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Tag: Treasures in Heaven

Dear Pastor, Where Your Treasure Is, There Will be Your Heart Also

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How we spend our money says a lot about our values and what we consider important. As an Evangelical pastor, I took seriously the teachings of the Bible concerning money (mammon) and material possessions. Today, many preachers and churches put money before ministry; material possessions before ministering to the least of these. In Matthew 25, Jesus talked about the importance of helping the least of these; that doing so was a sign of true faith. Who are the least of these? People who are hungry, sick, thirsty, poor, widowed, orphaned, and in prison. Further, the Bible discusses ministering to strangers and foreigners (immigrants). Yet, it seems most churches and pastors either can’t find these verses in their Bibles or they KNOW what the Word of the Lord says but try to either reinterpret these verses or explain them away. What we end up with, then, are churches loaded with cash that are focused on making fat sheep fatter, showing no love, compassion, or regard for the strangers at their gates.

Oh, these churches and their pastors will object, saying, We LOVE people! We love them so much that we share the gospel with them. Instead of seeing people as they are, churches see them as sinners, broken, and in need of fixing. People are never seen as . . . people. Instead, they are viewed as targets of evangelization; prospective church members; and future tithers. With Evangelical churches, in particular, I have concluded that it is almost impossible for them to interact with the unwashed, uncircumcised Philistines of the world without having ulterior motives.

Recently, a commenter on Another Evangelical Con Job, This Time by 7 Hills Church in Cincinnati, Ohio, had this to say:

As a member of 7 Hills, I find this quite concerning that you are judging the actions of the church without coming to a service, speaking directly to a staff member or researching outside of one article. The church gives MILLIONS to the community all the ways you listed and also provides to several prison ministries and the men/women incarcerated there. We provide a mobile Women’s health bus that goes into the community to share the answer of life to those that are questioning decisions that could lead otherwise. I would challenge you to call the church and ask the questions you may have toward the ministries.

The article in question was about a megachurch’s annual egg drop for children. I wrote:

7 Hills Church, a congregation with locations in Florence, Kentucky, and Cincinnati, Ohio, provides a good illustration of what I am talking about in this post. 7 Hills Church held multiple egg drops after services on Good Friday, Holy (huh?) Saturday, and Easter Sunday. 200,000 eggs were dropped for 3,000 children to put in their baskets and bags. According to Kyle Waid, an associate pastor at 7 Hills Church, “Every year, 7 Hills Church tries to make fun Easter memories for families. Over the years, we’ve dropped eggs out of hot air balloons, had professional skydivers, fireworks, and even shot people out of cannons.”

Waid knows Easter egg hunts are thoroughly, completely, and absolutely secular, yet justifies having one:

“[Paul said] To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some. Our church carries that same mission. We have become all things to all people with the same goal as Paul: that someone would receive the message of Jesus. The egg hunt is an afterthought. The goal is to reach people.”

The goal, Waid stated, is to “reach [save, evangelize] people.” Not just doing something nice and fun for local children. The goal is what the goal always is for Evangelicals: saving sinners, adding members to the church, and increasing offerings.

Much like Evangelical rescue missions who require homeless people to sit through a sermon and an altar call before getting a meal or a bed for the night, 7 Hills Church required children and their families to attend church before the Easter egg drop.

Waid stated:

“Following every Easter service, we hand out admission tickets to the egg hunt. It’s our hope that through the 10 minutes of hunting eggs, families can create a fun memory together. It’s our prayer that through the hour and 15-minute service, moms, dads, aunts, uncles, grandparents, sisters, and brothers can find a forever friend in Jesus.”

According to Waid, almost five hundred people were “saved” during the Easter weekend churches. Waid added that 7 Hills pastor Marcus Mecum “has always invested heavily in the next generation, including making church for children fun and engaging.” Dropping plastic Easter eggs from the sky, a stunt that cost thousands of dollars, is “investing heavily in the next generation’? Really? Fun? Sure. But, I would love to know how much money 7 Hills has invested in the local community with no strings attached. My bet is on “not much.” How much money was spent on people outside of the church, on paying rent, utilities, car repairs, and providing food to the least of these? Again, based on their multi-million-dollar budget, I’d say “not much.

