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Tag: Leaving Christianity

Dear Stalkers, My Wife and Children Are Not Me, Nor Do They Speak for Me

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cyberstalkingMy wife, Polly, had a conversation the other day with someone at work which unnerved her a bit. The person Polly was talking to let it be known that she had done a Google search on Polly’s name and found out that her husband had a blog. Polly is not too tech savvy when it comes to the Internet. She’s satisfied to use it get information, read her email, read books, and access social media. She’s never cyberstalked anyone. I explained to her that cyberstalking is quite common; a practice that I engage in on occasion. ’Tis the nature of the Internet. I see in this blog’s logs numerous searches related to my name every day. I used to obsess about this, wondering, who is trying to find information about me?  I now know, as a public figure, that whatever I say on this blog, on other sites, and on social media, can and will be read by others. As a writer, I know that there is no such thing as secrecy on the Internet. I must live with the fact that anyone can read what I have written, and they can then use and misuse my writing. New bloggers are often surprised when they find out that other people, people they don’t know, can read their writing. That’s the nature of the Internet. It is best to assume that anything you say and do on the Internet is akin to you standing stark naked before the world.

Polly, of course, is not a public figure. Being married to a public figure doesn’t make you one, and the same can be said about my children. They bear the burden of their husband and father being an outspoken atheist and political liberal. Polly has never had anyone at work say anything to her about me, whereas my children have had numerous people seek them out to let them know what they think about something I have written. In most instances, the feedback is negative and, at times, hostile. This is to be expected, since we are living an area dominated by Evangelicalism and right-wing politics. People such as myself are very much a minority.

I have told my family that they are under no obligation to defend me. If someone has an issue with something I have written, he or she knows where to find me. I am quite accessible, and certainly glad to answer any questions people have. The only reason people seek out my wife and children instead, is that they are afraid to challenge the dragon face to face. Instead of wielding their swords against me, they choose instead to go after my family. While Polly and my children are certainly capable of giving an answer for the reason and skepticism that lies within them, they should be free to do so on their own terms, and not because someone is challenging or attacking me.

Locals need to understand that the Gerencser family believes in personal freedom and autonomy. No one speaks for anyone else. My wife and children are not me, nor do they speak for me. The same goes for me. I don’t speak on behalf of Polly or my children. If someone questions me about Polly or one of my children, I tell the person to contact them.

Several years ago, a pastor who was once a close friend of mine sent me a scathing email that ripped me from one end to the other. I hadn’t heard from this man in years. This preacher attacked me personally, charging that I had ruined Polly and my children, that I had dragged them down the proverbial rabbit hole with me. I responded to him, saying that it would have been nice if he had asked, how are you doing? before giving me a digital prostate exam. Why did this former friend of mine write such a hostile email?

Evangelicals, especially those who are on the extremist end of the Evangelical spectrum, practice what they call traditional marriage — a social structure in which the man is the head of the home and his wife and children are submissive to him in all things. This means that the man is the decision maker; that there are no independent thoughts or decisions. What dad and husband says, goes. Understanding this helps give context to my former friend’s email. He sees me as the head of my home, a patriarch who rules and reigns over this wife and children. And in fairness to him, when we were still friends, that’s the kind of person I was. But, those days are long gone.

It’s been nine years since Polly and I attended church for the last time; nine years since we called ourselves Christians; nine years since we prayed or read the Bible; nine years since we viewed the Bible as a road map or blueprint for life.  At the time, I made it clear to Polly and my children that I was cutting them loose; that I was no longer going to be the head of the family, the supreme ruler over all things. I made it clear that all of us were free to choose our own paths, to follow their bliss wherever it leads. This has resulted in the Gerencser family becoming quite diverse as far as religious and political beliefs are concerned. Yes, none of us is Evangelical, but that’s not on me. If one of my children wanted to be an Evangelical, he or she has the freedom to do so. The blame for my children choosing NOT to be Evangelicals rests on Evangelicalism and its adherents. Once free of Dad, my children were able to examine Evangelicalism for themselves, and this resulted in all of them exiting stage left. Am I happy that none of them is an Evangelical Christian? Yep. I am so glad that the Fundamentalist curse has been broken.

Leaving Christianity has brought freedom and personal autonomy. For those seeking information about Polly and/or one of my children, I suggest they contact them. I don’t speak for them, and they most certainly don’t speak for me. If someone wants the skinny on Bruce Gerencser, all they have to do is read this blog or send me an email. No need for anyone to lurk in the shadows playing Private Eye. The woman I mentioned at the start of this post? Well, I found out exactly what posts she read, and all of them mentioned Polly. That’s fine. I never say anything about my wife or children in public that would cause them harm, shame, or embarrassment. I pay careful attention to what I say in my writing. Much like I was with my sermons during my preaching days, I am a careful and deliberate writer. Pointed and direct? Sure, but I suspect that this is a plus, not a minus. I am cognizant of the fact that people have endless media options. That thousands of people choose to read my writing is humbling. I say all this to say, if you are looking for “dirt” on Polly or my children, you are not going to find it on this blog; nor are you going to find anything I don’t want you to know. And for all those with a deep, burning desire to know something about me, all they have to do is ask.

About Bruce Gerencser

Bruce Gerencser, 60, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 39 years. He and his wife have six grown children and eleven 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. For more information about Bruce, please read the About page.

Bruce is a local photography business owner, operating Defiance County Photo out of his home. If you live in Northwest Ohio and would like to hire Bruce, please email him.

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That Makes Me Think of Eternity

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polly 2016

Early Tuesday morning, my wife, Polly, got up to use the bathroom. Upon her return to bed she said to me, something is not right. My heart is beating like crazy. I could tell she was quite worried, so I got my blood pressure machine and had Polly check her blood pressure. Sure enough, Polly’s blood pressure was 158/100 and her pulse rate was 158. On Monday, Polly had her annual health exam. Her blood pressure was 120/70 and her pulse rate was 65.

