Son number four stopped over after work and he is sleeping on the couch. He is babysitting Bethany so Polly and I can go to Grand Rapids and eat pizza at a restaurant for which we have a Groupon.
Son number three dropped off his two youngest so we could babysit them for a bit. He knows that we are going out tonight and he said he would be on time to pick them up. I thought, sure you will. Five p.m. and son number three walks through the door. He’s early. I make a mental note to put a gold star beside his name. Maybe he has finally learned to tell time.
Polly and I both scurried around getting ready for our big night on the town. As we got ready to walk out the door I said to Polly, I am driving tonight. She said, really? I gave her THAT look and took the keys. She is likely wondering if this will be her last day on earth.
After we picked up our mail, we drove east on Route 15. As I put the turn signal on to turn left at The Bend Road, Polly said, what are you doing? I replied, I am going up to Route 6. Polly: No we need to take old Route 24. I said, I really think we need to take Route 6. No, she was certain we needed to take old Route 24. So we took Route 24.
I was right.
And we didn’t even fight about it.
Maybe there is hope for our marriage.
The pizza joint only had one waitress on the floor and was totally unprepared for the extra customers the Groupon would bring. It took her 20 minutes to get our drinks. The owner finally came out to help her take orders and proceeded to service the three tables that were seated after us. The pizza was okay, nothing special, and I doubt that we will drive 40 minutes to eat it again.
Before going home we decided to stop at Meijer in Defiance. Polly needed a belt and I needed acetaminophen to replace the government-mandated acetaminophen reduction in my Vicodin prescription.
As we walked in the door, I looked down the long main aisle by the registers and I saw Bob, a former church member. I thought, Oh shit. I told Polly, hurry . . . there’s Bob and I don’t want him to see us. If it were just him, all would be well, but I knew his wife Margo would not be far away (names changed to protect the guilty),
I met Bob and Margo almost 20 years ago when I pastored Olive Branch Christian Union Church in Fayette. When I left Olive Branch and moved five miles south to West Unity to start a church, they came along with me.
Bob is a quiet man, content to sit in the background and not say a word. Margo more than makes up for him, a constant talker regardless of whether she has anything to say.
Margo’s sister attended the church when she could. She was home-bound most of the time and couldn’t drive. Countless times we picked her up for church or took her to a doctor’s visit an hour away in Toledo. Her sister? Margo couldn’t be bothered and would demand gas money for every trip she made to her sister’s house.
Bob and Margo attended the church infrequently and never could get there on time. It was not uncommon for them to arrive at the morning service 20 minutes before it was over. I often wondered why they bothered.
When we remodeled the church nursery, Margo bought some Jesus Junk® to hang on the wall. (I could write a whole post on Jesus Junk® donated to the churches I pastored over the years. Lighted velvet Jesus anyone?) She wrote her name on the back of the plaque she paid a dollar for at a garage sale and told me she wanted it back if we ever stopped using it. When we closed the church, with great delight, I threw the plaque away.
Somewhere in the late 1990s Bob and Margo stopped attending the church. According to Margo, I committed a terrible sin by allowing the women of the church to have a rummage sale IN the church building. Bob? He never said a word and followed Margo out the door.
Good riddance.
When I saw Bob I knew we needed to run as fast as we could. If they saw us they would — well she would — want to talk to us. Then we would have to spend 20 minutes pretending that we were friends.
I didn’t like Margo when I was her pastor. She was a gossipy, self-centered narcissist. I may have had to be her pastor, but I didn’t have to be her friend. So, when I saw Bob I knew we had to practice our avoidance technique, a skill we have honed to perfection since leaving the ministry and Christianity.
We got all of our shopping done and made our way to the checkout. As I looked down the long aisle I saw that Bob was still sitting there. I thought, nothing has changed. Still waiting on her to talk her way through the store. I told Polly, we need to check out on this end. Bob is still there. She replied, are you sure it is Bob? I said, yes I am sure. So we used the self-checkout, bagged our purchases, and started to make our way out of the store . . .
I looked up for a moment and there were Bob and Margo. I thought, shit. I said to Polly, there they are . . . hurry. I DON’T want to talk to them. We quickly made our way out the door and into the parking lot, avoiding having to play the Fake Friends Game® for the umpteenth time.
I used to feel guilty when I avoided former church members in the store, but I don’t anymore. Most of them aren’t like Bob and Margo, but coming face to face with them still requires us to make polite talk without mentioning the horns that are on our heads. Everyone knows that Pastor Bruce Gerencser is now an atheist. They read the letters in the paper and they have bumped into other Christians who have said, DID YOU KNOW? By now, I assume everyone knows.
So we avoid people. This is not the kind of people we are, but we hate chit-chatting and pretend-we-are-friendsconversations. It is not that we hate them personally or dislike them. It’s just that we don’t have anything in common with them any more. I am sure some of them have done the same thing when they see Polly and me in the distance at one of the local stores.
How about you? How do you deal with running into people from your Christian past? Do you avoid them? Do you feel uncomfortable talking to them? Please share your thoughts in the comment section.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
Over the weekend, I received the following email (sent twice) from an Evangelical man named Bill Clark. Clark is a Christian psychologist at Valleydale Christian Counseling in Birmingham, Alabama. (Clark is a recommended counselor on Focus on the Family’s website.) His business bio states:
Dr. Clark’s experience is unique in that he worked simultaneously in a community mental health center as the Clinical Director/Assistant Executive Director and in private practice as a professional Christian counselor since 1983. His knowledge of psychological and spiritual issues has allowed him to integrate both disciplines into a holistic approach that addresses the body, mind, and soul.
Dr. Clark has been a Licensed Professional Counselor in the State of Alabama since 1985. He specializes in a variety of problem areas: mood and anxiety disorders, marital and family conflict, anger management, domestic violence, and stress management. He is certified by the National Board of Certified Counselors. Dr. Clark is also a Counseling Supervisor in the State of Alabama. He provides supervision to those seeking licensureas professional counselors.
Dr. Clark has a Ph.D. in Psychology from North Central University, a Doctor of Ministry degree (D.Min.) in Christian counseling from Luther Rice Seminary, a Master’s degree in Christian counseling from Trinity International University, a Master’s degree in Psychology from Eastern Kentucky University, and a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology from the University of North Alabama.
In March 2015, Dr. Clark retired from community mental health with over 32 years of service. In September of the same year, he relocated his private practice to Huntsville, Alabama and was there for 4 years. In September 2019, he retired again and moved to Birmingham to be closer to his children. In December 2020, he came out of retirement and opened Valleydale Christian Counseling.
Clark makes all sorts of claims, so I thought I would respond to him with a post. My response is indented and italicized.
I find it quite interesting that your 25 years of pastoring is strewn with multiple resignations and even one excommunication.
Pastors typically change churches every three or four years. The reasons for this are many, but there’s nothing nefarious about my ministerial record. I have openly admitted that I have wanderlust; that I bore easily. I make no apology for being who I am. Most people change jobs numerous times over their lifetime. Why should I be faulted for doing the same?
The first church I worked for was Montpelier Baptist Church in Montpelier, Ohio. I was the church’s assistant pastor — an unpaid position. After seven months, I resigned and we moved to Newark, Ohio.
The second church I worked for was Emmanuel Baptist Church in Buckeye Lake, Ohio. This was a new Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church my father-in-law and I planted. I served as Dad’s assistant for two and half years, working primarily with the church’s youth. In June of 1983, I resigned from the church to go start a new church in Somerset, Ohio.
The third church I worked for was Somerset Baptist Church — a new church plant in Somerset, Ohio. I pastored Somerset Baptist for eleven years, resigning in 1994 to become the co-pastor of a Sovereign Grace Baptist church in Elmendorf, Texas.
