christian, I accept his testimony at face value. Schmidt says he is a Christian, and I believe him. Who better knows his life than him? Why, then, can’t he extend to me the same respect? Why do Evangelicals have such a hard time accepting people who are different from them; people whose journeys are different from theirs?
What did Schmidt hope to accomplish by emailing me? Did he really think quoting Ephesians 2:8,9 would bring me to my knees in repentance and faith? Did he really think threatening me with Hell would cause me to tremble in fear at the prospect of going to a mythical Lake of Fire after death? Did he really think insulting Polly and me would lead to our return to the One True Faith®?
Polly and I haven’t forgotten that which we were taught and believed years ago. How could we? As long as Rich Schmidt and his fellow Fundamentalist preachers continue to preach at us, we are reminded of why we left Christianity. Why would we ever want to return to the leeks and garlic of Egypt? No thanks.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Yesterday, I received the following comment from an Evangelical man named Brian Passmore (all grammar in the original):
God have mercy on your soul you have left the Open Arms of Jesus to ridicule and work as a Satanist we all will pay for our crimes and perhaps you more than many because of how you reached people with your satanistic approach to the world and May Jesus have mercy on you and how about you inspect your own life and put your own life out there the way that you have tried to dissect other people’s lives dissect your own life and you might see somebody very empty and without a soul because your soul has been captured by The Dark One the demon Satan it seems that Beelzebub owns you now get on your knees and ask for forgiveness I pray you have left God as our God never leaves anyone we leave him dot-dot…… think about that!!!!!!!!!
According to Passmore:
I ridicule God/Jesus/Christians
I am a Satanist
I have a “satanistic” approach to the world
I will receive harsher punishment in Hell due to how many people I reach with this blog
The Dark One/Satan/Beezlebub owns and controls me
Passmore read all of one post, Black Collar Crime: Kent Hovind Arrested on Domestic Assault Charges, before determining I am a Satanist. Passmore seems to miss the fact that I am an atheist. Thus, I don’t believe in the existence of the Christian God, or any other deities, for that matter. If I think God is a myth, it stands to reason that I believe Satan is a myth too. The same goes for having a “soul.” Sorry, I am a material being, no soul required for operation.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
According to Fundamentalist Christian Jimmy Randolph, there is no such thing as an ex-Christian. In an article titled Beware of the Perils and Pitfalls of Easy-Believism, Randolph shares a recent experience he had of witnessing to an atheist:
A few days ago the Lord allowed me to witness to an atheist about creation and Jesus Christ’s blood atonement for sinners. After a few minutes of going back and forth, I could see that the particular atheist I was dealing with was not interested in truth, but excuse. As I was about to end the conversation by telling the atheist that he will one day face his Creator face to face at the Great White Throne Judgment and give an account for every secret sin, the atheist interrupted me by telling me that he was “a former Christian”. Now any Bible Believer knows that it is not impossible for a born-again Christian to apostate so dramatically to the point where they could possibly become an atheist (2 Tim 2:13 KJV). Therefore, I decided to check out his testimony in the Lord.
I asked him “how did you become a Christian?” He answered “I was raised in a society that was mostly Christian.” I then explained to him that being raised in a Christian society does not make you a Christian any more than being raised in a garage makes you a car. So I presented the question to him again: “how did you become a Christian?” This time he answered me and said “I believed in a theistic God.” I then explained to him that the devils also believe in a theistic God and tremble (James 2:19 KJV). I presented the question to him a third time: “how did you become a Christian?” He answered and said “I believed the bible and that prayers would be the answer” I then explained to him that Muslims also believe in prayer and that Mormons also believe the bible, but that doesn’t make them Christians. I then rebuked the atheist by telling him that according to all three cases of his own testimony, he was NEVER a Christian, only RELIGIOUS. It was at this point were the atheist let his anger get the best of him at accused me of being radical, mean-spirited, outrageous, illogical, spreading hate, unreasonable, what’s wrong with “Christianity” today, ridiculous ideology, blah, blah, blah.
