Repost from 2015. Edited, rewritten, and corrected.
For those of us who spent a significant part of our lives in the Christian church, our eventual defection from Christianity was an important and traumatic event in our lives. People who are still devoted followers of Jesus grossly underestimate the travail people go through when they finally come to a place where they realize God is Dead.
For years we sang praises to God. We prayed and read God’s sacred Word. We devoted our time, talent, and money to the advancement of God’s kingdom.
We were not nominal believers. When the doors of the church were open, we were there. For those of us who were pastors, everything was secondary to our devotion to the work of the ministry. With great gusto we sang, “Souls for Jesus is our battle cry. Souls for Jesus is our battle cry. We never will give in while souls are lost in sin. Souls for Jesus is our battle cry.”
When we sang songs like All to Jesus I Surrender, we meant it. No part of our lives was untouched by our zeal, love, and devotion to Jesus, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.
When evangelists called for people to come forward to pray, we were the first people down front on our knees before God.
We counted the cost and Jesus was worth it. We were, in every way, true-blue, on-fire, Holy Ghost-filled, sanctified slaves of Jesus.
The Bible said that we were the Bride and Jesus was the Bridegroom. We were happily married to Jesus. He was our best friend, our confidante, and lover. No one compared to Jesus. He was the sum of our existence.
And then one day, perhaps years of days, we found ourselves separated or divorced from the God we had loved and served. Irreconcilable differences were the official cause of our divorce.
The journey . . . We spent so much time talking about our destination that we spent little time discussing our journey. Now, all we seem to talk about is the journey we are on.
The journey takes us away from all that is familiar. All the trappings of our life with God become more distant as we walk, perhaps run, farther and farther away.
For many of us, we eventually reached a place where, to our utter surprise, we found out that God was dead.
Few ponder this thought without shedding tears and lamenting the loss.
Well-meaning Christians earnestly implore us to trace back our steps to that place where we lost our first love. They tell us God will not chase us, but if we will only return home our marriage can be saved and all will be forgiven.
But it is too late.
For us, the God of Christianity is dead, and like all of the many ideas shaped by human hands, this God can’t be resurrected from the dead.
We lament what we have lost, but we are hopeful about that which we have gained.
It took the death of God for us to realize that life, this life, is worth living.
We refuse to surrender one more moment of time to a God made by humans; a deaf, dumb, and blind God who only exists in the imaginations of men who can’t bear the thought of this life being all there is.
But what about the God that is not made by man?
For the atheist, such a God does not exist. All gods are human inventions.
For the agnostic, for the deist, God remains a possibility, but in practice, even this God shows little or no life.
So on we go down an uncertain, but exciting, road.
Who knows what the future may hold. With no holy book, preacher, or God to lead the way, we are left with a wide-open road littered with the potholes of uncertainty. Uncertainty may, at times, cause us to fear, but we are also excited about the possibilities uncertainty brings.
Some day, perhaps today, tomorrow, or twenty years from now, we will face the ugly, unwelcome specter of death. As the COVID-19 virus stalks the human race, death seem all too close and real for us all.
Will we go to the grave with as much certainty as a person who believes that a life of eternal bliss awaits all who love God?
Will we be tempted, as our breath grows labored, to offer a feeble prayer to the God who died?
Will our final moments be those of integrity and commitment to what we said we believed?
Will we prove in death that what we believed was good enough to live by and good enough to die by?
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.
Originally posted in February 2015. Edited, updated, and expanded.
Jason, an Evangelical Christian, asked:
What would cause someone with your Biblical education and years of preaching the Word of God not just claiming to be a Christian but also living it one day decide to not believe and do a 180 and turn your back on it?
While I deal with this question at length in the From Evangelicalism to Atheism series, today I want to give a short, condensed answer to this question.
People like Jason are often perplexed by how it possible for someone with my background and training to one day walk away the ministry and Christianity. Most of the clergy who deconvert do so at a much younger age, often in their 20s and 30s. In my case, I spent fifty years in the Christian church and I pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years before I deconverted. When I started going to counseling, my counselor told me that it was quite rare for someone my age and with my experience to walk away from a lifetime of belief and work. It happens, just not very often.
Jason is not alone. A number of my ex-friends, former ministerial colleagues, family members, and former parishioners can’t understand how it is possible that the man they called Preacher or Pastor is now an atheist. Often they cannot or will not believe the reasons I give for my deconversion. Instead, they try to divine some other reason to explain why Bruce Gerencser, the man of God, the pastor, the preacher, their colleague in the ministry, is now an apostate, an enemy of God. “Is there some secret past I am hiding, some secret sin,” they ask themselves? They wonder if I have mental health problems, that I am “unstable.” They rack their brains trying to come up with a plausible explanation, anything but accepting the reasons I give for my deconversion.
Christian Fundamentalism taught me to stand firm on my beliefs and convictions. When I was a pastor, people appreciated and applauded my willingness to resolutely defend my beliefs and convictions. But now that I do the same with atheism, humanism, and liberal politics, they think there must be some other reason I drastically changed my mind and life. Let me be clear, I am the same man, someone who thinks that beliefs matter.
My mother taught me, from my youth up, that it was important to stand up for what you believe. Now, this doesn’t mean that I am not now tolerant of the beliefs of others, because I am. As I get older, I realize that tolerance is an important virtue. Stepping outside of the box in which I spent most of my life, I have found a rich, diverse, and contradictory world that continues to challenge me and force me to be more accepting and tolerant.
When I entered kindergarten I could already read. My book-loving mother taught me to read, and she developed in me an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. This may seem counter-intuitive at first, since I was raised in a Fundamentalist environment that is known for its ignorance. However, by becoming a proficient and avid reader, I had at my disposal countless opportunities to expand my knowledge. Sadly, my quest for knowledge became quite stunted as a pastor because I rarely read books that would conflict with my Evangelical beliefs. However, when I began to have doubts about Christianity and its teachings, my thirst for knowledge kicked into high gear and I began reading books that I once would have considered heretical.
I never made a lot of money pastoring churches. I never had church provided health insurance or a retirement plan. The only benefits I received were a check I got once a week IF the offerings were sufficient to pay me (all too often, they were not). Outside of the time I spent pastoring Community Baptist Church in Elmendorf, Texas, every other church I pastored paid a part-time or poverty-level wage for the full-time work I gave the church. I often worked outside of the church, as did Polly when I pastored Our Father’s House in West Unity, Ohio. I am not pointing a judgmental finger at the churches I pastored. Most of the churches were either small or in poverty-ridden areas. Over the years, I was privileged to pastor many gracious, giving poor people. They gave what they could.