The fourth church I worked for was Community Baptist Church in Elmendorf, Texas. I was the church’s co-pastor. After seven months of conflict between my fellow pastor, Pat Horner, and me, I resigned. Horner refused to accept my resignation, saying the church had to grant me permission to leave. Days later, we packed up our belongings and returned to Ohio. The day we were leaving, the church held a business meeting and excommunicated me. (Please see I Am a Publican and a Heathen — Part One.)
The fifth church I worked for was Olive Branch Christian Union Church in Fayette, Ohio. I resigned after seven months.
The sixth church I worked for was Grace Baptist Church, renamed Our Father’s House, in West Unity, Ohio. I pastored Our Father’s House for seven years. I resigned in 2002, and did not pastor again until 2004. We spent most of 2003 in Yuma, Arizona, hoping the weather would bring improvements to my health.
The seventh church I worked for was Victory Baptist Church in Clare, Michigan — a Southern Baptist congregation. This would be last church I pastored. I left Victory Baptist after seventh months. We moved to Newark, Ohio to live near Polly’s parents, and in 2005 we returned to northwest Ohio where we remain to this day.
Every church is a different chapter in my life. (Please see What Happened to the Churches I Pastored?) I had successes and failures at every church I pastored. All of them grew numerically, yet with four churches I had seven-month tenures. Why is that? I have often wondered about significance of seven months. Coincidence? I still haven’t come to a satisfactory answer.
In the case of Olive Branch, an old, old, old established denominational church (the only such church I pastored), I grossly underestimated how dysfunctional and entrenched the congregation was. I was not the man to lead them. All of the men who pastored the church after me were retired ministers, elderly men content to maintain the status quo. I was thirty-eight, a man with a church planting background; a man with an entrepreneurial spirit; a man who had grand plans for an old, inwardly grown church. The church and I were a bad fit.
I never should have pastored Victory Baptist Church. I had numerous opportunities to pastor, yet because Victory contacted me first, I felt obligated to become their pastor. (I have a hard time saying no.) The church was, by far, the most dysfunctional church I ever pastored. I thought, at the time, I can “fix” this church. I naively saw myself as a man who could ride in and rescue dying churches. I now know better. Dysfunctional churches know they need to change, but cannot or will not do what’s necessary to do so. Many of them should be left along the side of the road to die. Such churches go through pastors one after another, chewing them up and spitting them out (with the blame always being ascribed to the chewed up pastors).
Things came to a head at Victory over some toys that a church member (who wanted to be a preacher) put in the nursery. I asked her not to put the toys in the nursery. They were unsafe. She ignored my request, so I took the toys out of the nursery. This led to conflict. A church meeting was called to settle the conflict. The meeting quickly became heated. I had told the church before I became their pastor that I had no heart for conflict. I was flat worn out. Conflict came anyway, and at the conclusion of the meeting where it was decided the unsafe toys had to be returned to the nursery, I resigned. Two years later, the church closed, unable to find anyone to pastor them.
The circumstances surrounding my resignation (and excommunication) from Community Baptist Church are explained in the series I Am a Publican and a Heathen.
And finally, I left the first church I worked for, Montpelier Baptist Church, primarily for financial reasons. Unable to secure a good-paying job (the church refused to help us financially in any way), we decided to move to Newark, and live with Polly’s parents for a few months. I secured employment with Arthur Treacher’s as a general manager. Polly took a job at Licking County Christian Academy, teaching third grade. Leaving Montpelier Baptist was the best thing for me to do for my family. I make no apology for doing so.
I am now sixty-four years old, an atheist, and a humanist. I have had fourteen years to reflect on the twenty-five years I spent in the ministry. Counseling has helped me take inventory of my ministerial career, and life in general. I have made a lot of mistakes, but who hasn’t, right? I have tried to be open and honest about my past, owning my mistakes and poor decisions.
Your behavior was characterized by being blunt, abusive, arrogant, temperamental, and unteachable.
Characterized by whom? Temperamental and direct? Sure. But abusive, arrogant, and unteachable? Nope. Who is making these claims? If Clark is going to make provocative claims such as these, he needs to provide evidence for them. Not a disgruntled member here and there — every church has them. I know of no former church member who has said these things — and I have interacted in recent years with scores of people who once called me Preacher or Pastor.
I am certain that no evidence from Clark will be forthcoming.
Those watching on the sidelines correctly predicted that you would eventually spin out.
Who predicted I would “spin out” (whatever the hell that means)? If people predicted I would “spin out,” I would love to know who they are; people who at the moment believed I would one day lose my faith and become an atheist? Much like the people who claim I was never a Christian, there’s no evidence that I was anything but a devoted follower of Jesus; a man who loved the people he pastored and tried to minister to their needs.
As I stated above, I am certain that no evidence from Clark will be forthcoming.
Unfortunately, it did happen and you appear to have carried all of the psychological baggage with you.
The reasons for how I have lived my life are many. Live long enough and you will have baggage. My life is what it is. Would I do some things differently? Of course. Woulda, coulda, shoulda, right? Unfortunately, there are no do-overs in life. I own my life, as it is, hoping to do better every day.
You have just switched sides and maintained the same character defects.
At this point, I am ready to sigh. Clark only read a handful of posts on this site, so it’s evident that he hasn’t read most of my autobiographical writing. Would it have made a difference if he had? Probably not. Clark “knows” what he knows. He has weighed my life in the balance and found it wanting. That’s the price I pay for being transparent about my life.
Maybe it runs deep, Bruce and you ought to drill down on your family of origin issues.
What runs deep? Family of origin issues? What do I need to know about my family that I don’t already know? Again, I have been open and honest about my upbringing. What does Clark know that I don’t? Or is he just making shit up, hoping to cause me psychological harm?
Honestly, no one cares to read or listen to your rants anymore. You have become irrelevant.
Finally, we get to Clark’s motivation for writing what he did about me. He doesn’t like my writing. I suspect it angers and upsets him. And instead of asking himself why that is, Clark attacks the messenger — a classic Evangelical tactic.
Clark says that no one cares to read my writing anymore; that I have become irrelevant. This site’s traffic numbers suggest otherwise. Another classic Evangelical tactic: try to minimize my influence, suggesting that no one reads my blog, when, in fact, this site will serve up 750,000 page views this year. I have done more newspaper, podcast, and video interviews this past year than any other time. Evidently, I am not as irrelevant as Clark says I am.
Give it up.
Not a chance. As long as I am physically able to write, I will continue to do so.
Postscript
After sending this post off to Carolyn, my editor, to edit, I decided to see if I could find “Bill Clark” online — which took me all of ninety seconds. Clark used the email address associated with his business to email me, and since it was listed on his website, he was not hard to find.
I was surprised to learn that Clark is a licensed counselor with over thirty-five years of experience. I have been seeing a secular counselor for years. I can’t imagine my counselor ever writing an email such as the one Clark sent me. Not only is Clark’s email judgemental and ill-informed, it is also unprofessional. I can’t remember a time I have ever written a stranger such an email. Instead of attacking my character, perhaps Clark might want to look in a mirror. As a supposed follower of Jesus, he might want to ask himself if Jesus would have sent such an email. WWJD! Perhaps Clark would like me to list all the teachings and commands found in the Bible he broke with his email to me, you know the verses about how to treat your enemies, or the verses about lying and corrupt communication, or the verses about the fruit of the Spirit. Maybe, Clark was just pissed off over my writing and responded accordingly.