Now why would this atheist label himself as a “former Christian” when he was absolutely clueless to what a Christian was? Two words: EASY BELIEVISM. Easy Believism is a heresy that teaches that salvation or reconciliation with God is relative to the individual and NOT ABSOLUTE according to God’s word. In other words, Easy Believism teaches that an individual doesn’t have to run to Calvary’s cross as a BROKEN SINNER in need of a sinless Savior to save them from HELL. Instead, the individual can come to God self-righteously as their own mediator, in their own way, in their own time, according to their own thoughts and logic.
According to Randolph, those of us who label ourselves as ex-Christians never really understood the True Christian® gospel. Randolph thinks that ex-Christians fell prey to what he calls easy-believism. Unfortunately, Randolph has no idea what easy-believism is. Proponents of easy-believism (free grace) — men such as Jack Hyles, Curtis Hutson, Bob Gray, Charles Ryrie, Chuck Swindoll, Charles Stanley, and Zane Hodges — believe that people are saved when they mentally assent to a set of propositional beliefs and put their faith and trust in Jesus Christ. Those opposed to easy-believism — men such as John MacArthur and most Calvinists — believe that unsaved people must not only accept Jesus as their Savior, but they also must make him the Lord of their lives (lordship salvation). While both parties believe that good works are a natural consequence of being saved, those who oppose easy-believism say that these works prove that a person has indeed been born from above.
As you can see from the previous paragraph, Randolph doesn’t understand easy-believism. I am not sure where he pulled his definition from, but it wasn’t from any of the pro/anti-easy-believism books of the 1980s and 1990s. Randolph’s inability to define and understand easy-believism renders his claim moot. Still, for the sake of argument, I will let his definition stand so I can adequately address what he writes next.
THEY WON’T OR HAVE DIFFICULTY ADMITTING TO BEING A SINNER
THEY DON’T BELIEVE THAT THEY EVER TRULY DESERVED TO BURN IN HELL
THEY BELIEVE THAT ANY GENERIC BELIEF IN GOD IS “GOOD ENOUGH”
THE IDEA OF SALVATION ALONE THROUGH CHRIST CRUCIFIED IS FOOLISHNESS TO THEM
THEY IDENTIFY THEMSELVES AS BEING A “CHRISTIAN” OR A “CHILD OF GOD” WITHOUT EVER ADMITTING TO BEING A LOST HELLBOUND SINNER BEFORE CONVERSION
THEY VIEW GOD AS A GENERIC BUDDY INSTEAD OF A SINLESS PERSONAL SAVIOUR
THEY BELIEVE THAT GENERAL GENERIC PRAYER, BIBLE READING, CHURCH ATTENDANCE, FAMILY RELATIONSHIPS, CHURCH MEMBERSHIP, SOCIAL FUNCTIONS, AND DEALING WITH SOCIETAL ISSUES EARNS THEM SALVATION OR SPECIAL FAVOR WITH GOD OUTSIDE OF SCRIPTURE.
THEY BELIEVE THAT SALVATION AND A PERSONAL RELATIONSHIP WITH GOD CAN BE ACCOMPLISHED BY REJECTING, IGNORING, OR BEING PURPOSELY IGNORANT TO WHAT SCRIPTURE SAYS.
THEY BELIEVE THAT ALL RELIGIONS ARE THE SAME OR LEAD TO THE SAME GOD.
THEY CAN’T REMEMBER A TIME IN THEIR LIFE WHEN THEY HAD A FACE TO FACE COLLISION WITH JESUS CHRIST AND CALLED ON HIS NAME FOR SALVATION AS A BROKEN SINNER.