About now you are thinking, what in the world are you talking about, Bruce? I thought this post was about WHY you stopped believing? It is, and what I have written above can be distilled down to these three important statements:
I was taught to stand firm on my convictions and beliefs
I was taught to read at an early age and I developed a thirst for knowledge
I never made much money in the ministry
Since I never made much money in the ministry, there was no economic reason for me to stay in the ministry. I always made more money working outside of the church, so when I decided to leave the ministry, which I did three years before I deconverted, I suffered no economic consequences. In fact, life has gotten much better economically post-Jesus.
I decided I would go back to the Bible, study it again, and determine what it was I REALLY believed. During this time, I began reading books by authors such as Robert Wright, Elaine Pagels and Bart Ehrman, These three authors, along with several others, attacked the foundation of my Evangelical beliefs: the inerrancy and infallibility of the Bible. Their assault on this foundation brought my Evangelical house tumbling down. I desperately tried to find some semblance of the Christianity I once believed, but I came to realize that my faith was gone.
I tried, for a time, to convince myself that I could find some sort of Christianity that would work for me. Polly and I visited numerous liberal or progressive Christian churches, but I found that these expressions of faith would not do for me. My faith was gone. Later, Polly would come to the same conclusion.
I read many authors and books besides the ones listed here. I say this to keep someone from saying, but you didn’t read so and so or you didn’t read _______. So, if I had to give one reason WHY I am no longer a Christian today it would be BOOKS. My thirst for knowledge, a thirst I still have today, even though it is greatly hindered by chronic illness and pain, is what drove me to re-investigate the claims of Christianity and the teachings of the Bible. This investigation led me to conclude that the claims of Christianity and the teachings of the Bible could not rationally and intellectually be sustained. Try as I might to hang on to some sort of Christian faith, the slippery slope I found myself on would not let me stand still. Eventually, I found myself saying, I no longer believe in the Christian God. For a time, I was an agnostic, but I got tired of explaining myself, so I took on the atheist moniker, and now no one misunderstands what I believe. (see Dear Family, Friends, and Former Parishioners and Dear Friend)
The hardest decision I ever made in my life was that day in late November of 2008, when I finally admitted to myself, I am no longer a Christian, I no longer believe in the Christian God, I no longer believe the Bible is the Word of God. At that moment, everything I had spent my life believing and doing was gone. In a sense, I had an atheist version of a born-again experience. For the past sixteen years, I have continued to read, study, and write. I am still very much a work in progress. My understanding of religion and its cultural and sociological implications continues to grow. Now that I am free from the constraints of religion, I am free to wander the path of life wherever it may lead. Now that I am free to read what I want, I have focused my attention on history and science. While I continue to read books that are of a religious or atheist nature, I spend less and less time reading these kinds of books. I still read every new book Bart Ehrman publishes, along with the various Christian/atheist/humanist blogs and publications I read, and this is enough to keep me up-to-date with American Christianity and American atheism/humanism.
I hope this post adequately answers the question of WHY I stopped believing.
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.
Originally posted April 2015. Edited, updated, and expanded.
A former parishioner asks:
I just don’t understand how you could just decide you don’t believe any longer. I as you know am a Christian and I could never or would never lose my faith in God, but if I did I would like to think that it would be some type of horrible thing that happened to me to cause me to lose my faith in God. I am not judging you I am just curious as to what happened to cause you to question and then lose your faith. You were such a good preacher, I learned so much from you I just don’t understand what happened. Please help me to understand.
I am quite sympathetic to those who once called me pastor/preacher. I know my deconversion causes them great pain as they attempt to reconcile the man of God they once knew with the atheist I am today. In some cases, the pain and cognitive dissonance are so great that they can’t bear to write or talk to me. One former pastor friend, the late Bill Beard, told me that I should keep my deconversion story to myself lest I cause others to lose their faith. (Please read Dear Friend.)
I try to put myself in the shoes of former parishioners. They listened to me preach, interacted with me on an intimate personal level, and considered me a godly man. Perhaps I won them to Christ, baptized them, or helped them through some crisis in their life. Maybe I performed their wedding or preached the funeral of their spouse, parent, or child. My life is intertwined with theirs, yet here I stand today, publicly renouncing all I once believed to be true; an atheist, an enemy of God. How is this possible, the former parishioner asks?
The email writer asks if some horrible thing happened to cause me to lose my faith. The short answer is no. Sixteen years removed from deconverting and nineteen years since I preached my last sermon, I can now see that there were many factors that led me to where I am today. As with all life-changing decisions, the reasons are many. I could point to my disenchantment over the deadness, shallowness, and emptiness of Evangelicalism; I could point to my loss of health and the poverty wages I earned pastoring churches. I could point to how fellow pastors and parishioners treated me when I left the ministry and later began to question my faith. (Please read Dear Family, Friends, and Former Parishioners.) I could point to my knowledge of lying, cheating, adulterous pastors. I could point to my anger towards those who readily abandoned me when I had doubts about the veracity of Christianity. I could point to the 100+ churches we visited as we desperately tried to find a church that took seriously the teaching of Jesus. (Please read But Our Church is Different.) I could point to the viciousness of professing Christians, people like my grandparents, who put on a good front but were judgmental and hateful towards my family and me. (Please read Dear Ann and John.) I could point to my bitter, hostile experience with Pat Horner and Community Baptist Church in Elmendorf, Texas. (Please read I Am a Publican and a Heathen.) All of these things played a part in my deconversion, but the sum of them would not have been enough to cause me to walk away from Christianity.
Several years ago, I wrote a post titled Why I Stopped Believing. I think an excerpt from this post will prove helpful in answering the question of why I no longer believe:
Since I never made much money in the ministry, there was no economic reason for me to stay in the ministry. I always made more money working outside of the church, so when I decided to leave the ministry, which I did three years before I deconverted, I suffered no economic consequences. In fact, life has gotten much better economically post-Jesus.
I decided I would go back to the Bible, study it again, and determine what it was I REALLY believed. During this time, I began reading books by authors such as Robert Wright, Elaine Pagels and Bart Ehrman, These three authors, along with several others, attacked the foundation of my Evangelical beliefs: the inerrancy and infallibility of the Bible. Their assault on this foundation brought my Evangelical house tumbling down. I desperately tried to find some semblance of the Christianity I once believed, but I came to realize that my faith was gone.