Long-time readers know about the dysfunctional home I grew up in. They know about my Mom’s mental health problems, drug addiction, multiple suicide attempts, and eventual successful suicide. They know that my dad was not my biological father (which I learned a year ago). They know I moved numerous times as a child, attending a new school every year or two. They know I grew up in poverty, experiencing things no child should ever have to experience. They know my life is messy and complex. Yet, they continue to read my writing. Some readers have been following me for fourteen years — Loki bless them. 🙂 Why do so many people read my writing? Why do scores of people email me each year asking for my help? I suspect people read my writing because it resonates with them. Why do so many people thank me for being a help to them? I suspect my story rings true to them; that my story gives authenticity to their own. They see a preacher who is willing to be honest about what really goes on in Evangelical churches, a pastor who dares to share club secrets. And that’s always been my goal: to help other people. I don’t care one wit about what the Bill Clarks of the world think about me. Such people are buzzing gnats around my head on a warm summer day. Annoying to be sure, but a quick swat puts an end to that. Consider yourself swatted, Dr. Clark.
Let me conclude by talking about the successes I have experienced in life: forty-three years of marriage to a beautiful, wonderful heathen; six grown children who are gainfully employed and think for themselves; thirteen wonderful grandchildren (all of whom live twenty minutes or less from our home). We own our own home and drive a 2020 Ford Edge. After retiring, I returned to a hobby from my youth: collecting O-gauge Lionel trains. I am a professional photographer. I look like Santa Claus (or an Amish man, Jewish Rabbi, or an Italian mobster, depending on the coat and fedora I’m wearing). Man, I am b-l-e-s-s-e-d. Ho! Ho! Ho! I am also proud of all this blog has become over the years. Millions and millions of pageviews, countless new acquaintances, and a bushel or so of people I consider friends. I am grateful that I have had such wonderful people come alongside me as I struggle with chronic pain and illness; people who love me as I am and respect the work I do.
And now, it’s time for me to tell Bill Clark to fuck off. 🙂
Thank You!
After this post went live, Clark took down his business website.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
Elmer Gantry, played by Burt Lancaster (1960), preaching on the evils of evolution
I was a part of the Christian church for fifty years. I made a public profession of faith at age fifteen, attended an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) college in the 1970s, married a preacher’s daughter, and spent twenty-five years pastoring Evangelical churches in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. In 2008 I left Christianity, declaring that I was no longer a believer. Since then, Evangelical family members, former congregants, ministerial colleagues, and countless Evangelical zealots have tried to square my story with their peculiar theologies. Some people think I was a true Christian, but fell from grace. Others think I am still a Christian — saved, but backslidden. And then there are those who think I was a false convert; that I never was a Christian; that I spent most of my life living a lie. What better way to dismiss my story out of hand than to say that I was a fake, a fraud, a deceiver.
Jordan Standridge, an Evangelical missionary in Italy, recently wrote an article detailing four characteristics of a “false convert.”
Over the years I’ve seen that one of the most powerful moments in a new believer’s life is the realization that there is such a thing as a false convert. The sudden realization that salvation is not dependent on a prayer, a baptism or family history propels true believers to a whole other dimension in their walk with Christ. They begin to examine themselves properly (2 Cor 13:5), they become more evangelistic, they care more about theology and they appreciate being at church so much more. Understanding the fact that false converts are a reality is so important for those who call themselves Christians.
As we saw last week, there are few things more disappointing than when someone from our church walks away from the Lord. Especially when you’ve spent countless hours not only teaching and discipling that person, but you have shared a myriad of hours of ministry with him.
….
Of course, no amount of time spent discipling people is wasted time, but there is a sense in which we want to use our time wisely and be able to water where the grass is green, rather than spend our time watering dead grass. Is there a way to tell? Is there a way to be able to recognize the sheep from among the goats in this life? Well, Simon had four red flags that Luke points out in the short story of Acts 8:9-24 which we can apply to all false converts. These don’t encompass all the red flags, but they are a helpful start. So, here are four characteristics of a false convert.
They are man-centered
In other words, they like to be exalted by others. They are all about seeking attention and wanting to be noticed.
….
False converts don’t truly love God and don’t care if He ultimately receives the glory from their life; rather, they are simply after the cheap thrills of recognition and attention. A lack of love for God’s glory shows up in a lack of evangelism, and a lack of speaking about God at all. Those who are man-centered only care about how God can affect them and improve their life and aren’t interested in picking up a cross to follow Christ (Luke 9:23).
They are not devoted to Jesus
Simon seemed to just go through the motions in Acts 8. As we’ve already seen, he was simply after holding on to his influence and adapting to what the culture around him wanted. Most people in his cult were giving their lives to Jesus, and so, in order to fit in, he also sought to accept Christ. He didn’t truly love Jesus, he simply wanted Jesus to give him what he ultimately sought– the desires of his carnal heart. He completely misunderstood salvation. I mean, he did it all: he believed, was baptized, and followed Philip.
But, as we know, salvation is not actions, but rather, it is a heart change that God does to a person. Ultimately it takes Peter one conversation to realize that this man hadn’t truly been saved. False converts completely misunderstand salvation and think that it is through their actions that they are saved. They might say that salvation is not through works with their lips, but their hearts declare something completely different. They don’t truly love Jesus in their hearts and are only after the benefits of what Jesus can bring to their life.
They have a selfish attitude
This is where Simon’s motives become clear. Acts 8:18-19 shows us Simon’s heart. He offered Peter and John money to be able to have the Holy Spirit and do the miracles that they were doing. Of course, this is silly to us and shows us a deep misunderstanding of how the Holy Spirit works. But, if we go beyond the surface, we will notice an even greater red flag.
Notice why he wanted the spiritual gifts. He wanted spiritual gifts so that he could be noticed and feel good about himself. He had completely selfish reasons for them. But, a simple reading of the New Testament will teach us that spiritual gifts are only given to us to be able to serve those around us. Their only goal is to serve the other members of the Church.
Today, so many churches promote certain spiritual gifts as more important than the others, and they also encourage those in their congregations to experiment with spiritual gifts that were not intended for them. Even if they do so unintentionally, they are setting up their congregations to see spiritual gifts as a way to promote themselves in front of the eyes of the church. This is a complete misunderstanding of spiritual gifts and it shows a love-of-self that is dangerous at best.
Christ, on the other hand, teaches his disciples that in order to be great one must be willing to serve. He then, through the Holy Spirit, gifted each member of the church with spiritual gifts intended to bless the whole body. The Christian life is a life of self-sacrifice, each Christian is called to put selfish desires to death and be willing to put the interest of others above their own (Gal 5:13).
They misunderstand repentance
Ultimately, Simon showed a lack of understanding of what repentance is. First of all, he got rebuked by Peter. Peter exposed his heart’s intentions and called him out on his sin. Simon’s response is telling. He cared about what Peter said, but not because he displeased his Savior, but because he was concerned about the consequences. He didn’t want what Peter said would happen to Him. This is worldly sorrow. Look at his response, “Pray to the Lord for me yourselves, so that nothing of what you have said may come upon me.”
Not only was he more worried about his consequences, but he also misunderstood how repentance works. He asked them to pray for him. Repentance is a constant desire to be pure in front of God. Repentance doesn’t need others to intercede for them, but, instead, it is the act of a person who humbles himself before his Father and requests forgiveness and desires to change. And this doesn’t just happen at the moment of conversion. This is continual each and every day.
….
Jesus’ parable of the unforgiving slave (Matt 18:21-35) teaches a simple fact, and that is if you are unwilling to forgive, then you probably haven’t truly experienced grace. You could also say that someone who doesn’t repent of sin after he becomes a Christian probably isn’t a Christian. A Christian’s humility doesn’t go away at conversion, but rather continues on into his sanctification. As his love for Christ increases, his hatred for sin will increase as well, and it will show itself in a desire to admit sin and continue to repent daily.
On the other hand, false converts hate confrontation. They close up and defend themselves, or, better yet, attack back in order to keep the confronter at bay. They can’t possibly believe that they could have sinned in some way. False converts are prideful and don’t ever own up to sins that they have committed. In other words, they are blind to their sin.
