by Tim Twinam

Portions of “Old Habits Die Hard” were first published in 1998 on the ‘Wyman Website‘ – a website forced to close in 2003 due to Exclusive Brethren litigation.

The first scene I ever saw in the cinema - it terrified me!

The first time I ever went inside a cinema, I was with my school mates. We didn’t pay. Well, we did, but we had nowhere near enough for 12 individual tickets. So, with a plan worthy of the Marines, we improvised. We had enough between all of us for two tickets, so a brief lottery ensued.

The winners entered by the front door and a group of ten early teenagers stood quietly in the shadow of a fire exit doorway.

A few minutes passed and then the door clicked open. “Don’t come in all at once!” he hissed, “It’ll look too suspicious.” Frankly, one boy going to the mens room and eleven coming out, sounds fairly miraculous. We had one distraction on our side and that was the film: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

Totally unfamiliar with the layout of a theatre, I eventually found a seat in the huge dark place, accompanied by several angry groans as ankles and feet were stepped on. I then looked up at the gigantic screen just in time to see Paul Newman about to fight a colossal man who held the longest knife I had ever seen! Having never seen a gun fired before or anything remotely as violent, I jumped and choked back gasps throughout the popular western.

“What’s wrong with you Twinam? You never seen a movie before?”

“Course I have!” I lied.

Little did they know that I had never listened to the radio, never watched TV, had never celebrated Christmas, never eaten in a restaurant and certainly, had never been inside a theatre. With the cunning of the wannabe, I had picked up enough about popular music to hold a conversation with my school friends and had even memorized lists of favorite titles for most artists and bands. As far as I knew, not one of them realized that I had never actually listened to a pop song. I used to save my money and occasionally buy a copy of Melody Maker; their music reviews became my opinions.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid introduced me to the world of cinema and I have enjoyed a good movie ever since. I don’t gasp as much; I tend to use the main entrance, but remain rather squeamish when the going gets rough. So it was, after my return to Sevenoaks, I would wander up past the old Meeting Room toward the town center on a Sunday evening. The cinema was a place where I could lose myself for an hour or three, while the rest of my family attended their evening services.

One particular evening, I had checked the schedule and a film I wanted to watch was showing a little later than the normal time of 6:00 pm. So I too left the house a little later and started my Sunday evening stroll. It was a warm evening and all seemed quiet as I walked along. I gradually became aware of the sound of singing. It was a hymn that I knew and it seemed to come from a large Baptist church that I was just about to walk by.

As I drew closer, I started to hum the well-known tune and even slowed to listen. As I dawdled, an elderly gentleman appeared in the doorway: “Come on in!” he smiled, “We haven’t started yet.”

I was torn. The film was one that I had seen a preview for the previous week and I really wanted to see it. On the other hand, this would be my first opportunity to see inside a non-Brethren church. Both were equally ‘bad’ things to do, so I returned the smile and entered my first church service.

I don’t know what I expected, but it all seemed fairly innocuous. The pews were different, even though they were rather hard to sit on. There were hassocks on the floor, just like in some Brethren Meeting Rooms and I took pleasure in using one. I noticed that they were beautifully embroidered with biblical scenes and amazingly clean.

I sat on the back row, relieved to find that the entire congregation were facing forward and away from my shy entrance. The interior was impressive. A raised area at the front was balustraded in dark shiny wood and a wood-sided lectern indicated what I knew to be called a pulpit. To the right rose a series of silver and gold organ pipes and the sound was magnificent. Knowing the words, I was able to sing while I looked around the banned building.

Most of the women wore hats, but several, I noted disapprovingly, did not. I watched a couple of other late arrivals who walked to their places and immediately bowed their heads as though praying. That was a new one on me, and I watched wide-eyed as one couple actually sank to their knees while doing so. So that was what the hassocks were for! I quickly pulled my feet off.

There was lots of smiling and chatting going on, these people obviously knew each other well. Then a man walked through a side-door and stepped up onto a platform. He wore a little purple scarf around his neck with some symbols in white.  Apart from the scarf, he wore a suit. I suppose I expected to see robes and a clerical collar, but he looked relatively normal. The scarf thing worried me though.