I told Polly to get dressed so I could take to her the emergency room in nearby Bryan. Polly is Mrs. Healthy. She’s had never been to the emergency room and her only hospitalizations were for six pregnancies. Polly has worked for Sauder Woodworking for almost twenty years. She’s never missed a day’s work. She has been to the emergency room and hospital numerous times with me, but her experiences on Tuesday were new to her.

The ER doctor quickly determined that Polly had atrial fibrillation-rvr — a heart rhythm problem. The upper chambers of Polly’s heart were out of sync with the lower chambers. Left untreated, atrial fibrillation can lead to a heart attack or stroke. Polly was given several medications and put on an IV. The doctor informed her that she would likely be in the hospital overnight. For the next six hours, I watched the heart machine as it recorded Polly’s heart rate bouncing all over the place. The medication eventually brought her heart rate down, but it was still bouncing from 80 to 110. Finally, around 2:00 PM, Polly’s heart decided it was tired of jumping around and returned to a normal rhythm. The doctor released her at 5:00 PM and we came home, exhausted from a busy, frightening day.

I had let Polly’s parents know that she was in the hospital. That afternoon, Polly called her Mom to let her know what was up. During the conversation, Polly’s Mom tried to evangelize her, saying, that [Polly’s heart problem] makes me think of eternity. Polly quickly and angrily shut off this line of conversation, curtly saying, I’m fine. (It has been nine years since Polly and I left Christianity. Her parents have yet to have a conversation with us about why we are no longer Christians.)

The conversation ended shortly thereafter. Polly’s Mom told her, I’m praying for you daily. At a loss as to what to do about our turn from Jesus to Satan, Mom and Dad have taken to daily praying for us. In their minds, if we would just get back in church all would be well. They hold out the hope that we will return to Jesus and start serving him again. Deep down I wonder if Mom doesn’t think I am the reason for Polly’s deconversion, and that once I am dead and gone and she is free of me, her daughter will return to Christianity. Little does Mom know that Polly is much more strident in her unbelief than I am. I may be more vocal about it than Polly is, but she has zero interest in anything associated with religion.

As Mom was giving her evangelistic spiel, this daughter of a Baptist preacher, wife of former Evangelical preacher, mother of six, and grandmother to eleven, raised her hand and gave the phone a middle finger salute. Polly will never tell Mom to fuck off, but the sentiment is there. She’s done with religion, and so am I.

Polly’s heart problem is a screaming reminder to us that life is short. Everyone expects me to die first. After all, I’ve been dealing with chronic health problems for twenty years. It makes perfect sense that I would be the one to make it to the crematorium first. However, life often does not make sense, nor is life fair. Proverbs 27:1 is right when it says, Boast not thyself of to morrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth. I was reminded on early Tuesday morning that those I love and hold dear can be quickly snatched from my hands. Treat every day as your last. Someday, it will be.

Losing My Religion by ObstacleChick

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guest post

Guest Post  by ObstacleChick

Growing up in a small town on the outskirts of Nashville, Tennessee, I knew that the vast majority of people belonged to some sort of evangelical Christian church. Those who did not were considered the worst type of heathens, ready targets for “witnessing” about the “Good News” of the Gospel. As Southern Baptists, we attended Sunday School and church services on Sunday morning, Training Union and prayer service on Sunday evening, and prayer service (and youth group for teens) on Wednesday evening.

After my parents separated when I was 3 years old, my mom and I moved in with my maternal grandparents and my great-grandmother. My grandparents were extremely active in the church — Grandpa was a deacon and Grandma taught women’s Sunday school and Women’s Missionary Union classes during the week. Grandma spent a couple of hours each day studying the Bible, referring to her small library of Bible concordances, Bible history books, and books by prominent Christian writers. My mother, a rarity as a divorced single woman in the early 1970s in our community, had a hard time fitting in at church, but work and church were her only places to make friends.

As a small child, I was taught all the Bible stories in Sunday school. I always had a lot of questions. When I was 5 years old my mom said I pestered her with so many skeptical questions about Santa Claus that she finally admitted Santa was a made-up story for children but not to tell the other kids who still believed. I was very pleased with myself. The same thing happened with the Bible stories — I asked lots of questions: how was it possible for Jonah to breathe while he was in the belly of the whale? What did the animals eat when they were on the ark during the flood, especially the meat-eating animals, if there were only a pair of each animal? How could plants grow so fast after the flood for the bird to bring back an entire branch? How come there were giants like Goliath but there aren’t giants anymore? Why would God, who is supposed to be loving, ask Abraham to kill his son Isaac just to test his obedience? And why in the world would Isaac just lie down and allow himself to be killed? Why didn’t God like Cain’s offering of produce as a farmer but he liked Abel’s offering of animals as a shepherd – how is that fair? How could Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego possibly survive a fiery furnace? Finally, my mom admitted that some of those stories might just be allegories in order to teach lessons, but that I shouldn’t go around saying that at church. Again, I was pleased with myself.

Things may have turned out differently for me if I had not been sent to a fundamentalist evangelical Christian school. There was a rumor that students from our part of the town would be bused to a “bad” section of Nashville, so my grandparents and mom sent me to the Christian school for admission testing. I passed and was enrolled in 5th grade. I hated the dress code — girls had to wear skirts all the time, and skirts must be a certain length or one would be sent home to change. In the handbook, it stated that girls should dress as God made them — “feminine.” I despised that. My mom let me wear shorts under my skirt so I could hang upside down from the monkey bars at recess until a teacher told me that was inappropriate and I was no longer allowed to hang upside down from monkey bars. Boys could but apparently that behavior was unacceptable for girls. We were taught young earth creationism and required to take Bible class with a Bob Jones University curriculum. In middle school and high school, we had Bible class 3 days a week and chapel service 2 days a week. Sometimes it was possible to sneak notes into the Bible to study during chapel if the teachers didn’t see it. There was an annual week-long Bible Conference where guest preachers were brought in for an intensive “soulwinning” week. I’m pretty sure I was “saved” every year at Bible Conference for fear of hell.