Of course, this must have been eye opening to the early church. Most churches would be ecstatic to have a guy like Simon proclaim Christ and join the church, and maybe Philip was blinded by this as well. But, Simon had all the wrong motives in coming to Christ, and, even though it wasn’t evident at first, his true colors came out in time. Having someone walk away can be extremely painful, but each time it happens, we can be thankful that God has changed our hearts and given us new life. I think that when false-converts walk away, we are also more likely to value the seasoned saints in church around us who have been so faithful to follow Christ for so many years, and who have said, perhaps thousands of times, no to the world and yes to Christ.
Standridge believes True Christians® can ferret out false converts in their churches. False converts:
Are man-centered
Are not devoted to Jesus
Have selfish attitudes
Misunderstand repentance
I know scores of people who Standridge would label false converts. However, his four characteristics of a false convert don’t ring true. Standridge is looking for easy explanations to explain the mass exodus from Evangelical churches. Pastors, evangelists, missionaries, elders, deacons, youth directors, worship leaders, and other committed followers of Jesus are walking (or running) out the back doors of churches never to return. How does Standridge explain an increasing number of Evangelical clergy and church leaders who are embracing atheism, agnosticism, or non-Abrahamic religions? Are they all “false converts”?
Instead of addressing the stench arising from Evangelicalism’s corpse, Standridge uses worn out tropes to marginalize and dismiss people who once loved and served Jesus with all their heart, soul, and mind. I challenge Standridge to carefully read my story and see if he can find a whiff of his “four characteristics of a false convert.”
Stories such as mine and yours remain a conundrum for Evangelicals. Our testimonies suggest that we were once followers of Jesus, and now we are not. We once loved God and his church, and now we don’t. We once believed the Bible was the Word of God, and now we don’t. We were, in every way, true converts, and now we are not.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
I had the honor of speaking at the monthly meeting of the Atheists of Florida this past Sunday, August 29, 202 After my speech, I answered questions from the crowd. Several friends and family members attended the meeting, including some of you. Thank You! for your support.
For other podcast services, please search for “Free2Think.”
I apologize in advance for my leaning to the right/left in parts of my speech. One explanation: pain, awful pain. I did what I could.
Let me know what you think.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
Recently, an Evangelical preacher had this to say about me:
Yes, we called BG [Bruce Gerencser] a quitter as that was a common theme throughout his life. He quit on high school, college, his church, Jesus, and, as we see. anything to do with Christian behavior towards others.
When they quit, they spend their time hiding from God, and the truth no matter who brings it across their path. They are all the same and if you want to understand why Jesus said not to cast pearls before swine, it is because they will trash and reject it without using an open mind.
This so-called man of God, a defender of the One True Faith®, loves to call me a “quitter.” According to him, “quitting” is leaving. This preacher is my age, and I know he has, using his definition, “quit” a few times himself. This man has combed through my life with a nit comb, finding every time I left _________, seeing this as proof I am a quitter. In his mind, a “quitter” is a failure; one who has failed to run/finish the race (as determined by this preacher).
As a ministerial student at Midwestern Baptist College in Pontiac, Michigan — an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) institution — I heard countless sermons on “quitters.” Dr. Tom Malone, the chancellor of Midwestern, was famous for lambasting quitters in his chapel sermons. Other chapel speakers did the same. The message was clear: don’t be a quitter; God doesn’t use quitters; your life will never amount to anything; you are a failure if you quit.
One chapel speaker, “Dr.” Charles Whitfield, even called me out personally for quitting. I had dropped his hermenuetics class, and that — for some inexplicable reason — infuriated him. While he didn’t mention me by name, the details of his harangue made it clear who he was talking about.
Infamous IFB pastor, the late-Jack Hyles, wrote a poem titled “Don’t Quit.” It said:
When the cup is turned to wormwood, And the wormwood turns to gall; When your walking turns to stumbling, And the stumbling to a fall; When you’ve climbed above the mountains, Yet the Alps rise rough and tall; DON’T QUIT.
When the path ahead is crooked, And the road’s too rough to tread; When the best upon the table Is replaced by sorrow’s bread; When you’ve crossed some troubled waters, Yet a Marah’s just ahead; (Exodus 15;16) DON’T QUIT.
When the vultures have descended And disturbed your downy nest; When sweet fruit has changed to thistle, While the thorns disturb your rest; When a deep to deep is calling, And when failure seems your best; DON’T QUIT.
When the Lord has cleansed the table; Then He takes away the fat; And the best wine has been taken, Till you find an empty vat; When another fills the throne room Where once you proudly sat; DON’T QUIT.
When your health is feeling sickly, And the medicine tastes bad; When your fellowship is lonely, And your happiness is sad; When your warmth is getting colder, And in clouds your sunshine’s clad; DON’T QUIT.
When you find your wins are losses, And that all your gains are lacks; When ill things never come alone, And your troubles run in packs; When your soul is bruised and battered From the Tempter’s fierce attacks; DON’T QUIT.
Be not weary in well doing, For due seasons bring the grain; He who on the Lord hath waited Shall never run in vain; The just man falleth seven times, Yet riseth up again; DON’T QUIT.
We left Midwestern in early 1979. As we were loading up our Uhaul trailer, preparing to move to my hometown, Bryan, Ohio, a dorm roommate of mine stopped by and pleaded with me not to “quit,” saying, “God will NEVER use you!”
Seven years later, Dr. Malone was preaching at the Newark Baptist Temple in Newark, Ohio — an IFB church pastored by Jim Dennis, Polly’s uncle, a 1960s Midwestern grad. (Please see The Family Patriarch is Dead: My Life With James Dennis.) My father-in-law, a 1976 Midwestern grad, proudly told Malone about the church I was pastoring; how fast it was growing; how souls were being saved under my ministry. Before starting to preach, Malone recognized several notable preachers in the crowd — a common practice at IFB conferences and preacher’s meetings. Malone told the crowd I was in attendance, saying, “If Bruce had stayed any longer at Midwestern, we would have ruined him.” Everyone laughed, and I took his words as validation of the work I was doing for God.
With these things in mind, let me circle back around to what the aforementioned preacher said about me:
[Bruce] quit on high school, college, his church, Jesus, and, as we see. anything to do with Christian behavior towards others.
This preacher mentions five things I have done and experienced in my life that justify him calling me a “quitter.” I want to respond to each of these things, showing the context behind these events. I will then add a sixth point.
High School
Did I graduate from high school? No. My parents divorced when I was fourteen. Two months later, both of them remarried. Mom married her first cousin, a recent parolee from the Texas penal system. Dad married a nineteen-year-old girl with a toddler. In the spring of 1973, hoping to avoid bill collectors, Dad had a household goods auction, packed up our clothing and meager belongings, and moved us to Tucson, Arizona. After finishing tenth grade at Rincon High School in Tucson, I hopped a Greyhound Bus and moved back to Bryan, Ohio to live with my mom. Two months later, I moved to Findlay, Ohio so I could attend Findlay High School and Trinity Baptist Church, both of which were places of happiness, security, and safety for me. After living with a church family in Mount Blanchard for a couple of months (and attending Riverdale High School) I started living with Gladys Canterbury, a matronly woman at the church. I became a ward of the court so Gladys could receive money for keeping me and I would have medical, dental, and vision insurance. I was sixteen.
In May of 1974, weeks before I turned seventeen, I decided to move back home. I missed my mom. Knowing that Gladys (and the church) would not allow me to move, I secretly planned my escape. For a week, I would, unknown to Gladys, stay home from school and plan my move. Finally, the day arrived. Mom pulled into the driveway of Gladys’s southside home, got out of the car, and helped me load my few worldly possessions into her car. Ninety minutes later, I was back home, ready to enroll for my senior year at Bryan High School.