He read some notices and welcomed us all, including visitors. I presumed I was the only one because several turned to look at me. He then stepped up into the pulpit. He glanced at a small blackboard that contained a series of numbers: “And our first hymn this evening is …“.  Immediately a moment of panic! Not only was this my first ever church service, I suddenly realized I was without my hymnbook and little zippered bible!

Looking down the pew I saw a collection of books on a shelf.  Leaning across I found what I needed. What a great idea! Why didn’t the Brethren do that? Answering my own question, I realized they didn’t need to, there were no visitors.

The man-with-the-purple-scarf then prayed. I found the prayer a little disconcerting. He was being rather … familiar with the Almighty. Not one ‘Thee‘ or ‘Thou‘ – it was all ‘you’ and ‘your’. And didn’t he know that it was ‘A-men’ and not ‘R-men’? I felt a sense of pity for all those that didn’t know the right way to address  God.

We sang another hymn and then the weirdest thing happened; the leader suddenly announced that we would now “Pass the Piece“.  I remember again feeling panicked that I did not have a ‘piece’ of anything to pass. Everyone was turning around and shaking hands with the people around them. ‘It must be the end of the meeting!’ I thought. ‘Goodness, that was quick!‘.

“Piece be to you” said a woman in the row in front of me, holding out her hand.

“Um … yeah. Hello.” I said, shaking her hand. Suddenly the penny dropped and I was able to “Peace” the several others who came over and smilingly welcomed me. ‘Strange ritual!‘ I thought, realizing that the service wasn’t yet over, but it was oh-so-much better than kissing!

I recall another moment of error: they suddenly all started saying the Lord’s Prayer together. I knew some of the words, but it was obviously wrong to all be praying together in unison. Shockingly, I could even hear some women praying! I had heard that the Church of England did a lot of this kind of stuff; everyone reading prayers that had been written down for them. It was a shame, but I was relieved to at least be able to use the correct terminology for prayer: “… Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done …“.

From what I recall, the sermon was good. I remember enjoying the down-to-earth exposition and practical advice that seemed embedded in the message. Apart from the purple scarf and the fact he didn’t know how to pray properly, there was nothing that really concerned me about the experience; that is, until it was announced that this was also a communion service.

Now I had a problem. This was the essence of the prohibition that had been impressed on me since childhood. When a member of the Brethren said ‘so and so is in fellowship’, the term was synonymous with ‘so and so’s breaking bread with us’. It was the symbol of membership, a vital part of who the Brethren were.

The pastors words rang through the church: “This is Christ’s Table. Let anyone who wishes to, heed His invitation: ‘Do this in remembrance of Me’. Join us now as we celebrate around the Table of our Lord.”

I liked the fact that he announced the event. In the Brethren of course, there was no need to invite ourselves. We were there because we were so fortunate to be born into a Brethren family; we were blessed, we were Special and there would be serious ramifications if we did not partake! We were the Church.  It was our right, our table and our fellowship … and the doors were locked.

It was significant too, that the obvious option of simply allowing the bread and wine to pass on by did not occur to me for a moment. This was an unheard-of event within the Exclusive Brethren. The only reason you did not accept the bread or the cup was if you were too young to be in fellowship. Accepting the emblems was akin to renewing your membership vows and vitally so, because we were all about to be Raptured. It was our ticket to ride …

For the very first time, in a small Baptist church, I actually thought about the words. The minister had placed the invitation so easily and simply. The emphasis was not on who you were or even as to your entitlement to be there, but on Jesus and His invitation. This was certainly a new way of viewing communion!

They weren’t going to ask me for a Letter of Commendation, or where I usually worshipped. They weren’t going to suggest that they visit me first. I had been invited in from the street with a smile, had been warmly welcomed … and now they simply laid a place for me if I wished to join them around a table. The only bond was a 2,000 year old invitation, and it suddenly seemed to me, that this was probably all that was needed.

All ex-Exclusive Brethren experience moments of epiphany, sometimes in the strangest places. I would have many in the years ahead; a sudden realization that I had been misinformed or had not been told the whole story.

I am no theologian and I have no idea if I broke any cosmic laws by partaking of communion in such a casual manner. All I know is that for the first time, I heard the invitation and during that evening, I remembered Jesus in a small warm congregation which happened to be Baptist, and happened to be in Sevenoaks. And I enjoyed it.