As you can see, the goal was to evangelize the lost. Participants were required to attend church before getting a ticket granting them admission to the egg drop. According to the church, this is one of the ways they invest heavily in the next generation. Really? I mean really? Does anyone think that dropping plastic eggs made in China from the sky has anything to do with investing in anything other than a slick publicity stunt meant to evangelize people and incorporate them into the church?

The commenter above protests, saying that 7 Hills does all sorts of things for the local community. What, exactly? I have challenged numerous Evangelicals over the years who object to my sharp criticism of their churches or pastors, saying that, as the commenter does, “our church gives MILLIONS to the community.” Really? Let’s see your budget. Not the annual summary budget churches often use to hide exactly how much money was taken in and how it was spent. Yes, I know all the tricks of the trade; how easy it is to hide certain expenditures behind generic line item entries in a superficial, misleading one-page summary budget.

I have been asking Evangelical churches and pastors for their budgets for almost twenty years. Not one church has coughed up a detailed budget. Why is that? I submit that they know doing so will show that the emperor has no clothes; that most church income is spent on buildings, utilities, staff, benefits, and felt-need programs meant to fatten up fat sheep. Very little is spent on helping the least of these; on ministering to those who can offer nothing in return or will never become asses in the seats.

The commenter said 7 Hills spends millions of dollars on helping people. I would love to see evidence for this claim. And, even if it is true, millions of dollars out of how much? Let’s say a church takes in $10 million a year. Over ten years, that’s $100 million. A proud-as-a-peacock member might say, “The church spent $5 million on helping people.” Significant to be sure, but compared to the $100 million pool, the church spent five percent of its income helping others. Where did the rest of the money go?

I will gladly eat my words if a church proves me wrong, but so far, no church has shown that its prime directive is to spend most of its money on those outside the gates. Churches are certainly free to spend their money as they wish, but if they attempt to pass themselves off as sacrificial benevolent organizations, I am going to ask them to show me the money. Evangelical pastors are notorious for lying about their churches’ income and expenditures. Shit, it is almost impossible to find out how much they are actually paid in salary and benefits or how much they make on side gigs like speaking fees and book royalties. Many Evangelical megachurch pastors, in particular, are multimillionaires, all the while encouraging people to walk in the footsteps of Jesus.

Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

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Dear Jesus, I Want a Refund

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Dear Jesus,

I was five-years-old when I remembered praying to you for the first time. My mother expressed to me the importance of praying every night before I went to bed, and for the next forty-five years, not a day went by that I didn’t bow my head, close my eyes, and utter one or more prayers to you. All told, I prayed tens of thousands of prayers, each uttered with sincerity and faith, believing that you, Jesus, would answer them.

For most of my life I believed, Jesus, that the Bible was your words — the Words of God. I believed you were a kind, loving, compassionate God who had my best interests at heart. When I prayed, I believed that you would answer my petitions according to your will, purpose, and plan for my life. There were times, Jesus, when you answered my prayers right on the spot, and other times when you answered after a short season of trial and testing. But most of the time, my prayers to you went unanswered. I wondered, did I say the wrong words or ask for the wrong things? Why, when it came to big-ticket prayers of life and death proportions, did you never say a word? I prayed and prayed and prayed, and all I got from you was silence.

As I read through the pages of the Bible, I came across promises you made to me and my fellow Christians. If we would have faith the size of a mustard seed — that’s a really small seed, Jesus, just in case you’ve forgotten its size — we could move mountains. You promised that your followers would do greater works than you, yet I never raised the dead, healed the sick, or fed five-thousand people with three Big Macs and a large order of French fries. Every dying person died, despite my prayers. Every sick person either died, stayed the same, or got better. Those who got better had doctors, nurses, and medications to thank, not you, Jesus. Yes, a lot of those sick people did give you credit for their healing, but everyone knew that without modern medicine they would have died. We all kept silent about this, not wanting to ruin your reputation.

I also read where you said that you would be with me through thick and thin; that you would never, ever leave or forsake me. Yet, why were you nowhere to be found during the darkest moments of my life? I wept countless tears, Jesus, calling out to you, begging you to please come to my rescue. I was devoted to you, an on-fire, sold-out preacher of the gospel. I lived and breathed the gospel. I tried my best to live according to what you said in the Bible, even when I found some of your sayings to be perplexing, stupid, or hard. Despite my devotion, you ignored me, choosing instead to help countless Christian grannies find their car keys or hearing aids. What gives, Jesus?