As a student at Findlay High, I didn’t miss one day of school. In fact, I got out of school every day at 11:30 am, and walked or rode my bike to my job as a busboy at Bill Knapps on West Main Cross St. I would work the lunch shift and then sit in the side dining room eating my employee meal — man, I loved their burger basket — and then working on my homework. Afterward, I would work the evening shift. I worked 25 or more hours each week.
In August of 1974, Mom and I went to Bryan High so I could enroll for school. Two weeks later, the school called to inform us that Findlay High was denying me credit for eleventh grade; that I would have to enroll as a junior, not a senior. Findlay High said that because I missed the last two weeks of school, they were denying me credit for my junior year. Never mind the fact that I never missed a day of school up until moving home. Never mind the fact that I was a good student. Mom and I consulted a local attorney, David Newcomer. We thought at the time, “surely Findlay High School can’t do this.” Newcomer told us that we could sue the school, but it would take years to settle such a lawsuit.
Livid over the prospect of having to retake eleventh grade, I “quit” school. My dear friend Dave Echler had also quit school. This certainly played a part in my decision to quit. Mom pleaded with me not to drop out of school, but after seeing my mind was made up, she signed the necessary form so I could quit.
Yes, I am a high school dropout, but a “quitter” in the sense that this Evangelical preacher is using the word? No.
College
Polly and I married in the summer of 1978, between our sophomore and junior years. Polly started attending Midwestern while she was a senior at Oakland Christian School. Polly was one smart cookie, a pretty cookie, a sexy cookie, okay, a “Godly” cookie too. 🙂 Polly, who would soon graduate second in her class, was permitted to attend Midwestern the second half of her senior year.
After getting married, Polly and I moved to an upstairs apartment on Premont St. in Waterford Township. In September, we started classes at Midwestern, excited that we were halfway through college. In less than two years, Mr. and Mrs. Bruce Gerencser would move to a town somewhere in the United States and start a new IFB church, planning to spend our lives winning souls to Christ and teaching Christians the inspired, inerrant, infallible Word of God. Remember what they say about best-laid plans?
We planned to wait until we were out of college to have children. But, unfortunately, “God” had other plans. Six weeks after we married, Polly informed me that she was pregnant. That’s what you get when two young, immature virgins marry, having little information about how “things” work. Eschewing birth control pills and condoms, Polly used an ineffective spermicidal foam.
Polly cleaned the homes of a Bloomfield Hills rabbi and their daughter, that is until brutal morning sickness made that impossible. I worked a full-time job at Deco Grand, making parts for GM’s diesel motors. Keep in mind, we were carrying a full load of classes at Midwestern, along with attending church three times a week and fulfilling the required evangelism requirements for students. I also taught Sunday school and held church services Sunday afternoon at a drug rehabilitation center in Detroit.
In January 1979, I was laid off from my job at Deco Grand. I had not worked there long enough to draw unemployment. Unable to find employment that would allow us to stay in school, we decided to drop out for a semester, hoping to reenroll after our son was born in May. We went to the school to talk to “Dr.” Levy Corey about dropping out. We thought Corey, one of our favorite preachers would understand. Instead, he counseled us NOT to leave school. “Just trust God. He will provide,” Corey said. Several weeks later, behind on the rent and facing threats of having our utilities shut off, we decided to leave Midwestern and return to Bryan. We lived, for a time, with my sister. I took a job with General Tire, and when they moved me to third shift, I “quit” and took a union job at ARO. I made $8 an hour, with superb insurance. When Jason was born in May, we didn’t pay a dime.
One month after we moved to Bryan, my sister’s pastor, Jay Stuckey, offered me an unpaid job as his assistant. I worked my ass off helping the church grow, reaching a high attendance of 500 our last Sunday there.
Yes, I didn’t graduate from Midwestern. But, was I a “quitter” in the sense this Evangelical preacher uses the word? No. Life happens, and after Polly got pregnant and I was laid off, we did what we could to keep a roof over our head and the lights on. We may have left college, but we spent twenty-five years serving congregations in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan.
Churches
This preacher writes as if I pastored one church and then quit. Instead, I pastored seven churches. One church I pastored for eleven years, another for seven. I also worked as my father-in-law’s assistant for two years, growing the youth department to fifty students (over half of the church’s Sunday attendance). I also pastored four churches for short periods of time. (Please see What Happened to the Churches I Pastored?) Interestingly, every one of these pastorates was seven months long. I know, odd, right?
Was I a “quitter” in the sense that this preacher is using the word? Of course not. Pastors leave churches all the time. The reasons for doing so are many. Sure, some of my departures were acrimonious. Could I have done better or been more patient? Absolutely. I have never denied that certain character traits of mine made it difficult for me to work with bullheaded, argumentative, controlling church members. I warned the last church I pastored, Victory Baptist Church, a Southern Baptist church in Clare, Michigan, that I would not fight with them. Five months later, my hope for love, joy, and peace turned into ugly, soul-killing warfare. I left this church for the sake of my mental health. I was burned out, tired of endless conflict and pettiness. Did I “quit”? No, I resigned. You know, like people do when they leave a job for another one. Wait until this preacher finds out how many jobs I have worked over the years. 🙂 I have an advanced degree in leaving jobs and finding another. Could I have done differently? Sure. But a “quitter”? Nope.
Jesus
Did I “quit” on Jesus? Perhaps the real question is this: “did Jesus quit on me”? Did the church quit on me? Did my family, former parishioners, and colleagues in the ministry quit on me after I left the ministry and later left Christianity? Or maybe, just maybe, I decided that the central claims of Christianity weren’t true; that Jesus was not virgin-born, did not work miracles, and lies buried in a grave somewhere near Jerusalem. Or maybe, just maybe, I decided the Bible was not the inerrant, infallible Word of God; that the Bible is littered with mistakes, contradictions, and errors. Or maybe, just maybe, I visited 125 Christian churches and concluded that the teachings of Jesus were nowhere to be found; that churches were social clubs instead of places that ministered to the “least of these.” Or maybe, just maybe, I divorced Jesus. Having given him thirty years to show up and reveal himself, I decided that Jesus wasn’t walking through the door. Wanting to move on in my life, I divorced Jesus and entered a polyamorous relationship with reason, skepticism, and common sense.
To Jesus, I say, “Here I am, Lord. You know where I live. Show up on my doorstep, invite me to lunch (and pay the bill), and show me your miracle-working power, and I will believe.” I suspect Jesus ain’t coming to my house and hanging out. How can he? He’s dead.
Christian Behavior
This Evangelical preacher thinks I have “quit” on “anything to do with Christian behavior.” Of course, I have. I’m not a fucking Christian. “Language,” Bruce. Fuck off, asshole. 🙂 That said, I am a loving, kind, thoughtful person. Ask Polly, our six children, or our thirteen grandchildren. Ask my lifelong friend mentioned above. The only people who think I am a bad person are those who can’t square my story with their theological beliefs. Unable to do so, they attack my character. Those who matter to me know what kind of man I am. I am confident that Bruce, the Atheist is a far better “Christian” than this Evangelical preacher. I don’t go to Christian blogs or websites and attack their owners. I have NEVER engaged Christians outside of this blog or on social media after they have left a comment.
I make no apology for operating this blog. I make no apology for what I write. Have I become less polite and longsuffering towards Evangelical zealots? Guilty as charged. (Please see I Make No Apologies for Being a Curmudgeon.) After thousands of emails, blog comments, and social media messages from Evangelicals, I am tired of their attacks and character assassinations. I try to ward off their emails, comments, and messages (please see Comment Policy and Dear Evangelical), but they continue to harass me anyway. The contact form for this site states:
If you would like to contact Bruce Gerencser, please use the following form. If your email warrants a response, someone will respond to you as soon as possible.
Due to persistent health problems, I cannot guarantee a timely response. Sometimes, I am a month or more behind on responding to emails. This delay doesn’t mean I don’t care. It does mean, however, that I can only do what I can do. I hope you understand.