I tried for a time to convince myself that I could find some sort of Christianity that would work for me. Polly and I visited numerous liberal or progressive Christian churches, but I found that these expressions of faith would not do for me. My faith was gone. Later, Polly would come to the same conclusion.
I read many authors and books besides the ones listed here. I say this to keep someone from saying, but you didn’t read so and so or you didn’t read _______. So, if I had to give one reason WHY I am no longer a Christian today it would be BOOKS. My thirst for knowledge — a thirst I still have today, even though it is greatly hindered by chronic illness and pain — is what drove me to reinvestigate the claims of Christianity and the teachings of the Bible. This investigation led me to conclude that the claims of Christianity and the teachings of the Bible could not rationally and intellectually be sustained. Try as I might to hang onto some sort of Christian faith, the slippery slope I found myself on would not let me stand still. Eventually, I found myself saying, I no longer believe in the Christian God. For a time, I was an agnostic, but I got tired of explaining myself, so I took on the atheist moniker, and now no one misunderstands what I believe.
The hardest decision I ever made in my life was that day in late November of 2008, when I finally admitted to myself, I am no longer a Christian, I no longer believe in the Christian God, I no longer believe the Bible is the Word of God. At that moment, everything I had spent my life believing and doing was gone. In a sense, I had an atheist version of a born-again experience. For the past eleven years, I have continued to read, study, and write. I am still very much a work in progress. My understanding of religion and its cultural and sociological implications continues to grow. Now that I am unshackled from the constraints of religion, I am free to wander the path of life wherever it may lead. Now that I am free to read what I want, I have focused my attention on history and science. While I continue to read books that are of a religious or atheist nature, I spend less and less time reading these. I still read every new book Bart Ehrman publishes, along with various Christian/atheist/humanist blogs and publications, and this is enough to keep me up to date with American Christianity and American atheism/humanism.
For a longer treatment of my path from Evangelicalism to atheism, please read the series From Evangelicalism to Atheism.
If I had to sum up in two sentences why I no longer believe I would say this:
I no longer believe the Bible is an inspired, infallible, inerrant, God-given text. I no longer believe as true the central claims of Christianity: that Jesus is the virgin-born, miracle-working son of God, who came to earth to die for our sins, resurrected from the dead three days later, and will someday return to earth to judge the living and the dead.
The email writer comes from an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) background. A conundrum for her is to theologically square my past with the present. There is no doubt that I was a Christian for fifty years. I was a devoted, sincere, committed follower of Jesus. I preached to thousands of people during the twenty-five years I spent in the ministry. Not one parishioner or colleague in the ministry ever doubted that I was a Christian. I was far from perfect, but I was, in every way, a believer.
Those who say I never was a Christian make a judgment based on their theology and not on how I lived my life for fifty years. Baptists must do this because they believe that a person, once saved, cannot fall from grace. The doctrine of eternal security/once-saved-always-saved/perseverance (preservation) of the saints requires them to conclude I am still a Christian or I never was. The few former parishioners and colleagues in the ministry who are Arminians have no problem explaining my trajectory from Evangelicalism to atheism. I once was saved and I fell from grace.
Here’s what I know: I once was a Christian and now I am not. For those who once called me pastor/preacher, they should know that when I was their shepherd, I was a Christian. What good I did and what benefits my ministry brought them came from the heart of a man who was a devoted follower of Jesus, a man who loved them and wanted what was best for them. Those experiences, at the time, were real. While I have written extensively on how I explain my past and the experiences I had, former parishioners should content themselves with knowing that I loved and cared for them. While I had many shortcomings, my desire was always to help others. This desire still motivates me to this day.
Much like the Israelites leaving Egypt and heading for the Promised Land, so it is for me. My Promised Land is atheism, agnosticism, and humanism. While I will always have a great fondness for many of the people I once pastored, I will never return to Egypt, the house of bondage. Christianity and the ministry are distant sights in my rearview mirror. While I will always appreciate the love and approbation of the people I once pastored, I am not willing to “repent” of my atheistic beliefs. My mind is settled on the nature of the Bible and the claims of Christianity. I fully recognize that billions of people find value, meaning, and purpose in religion, but I do not.
I have no desire to cause believers to lose their faith. I am just one man with a story to tell. Over the past sixteen years, I have not even once tried to “evangelize” believers in the hope that they will lose their faith and embrace atheism. Yes, I do write about Evangelicalism and atheism, but people are free to read or not read what I write. If they have doubts about Christianity or have recently left Christianity, then my writing is likely to be of some help to them. If they write me asking questions or asking for help, I do my best to answer their questions and help them in any way I can. Over the years, hundreds of such people have written to me. Have some of them deconverted? Yes, including pastors, missionaries, and evangelists. But, deconversion has never been my goal. Instead, I view myself as a facilitator, one who helps people on their journey. It’s their life, their journey, and I am just a signpost along the crooked road of life.
Former parishioners need to understand that Bruce and Polly Gerencser are the same people they have always been, except for the Christian part. We are kind, decent, loving people. We love our children and our grandchildren. We strive to get along with our neighbors and be a good influence in the community. We are now what we were then: good people.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Several years ago, a friend of mine asked me about the psychological aspects of my loss of faith. He rightly noted that most of my writing about my deconversion focuses on the intellectual aspects of the process. I told him that talking about the psychological/emotional aspects of my life, both as a Christian and an atheist, gives my critics easy targets to attack. My story befuddles, aggravates, and confuses many Evangelical zealots. If they can find a flaw or weakness in me personally, it makes it that much easier to discredit me or dismiss my story out of hand. Over the past seventeen years, I have been savaged by Evangelical apologists who want nothing more than to deconstruct my life or dismantle my story. Talking about subjective psychological or emotional issues gives them ammunition to not only marginalize me, but also grind me under their Fundamentalist bootheels. That said, I know it is important for me to tell all of my story. If I truly want people to understand my journey from Evangelicalism to atheism, I must talk about the psychological aspects of my deconversion.
As I look back over my life, there are several things that stand out from a psychological/emotional perspective.
First, I struggled with why it seemed that God never materially blessed me. No matter how hard I worked, no matter how many days a week I labored in God’s vineyard, it never seemed that my pay was commensurate with my labor. My colleagues in the ministry all seemed to be doing better financially than I was, and all of them worked fewer hours than I did. Many of them seemed quite passive, rarely going out of their way to advance the kingdom of Christ. They, in my estimation, were placeholders. I, on the other hand, worked, worked, worked, pushed, pushed, pushed, rarely stopping to smell the roses. I sincerely believed the Hell was hot, souls were dying, and Jesus was coming back soon. These beliefs, and others, warped my view of the world. I thought, “better to burn out than rust out.” And so, year after year, I ran the race set before me, with little money to show for it.