As regular readers know, I was a Christian for almost fifty years. I spent twenty-five years pastoring Evangelical churches in Ohio, Michigan, and Texas. As many readers of this blog, I was, for many years, a devoted follower of Jesus Christ. At one time, thanks to the churches I grew up in and the training I received at Midwestern Baptist College, I preached the easy-believism gospel. However, by the mid-1980s, I realized that the easy-believism gospel generally turned people into cultural Christians who had no desire to follow in the footsteps of Jesus. So when John MacArthur wrote his Evangelical-shaking book, The Gospel According to Jesus, I quickly realized that MacArthur was spot on when it came to the lordship of Christ. From that point forward, my preaching and emphasis changed. Instead of just trying to get people to pray the sinner’s prayer, I focused on what I called the gospel of full disclosure. If people were going to become followers of Jesus, I believed they needed to know exactly what Jesus expected (demanded) of them.
So when I look at Randolph’s ten ways to spot a false convert to easy-believism, I can emphatically say that none of these things is true of me. And I expect that many of the readers of this blog can say the same. We are living examples of the fact that people can be Christians and then walk away. Any thorough examination of our lives reveals that we were once committed followers of Jesus. Our lives are proof that what Jimmy Randolph writes in his post is not true.
This should be the end of the discussion. I’ve presented evidence — my life — that cannot be refuted. But, this won’t be the end of the discussion because people like Randolph, when confronted with the exemplary lives of one-time Christians, will then suggest that we must still be Christians because the Bible says that the true Christian can never fall from grace or lose their salvation. Instead, we are just backslidden, and God, through chastisement or even death, will brings us back to Jesus.
While perusing the comments on Randolph’s post, I noticed that he said his definition of easy-believism came straight from the Bible. After reading several more of his comments, I have concluded that he actually believes in easy-believism, just not the Bible-defined easy-believism that he has concocted in his head. (He also rejects lordship salvation.) In other words, he doesn’t know what he is talking about. Instead of trying to “save” atheists, perhaps Randolph should invest some money in buying several systematic theology books and doing some study on what the Bible actually says about salvation. Then, once thoroughly confused, Randolph can deconvert and become an ex-Christian who was never a Christian.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
I recently participated in a Zoom discussion with a Mennonite discipleship class in Pennsylvania. At the end of my sermon/lecture/speech on why I am an atheist, I fielded questions from the men in attendance. (Please see Bruce, I Don’t Believe You Are an Atheist.) One man asked me, “do you think your life would be ‘easier’ if you were still a Christian?” I replied, “yes!” The man agreed with me; life was easier for me when all I had to do was read, trust, and obey.
As a Christian, I believed the Bible was the inspired, inerrant, infallible Word of God. I believed the Bible contained everything I needed for life and godliness; that the Bible was God’s blueprint for living. As all Christians are, I was a hypocrite, often ignoring or disobeying the teachings of the Bible. That said, the bent of my life was towards holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord. I daily asked Jesus to forgive me of my sins (I John 1:9). I sought truth and guidance from the Bible, asking God, the Holy Spirit, to guide my thoughts, words, and deeds. As honest Christians will also admit, I failed at this endeavor. I kept trying, day in and day out, but I never felt I had “arrived” as a Christian.
Despite the existential struggles that came from being a follower of Jesus, life was simple. I didn’t have to think about morality or ethics. When questions would arise, the answer was always the same: THE BIBLE SAYS __________. Granted, in retrospect, I now know that the Bible required interpretation. Thus, I was the final arbiter of what I deemed moral and ethical — not God. Bruce Gerencser, not the Triune God, had the final say on everything.
In November 2008, I attended church for the last time. In 2009, I wrote a letter titled Dear Family, Friends, and Former Parishioners, detailing my loss of faith. Losing that which had been the foundation of the first fifty years of my life was traumatic, to say the least. I desperately tried to hang on to God, the Bible, and the church, but I was unable to do so. If there was ever a time for God to make himself known to me, it was then. But my doubts and questions were met with silence. Eventually, I concluded that the reason for the silence was this: God was a myth; the God of the Christian Bible was a human construct. Once the Bible and its author (God) lost their authority and control over me, I began sliding down the proverbial slippery slope. Many of the readers of this site have experienced similar frightening slides. Some of you found natural resting places: liberal Christianity, Unitarian-Universalism, or some other religion. For me, my slide finished with a colossal thud at the bottom of the slope. I finally admitted I was an atheist.