To help remedy this delay in response, my editor, Carolyn, may respond to your email. Carolyn has been my editor for five years. She knows my writing inside and out, so you can rest assured that if your question concerns something I have written, Carolyn’s response will reflect my beliefs and opinions — albeit with fewer swear words.
I do not, under any circumstances, accept unsolicited guest posts.
I am not interested in buying social media likes, speeding up my website, or having you design a new blog theme for this site.
I will not send you money for your ministry, church, or orphanage.
If you are an Evangelical Christian, please read Dear Evangelical before sending me an email. If you have a pathological need to evangelize, spread the love of Jesus, or put a good word in for the man, the myth, the legend named Jesus, please don’t. The same goes for telling me your church/pastor/Jesus is awesome. I am also not interested in reading sermonettes, testimonials, Bible verses, or your deconstruction of my life. By all means, if you feel the need to set me straight, start your own blog.
If you email me anyway — and I know you will, since scores of Evangelicals have done just that, showing me no regard or respect — I reserve the right to make your message and name public. This blog is read by thousands of people every day, so keep that in mind when you email me whatever it is you think “God/Jesus/Holy Spirit” has laid upon your heart. Do you really want your ignorance put on display for thousands of people to see? Pause before hitting send. Ask yourself, “how will my email reflect on Jesus, Christianity, and my church?”
Outside of the exceptions mentioned above, I promise to treat all correspondence with you as confidential. I have spent the last fourteen years corresponding with people who have been psychologically harmed by Evangelical Christianity. I am more than happy to come alongside you and provide what help I can. I am not, however, a licensed counselor. I am just one man with fifty years of experience as a Christian and twenty-five years of experience as an Evangelical pastor. I am more than happy to lend you what help and support I can.
Thank you for taking the time to contact me.
Yet, Evangelicals send me emails anyway. I am grateful that what I have written above on the contact page has warded off many blood-sucking vampires. But, I still get lots of emails from fangers (shout out to True Blood fans). Further, zealots ignore my commenting policy. After I ban them, they continue to try to comment. Take Elliot. While he has stopped trying to comment or email me, he had tried to access this site 386 times since July 9, 2021 — more than six times a day. Elliot can’t read this, but maybe someone will tell him, Nah, baby, Nah.
Have I ever gone too far when responding to arrogant, nasty, self-righteous Evangelicals? Yes. Readers who have been with me since 2007 — looking at you Michael, Zoe, and Andrew — remember my oh-so-famous response to Iggy of Montana. Iggy told me that he “knew me better than I knew myself.” After a contentious back and forth, I blew up. Scorched earth time. Some people will say I have gone too far when I rewrite the deleted comments of the Evangelical preacher who thinks I am a quitter. (He is permanently banned, yet he still tries to comment, ignoring my commenting policy.) Other people love my rewrites. Sometimes, humor is all you have left when dealing with smug bullies.
Death
I am sick. Really, really sick. I have fibromyalgia, gastroparesis, and osteoarthritis. In late July, I wrote a post titled Health Update: I’m F**ked:
Over the past four months, I’ve had excruciating pain in the middle of my back, left side, and under my left arm, into my shoulder, and down my arm. The pain is so severe that it affects everything I do. Some days, I can hardly use my left arm (and I’m left-handed)
I had X-rays. Normal. CT scan. Normal. And now an MRI of my thoracic spine. NOT normal. I have:
Disc herniation (T7,T8)
Disc herniation (T6,T7)
Central spinal canal stenosis (T9/T10, T10/T11)
Foraminal stenosis (T5,T6)
Disc degeneration/spondylosis (T1/T2 through T10/T11)
Facet Arthropathy throughout the spine, particularly at T2/T3, T3/T4, T5/T6, and T7/T8 through the T12/L1 levels.
Hypertrophic arthropathy at T9/T10
Every day is a struggle. Some days, I wonder if I can go on. So far, my reasons for living (my family, writing, and the Cincinnati Reds) give me the strength to live another day. There might, however, come a day when I can no longer endure the pain. And when that day comes, I may choose to end my life. Am I “quitter” for saying, “I’ve had enough. I can’t bear the pain any longer”? I am sure that If I take the death with dignity path, the Evangelical preacher who is the focus of this post will likely write a post that says, “Bruce Gerencser, The Quitter is Dead. Now He Knows Hell is Hot, God is Real, and I’m Fucking Right.” I hope the readers of this blog will give him a collective middle finger. I hope you will tell people that Bruce Gerencser was a survivor, that he did what he could. Finally, I will leave it to my family, friends, and the people who have walked the path with me to measure my life, to give testimony of how the “quitter” Bruce Gerencser made a difference in their lives. (This last section is not a plea for help. This is just me talking out loud with my friends.)
This Evangelical preacher means for the word “quitter” to be a pejorative term; to cause psychological pain. What he calls “quitting,” I call life. A well-lived life? That story is still being written.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
I have the honor of speaking at the monthly meeting of the Atheists of Florida this Sunday, August 29, 2021, at 5:00 pm (EDT). This event is open to the public. After my speech, there will be a Q&A time.
If you are interested in attending, here’s the link for the Zoom meeting. The room will be open at 4:45 pm. I hope to see some of your smiling faces on Sunday. No eggs or tomatoes allowed. 🙂
My speech will be available afterward as a podcast and YouTube video. I will post those links when they are available.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
I put out the call to readers, asking them for questions they would like me to answer. If you have a question, please leave it here or email me. All questions will be answered in the order in which they are received.
Troy asked:
#1 Do you think your parents passing away at a young age made it easier to announce your atheism and on the other side of thing Polly’s parents were both alive until recently do you think this made her less vocal about it? (And I know writing that letter announcing your departure from religion was not easy, but pleasing parents is something that is qualitatively different)
#2 You often speak of your ill health, while I hesitate to ask it because I love you as a friend, do you want to blog to continue after you die or would you like it to die with you?
I don’t think the physical state — alive or dead — of our parents played much of a part in how Polly and I announced our loss of faith in 2008. If anything, our personalities determined our response. A story from our days at Midwestern Baptist College in Pontiac, Michigan, might best explain this. Not long after I expressed my romantic interest in Polly, we walked to an elevated drainage cover situated in the field outside of the dormitory. Sitting down, exactly six inches apart, (Please see Thou Shalt Not Touch: The Six-Inch Rule.) we “talked.” Well, I should say I talked. Polly quickly learned that her new love interest loved to talk, and talk, and talk, and . . . I learned that the beautiful dark-haired girl who would become my wife two years later was bashful, rarely saying a word. I thought, “does this girl EVER talk”? 🙂 Our personalities are very different. While I have won Polly over to my talkative side — at least when she’s around me — she’s still shy around people she doesn’t know. She’s content to let me be the talker in the family, even when I wish she would speak up. After forty-three years of marriage, we accept that we are who we are, comfortable in our own skins. Dammit, Polly, will you PLEASE tell your mother ____________? 🙂
This aforementioned story best explains how each of us announced our defections from Christianity. I wrote Dear Family, Friends, and Former Parishioners and started a blog. Polly? She said nothing, not then and not now. I suspect that people at her place of employment still think Polly is an Evangelical pastor’s wife. The people who work for her know that she is not a Christian, but outside of them, she has not shared her story with anyone. And she’s fine with that. And so am I.
Polly’s Fundamentalist Baptist parents (Dad died in 2020) know we left Christianity. They know we are agnostic atheists. However, we have NEVER had one conversation with them about our loss of faith. And we likely never will. That’s been the MO of our relationship with Polly’s parents from day one (which I will cover one day in a post).
Now to Troy’s second question. Troy is a good friend of mine. While we have never met face to face, we have become close over the years through this blog and Facebook. So I accept his question as coming from a heart of love and concern. If “Dr.” David Tee asked me this question, I would hear, “Hey godless motherfucker. What going to happen to your blog after God strikes you dead and you end up in Hell?”