It was not until the early 2000s that I finally realized I was a lone sprinter, running as fast as I could to finish a race no one else was running. Everywhere I looked, I saw congregants and ministerial colleagues buying houses and land, driving nice cars, taking vacations, and funding their retirement accounts. I thought, “It’s evident God doesn’t reward voluntary poverty or simplicity, so I might as well enjoy the good life like everyone else is.” As a result, I fundamentally changed how I viewed money and material things. Instead of being the last in line when the church paid its bills, I insisted they pay me first. Polly went out and got a job, and bit by bit we crawled out the financial pit I had dug for us.
I learned that God didn’t care one way or another. Of course, the reason for this is that he didn’t exist. I was waiting for a “dead” Jesus to bless me, and that was never going to happen.
Second, in a similar vein, I struggled with why God seemed disinterested in healing me. My health began to decline in the mid-90s, and no matter what came my way physically, it seemed that God just wanted me to endure it. No matter how much or how long I prayed for healing, God was silent. Oh, I would convince myself that he was “helping” me, but deep down I knew that my prayers weren’t reaching the throne room of Heaven, and most likely were just bouncing off the ceiling. As I looked at the suffering of other believers, I noticed that God seemed to be ignoring them too. I thought, “Isn’t Jesus the Great Physician?” Why does it seem he is always on vacation?
These two issues deeply weighed on me emotionally. I was a committed, devoted, sold-out follower of Jesus, yet it seemed that God didn’t care one way or another. In fact, it seemed that the harder I worked, the worse things got economically and physically. Of course, the reason for this is that I was chasing an imaginary God. I was devoted to a being that did not exist.
While my deconversion was primarily fueled by my re-investigation of the claims of Christianity and the Bible, emotional struggles over money and health problems certainly played a part. It took seeing a secular counselor to help me understand how all these things were intertwined in my life. Untangling my life hasn’t been easy. The wounds left behind by the years I spent in the ministry run deep, affecting me psychologically to this day. In November 2008, I walked out the back door of the church, never to return. I knew that I was no longer a Christian. What I didn’t know is how to best live my life going forward. As an Evangelical, I believed and practiced the JOY acronym:
Jesus First
Others Second
Yourself Last (or You Don’t Matter)
As an atheist and a humanist, I came to understand that taking care of self had to come first; that I had to care for myself psychologically. I also learned that it is okay to enjoy life; that it is okay to spend money for no other reason than that you want to; that it is okay to enjoy material things. Further, I learned that my family mattered to me more than anything. I thought they did when I was a Christian, but an honest accounting of my life revealed that Jesus, the ministry, church members, unsaved people, and just about everyone else came before my family. I regret spending much of my life more devoted to God and others than my wife and children. As an atheist, I now have my mind focused on the things and people who matter. I have learned that it is okay to tell people NO; that I don’t always have to help others; that I don’t have to always please others.
I have spent the past seventeen years re-making my life. Better? Worse? I will leave it to others to make such judgments. I do know that I am far happier today than I was as a pastor (not that I was necessarily “unhappy” as a clergyman). I am not sure that this post will satisfy those looking for the psychological reasons I deconverted. I know I run the risk of having critics say that I left Christianity because I was bitter over my economic status and God’s indifference towards my health problems. Perhaps, but at the end of the day, the reason I am an atheist is that I no longer believe the central claims of Christianity were true. I may have been angry, bitter, jaded, or pissed off, but these alone were not enough to drive me from the household of faith.
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, an Evangelical (IFB?) man named Nate Beck stumbled upon this site and left the following comment:
I agree with some of the criticisms of the fat preacher Corle. However, I balk at the whole rejecting Christ reason for this website. I doubt people who claim they once believed in Christ ever truly believed in Him at all. It truly takes a real loser to reject Jesus Christ, in my opinion. Just sad.
In 2022, I wrote a post detailing my experiences with Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) evangelist Dennis Corle. Beck agreed with some of my criticism of Corle — calling him “fat.” Yes, Corle is obese — as are many Baptist preachers — but what his weight has to do with anything is unknown.
Beck takes issue with the “whole rejecting Christ reason for this website.” Hmm . . . is rejecting Jesus really the reason for this site? Is my goal to lead as many people as possible away from Christianity? The short answer is NO. Hardcore atheists often accuse me of being too friendly towards religion in general, and Christianity in particular. I have been accused of being a “secret Christian.” Hardcore Christian Fundamentalists, on the other hand, say that I never was a Christian; that I am lying about my past and my love and devotion for Jesus. Both parties refuse to let me speak for myself, building a strawman Bruce Gerencser, and burning him to the ground. Left standing, of course, is the real Bruce Gerencser — a man very different from the one who is portrayed by his critics. (I am open to and even encourage honest, thoughtful debate and criticism, but when atheist and Christian zealots alike refuse to accept my story at face value, I know that their presuppositions keep them from seeing me as I am.)
I am not an anti-theist, nor am I anti-Jesus. Anyone who reads my post Why I Hate Jesus knows I object to the Western Jesus; to the Evangelical Jesus; to the IFB Jesus; to the culture war Jesus. In my mind, Fundamentalism is the problem, and that is true in every arena of thought and life. While I do not think the central claims of Christianity are true and cannot be rationally sustained, I have no axe to grind with Christians, in general. My focus is on Evangelical Christianity and the harm it causes not only to our society, but to individual people — not only psychological harm, but physical harm too. I make no apology for desiring the death of Evangelical Christianity. Evangelicalism impedes social progress, harms families, and retards intellectual maturity. Think I am being too harsh? Millions of Americans — including people in political power — believe the Bible is inerrant and infallible; that the universe is 6,025 years old; that God created the world in six literal 24 hours a day; that every miracle recorded in the Bible is factually true. Is this not an example of impeded intellectual growth — be it from a lack of knowledge or because of Fundamentalist conditioning and indoctrination?
Beck says I am a real “loser.” Evidently, if you don’t believe in Beck’s peculiar version of Jesus and Christianity, you are a loser. That means that 7+ billion people on planet Earth are “losers.” Of course, those of us raised in Fundamentalist sects and churches know this thinking well. Only our little band of followers of Jesus are “True Christians.” All others are lost, doomed, and damned.