Saying I was an atheist was just the beginning of my new life in accordance to science, reason, and skepticism. Gone were God, the church, and the Bible — now what? What do I believe? I had to rethink my morals and ethics. I no longer had at my disposal book, chapter, and verse. I had to ponder what it was I believed about behaviors the Bible called “sin.” I decided that “sin” was a religious construct used by clerics and churches to keep asses in the seats and Benjamins in the offering plates. Sin, Hell, Judgment, Fear . . . thus saith the Lord! Remove these things from the equation and Christianity would shrivel up and die.
I have spent the past thirteen years thinking about what I believe and how I want to live my life. This has been hard. There’s no Atheist Handbook, no rulebook by which to govern my life. Sure, humanism provides a general moral and ethical framework for me, but I still have to determine the moral and ethical beliefs I took for granted as an Evangelical Christian. It would be far easier for me to appeal to a “book” as my standard for living (and certainly Christianity influences my thinking on morality). However, I am committed to doing the hard work necessary to best live my life. My “sin” list now fits on the front of a 3×5 card. Most of the “sins” that perturbed me as a Bible preacher and teacher no longer matter to me. I don’t care about who fucks whom, when, where, why, or how. As long as it’s consensual, that’s the end of the discussion for me.
The longer I’m an atheist, the easier the journey becomes. I have settled many of the moral and ethical questions that perturbed me a decade ago. However, I still struggle with some things. As my politics continue to move leftward, I am forced to rethink what matters politically (and morally). I remain a work in progress.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
I put out the call to readers, asking them for questions they would like me to answer. If you have a question, please leave it here or email me. All questions will be answered in the order in which they are received.
Alisha asked:
I have read several times on your page about your writing a letter to friends and family after your deconversion. You chose to be very open with people about your change in belief. Your wife, you said, has chosen not to really talk much about her leaving Christianity. Now that several years have passed since you sent the letter, I wonder if you feel it was the correct thing to do or if you think taking your wife’s approach might have worked out better?
My wife and I left Christianity in 2008. In early 2009, I wrote a letter titled Dear Family, Friends, and Former Parishioners detailing our loss of faith, and sent it to hundreds of family members, friends, colleagues in the ministry, and former church members. While Polly signed her name to the letter (and agreed with its content), it was generally perceived as coming from me. Others have always viewed Polly as not thinking for herself or under the spell of “Bruce.”
While there might have been a time forty years ago that was true, I can confidently say that Polly thinks for herself, makes her own decisions, and generally does what she wants. While our relationship is quite “traditional,” the patriarchal form of our marriage died an ignoble death decades ago. We now have an egalitarian approach to marriage. Does patriarchal thinking still show up in our relationship from time to time? Sure. Religious indoctrination will do that to you. Several years ago, I told my counselor that I wished Polly would be more assertive, make more decisions. He reminded me that she was free to NOT make decisions too; that maybe she liked me being the main decision-maker in our family; that I needed to accept her as she is. Doc, of course, was right. The difference now is that I no longer make unilateral decisions that affect both of us. Years ago, I would go to work with one car and come home with another. I would NEVER do such a thing today. We have learned to make decisions together.
The aforementioned letter was our coming-out party. While I continue to be outspoken about my unbelief, spending the past thirteen years sharing my story and trying to help those with questions and doubts about Christianity, Polly, on the other hand, quickly receded into the background, rarely talking about her loss of faith. Personality-wise, Polly is quiet and reserved. In high school and college, she was a wallflower. She went on one date before starting to date me. I was, in every way, her one and only. I’m a talkative, opinionated extrovert. Polly is not. I remember being frustrated with her when we were dating over how little she talked (much like her father). People, including myself, mistook her shyness for her not having an opinion. Trust me, Polly Shope Gerencser has lots of opinions. You just need to learn how to extract them from her as I have over forty-three years of marriage. Do I wish she was more vocal? Sure. But Polly is not me, and it’s unfair for me to expect her to be a quarter-fed talk-a-machine like I am. 🙂
I said all of this to make this point: our personalities largely determined our individual response to loss of faith. I charged Hell with an empty squirt gun, screaming FREEDOM!, and Polly stood on the sidelines, quietly smiling, never saying a word. We each responded the way we did because it was our nature to do so. That is still true today.