There were a lot of rules at the school, some applicable outside school as well. Any student caught with tobacco or alcohol on or off school property would be expelled; pregnant girls were immediately expelled; being caught attending the local rollerskating rink would result in suspension. There were also the prejudices we learned from school — that certain Christian sects such as Catholics were not “real Christians”; that people who were not part of fundamentalist Christianity were apostates and in need of salvation; and of course, homosexuals were sinful and misguided people whom we must “turn” back to heterosexuality and to salvation.

I hated this school so much, but I didn’t feel I could tell my family because they were paying for it, and they were so convinced that it offered a superior education, taught values, and would provide an environment away from “bad influences” at public school. But teachers were underpaid and overworked, so the faculty had either been teaching there forever or left within a year or two. New teachers were required to have graduated from Bob Jones University, Pensacola Christian College, or some other fundamentalist-approved school. Students were urged to attend those schools too (though they left me alone when I stated my goal to attend Vanderbilt University and had the test scores necessary to gain admission). To their credit, they did everything to help me with my application, and they never treated me differently intellectually for being female. I know, shouldn’t that be normal in the “real world”? Of course — but for fundamentalist Christians that was a big step.

Finally in college, I had my freedom. While I did join the Baptist Student Union and went to First Baptist Church Nashville the first 2 years, my church attendance waned. My first big shakeup was when I took a History of Christian Thought class. There I learned that the books of the Apocrypha were canonized scriptures. Canonized! How could Protestants have it both ways, stating that canonized Scriptures were inerrant and inspired by God, yet rejecting certain canonized Scriptures? I had always felt that fundamentalist Christianity was anti-intellectual and was embarrassed around my educated peers to admit that I was part of this branch of religion, but this information about the Apocrypha being canonized scriptures proved that the concept of inerrancy of Scripture was a lie.

After college I married a man who was raised nominally Catholic, and we attended progressive Christian churches. Even when he declared his agnosticism, he still liked the people at the church and continued attending. Then Chichen Itza happened.

Our kids were 7 and 5 when we went on a trip to Mexico and visited the ruins at Chichen Itza. We learned about the Mayan culture and about a special ball game in which the winner would be sacrificed to the gods to ensure good crops next season. There were other times when people were sacrificed to the gods, either to appease the gods or to ensure good weather/crops/etc. For some reason, this information hit me like a thunderbolt with the realization that the ancient Mayan religion and Christianity (and ancient Judaism) were no different with regard to blood sacrifice. The god(s) get angry, thus something has to die. This thought made me sick to my stomach. We were taught that somehow Christianity was different, that God is good and love, but no – God was no different from any other gods requiring a blood sacrifice for appeasement. I told my husband that I couldn’t go back to church, even though our progressive church focused primarily on teaching members to be good people and serving the community. I could not support any religion based on primitive blood sacrifice. For a decade I declared I was “taking a break from religion.” In reality, I wasn’t ready to admit that I might be an atheist, because I still felt strong aversion to the word. Atheists, I had been taught, had no values, had no moral compass, had no compassion, had nothing to live for … yet my husband eventually became an admitted atheist and he has some of the best values I have ever encountered. He cares about other people, he has purpose in life, and I am fortunate that he has shown me that an atheist can be an exemplary member of the human race without needing any “gods” in his life.

Inside, I was tormented with the concept of hell though. What if I was wrong? What if I had removed my children from church and any opportunity to be “saved”? What if I was single-handedly responsible for my children spending an eternity in hell? That thought nagged at me for years. I would push it away, but it came back again and again to haunt me. Yes, an educated, rational person who no longer believed the tenets of evangelical Christianity still had this fear. I started reading books by Richard Dawkins, Michael Shermer, Christopher Hitchens, and other authors. My husband implored me to speak with a pastor friend whom we knew before I turned toward atheism. This puzzled me, but he said he wanted me to have a forum to speak with an educated Christian about my questions before walking away from the teachings of my upbringing. But for me, the door was closed. No amount of Christian apologetics could turn me around. I no longer feared hell, I no longer believed it existed, and I believed that the probability of a god or gods — especially the one depicted by Christians evangelical or otherwise – was near nil.

I haven’t “come out” to my Nashville family members or to my Catholic in-laws. I told one close friend from childhood who is a progressive Christian, and she didn’t seem surprised. Apparently, only about a quarter of our Christian school classmates remained in fundamentalism and most became progressive Christians. Any atheists have kept that information confidential.

My teen children are well-adjusted individuals with good values. I have asked them whether they are interested in pursuing any religions, and while they have friends from a variety of backgrounds – protestant Christian, Catholic Christian, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, no religion — they say they aren’t interested. They don’t even label themselves with regard to religion — my daughter was filling out the common application for college and asked me what she should put with regard to religion, and we settled on “none.” My kids aren’t afraid of hell, they don’t feel that they have to serve an invisible deity, yet they are kind humans who try to do the right thing and help others. Before my mom died a few years ago, she expressed that she hoped that all of her children and grandchildren would be “saved” before she died. I told her that we would all be fine. And they are saved — from the shame and fear inherent in fundamentalist Christianity.

If the Evangelical God Revealed Himself to Me, Would I Believe? 