Troy knows that I am in poor health. Tee does too, but he’s a heartless prick, so fuck him. 🙂 Troy knows my days are numbered, as do I. I hope to live for five or ten more years, but my body tells me that the hourglass of my life is running out. Knowing this, I have had thoughts about the future of this blog. Do I want it to live on after my death? Will Polly be able to maintain this site after my demise? One of my children? I don’t know.
I know I don’t want Polly to be saddled with the costs of maintaining this site — roughly $125 a month. I know that once I am gone, readership numbers will drop, as will donations. That’s just the facts of the matter. We live in a “what have you done for me lately” world. When Bruce Almighty is turned into ashes, I hope people will mourn my loss. However, I know that readers will move on. No new content, no reason to come to The Life and Times of Bruce Gerencser blog.
My thoughts are this: I need to leave behind detailed instructions on how to move this to a cheaper (and slower) web hosting service. Or, if given time before I die, I will do this myself. This would reduce costs to less than $20 a month, leaving Polly to decide later if she wants to delete this site. Die! Die! My Darling! (Polly will understand this movie reference.)
I’m not sure how I feel about being memorialized after I kick the bucket. That said, I know my writing may help others after I go over the rainbow in the sky (I’m running out of synonyms for D-E-A-D). It will be left to Polly and my family to decide the future of my “ministry.” Maybe it would be nice if this blog outlived me for the sake of my grandchildren. DO IT FOR THE CHILDREN, BRUCE! 🙂 I want them to “know” my story, to read and understand my life. (Most of them were born after I left the ministry. They have no idea that Grandpa was once a Baptist preacher.) Of course, if I finished my damn book, I could autograph copies for my thirteen reasons to get up in the morning. Okay, nineteen reasons — though I can hardly even get off the couch these days when my six oh-so-awesome kids come to visit me to see how soon they will be collecting their inheritance. 🙂
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
I put out the call to readers, asking them for questions they would like me to answer. If you have a question, please leave it here or email me. All questions will be answered in the order in which they are received.
Samantha asked:
I just read your post about your relationship with your father. I must say that I admire your transparency in reflecting upon these painful memories. My question is: Do you think it is possible that your relationship with your earthly dad contributed to you ultimately abandoning the notion of a loving Heavenly Father?
After writing the post Questions: Bruce, How Was Your Relationship with Your Father? I told my wife, Polly, that someone would likely say that my bad relationship with my father led to me leaving Christianity; that my relationship with my father affected how I viewed the Christian God. Polly replied, “you’re kidding, right? Surely, no one would say THAT! She forgets that I am a prophet. 🙂 Actually, I recently listened to a Christian apologist asserting — without empirical evidence — that people who leave Christianity and embrace atheism have bad relationships with their fathers. In other words, Evangelicals-turned-atheists have “daddy problems.” This is exactly what Samantha is suggesting in her comment above.
When I first read her comment, I felt like giving it the Bruce Gerencser Treatment®, but I decided, instead, to calmly, patiently, and pointedly answer her question. Samantha may be a first-time reader, so I want to give her the benefit of the doubt.
Samantha’s language suggests she’s a Christian: earthly father, heavenly (big F) Father. So I will answer her question with that assumption in mind.
First, why are fathers to blame for our deconversions, and not our mothers? Christians see a direct connection between earthly father to heavenly Father. However, for me personally, my mother had a far bigger influence on me than my father. It was my mother who taught me to read. It was my mother who fueled my passion for God, Christianity, the Bible, politics, and writing. That’s why, when Mom killed herself at age 54, it broke my heart. Every year or so, I will go to her grave at Fountain Grove Cemetery in Bryan. I stand there and weep, wondering what might have been. Mom’s been gone 30 years, yet I still grieve over what’s been lost. Dad? I felt nothing when he died, and I don’t feel much differently today. I know my siblings feel differently, so I respect their grief, even if I can’t “feel” it.
Second, what is the direct connection between my non-existent relationship with my father and why I deconverted? I wonder if Samantha has read any of my autobiographical writing? (Please see WHY?) If she has, surely she knows WHY I deconverted. My relationship with Robert Gerencser had nothing to do with why I walked away from Christianity. And I mean NOTHING!
Third, countless Christian apologists and zealots have attempted to deconstruct and discredit my story. Fourteen years and thousands of emails, blog comments, and social media messages, yet not one person said that I had a faulty view of God, that my relationship with my father warped my view of the God of the Bible. Yet, the moment I write about my father for the first time, a Christian seizes on a perceived weakness or flaw in my story, suggesting that I would still be a Christian if I had had a “good” relationship with my father. Such people assume they know what a “good” parental relationship is — do tell. Further, they assume that there is one view of the Biblical God — do tell. And finally, they assume that past experiences determine our future — do tell.
Fourth, who, exactly, is this “heavenly Father” Samantha speaks of? Surely she knows that every Christian molds God in their own image, that our “God” eerily looks, thinks, and acts just like us. Yet, Samantha assumes that her “heavenly Father” is the one true God, and that if I had worshiped her deity, I might still be a Christian.
Fifth, my understanding of the nature of God was rooted in the words of the Bible, not my relationship with my father. Do our experiences affect how we view the world? Sure. Polly and I have been married for 43 years. No one knows me like she does. She knows, because she has been along for the ride, that I have wanderlust, that I bore easily, that I am always looking for new things to do. That’s why we lived in a lot of houses. That’s why I worked a lot of jobs — dozens and dozens of jobs. That’s why I pastored seven churches. Is my father to blame for my wanderlust? After all, my life as a child and teenager was one of constant movement. Surely, there’s a connection, right?
I have Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder (OCPD), along with depression. I have seen the same counselor for a decade. We have talked about my wanderlust many times, and will likely do so again next week as we discuss the post about my father.
In patients with obsessive-compulsive personality disorder, preoccupation with order, perfectionism, and control of themselves and situations interferes with flexibility, effectiveness, and openness. Rigid and stubborn in their activities, these patients insist that everything be done in specific ways.
Polly says, “I know that person. And I still love him.” 🙂
OCPD and OCD are similar, but not the same. People who have OCPD tend to choose certain behaviors, seeing them as rational and best. The description above says people with OCPD have a “preoccupation with order, perfectionism, and control of themselves.” What does that sound like to you? Right beliefs. Right living. Do THIS, Believe THIS . . . Is this not the essence of Evangelical Christianity, particularly Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) Christianity? Sure, my childhood played a part in the development of OCPD in my life. However, if I were to place the blame on anyone or anything, it would be the IFB churches I attended as a child and teenager, and the pastors, youth directors, and Sunday school teachers who indoctrinated me in the “one true faith.” Who made a deeper and lasting imprint on my life? A non-involved, disinterested father, or so-called men of God who took an aggressive interest in conforming me to their interpretations of the King James Bible? That’s a rhetorical question, by the way.
I admit that my childhood made a deep, lasting mark on my life. How could it not? I can’t unsee my mother’s suicide attempts and mental illness. I can’t “unfeel” my father’s lack of love for me. My life is the sum of my experiences. However, I would argue that these experiences have made me a better man; that I am a loving, kind, and compassionate person, having long cared for the “least of these,” all because of the pain and suffering I have experienced in my life (and continue to experience).
Finally, until writing the aforementioned post, I hadn’t thought about my dad in years. Writing this post has proved to be painful, dredging up things long buried in the deep recesses of my mind. I told Polly last night that I regret answering Logan’s question. Now my mind is filled with numerous other stories I could have shared — few of which would paint my dad in a positive light. I suspect it will take therapy to return these memories to where they belong.