Beck’s answer to my story is that I never was a real Christian; that I spent the first fifty years of life living a lie; that when I share my story with others, I am lying. Of course, Beck has no evidence for his claim. Anyone who takes an honest look at my life will conclude that I was a committed, devoted, sold-out follower of Jesus. Not perfect, to be sure, but the bent of my life was towards holiness. Instead of taking my story at face value, Beck is forced to disparage me because he can’t square my life with his peculiar theology. That is his problem, not mine.
Why do so many Evangelicals have such a hard time accepting that some people once were saved and now they are lost; that some people, after carefully examining the claims of Christianity decided that they were false? Married couples divorce all the time. The reasons are many, but one reason often given is “irreconcilable differences.” Does that not best describe why many of us deconverted? We simply could no longer reconcile the differences between what we were told and taught and what we eventually learned was actually the truth. For me, the question is not the existence of God. I rarely engage in such debates. Quite frankly, I find them boring and uninteresting, if for no other reason than that such arguments cannot prove that the God of their arguments is the God of the Bible. I have yet to have someone argue successfully for the existence of a particular Christian deity — and there are many.
Beck “needs” Jesus, I don’t. I have all I need with my partner of almost 46 years, our six grown children and their significant others, our sixteen grandchildren, and our three cats — Joe Meower, Socks, and Petey. We are close to our family — never does a week go by when we don’t see some of them. My family is all I need. I find no value in worshipping a dead man. I do find value in some of his teachings, but I don’t worship the man. I find value in Marcus Aurelius’ writings too, but I don’t worship him. How silly would that be, right? The only God I worship is Polly. I have watched her work countless miracles with $25 for a week’s worth of groceries. I have watched her selflessly raise six children, never bitching or complaining about doing without. She is God, in my book.
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.
Most Evangelicals believe humans are born sinners; that from the moment of conception, humans sin in thought, word, and deed; that humans don’t become sinners, they are sinners. Further, the Bible tells us humans are the enemies of God; haters of holiness and truth. Labeled, “natural (unsaved) men,” the Bible says unregenerate people CAN NOT understand the things of God
Salvation (deliverance) from sin requires the active work of God on behalf of people who are dead in trespasses and sin. Humans have no power to save themselves. Salvation requires regeneration and faith, both of which must be given to unsaved people for them to be saved.
Most Evangelicals are cradle Christians, meaning they were born into and came of age in Evangelical churches. Typically, Evangelical congregants come to faith between the ages of four and fourteen. Ninety-eight percent of Evangelicals come to faith in Christ by age thirty. Simply put, most Evangelicals are saved before developing mature, rational thinking skills. It is much harder for someone to be saved once they develop the skills necessary to distinguish truth from bullshit.
Dr. David Tee, whose real name is Derrick Thomas Thiessen, was raised in an Evangelical Christian home. The only religion he knows is Evangelicalism. Thiessen believes the words “Evangelical” and “Christian” are interchangeable. In his mind, Evangelicalism — his peculiar version of it, anyway — is True Christianity. Thiessen has a Christian Missionary and Alliance background. The CMA sect is a garden-variety Evangelical denomination. Within the sect, you will find believers who believe once a person is saved, he can never, ever fall from grace, and other congregants who believe a Christian can lose their salvation. What Thiessen actually believes on this issue is unclear. He has espoused both views, and has, at times, promoted works-based salvation. His viewpoint is determined by the particular theological point he is trying to justify.
Recently, Dr. David Tee, who is neither a doctor nor a Tee, wrote a post titled We Are Against Deconstruction. Here’s an excerpt from we’s post: 🙂
The issue here is the word ‘skepticism’. This is where many believers go wrong. Their skepticism should have been done long before they made a decision to follow Christ. All doubts should have been dealt with prior to that same decision.
There is no need to be skeptical about Christ or the Christian faith once one has been redeemed by Christ. That experience alone should tell them that God is real and that the Bible is true. Having second thoughts after you have been living the Christian life is wrong.
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If one has doubts about a doctrine or practice of the church, they should search scripture to get the truth, like the Bereans did in Acts, and then follow the truth. No one should be deconstructing their faith as they did that before they became a Christian.
No one is born a Christian either so they should not live under a false assumption. Do your deconstructing before accepting Christ as your savior for then you still have a chance to be saved.
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Doubts and skepticism after you have become a Christian is evil doing spiritual warfare against you and you need to do spiritual warfare against those attacks. Deconstruction is throwing up the white flag and surrendering. That is just the wrong thing to do after you believe.
According to Thiessen, children are supposed to deconstruct their Christian beliefs BEFORE they become Christians. All doubts and skepticism should be dealt with before a person is saved. This, of course, is impossible. The unsaved person, according to the Bible, cannot understand the things of God. They are dead in trespasses and sins, alienated from God, without hope in this present world. Yet, unbelievers are supposed to have a comprehensive understanding of Christianity BEFORE they are saved. How is this even possible, knowing that most Evangelicals are saved when they are children?
Most Evangelicals are saved BEFORE they have a full understanding of all that Christianity teaches. I heard scores of evangelism experts say that when winning sinners to Christ, soulwinners should tell them just enough to get saved; that they should avoid questions and stick to the plan of salvation. There will be plenty of time for their questions after they are saved! Most Evangelicals become Christians without thoroughly investigating the central claims of Christianity, and, sadly, many saved Evangelicals never take a hard look at what they believe.
How can a six-year-old child, raised in Evangelicalism by Evangelical parents, possibly determine whether Christianity is true? They do not have the rational thinking skills to do so — in a comprehensive way. Children “believe” because their parents, family, and tribe “believe.” Rarely, does skepticism play a part in their decision to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ. One can’t be skeptical if they have no understanding of the world’s religions. How can one choose if he or she is only given one choice? Deconstruction requires choices. How can anyone possibly deconstruct Evangelicalism until they have first been exposed to non-Evangelical religions, beliefs, and practices? Choice requires knowledge, but most Evangelical children are deliberately sheltered from any other religion but Evangelicalism. And when these sheltered believers are exposed to the “world,” what often happens? They start asking questions, beginning their travel on the path of deconstruction.
Deconstruction is not the enemy — simplistic, untested faith is. Thiessen thinks his site exists to promote Biblical Christianity; a place where doubters and questioners can find answers. The problem is that Thiessen only has one answer for every question: believe and practice what the Bible says. The B-i-b-l-e, yes that’s the book for me, I stand alone on the Word of God, the B-i-b-l-e. BIBLE!