In fact, I enjoyed it so much, I mentioned what I had done to some of my friends. It is amazing how fast the Brethren Telegraph travels, because within a matter of two or three days, I received a call from Mr Wheeler, a brother at the nearby Renton meeting in Oxted. He asked if he and two other brothers could come and visit me. “Of course,” I said brightly, “Come on over!”.

Oxted was only a few miles from Sevenoaks and they were there within the hour. I caught a whiff of foreboding as three dark hats exited from the car. Their greeting seemed muted too. They got straight to the point and refused my offer of a cup of tea. Actually, I don’t blame them; my tea skills were somewhat under-developed in those days.

They introduced themselves as being my nearest Brethren assembly and told me that they had been contacted by Brethren in Strood with some disturbing information. They had heard that I had attended another church.

“Yes, that’s right!” I said enthusiastically, “A lovely Baptist church, just up the road.”

All three dropped their heads sorrowfully. I looked at them, wondering what I had said.

“Timothy, did you break bread with them?”

The penny dropped with a clang. “Um … yes. I took communion with them.” I said.  And then, in an attempt to soften the blow, “they’re really happy Christians, you know”.

“We’re very sorry to hear that, Timothy. Very sorry.”

I was unsure whether they referred to the act of communion or to the ‘happy Christians’. They left soon afterwards, saying that they would contact me in due course.

A week later, I received a telephone call from them. Would I please attend an evening meeting in Oxted? I agreed, already knowing the purpose. It seemed that old habits died hard.

This would be one meeting that I remember virtually word for word. Ironically, it would also be my last. It struck me, as I walked in, how sad they all looked. I realized later that this was perhaps the first Assembly Meeting that had been held in Oxted for many years. There was a hymn and a prayer and then those words: “We now move into Assembly.”

My crime was that I had taken communion with another group. I explained happily how I was convinced that it was the Lords Table, not our Table. I tried to outline how I sensed I had been given a personal invitation to partake and that it wasn’t the place or the people, as much as the Invitation.

“Timothy, you cannot break bread with them and with us,” came the crucial rejoinder.

“Why not?” I asked.

“It is a matter of the Truth and who holds it.” A reply that echoed back to the years before Aberdeen. In fact it echoed way back to the nineteenth century.

I looked around the small group of people. So what had actually changed? Big Jim was dead. The Jimmies were away doing their thing. And here we were, talking as though we were the only ones holding the candle.

“The Truth is bigger and wider than just one group of Christians.” I said. “These people love the same Jesus you do. What is wrong with sitting at their Table as opposed to this one?”

There was no reply.

They had the last word of course. “We must withdraw from iniquity. Timothy, we can no longer walk in fellowship with you.”

In the identical way to my fathers’ departure from that Maidstone meeting, I slowly got to my feet and left the room. As I opened the door, Mr Wheeler spoke softly across the space between us, “I’m sorry, Timothy.”

I didn’t turn around. “Me too.” I said as I quietly closed the door behind me.

Epilogue

About five years later, I happened to be home with my parents on a visit, when a car I did not recognize drew up in the driveway. Trying to be hospitable, I walked toward the vehicle, wiping some grease from my hands; I had been working on my car.

Two hats emerged, Mr Wheeler and another brother from the Oxted group. I immediately stood still, thoughts racing through my mind. Perhaps they wanted to see my father? Recovering my manners, I approached the two brothers slowly.

They asked if they could have a brief word with me. As usual, I agreed.

Once in the sitting room, hats in hand, they explained the reason for their visit:. “Timothy, we wish to apologize for what happened a few years ago,” Mr Wheeler started. He paused for a moment; “We were wrong.”

I made as if to speak, but he held up his hand.

“Sometimes it can take a while for the Truth to be understood,” he said. “I remember what you said to us then and I want you to know that we should never have withdrawn from you.”

Here was my moment for revenge! I could kick these guys around the room – judging from their downcast expressions, they were anticipating a tirade. Since I had been withdrawn from, I had not heard one word from my Renton Teen ‘friends’. Here we were, in the same room which had seen so many troubled conversations over the past years and now, at last, the tables were turned!

But instead, I thanked them for their apology and for withdrawing from me. I told them that if they had not withdrawn from me, I probably would never have commenced a personal search for spiritual truth. That if I had not commenced my personal journey I would never have discovered how big and wide the Truth actually is.