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athfleaist convention

I am often asked what it would take for me to believe in the Evangelical God. Is there anything that would cause me to discard atheism and embrace the God whom Evangelicals say is the Creator of everything and the savior of everyone who puts their faith and trust in Jesus Christ?  Am I so set in my atheistic/humanistic ways that there is nothing that could persuade me to return to the Christianity I abandoned eight years ago?  Simply put, what will it take for me to fall on knees and repent of my sins, professing that Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior?

Many Evangelicals, of course, believe that no amount of evidence would be enough to convert someone such as myself. I am a reprobate, an apostate, a sworn enemy of the Evangelical God. I have crossed the line of no return. My destiny is already settled, with a first-class accommodation in Hell and the Lake of Fire awaiting me after I die. According to the Bible, I am the pig that has returned to the mire and the dog who has returned to his vomit. I have trampled under my feet the blood of Jesus, and there remains no further sacrifice for my sins. Christian evangelizers are told not to waste their time on the Bruce Gerencsers of the world. Let them go to the hell they so richly deserve!

Other Evangelicals think that I am still saveable. With God all things are possible, they say.  Imagine what a testimony to God’s wonderful grace it would be if the preacher-turned-atheist Bruce was brought low before the thrice-holy God and saved from his sins. Years ago, I remember being taught in evangelism class that the best way to reach a community for Christ is to find the meanest sinner in town and lead him to Christ. While I am not a mean person, I am considered the village atheist, a man who hates God and Christians. Get me saved, and r-e-v-i-v-a-l is sure to follow. Or so local Christians think, anyway.

Many Evangelicals believe that God has given me all the evidence I need in order to believe. The Evangelical God has revealed himself to me through creation, conscience, and divine revelation (the Bible). God has done all the revealing he intends to do. If this is not enough for me, I can go straight to hell.

Wait a minute, what is there in creation that proves to a rational, reasonable man that the Evangelical God is one true God, and that forgiveness of sins and salvation are through Jesus, the second God of the Trinity? When I peer into wondrous darkness of a starry night, I am filled with awe and wonder. When a harvest moon rises in the east, giving off its larger-than-life orange glow, I am reminded of the awesomeness of the universe.  All around me I see wonders to behold. As a professional photographer, I often spend time peering at the complexities and beauty of nature and wildlife. Even the feral cats resting underneath the nearby post office box cause me to pause, watch, and enjoy. Everywhere I look, I see things that cause me to stop, reach for one of my cameras, and shoot a few photographs. Not far from where the aforementioned cats hang out, there are sheep and goats who often entertain me when I have time to stop and take their pictures. And don’t get me started when it comes to my family. There are times when everyone is over for a holiday — all twenty-one of us, aged two to sixty — that I quietly sit and watch my children and grandchildren. I think to myself, man, am I blessed. With all the health problems I have, I am lucky to be alive, fortunate that I have the privilege to love and be loved. Does all of this, however, say to me, the Evangelical God is real, that Christianity is the one true religion? No, it doesn’t. At best, all that I have experienced tells me that perhaps there is some sort of divine power, a God of sorts, that has set in motion life as we know it.  Perhaps — though I doubt it — there is a deistic God who created the universe and then went on vacation, leaving the future of planet earth and its inhabitants up to us. This is the God of some of the people who read this blog, and while I don’t believe in their God, I do understand how they came to believe as they do, and I respect their viewpoint. And they are okay with my unbelief, as is their God.

existence of god

I have yet to have an Evangelical satisfactorily explain to me how anyone can rationally surmise that their God is the one true God just by looking at starry skies or biological world. I am willing to concede, as I mentioned above, that it is possible to conclude that some sort deistic creator put the world into motion and then said, there ya go, boys and girls, do with it what you will. But, pray tell, what evidence is there for this generic creator God of sorts being the Evangelical God? Well, the Bible says ___________, Evangelicals say, and therein lies a big, big problem. Evangelicals are, for the most part, literalists. When they read the creation account recorded by an unknown author in Genesis 1-3, Evangelicals conclude that their God created the universe in six twenty-four days, exactly 6,022 years ago. Yes, I am aware that some Evangelicals are NOT young earth creationists, not that this really matters. Whether young earth or old earth or any of the other creation theories espoused by Evangelicals, they believe that the foundational authority is the first three chapters of Genesis.

Using the Bible as a tool to prop up what can be viewed with human eyes only causes greater doubt and unbelief. Why? Because what the Bible says about the universe runs contrary to what science tells us. Astronomy, geology, cosmology, archeology, and biology all tell us that what the Evangelicals believe the Bible says about the universe is false. Of course, Evangelicals are taught that the Bible is the final authority on everything, including how and when the universe came into existence. When science conflicts with the Bible, the B-i-b-l-e — the inspired, inerrant, infallible Word of God — not science, is always right. As science continues to push creationism closer and closer to the dustbin of human history, Evangelicals are forced to defend beliefs that are no longer rationally defensible. So anyone telling someone such as myself that creation — when viewed through the lens of the Bible — proves the existence of the Evangelical God will be met with ridicule and laughter.

The Bible, despite Evangelicals believing otherwise, is no longer a credible source of proof for the existence of God. Evangelicals believe that divine revelation (the Bible) is another way that God reveals himself to us. Unfortunately, thanks to the internet and authors such as Bart Ehrman and Robert Price, the Bible can no longer be used as proof for anything. Now that there are countless blogs and websites dedicated to deconstructing the history and teachings of Christianity and the Bible, it is increasingly hard for Evangelicals to continue to promote and sell the party line. The Bible is not worthless. There are teachings, maxims, proverbs, and such that people, religious or not, find encouraging and helpful. The same, however, could be said of a plethora of religious texts, so the Christian Bible is not special in this regard.

inventing a god

Having read the Bible dozens of times from cover to cover, spending thousands of hours studying its words, books, and teachings, I see nothing that would convince someone not already initiated into the Evangelical cult that the Christian God is the one true God and all other Gods are false. The fact remains that the Bible is not what Evangelicals claim it is, and the only people who believe that the Bible is some sort of supernatural book are those raised in religious sects and tribes that embrace inerrancy. Such people believe the Bible is inspired and inerrant because they either don’t know any better or they refuse to change their beliefs — facts be damned. Extant information, available to all who can read makes one thing clear: the Bible is not what Christians say it is.