Thiessen believes deconstruction leads to Hell:
Yes, deconstruction does lead to hell because Christians are following and listening to unbelievers over God and his word. Peter talks about leaving the faith and it is not pretty. There is only one truth, one true faith, and deconstruction does not lead you to either.
In other words, rationalism and skepticism lead to Hell, ignorance leads to Heaven. My, what an advertising slogan.
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.
While writing The Deconstruction of Christianity with Alisa Childers, we discovered some fundamental beliefs that undergird the deconstruction process. Moreover, these ideas are antithetical to the Christian worldview. This helps explain why so many who deconstruct their faith end up leaving the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints (Jude 3). Here are three reasons why I changed my mind about deconstruction.
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First, deconstruction has no correct destination.
A defining feature of deconstruction is that there’s no right way to do it and no right destination.
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Why isn’t there a right place to land in deconstruction? The answer is that deconstruction is a postmodern process. What I mean is, deconstruction isn’t about objective truth. It’s about personal happiness.
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Notice how deconstruction assumes there is no objective truth when it comes to religious beliefs. That’s why it doesn’t matter how you do it or where you end up as long as you’re happy.
I want you to notice two things. First, Jesus mentions two ways. There is a narrow way and a broad way, a right way and a wrong way. Second, Jesus mentions two destinations. The right way leads to a good destination: life. The wrong way leads to a bad destination: destruction. According to Jesus, there is absolutely a right place to land, and he tells us how to get there.
Second, the deconstruction process never ends.
Imagine you deconstruct your beliefs. Now what? Well, you construct new ones. However, once you construct new beliefs, you have to deconstruct those too. See how this works? There’s no finality to this process. Deconstruction requires a never-ending skepticism about your beliefs and the beliefs of others.
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Third, deconstruction has no biblical authority.
In deconstruction, there is no external authority to tell you what your faith should look like. You are the ultimate authority.
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Deconstruction isn’t about submitting to biblical authority; it’s about choosing to be your own authority.
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I changed my mind about deconstruction. After researching this topic, I’ve come to see that deconstruction isn’t merely asking questions or a synonym for doubt. Rather, it’s a process with no correct destination, no ending, and no biblical authority.
As you can easily see, Barnett is against deconstruction because it can and does lead to what he believes is a bad outcome — deconversion. Left unsaid is that Barnett is likely against deconversion because it leads to people leaving Evangelicalism for kinder, friendlier, more hospitable churches and faiths. In other words, since deconversion results in Evangelical churches hemorrhaging members — many of whom were committed followers of Jesus — the answer is to ignore WHY that is, informing restless, thoughtful Evangelicals, “God says, thou shalt not deconstruct.” And with proof texts uttered, deconstruction has been put to bed. Or so Barnett thinks, anyway.
My correspondence with deconstructing people suggests far different reasons for their deconstruction than postmodernism, or, Loki-forbid, the desire to think for themselves and be happy. Their emails suggest that Evangelical churches and preachers need to look in the mirror if they want to see why people are deconstructing (and deconverting). Many of the people deconverting have gotten a whiff of Evangelicalism’s rotting corpse and want nothing to do with it. They see the hatred of LGBTQ people and immigrants. They see the racism, bigotry, and misogyny. They see the extreme politics and social views — especially support of Donald Trump. They see the news stories about sex crimes committed by Evangelical preachers, yet never hear their pastors say a word about the abuse scandal. They see the fancy suits, designer clothes, and Rolex watches as their pastors preach about the humble Jesus who had no place to put his head. They hear the rumors and know what goes on in secret in the homes of their pastors and other church leaders. Worse, many of them are preacher’s kids. They have seen the hypocrisy firsthand.
Barnett is against skepticism when it comes to the claims of Christianity. I suspect he doesn’t take this same approach when it comes to non-Christian religions. In other words, be skeptical about all the other religions of the world, but when it comes to Christianity, just believe; read the Bible, pray, and trust that your pastor will tell you the truth. (Can you really trust anyone who hasn’t or won’t deconstruct their beliefs?)
Barnett is right in one regard; deconstruction can be driven by a desire for happiness –as if that is a bad thing. You bet. Once you leave Egypt and break the bonds of Evangelicalism you have a newfound freedom. That freedom can lead to increased happiness. Sounds like a pretty good selling point for skepticism and rationalism. 🙂
As Evangelical apologists are wont to do, Barnett reminds those considering deconstruction that HELL awaits those who follow this path. Only those who “question” their faith within the safe confines of the Evangelical box shall be saved! Deconstruction leads to Hell, just look at that Bruce Gerencser guy.
Checkmate. 🙂
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.
Originally written in March 2015. Expanded and edited.
If you have not read Are Evangelicals Fundamentalists? please do so. This will help you understand my use of the word “Fundamentalist.”
Thanks to this blog, social media, and breathing air, I come in contact with Christian Fundamentalists every day. They comment on my blog, send me tweets, leave Facebook comments, and send me emails. I’m like a human shit pile on a hot summer day. Fundamentalist flies are drawn to me and there’s little I can do about it. As a former Evangelical, an out-of-the-closet atheist, and a writer, I know that dealing with Christian Fundamentalists is part of my job description.
I’ve been blogging for over fourteen years. I started and stopped several times, with every stoppage predicated by the behavior of Christian Fundamentalists and how their actions affected my health and mental wellbeing. Over the years, I’ve gotten mentally and emotionally stronger, my skin has thickened, and I am pretty much impervious to the petty, childish, boorish, ignorant behavior of Fundamentalists. When I am up to it, I might engage them a bit, but most of the time I let them piss on my doorstep and ignore them. When they don’t get the desired response from me, they usually head off to another fire hydrant they can whiz on. (Yes, I am full of metaphors today!)
Some Fundamentalists have upped their game and turned to electronic means of bullying. Readers may remember all the problems I had several years ago with spambots sent my way by a Fundamentalist zealot. At one time, I was receiving 1,500 spam comments a day. This was a concerted effort by someone to frustrate me and cause me grief. During this same time period, I had someone repeatedly try to access the blog log-in. Now, this happens routinely a dozen or so times a day, but this time was different. They attempted to log in thousands of times a day. The good news is they failed. My login remained secure and no spam made it to the live site.