I shared my feelings about Logan’s question with Carolyn, my editor. She told me, “Bruce, you don’t have to answer every question.” Of course, she’s right. However . . . OCPD. I have to work the list, answer the questions in the order in which they are received. I can’t not answer Logan’s or Samantha’s or even “Dr.” I-Give-Christianity-a-Bad-Name David Tee’s (though he is now banned) questions. Sometimes, I just need to decline to answer, tell them their questions are intrusive/offensive, or maybe, just maybe, I need to tell such people to fuck off. Or, I could just blame dad. 🙂
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
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I put out the call to readers, asking them for questions they would like me to answer. If you have a question, please leave it here or email me. All questions will be answered in the order in which they are received.
Davie from Glasgow asked:
I have a quick one that you surely will already have answered somewhere but I just can’t recall – It’s clear that you are a particularly singular fellow Bruce but in your time (maybe most likely through this blog) have you come across any other people that were also once evangelical/fundamentalist PREACHERS for any length of time before deconverting and becoming agnostics/atheists? Or are you as unique as you seem??
I was an Evangelical pastor for twenty-five years. I left Christianity at the age of fifty. I am now an atheist and a humanist. According to my counselor — whom I have seen for a decade — I am a rare bird. While it is not uncommon for clergypersons to leave the ministry or deconvert, most do so when they are in their twenties or thirties. The longer a man (or woman) is in the ministry, the less likely he is to cash in his chips and walk away. By the time a man is in his forties or fifties, he has invested decades in pastoring churches. He may have a 401k. He likely has no viable work skills outside of the church. His entire life has been invested in the work of the ministry. He may have doubts, but he says to himself, “what else am I going to do?” The existence of The Clergy Project is a testament to the fact that more than a few churches are pastored by men who no longer believe.
I have interacted and corresponded with countless ex-pastors over the years — Evangelical and mainline clerics alike. I know several men who were in the ministry longer than me, but, for the most part, most ex-preachers I know spent far less time in the ministry than I did. Anecdotally, I think the number of men and women leaving church positions is increasing. COVID-19 only increased the number of clergypeople saying that they have had enough. Not all ex-pastors left due to a loss of faith. Some left because they were tired of endless church drama, board fights, and other soul-numbing dysfunction. A handful of ex-preachers I know left the ministry because they admitted to themselves and others that they were gay.
I am often asked why I stayed in the ministry for so many years. I was a true believer, a saved, sanctified, born-again follower of Jesus Christ, the virgin-born, sinless, crucified, resurrected eternal son of the one true God. I never meaningfully doubted or questioned my beliefs until I was in my late 40s. However, when I determined I no longer believed the central claims of Christianity were true, it was not difficult for me to walk away from the ministry. First, I was tired. Second, my health was deteriorating. Third, I never made much money pastoring churches ($26,000 was the most I made any one year). I always made more money working secular jobs. And fourth, I have never been a good liar. I knew I couldn’t be a “fake it until you make it” Christian, a hypocritical pastor. So, when it came time for me to leave the ministry and later Christianity itself, I did not quietly exit stage left. (Please see Dear Family, Friends, and Former Parishioners.) With my face turned towards an unknown future, I walked away from the church, never to return. I don’t regret walking away. In retrospect, if I would have had some inkling about what my future held, I would have certainly prepared better for a post-Jesus, post-ministry life. But, it is what it is. All I know is to make the most of what life I have left. (Please see The Midwestern Baptist College Preacher Who Became an Atheist.)
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
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Over the weekend, an Australian Evangelical man by the name of Richard left the following comment on the post titled Dear Jesus. My response is indented and italicized.
I stumbled on to your website and man, I would have lost my faith ten times over!!.
What did you actually read on this site? Did you break anything when you stumbled? The Dear Jesus post primarily deals with the problem of evil and suffering, told from an intimate, personal perspective. If you want to understand my story in its entirety, please read the posts on the WHY? page.
I appreciate your recognition of the fact that I had a difficult and traumatic upbringing. One of your fellow Christian apologists, Mike Kuvakos, took a different approach, choosing instead to tell me, “get over it.”
That said, the primary reasons for my deconversion are intellectual, not emotional. Despite all the trauma mentioned in the Dear Jesus post, I remained a committed follower of Jesus Christian until age fifty. If past trauma was going to derail my faith, this would have happened years ago. Instead, I pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years, leaving the ministry in 2005, and leaving Christianity in 2008.
If asked to give the primary reasons I left Christianity, I typically say:
1) I no longer believed the Bible was inerrant and infallible
2) I no longer believed the central claims of Christianity were true
3) Christianity no longer made sense to me
Secondarily, I concluded that Christianity had no persuasive arguments for:
1) The problem of evil
2) The problem of suffering
3) The hiddenness of God
I lost my faith for many years (for lesser things) suffered violence and poverty, had nothing, lost everything. I was bitter with God for his failures , the hypocrisy of the pastors, the immorality of church leaders, the molesters and the thieves, but now I believe again. He reached out to me and brought me back.
I get it, God/Jesus/Christianity works for you. You find meaning, purpose, and direction in your faith. I, however, find the opposite. My life is better in every way post-Jesus. I have learned that I don’t need God/Jesus/faith to have meaning and purpose in my life. A good life is possible without Jesus. I humbly suggest you give it a try.
You see, we cannot run away, we will eventually go back, there is nothing else in this world that is better than Him, no matter how we see and rationalize the failures.
Running away implies that I am trying to avoid something — I’m not. You seem to think I am wrongly rationalizing what I consider faults and failures within the structure of Christianity. However, I have honestly and opening weighed Christianity in the balance and found it wanting. Do you think it was easy for me to walk away from Christianity; to walk away from the ministry; to walk away from that which I held precious and dear for fifty years? I can tell you this: divorcing Jesus was painful and traumatic — even to this day. Yet, after carefully studying and investigating the central claims of Christianity, I had no choice but to say that I no longer believed. You see, truth matters to me. I couldn’t go on believing things that I knew were lies.
I know he will call you back, you don’t have to go, He will come. As you, you will believe when He comes, I am sure he will. You are a man of truth and God will honour you.
Richard, how do you know your peculiar version of God will call me back to himself? Has God told you this? Or do you just “hope” God will reclaim me? I hope for all sorts of things: the Reds winning the World Series, the Bengals winning the Super Bowl, me winning $1,000,000 in a vax-a-million lotto, my unrelenting pain to miraculously disappear. I can hope for these things to happen, but facts, reason, logic, and probabilities tell me that there is little chance that any of these “hopes” will occur in 2021-2022. I didn’t say “no chance.” Our family has nine entries left in a vax-a-million lotto. Maybe, just maybe, one of us will hear, “winner, winner, chicken dinner.”
I “could” become a Christian again. Perhaps, my conclusions about God, Christianity, and the Bible will be overthrown by overwhelming evidence to the contrary. However, thirteen years in, no Christian has provided such evidence to me, yourself included. Thousands of Christian zealots have tried to win me back to Jesus, without success. Thus, I highly doubt that sufficient evidence is forthcoming, and I am sure I will remain an atheist until I die. And then? I will be a dead atheist. 🙂
Further, I could be a reprobate or an apostate — someone who has crossed the line of no return (Romans 1). Many Christian apologists believe there is no hope for me, that I have a sinful, darkened heart and have done despite unto the Spirit of grace (Hebrews 10:29). My advice to you is that you focus on low-hanging fruit — people more likely to buy what you are selling. I am not such a person.
It’s possible that you believe that God is letting me wander for a time, and someday he will draw me back to himself. Sure, that’s possible, I suppose. However, I don’t believe God exists. If, by chance, I am wrong, then God, the Father, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit know exactly where I live. This three-headed supernatural Marvel superhero can stop by my house, email me, or send me a text. Why has it not done so? Instead of dealing with me directly, God sends the Richards of the world — thousands of them. Why is that? Why can’t God speak for himself?
Saved by Reason,
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