Evangelicals also believe that their God reveals himself to humans by giving all us a conscience. Supposedly, the conscience that God gives us is some sort of moral regulator. According to Evangelicals, everyone is born with an innate understanding of right and wrong. God, they say, has written his law on our hearts. If this is so, why do parents need to teach children right and wrong? Why is it that geography and tribal identification, not God, determines moral and ethical beliefs? If the Evangelical God’s law is imprinted on everyone’s hearts, shouldn’t everyone have the same moral beliefs? Of course, they don’t, and doesn’t this mean that there must be some other reason(s) for moral belief other than God? That atheists are moral and ethical without believing in God is a sure sign that these things come from something other than a deity; things such as genetics, parental training, tribal influence, education, and environment.

The fact is, for atheists such as myself, creation, conscience, and the Bible do NOT prove to us the existence of the Evangelical God. Sorry, Evangelicals, I have weighed your evidence in the balances and found it wanting. What then, Bruce would it take for you to believe in God? Is there anything that God can do that would cause to believe?  Sure, there is. Let me conclude this post with several things the Evangelical God could do to prove to me his existence. All of these are within the ability of the I can do anything Evangelical God:

  • Raise my mother from the dead so she can love and enjoy the grandchildren she never got to see.
  • Heal me. Waking up one morning — just one — without pain would certainly cause me to reconsider my view of God.
  • Striking Donald Trump dead the next time he lies would certainly be a sign of God’s existence.
  • Causing the Cincinnati Reds to go 81-0 the last half of the season, Joey Votto hitting 80 home runs, Billy Hamilton hitting .350 and stealing 140 bases, and the Reds winning the World Series would definitely make me believe in God’s existence.
  • Causing the Cincinnati Bengals to go 16-0, winning three playoff games and the Super Bowl would also make me wonder, is there a God?
  • On a more serious note, God ending violence and war, hunger, sickness and disease, would certainly get my attention. Unfortunately, I’ve been told that God is too busy helping Grandmas find their keys and Tim Tebow become a major league baseball player to be bothered with human suffering.
  • And finally, God could just send Jesus to my house. That certainly would do the trick. However, I fear once I tell Jesus what has been going on in his name for the last 2,000 years that he might say, Dude, I don’t blame you for not believing in God. I wouldn’t either, but since my Dad is God, I have to believe whether I want to or not.

Truth be told, I doubt there is anything that can be said or done that would convince me of the existence of the Evangelical God. I have carefully weighed the extant evidence and found it wanting. Since it is unlikely that any new evidence is forthcoming, I am comfortable with saying that the Evangelical God is the mythical creation of the human mind, and I need not fear or obey him.

Secular but not Superficial: An Overlooked Nonreligious/Nonspiritual Identity by Daniel Delaney

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dan delaneyHaving been an Evangelical pastor for twenty-five years and now a card-carrying member of Satan’s atheistic horde, I have gained a bit of notoriety that attracts people doing studies about clergymen who have left the ministry and lost their faith. I am a rare duck in one respect: most men and women who leave the ministry do so when they are younger. In my case, I was fifty years old before I turned in my ministerial union card. My counselor told me that it is rare for pastors my age to walk away from a lifetime of ministry, even if they no longer believe. (Please read Leaving Christianity: Why I Was an Old Man Before I Deconverted.)

When asked to give interviews or participate in studies, I always say yes. Ever the preacher, I want to tell the good news of atheism far and wide. I want doubting and unbelieving Evangelicals to know that there can be life — good life — after breaking up with Jesus. Last year, Dan Delaney — who was working on his Master of Arts in Sociology thesis at the University of Louisville — contacted me and asked if he could interview me for a study he was conducting. I gladly said yes, and now Dan’s completed study has been published.

Dan recently emailed me to let me know that his study had been published. Here is some of what he had to say:

A lot of very interesting concepts came out of it that I never anticipated. I also had the good fortune of being able to present portions of it at the Association for the Sociology of Religion conference last August, and at the Society for the Scientific Study of Religion conference last November, and it was very well received. Everyone at both conferences was extremely interested in the results. I’m now going to start the arduous process of trying to break this thing down into small chunks to get published as journal articles.

Dan’s thesis is available on the internet. You can read it here. Dan used pseudonyms in his study, so my name is Stephen.

Secular but not Superficial: An Overlooked Nonreligious/Nonspiritual Identity Abstract:

Since Durkheim’s characterization of the sacred and profane as “antagonistic rivals,” the strict dichotomy has been framed in such a way that “being religious” evokes images of a life filled with profound meaning and value, while “being secular” evokes images of a meaningless, self-centered, superficial life, often characterized by materialistic consumerism and the cold, heartless environment of corporate greed. Consequently, to identify as “neither religious nor spiritual” runs the risk of being stigmatized as superficial, untrustworthy, and immoral. Conflicts and confusions encountered in the process of negotiating a nonreligious/nonspiritual identity, caused by the ambiguous nature of religious language, were explored through qualitative interviews with 14 ex-ministers and 1 atheist minister—individuals for whom supernaturalist religion had formed the central core of identity, but who have deconverted and no longer hold supernatural beliefs. Te cognitive linguistics approach of Frame Semantics was applied to the process of “oppositional identity work” to examine why certain identity labels are avoided or embraced due to considerations of the cognitive frames evoked by those labels.