Currently, I receive a hundred or so spam comments a day. Quite manageable. In most cases, it’s drive-by spammers wanting to either infect my computer with a virus or make my penis larger. In the case mentioned above, it was a directed attack. Someone deliberately wanted to cause me problems, perhaps even cause me to stop blogging. A great victory for Team God, yes? Yea God!
My Facebook friends may remember someone setting up a fake account in my name. They then gained access to my Friends list (my fault since I had it set to public) and sent them new friend requests. About twenty-five of my friends friended the fake Bruce Gerencser, and after they did, they got a private message from the fake account. The message? A Christian one, meant to witness to them. Fortunately, several dozen friends contacted me about the fake account, and in less than an hour Facebook shut it down. For future reference, I am the only Bruce Almighty Gerencser in the world. If we are already connected through social media, any other Bruce Almighty is a false one.
The one thing I have learned from this is that Christian Fundamentalists, for the most part, are intractable. Intractable is not a word used very often, so let me give you the dictionary definition:
This word perfectly describes most of the Fundamentalists I come in contact with through this blog and on social media. Certainty has turned them into nasty, arrogant, hateful individuals who have forgotten what their Bible says about the fruit of the spirit and how they are to treat others. Think Dr. David Tee — who is neither a doctor nor a Tee — Revival Fires, John, and others. Safe behind their digital shields, these petty cowards violently brandish their word swords, caring little about what damage they might cause. Worse yet, they fail to realize or don’t care that they are pushing people away from Christianity. Why would I ever want to be a part of a religion that allows and encourages the maltreatment of others?
As a pastor, I always taught church members that our actions spoke louder than our words. How we treated others determined how our beliefs would be judged. While I may have been a Fundamentalist for many years, I never treated people like I’ve seen Fundamentalists treat me and others. As I mentioned in the comment rules, they are people who haven’t learned to play well with others. They are the schoolyard bullies, demanding that all bow to their God and their interpretation of the Bible.
I know there is no use trying to shame Christian Fundamentalists into acting like they have graduated preschool. If fourteen years of blogging have taught me anything, it is that I can’t change how Fundamentalists think or act. But, Bruce, you were a Fundamentalist, as were many of the people who read this blog, and you changed! True enough, but I also know how hard it is to change.
The majority of Fundamentalists will believe what they believe until they die. Why? Because their entire life is wrapped up in their belief system. They are in a self-contained bubble where, in their minds, everything makes sense. If you have not read, The Danger of Being in a Box and Why it Makes Sense When You Are in It and What I Found When I Left the Box, please do so. I think you will find both posts helpful in explaining the Fundamentalist bubble. Until a person is willing to at least consider that there is life outside of the bubble, there is no hope for them.
I am convinced that inerrancy — the belief that the Bible is without error — keeps people chained to the Fundamentalist God. Armed with an inspired, inerrant, infallible Bible, given to them by the supernatural God who wrote and autographed it, they go into the “world” and wage war against all who disagree with their literalist interpretation of the Bible.
Those of us who were once Christian Fundamentalists understand Fundamentalist pathology. After all, we wuz one of them. We know how certain and arrogant we once were, full of God and, most certainly, full of shit. We would have remained this way had it not been for an event, life circumstance, book, website, or blog challenging our assumptions. When one of these things poked a tiny hole in our bubble, we tried our best to patch the hole. But, try as we might, none of the patches would stick, so our bubble deflated. In rushed the “world” with its knowledge. From that day forward, we knew we could no longer stay in the bubble that had been our home for as long as we could remember. Our Fundamentalist Christian friends and family, along with our pastors and colleagues, tried to patch and re-inflate the bubble; but it was too late. Much like a horse escaping its pen, we were free, and once free we were not coming back.
My purpose in life is NOT to debate, fight, or argue with Christian Fundamentalists. It is a waste of time to do so, and since I have so little time left on this earth, I don’t want to waste it casting my pearls before swine. I’d rather spend my time helping those who find themselves outside of the Fundamentalist bubble. Confused, hurt, looking for help and answers, they are looking for someone whom they can turn to for love and support. I want to be that someone. I also want to help and be friends with those who have already transitioned away from religion. They want to know what a post-God life looks like. Through my writing, I try to be a help. A small help, a temporary help; whatever they need from me, I try to provide. I am not a guru, nor do I have all the answers. At best, I am a bartender, willing to spin a yarn, tell my story, provide entertainment, and listen to the woes, cares, and concerns of others.
Through this interaction, I gain something too. Not another church member or notch on the handle of my gospel six-shooter. I have no church or club, I am just one man with a story to tell. But I do gain support and strength from those who make this blog part of their day-to-day routine. Sometimes this blog is a cheap form of therapy; other times it is a raucous Friday night at the bar with friends. As people ride along with me on the Bruce Gerencser Crazy Train®, they have gone from acquaintances and readers to friends. Perhaps, this has become another bubble for me, but if it is, I do know there is an entrance and exit that allows me the freedom to come and go as I please. Freedom — a word I never really understood until I saw God, the church, the ministry, and the Bible in the rearview mirror.
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.
Many Evangelical preachers promote the idea that the bond Christian church members have with one another is far better than the one people have with blood relatives. Blood is thicker than water, the old saying goes, but not in Evangelical churches. The water of baptism unites fellow believers together into what is called “the family of God.” In this sense, water is indeed thicker than blood. One of the selling points of Evangelicalism is that it provides people with unique relationships with not only God, but also their fellow members.
Years ago, a popular song among Evangelicals was The Family of God by Bill and Gloria Gaither:
For I’m part of the family, the family of God.
You will notice we say “brother and sister” ’round here- It’s because we’re a family and these folks are so near; When one has a heartache we all share the tears, And rejoice in each victory In this family so dear.
I’m so glad I’m a part of the family of God- I’ve been washed in the fountain, cleansed by His blood! Joint heirs with Jesus as we travel this sod, For I’m part of the family, the family of God.
From the door of an orphanage to the house of the King- No longer an outcast, a new song I sing; From rags unto riches, from the weak to the strong, I’m not worthy to be here, But, praise God, I belong!
I’m so glad I’m a part of the family of God- I’ve been washed in the fountain, cleansed by His blood! Joint heirs with Jesus as we travel this sod, For I’m part of the family, the family of God.
Yes I’m part of the family, the family of God.