When we deconverted, I stood on a corner, street preacher-style, and told the world that I was no longer a Christian. Polly, on the other hand, stood in the crowd, quietly saying, AMEN! Alisha wants to know, with thirteen years of unbelieving life in the rearview mirror, would we do it all over again the same way? On the one hand, I could say, “we are who we are, personality-wise.” Can any of us act differently? (And no, I am NOT interested in discussing free will.) I do know, however, that my letter had real-world consequences. We lost all of our friends save two. And I mean ALL OF THEM! We lost friendships twenty and thirty years in the making. One letter, one honest reflection, and BOOM! — fractured friendships. Some of our friends turned on me, sending me hateful, judgmental emails. (Polly was spared any of this ugliness from our friends.) One of my closest friends savaged me in several emails, suggesting I was mentally ill. Another friend said I was possessed by Satan. And yet another dear friend who had known me for twenty-five years — the wife of an evangelist who had preached for me numerous times — told me that it was evident I was unsaved, that I was a deceiver, that the Devil was using me. (Our youngest daughter is named after her.)
My ministerial colleagues immediately broke fellowship with me. Not one colleague tried to “understand” my story. Not one emailed me and asked if we could talk, have lunch, or tried to interact with me. My letter was a declaration of war — a war that I am fighting to this day.
Imagine losing all of your friends and professional connections in a matter of months. Fifty years in the Christian church, twenty-five years in the ministry, countless relationships, all burned to the ground. To say this response was devasting to Polly and me would be a gross understatement.
Polly took a quiet, measured approach, choosing to NOT talk about her loss of faith. It’s only been in recent years that she has shared with her co-workers that she is not a believer. One of her employees is also an unbeliever, so Polly has been more open to her, but even today, she is hesitant to talk about this part of life with others. (Polly has agreed to share her story on my podcast channel when and if I ever get the *&%$#* thing off the ground.)
We have made a few friends over the years, mainly through this blog and social media. The couple who remained friends of ours when we deconverted are the only people we do things with. I have lunch from time to time with a United Church of Christ pastor and a former mainline Lutheran pastor. Outside of these friendships, neither of us has people in our lives we can call up and have in-person relationships with. Sure, we have six children and thirteen grandchildren, but we want and need non-family relationships as well.
As far as family relationships go, we are estranged from much of Polly’s Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) family. We maintain a decent relationship with her mother, but we have yet to have a meaningful discussion with Mom about why we are no longer Christians. Mom and Dad (now deceased) got the letter I sent in 2009, and that’s been the extent of any discussion about why we left the ministry and later left Christianity. I suspect Mom has read my blog now and again, as many of Polly’s IFB family have, but our losses of faith remain the proverbial rainbow-colored elephant in the room. I suspect Mom still thinks that I am the patriarch of our home; that the only reason Polly is an unbeliever is me; that when I die, she will come running back to Jesus and Evangelical Christianity.
I could go on and on about the price we have paid for leaving Christianity. Would our lives be better today if I had never sent my infamous letter to family, friends, and former parishioners? Would our lives be better if I had never started blogging, never written letters to local newspapers’ editors, never given interviews detailing my story? I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. We are who we are. Could I have NOT written my letter? I have pondered that question more times than I dare admit. I suspect Alisha wants to know if it is better to gently remove the bandaid or just get it over with and rip it off. I can’t tell her what to do in her own life. Am I happy with how our life has turned out post-Jesus? Sure (in general). Is Polly happy? Sure (in general). Neither of us is a woulda-coulda-shoulda kind of person. We tend to be realists, pessimists, and pragmatists. Would our lives have been different if I had stayed quiet about our unbelief? Maybe.
Perhaps some of the readers of this blog will chime in about their approaches to declaring (or not) their unbelief. This truly is one of those questions where there is no right answer.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