Through the constant comparative method of grounded theory, a host of useful theoretical concepts emerged from the data. Several impediments to the construction of a “secular but not superficial” identity were identified, and a framework of new theoretical concepts developed to make sense of them: sense disparity, frame disparity, identity misfire, foiled identity, sense conflation, and conflated frames. Several consequences arising from these impediments were explored: (1) consequences of sense conflation and conflated frames for the study of religion; (2) consequences of conflated frames for religious terminology; and (3) consequences of the negation of conflated frames for those who identify as not religious, not spiritual, or not Christian. Additionally, four types of oppositional identity work were identified and analyzed: (1) avoidance identity work, (2) dissonant identity work, (3) adaptive identity work, and (4) alternative identity work. Finally, the concept of conflated frames was applied to suggest a new interpretation of the classic Weberian disenchantment narrative.

 

 

Bruce, Were You Spiritual or Religious?

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i have a question

Linda LaScola recently sent me several questions that she asked me to answer about my past use of the words spiritual and religious. My answers will appear at a later date on the Rational Doubt blog.

Question One: When you were religious, did you also think of yourself as spiritual, or not? How did you talk about spirituality to the people in your congregation?

I spent most of my life solidly entrenched in Evangelicalism, so my answer to this question will reflect that tradition, and not views I held towards the end of my ministerial career. I never would have used the words spiritual or religious to describe my personal beliefs. Religion was what unsaved church members had and those who called themselves spiritual were new age practitioners who worshiped false Gods. I was a born-again, bought-by-the-blood, filled-with-the-Holy-Spirit Christian. Religion is what Christians-in-name-only did on Sunday. I was a seven-day, 168-hour-a-week, slave of the most high God. I devoted virtually every waking hour of my life to serving God, and when I dared to take a bit of me-time, I often battled thoughts of what better use could have been made of the wasted time spent relaxing. This is why during the twenty-five years I spent in the ministry, I only took a handful of vacations, and when I did, they were often connected to preaching engagements. I wouldn’t call my way of living the norm among Evangelical preachers, but I knew plenty of like-minded pastors who burned the candle at both ends, living by the mantras, only one life, twill soon be past, only what’s done for Christ will last and better to burn out than rust out.

Most American Christians, even in the Evangelical church, are nominal practitioners. They go to Sunday services when it is convenient, attend wedding and funerals, throw a few bucks in the offering plates, and when asked they say they worship God, love Jesus, and believe the Bible is the Word of God. However, their day-to-day lives say something far different: that they are Christian in name only. I considered these types of “Christians” as religious-but-lost. In my thinking, they were every bit as lost as Satanists, perhaps even more so because they had been deceived by false religion.

My view of “true Christianity” moderated over the years, but during my time as an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) pastor and later as a Calvinistic Baptist pastor, I had a very narrow and defined view of what made someone a Christian and how a Christian should live. Some Christian sects, such as the Church of the Latter Day Saints, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and Seventh Day Adventists, I considered cults. Other sects, particularly the Roman Catholic Church, I viewed as promoters of a works-based false gospel. Mainline churches were, for the most part, filled with religious church members who knew little about what it meant to be a REAL Christian.

As you can see, I put most Christians in the religious-but-lost category. And even within the Evangelical church, there were plenty of unsaved members. I spend countless hours preaching sermons that were meant to show saved church members that they were actually lost; that they had “a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof” (2 Timothy 3:5); that they had a head salvation, not a heart salvation.

The spiritual category was reserved for new agers and others who dabbled in various esoteric, metaphysical beliefs and practices. I rarely came into contact with such people. I lived most of my adult life in the rural Midwest, and this insulated me from spiritual beliefs and practices found on the east and west coasts. Thus, I spent my ministerial years among true Christians and non-Christians who were religious-but-lost. I can’t think of an instance where I came into contact with someone who would have fit my definition of spiritual. This, however, didn’t keep me from warning parishioners about the dangers of the new age movement and its “spiritual” beliefs and practices.

Question Two:  Did you go through a “spiritual but not religious stage” on the way to being non-religious? If so, please describe it (e.g., how long did it last, how/why did it change?) If not, how did you go from religious to non-religious? (e.g., through reading, thinking, talking with others, something else, some combination of the above). Please describe that.

As I detailed above, I never used the words “religious” or “spiritual” to describe myself. I was a Christian; a follower of the lamb withersover he goeth (Revelation 14:4); a slave of the most high God. My deconversion from Christianity was predicated on my disaffection towards organized Christianity. I pastored my last church in 2003, but didn’t leave Christianity until 2008. During this five-year span, my wife and I visited over one hundred churches, hoping to find a congregation that took the teachings of Christ seriously (or our interpretations of those teachings, anyway). You can check out the list of churches we attended here. We concluded that, regardless of the name over the door and the differences in liturgy and music, Christian churches were all the same. It was during this time, that I began to seriously question my beliefs. I decided to re-study the Bible — a book that I had spent thousands of hours studying, preaching thousands of sermons from its pages. I turned to authors who were in times past considered false teachers or apostates. Intellectually straying outside of the boundaries of Evangelicalism proved to be a real eye opener.

I have always been a voracious reader. My colleagues in the ministry considered me a bookworm of sorts. When I wanted to study a matter, the first thing I did was buy several books on the subject. My reading often led to me buy yet more books, until I reached a place where I thought I had adequately studied the matter. This practice resulted in several seismic theological changes such as embracing Calvinism and rejecting pretribulational, premillennial eschatology. While these changes caused a bit of a stir, they were considered to be within the boundaries of orthodoxy. The authors I read were also orthodox, so I was never exposed to non-Evangelical beliefs. No need, I thought at the time. I have THE truth, no need to look elsewhere.