From Genesis 1:1 to Revelation 22:21, I read about a hands-on God who was intimately involved with his creation, including with Bruce Duane Gerencser. I am the only Bruce Duane in the world, so I know you couldn’t have confused me with someone else. Verse after verse — your words, remember? — made promises to me. Surely, God keeps his promises, right?  And the biggest promise of all was the one where you promised that when I died I would receive a new/perfect body and spend eternity living in the snazziest city ever built — the New Jerusalem. Granted, no one has ever come back to earth to tell us what lies beyond the grave, but, hey, you are Jesus, the Lord of Lords and King of Kings. Surely, whatever the Bible says is true. You wouldn’t have just been making stuff up, would you?

All told, Jesus, I spent fifty years in the Christian church. Twenty-five of those years were spent gathering up disciples for you. I devoted my life to you, forsaking my family and harming my health. Hundreds and hundreds of people punched their tickets to heaven in the churches I pastored. While my colleagues in the ministry were busy golfing, taking vacations, or banging their secretaries, I was preaching on street corners, planting churches, and doing all I could to win the lost. Even when I decided you were a Calvinist, Jesus, I still did what you commanded me to do: work while it is yet day, for night comes when no man can work. Even though I knew that you had predetermined through some sort of divine lottery who would and wouldn’t go to Heaven when they died, I didn’t know who got the winning tickets, so I treated everyone as a potential golden ticket winner.

For most of my life, I lived in poverty, rarely making enough money to provide for the needs of my family. You told me, Jesus, that I would never have to beg for food, so it was good that Food Stamps didn’t count, right? The Gerencser family never missed a meal, but I do wonder: which of our meals did you provide? I worked and my wages helped buy groceries. For a few years, we received Food Stamps and made ample use of government food stuffs. And on more than a few occasions, kindly church members gave us groceries. It seems, to me anyway, Jesus, that you didn’t have a hand in feeding us. I know that you take credit for the sunshine and rain that causes crops to grow, but everyone now knows, Jesus — thanks to science — that you have nothing to do with where food comes from. Maybe, you should take those verses out of the Bible. Taking credit for something you didn’t do is lying. You don’t want to be a liar, do you?

My wife and I gave thousands and thousands of dollars to you Jesus, just like you commanded us to do. We gave tithes, offerings above the tithe, mission offerings, and revival offerings, along with giving money, cars, clothing, and food to people you told me to help. You never told Polly to do any of this giving, but she trusted that you and I were on good speaking terms. I wonder if I should tell her the truth, Jesus? Should I tell her that all those times I said you were talking to me, leading me, or prompting me, it was really just me doing what I wanted to do; that I wanted to help others, even if it meant hurting my wife and children?

You told me in the Bible, Jesus, that all my giving was being recorded and that every dollar I gave on earth was being stored in Heaven’s First National Bank of New Jerusalem; that someday, once I arrive at my heavenly mansion, I will have vast treasures at my disposal. I wonder, Jesus, would it be possible for me to get a refund? Since you never answered my prayers about my health problems, I have had to deal with chronic pain and illness. Twenty years now, Jesus, with no end in sight. I now know that you are never going to do what you promised you would do. The least you can do, then, is make a wire transfer from my Heavenly account to First Federal Bank of the Midwest, account number 6666666. I have lots of medical bills to pay, and now that my wife is having her own health problems, it would sure be nice if you would refund all the money I’ve deposited in your bank.

Bruce, Bruce, Bruce. Yes, Lord. I can’t give you a refund. Imagine what would happen if Christians everywhere started asking for refunds. Why, there would be a run on the bank and before you knew it, I would be penniless. How will I be able to give all my followers rewards and gift cards on judgment day if I refund everyone’s money? Besides, didn’t you read in the Bible where it says, ALL SALES ARE FINAL? Where does it say that, Jesus? Well, you kind of have to read between the lines. Remember when I was dying on the cross — for YOUR sins, by the way? Remember what I said? It is FINISHED! That’s Greek for ALL SALES ARE FINAL.

Thanks for nothing, Jesus. I hope you won’t mind if I let everyone know that not only are you a liar, but you also are a hoarder; that any monies dropped in church offering plates will disappear into the heavens; that any requests for financial help will be met with silence.

Thanks for nothing, Jesus

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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Bruce Gerencser