You will notice we say “brother and sister” around here, the Gaither’s wrote, and we greet one another this way because “we’re a family.” Gaither goes on to say that when brothers and sisters have troubles, the church is there for them, just as the church rejoices with them when they have victories. From the outside, the notion of church members all being one, big happy family is appealing. One of the common things ex-Evangelicals miss is the social connection and camaraderie they had with fellow Christians. And not just during Sunday services either. The churches I pastored over the years had frequent potluck dinners, dinner on the grounds, and banquets, along with social events that drew congregants together.
If you come from a dysfunctional family, as I did, it is not hard to see how the church could supplant your blood relatives. “I don’t need my parents, siblings, and extended family! I have my church family. They love me unconditionally and are always there for me!” Or so the thinking goes anyway. What ex-Evangelicals learned is that, unlike blood relatives to whom you are related no matter what, the “family of God” has certain requirements for membership and participation. Don’t play by the rules, don’t have the right beliefs, or don’t march in lock-step with the preacher’s edicts, and you will find that “unconditional” love is anything but, and the people who promised to always be there for you are nowhere to be found.
Those of us who left Evangelicalism and became atheists/agnostics quickly found out that the “family of God” was not what we thought it was; that the people we called friends distanced themselves from us or turned on us. I was part of the “family of God” for fifty years. I had scores of intimate relationships with fellow Christians and colleagues in the ministry. I naively believed that if I were honest about my loss of faith these people would at least “understand” and continue to be friendly towards me and my family. Instead, once word of my unbelief became common knowledge (Please see Dear Family, Friends, and Former Parishioners), it was not long before my church family turned on me. I received countless emails and letters from former congregants and colleagues in the ministry decrying my atheism and unbelief. The very people who loved and respected me set me on fire with angry, hateful words. I wish I had saved their correspondence, but their words hurt me to such a degree that I threw them away after receiving them.
One letter, in particular, came from a couple I had known since I was a teen. Their older boys were my age. I spent countless hours at their home hanging out. They were instrumental in me becoming the pastor of Olive Branch Christian Union Church in 1995. We were close, to say the least. In early 2009, I sent out Dear Family, Friends, and Former Parishioners. After, receiving my letter, this couple sent me a scathing letter that, in essence, told me I was possessed of the Devil. Their words were beyond hurtful. Several months later, I received another letter from them — an apology of sorts. Unfortunately, the damage was already done. I tend to believe that people say what they mean the first time, and usually apologies are just them feeling guilty about being assholes.
What my post-Jesus experiences taught me is that the beliefs I had about the “family of God” were largely untrue; that membership in the family required fidelity to certain beliefs and practices. From a sociological perspective, I understand why this is so. All of us are drawn into relationships with people who have similar beliefs, experiences, hobbies, and the like. As social creatures, we like to hang out with like-minded people. When I divorced Jesus, I broke the bond I had with congregants and colleagues. Fine, but you’d think that, at the very least, they would treat me with love, kindness, and respect, if for no other reason than the possibility that my loss of faith was temporary. Instead, they burned our relationships to the ground. “No Jesus? Rot in Hell,” their sentiments seemed, at the time. My best friend so savaged me that I am not sure I have emotionally recovered to this day. When he first emailed me, I couldn’t believe how nasty he was. I hadn’t heard from him in several years. I replied, “Really? How about asking how I am doing?” We traded several emails after that, but it was clear, at least to me, that all that we had shared together over the years mattered not to him. All that mattered was fealty to Jesus and the Bible.
I was fifty years old when I left Christianity; when I lost a lifetime of friendships and social connections. This, I suppose, was the price I paid for being open and honest. If I were to repudiate atheism and swear allegiance to Jesus again, I have no doubt that I would regain many of these lost relationships. That’s not going to happen. It’s too late, age-wise, for me to build new social connections and friendships. Sure, I have a few heathen friends and I am grateful for the relationships I have through this blog. Maybe, if I live long enough, I will write a song called The Family of Reason. Deconversion has forced me to focus on the family that really matters: Polly, my children, grandchildren, and my siblings. Contrary to what I believed for fifty years, blood really is thicker than water.
Please share your experiences with the “family of God,” both as a Christian and as an ex-believer, in the comment section. Do you still have close friends from your church days? If not, what have you done, if anything, to build relationships with like-minded unbelievers?
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 was intimate with my lover for many, many years.
My wife and children know about the affair. I am so sorry for all the hurt and damage my illicit relationship caused. That my wife and children stood by me all these years is a wonderful testimony to their love for me. I don’t deserve it.
My mistress and I carried on for a long, long time. She would follow me wherever I moved: Ohio, Texas, Michigan. She was always right there for me.
My mistress is a lot older than I am. She is what is commonly called a cougar.
The sex was great. The only problem was I could never satisfy her. The more sex we had, the more she wanted. She was quite the nymphomaniac. I had a suspicion she was having sex with other people (she was bisexual) but it didn’t matter. What WE had was special. She treated me as if I was the ONLY one.
Over the years, we made a lot of promises to each other. We are going to do this or that, go here or go there. But neither I nor my mistress delivered on our promises.
I gave my mistress a lot of money. She deserved it, or so I thought. Yet, no matter how much money I gave her, she always wanted more. She would often tell me “Prove that you love me, Bruce.” So I would give her more money. I began to wonder if she was a prostitute and I was a john. My wife and children suffered because I gave so much money to her. I justified their destitution by telling myself that my affair was what gave me purpose and meaning in life. Without it, I might as well be dead.
I deceived myself for a long time, convinced that what my mistress and I had was real. After all, she made me feel alive. She gave me self-worth. When we were together it seemed as if time stopped and we were transported into the heavens.
One day, I began to have doubts about my affair. The sex was great, but there is more to life than sex. I certainly enjoyed the company of my mistress, and boy, she sure could cook, but I still felt quite empty when I was away from her.
I began to think about all the sacrifices I made for my mistress: all the money I gave her; the loss of a close, intimate relationship with my wife and children. Was it worth it? Since my mistress got the best of me, all my family got was leftovers. By the time I came home to them, I was too tired, too busy, and too broke to give them what they needed and deserved.
A decade or so ago, after much self-judgment and reflection, I ended the affair. I sold all of the mementos of our torrid relationship. I told my mistress that I could no longer be in a relationship with her. She didn’t even get angry, or for that matter, even care. She told me “There are plenty of other people who would love to have me in their lives. Your loss, Bruce.”
So we parted ways,
My wife and I, along with our children, are trying to rebuild our family. The damage done by this affair is incalculable. I can only hope that, with time, the wounds will be healed.
I should warn all of you about my mistress. She is always on the prowl looking for someone new to entice and bed.
Her name?
The Church.
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.