It was when I began to read non-Evangelical authors that I realized that I had lived quite a theologically sheltered life. I also came to see that my pastors and college professors had lied to me about other theological systems of belief, the history of the Christian church, and the nature of the Bible — it being an inspired, inerrant, infallible text. Were these men deliberately lying to me? Perhaps, but I doubt it. When you are deeply immersed in a particular way of thinking, it is hard to see any other beliefs as true or even possibly true. In dealing with countless Evangelicals after my deconversion, I have learned that until believers can dare consider that they might be wrong, there is no hope of reaching them. Certainty of belief breeds arrogance, and this arrogance shuts the mind off from any belief that does not fit within the Evangelical box. (Please see 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.)

Once I intellectually wandered outside of the safe, orthodox confines of Evangelicalism, I was exposed to thinking that turned virtually everything I believed on its head, beginning with what I believed about the inerrancy, inspiration, and infallibility of the Bible. If I had to point to one author who did the most to wreck my faith, it would be Bart Ehrman. Ehrman thoroughly demolished my beliefs about the nature of the Bible — that it was a supernatural text written by God through supernatural human instrumentality. Once the Bible lost its power over me, the house I had built on its foundation quickly came tumbling to the ground. More than a few former colleagues and parishioners suggested that I stop reading books and only read the Bible. They thought if I would just read the Bible that all my questions and doubts would go away, when in fact it was my reading of the Bible with enlightened eyes that finally brought an end to my belief in the Christian God.

If I were to give some sort of testimony about my loss of faith, I would say that my doubts about Christianity began with my general disaffection towards organized Christianity. This emotional upheaval then led me to reconsider my beliefs. For many years, I was unwilling to admit that my deconversion had an emotional component. I knew that if people thought I left Christianity for emotional reasons that they would dismiss my story. So I focused on the intellectual reasons for my leaving Christianity. I now see that my leaving the ministry and subsequently leaving Christianity was an admixture of emotional, psychological, and intellectual factors. That said, the ultimate reason that I am not a Christian is that I no longer believe the Bible and its teachings to be true. I reject the central tenets of Christianity. While I am of the opinion that the Jesus of the Bible was likely a real person, he was not a miracle-working God-man who died on a Roman cross to atone for the sins of the world and rose again from the dead three days later. He lived and he died. End of story.

Question Three: If you know people who are spiritual but not religious, what are they like? (e.g., were they ever a member of an organized religion? If so, what made them leave?) Are their current beliefs tied to a specific religion (e.g., Christianity, Judaism) or are their beliefs more individual or amorphous? How to they express their spirituality? (e.g., do they pray, do they think things happen for a purpose, or do they feel a sense of being watched over or not being alone? Do they believe in an afterlife?)

I know a handful of people who consider themselves spiritual. These people generally believe that there might be some sort of inner light/higher power/divine essence/energy force, but they have little use for organized Christianity, and no use for Evangelicalism. Some of them have embraced Buddhism, paganism, or earth-based religions. All of them, at one time, were mainline or Evangelical Christians. In the 1970s, I attended a large IFB church in Findlay, Ohio. Trinity Baptist Church had a sizeable high school youth group. In recent years, I have become reacquainted with a handful of friends from my Trinity youth group days. None of them is still practicing the “faith once delivered to the saints.” While I am the most outspoken heathen of the group, the rest of them are far from the Baptist teachings of their youth. None of us would be considered Christians by the men who were once our pastors.

Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Pray for Bruce Gerencser and the Salvation of His Hell Bound Soul

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heaven and hell
Heaven and Hell

Warning! Lots of snark ahead! You’ve been warned!

Several years ago, I posted an excerpt from the Spiritual Minefield website. My post was titled Christians Say the Darnedest Things: How to Shield Yourself From Porn and Sexual Excitement.  The author of the excerpt, Alex Ruiz, decided to respond to my posting of the excerpt by writing a post titled, Why Do Atheists Seem To Have The Urge To Always Attack God’s Word?  Here’s what he had to say:

Today I got pingback from an atheist who takes pleasure in maligning believers in Jesus Christ. Here is a quick bio of Bruce which he put public.

Copy and paste from his site

Bruce Gerencser, 59

Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for 25 years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005 and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

The question that enters my mind is why do atheists hate Jesus so much as to go out of their way to attack Him and try to desperately prove that He is false? I think that the answer is because deep down in their spirit/heart they know that the Word of God is true and judgment will come to them but they want to feel better about their sin and rejection of Christ so by trying to disprove Christianity, they are trying to convince themselves, listen closely, “they are trying” to convince themselves of their own lie which Satan has whispered into their ears so that they can’t get saved. When a person is not in any perceivable danger, they won’t call for help and Satan is successful at convincing these atheists that they are not in danger.

The evidence that God exists is so overwhelming that the only way to go against pure evidence is by reprogramming their thoughts to completely bypass logic and reason.

Bruce Gerencser is a sad case of what an apostate is and the reality is that those who are not grounded in the faith will get hit hard by the devil who’s [sic] eyes are constantly on the believers. Saying that, I believe according to 1 John 2:19 that Bruce was never saved but was close and those without the Holy Spirit cannot stand against the pounding of the wind and waves of the enemy according to Matthew 7:26-27 which says, “26 And every one who hears these sayings of Mine and does not do them will be likened to a foolish man who built his house on the sand. 27 And the rain descended, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house. And it fell. And its fall was great.”

Why have I mentioned this atheist by name? It is because I want all Christians to bring Bruce Gerencser’s name before the Lord for his salvation because the hell that’s waiting for him and all those who believe Satan’s lie is truly and unfathomably horrific.

Where oh where do I begin?

First, I don’t hate Jesus. Hating the DEAD Jesus would be a colossal waste of time. What I do hate is the Fundamentalist ideology advanced by this author and others of his ilk. (Please see Why I Hate Jesus) Do I hate individual Evangelicals for doing so? I’m tempted to do so, but I am not the type of person who hates people. I focus my hatred on beliefs, not believers. To use the Evangelical mantra: hate the sin, not the sinner, I hate the belief, not the believer.

Second, I don’t hate the Word of God — the Bible. I do, however, hate what is done using Biblical justification. The author appeals to the Bible to justify his judgments of my past and present life. Doing so allows him to escape responsibility for his behavior. I’m just quoting what G-O-D says! Don’t like it, take it up with Him! I would take it up with the Big Kahuna, but he is nowhere to be found. Last I heard, he was on vacation. Since God is AWOL, all I am left with is Evangelicals quoting verses from a book that is very much of human origin. The only reason I bother with such people is that they believe that the Bible is some sort of supernatural book given to them by a supernatural God and that its words must be explicitly obeyed. Again, look at what’s happening in Washington D.C. with the Supreme Court and Congress. In fox-in-the-hen-house fashion, the theocrats have breached the fence and now the future of our democracy is being threatened. The only way I know to combat such ignorance is to wage war against the notion that the Bible is in any way a divinely written book; that its words are in any way applicable to today. As long as Evangelicals continue to demand fealty to their God and the Bible, they can expect me and other outspoken atheists to marginalize, denigrate, and intellectually destroy the Bible. Until Evangelicals are freed from Bible Brain Rot®, atheists, agnostics, humanists, and progressive Christians must continue to lay an ax to the foundation of Fundamentalist Christianity.

Third, the clueless author shows he has little understanding of atheists — how they think and view the world. We don’t deep down believe or not believe anything. Can someone tell me where the hell is “deep down”? I’ve spent all day digging and I still can’t find it.  Atheists do not see any compelling evidence to warrant a belief in the existence of the Evangelical God. Suggesting that the Bible provides such evidence is laughable. (As well, suggesting that the natural world provides such overwhelming evidence that atheists are forced to deliberately ignore it is ludicrous.) Even Evangelicals don’t believe in the Bible God. Whenever I confront Evangelicals with the Bible God — actually a plurality of Bible Gods — they either try to distance themselves from said God or say that I am “misinterpreting” the Bible — misinterpreting, of course, meaning, having an interpretation different from theirs.

Fourth, the notion of “sin” is a religious construct. As an atheist, I don’t believe people are sinners, depraved, evil, or wicked. All of us have the power to do good or bad things. When I do something that hurts someone, I do my best to make things right. No need to pray to a fictitious God and ask for his forgiveness. The only person I need to talk to is the person I have harmed. The humanist system of forgiveness and restitution is much easier and more straightforward. No commands against porn or looking at women and admiring their beauty. No obsession over sex, fornication, or masturbation. Humans are sexual beings. Atheists and other non-Evangelicals are free to embrace their sexuality without fearing a voyeuristic God will judge them for loving the wrong person or using the wrong orifice for sex. Here’s hoping that the author of the post on Spiritual Minefield will one day embrace his sexuality and lustfully enjoy the pleasures that are at his disposal. Until then, let me remind him that what consenting adults do behind closed doors is none of his business. If Evangelicals want to practice “Biblical” sex, by all means do so. But, please let the rest of us masturbate and copulate in peace.

Fifth, I fear what the Republican Party might do far more than I do a nonexistent God. God has neither talked to me or laid a finger on me in almost sixty-five years. I have zero fear of him. I do, however, fear what people who believe God talks to them might do. I do fear that the Trumpist horde might usher in World War III. I fear what real flesh and blood people might do, not mythical Gods, be they Jesus, Allah, Jehovah, or any of the other Gods of human creation.

Sixth, atheists bypass logic and reason? Really? I have no words for this one. The author believes the earth is 6,026 years old; that God created the universe in six literal 24 hour days; that Adam and Eve are the father and mother of the human race; that God destroyed the world with a flood 4,000 years ago, killing every person save Noah and his family; that a Holy Ghost impregnated a virgin who gave birth to a baby who, as an adult, walked on water, healed the deaf, blind, and sick, walked through walls, made himself invisible, resurrected from the dead, and ascended into “heaven.” Anyone who believes this kind of nonsense is the one lacking logic and reason.

Seventh, I am quite happy to be an apostate, a worker of Satan, a deceiver of immature Christians. By all means, keep praying for me. Every unanswered prayer is a reminder that the heavens are devoid of Gods and that what really matters is how we make life on this planet better for all. Part of making life better is the driving of a stake through the heart of religious Fundamentalism. Fundamentalism — in all its forms — remains the biggest threat to human and planetary existence. The ascension of Trumpism and Qanon are poignant reminders that people of reason, science, and progress must continue to push back against those who desire to chain us to the Bible and its God. It’s the twenty-first century. It’s high time we remand God to the dustbin of human history; the depository of countless other failed mythical Gods and their “divine” texts. Until this happens, the Internet will be littered with ignorant posts about sex and every other human behavior deemed sinful by Fundamentalist Christians.

Now, get out there and do some sinning!

Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

The Corpsepaint Show Interview of Bruce Gerencser

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corpsepaint show

I recently had the privilege of appearing via Skype on The Corpsepaint Show.  Hosted by Satan, The Corpsepaint Show primarily covers the heavy metal music scene, so I can easily understand them wanting to interview a metalhead such as myself. (You should be laughing right now.)

I had a delightful time speaking with Satan. What follows is the audio of the interview. If you want to view the video, please go to The Corpsepaint Show’s website and click on the December 25, 2016 video.

Video Link

Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

I Will be On The Corpsepaint Show, Christmas Day, 7:30 P.M. CST

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corpsepaint show

I will be on The Corpsepaint Show Christmas Day, 7:30 P.M. CST (8:30 P.M. EST). You can listen to the show live via The Corpsepaint Show’s On Air LIVE stream. (Link no longer active. Here’s a link to their Facebook page.) The program will also be available to listen to later. I will update this post when the program is available.