They seemed pleased for me, but having delivered their message, were now anxious to leave. As their car rolled out of the driveway, I waved a Goodbye. Receiving an apology was great, but I noticed that they had not invited me back to break bread with them again.

As I told them, I was just starting my journey. I was grateful for the packed bags and excellent library that my time with the Exclusive Brethren had given me. However, for the joy of living, for an open-hearted community, for active youth work and a sense of mission, these I would have to find elsewhere.

Many years later, I would again have dealings with the Exclusive Brethren. That is a story for another day, but in reviewing these comments and writings I am left with the inescapable conclusion that my life, strange as it may have been at times, owes an immense debt to the two people that initially helped me come into the world.

Were it not for my mother and father and their determination to do what was right, it is highly probable that most, if not all, of my extended family would still be in the clutches and under the control of what Kevin Rudd,  Prime Minister of Australia until June 2010, so accurately recently called: “An extremist sect and cult“.

Some debts are impossible to repay.

Tim Twinam
December 2010

Here is a link to all published installments of Tim Twinam’s story

Tim re-tells his story of being brought up in the Exclusive Brethren as a series of installments.

If you would like to be alerted when peebs.net publishes another personal story in the future, please subscribe to Peebs.Net » Personal Stories by email.

James Grant carefully traces the progress of the Plymouth Brethren and the major figures involved from the origins in Ireland to Plymouth and then to Bethesda. He quotes from the tracts and pamphlets of the time and leaves the reader in no doubt who was in control and by whose orders the Bethesda division was instigated.

Grant has a number of unique insights and information about the Darbyites following Bethesda, not least of which is a remarkable chapter dealing with Brethren Hymnology.

The publishers of the first Brethren hymnals were apparently adept at taking a well-known hymn and altering the words very subtly so that the Brethren doctrines would be thus embedded. Grant provides a number of examples of this practice – which seem to be an early form of subliminal advertising?

Grant proves his point and states: “There lies against the compilers of the Darby hymn book the double charge of transposition and unjustifiable mutilation …”.

London in the 1870's - PAUL-GUSTAVE DORÉ (1832–83)

An unusual and fascinating compilation of one man’s journey through a wide variety of sects, religions, faiths and weird places during the 1870′s in London. This is a large book with over 450 pages and we recommend a rainy weekend to fully appreciate and enjoy. The articles were mostly originally published by the author in the ‘Daily Telegraph’ with the instruction: “they should be strictly descriptive articles, expressing no opinion pro or con.”

Rev. Davies visits two groups of particular interest: a Plymouth Brethren group and Mr. Newton – we supply those below as an extract.

The writer has the opportunity to watch a Plymouth Brethren Communion Service, listen to William Kelly and then to hear Mr. Newton teach on prophetic matters. As to whether the Priory, Islington is exclusive by nature, Rev. Davies answers that by remarking on their ‘calm’ self-description: ‘The One Assembly of God in London‘.

The beliefs and teachings of Newton seem complex and a strange brew, but one can see that the rift runs deep and Davies seems to record with a smile the fact he is speaking with one “… whose doctrines are described as ‘Satantic,’ ‘blasphemous,’ ‘deep, damnable fundemental heresies.‘”.

Peter Mearns was a Presbyterian minister who was attempting to protect his parishioners from Plymouth Brethren proselytizing in Northumberland and Berwickshire in 19th century England. Rev. Mearns gives many examples of the ways in which the ‘Darbyites’ attempted to infiltrate and lure members from congregations into their meetings.

Although the Exclusive Brethren today do not attempt to recruit from the outside, in the early days of the Brethren, this was how they increased their numbers. It generated intense bad feeling among many churches and their ministers at the time.

“Among all the Christians I ever met, I never saw such intolerance and bigotry – such denial of the right of private judgment, and such miserable oppression, as among this sect.”

An almost nostalgic series of recollections by a number of the early brethren including J.G. Bellett, G.V. Wigram, J.N. Darby, E. Cronin and J.B. Stoney.

Dr. Cronin makes the important historical point that Darby, Bellett and Wigram “… did not constitute the embryo of it” when referring to the birth of what became known as the Plymouth Brethren. This contradicts popular misconceptions that Darby is somehow the ‘father of the Brethren’. Bellett makes the point that later [following Bethesda] many of the Brethren were also called Darbyites for obvious reasons.

The fact is that J. N. Darby was certainly the architect of the Exclusive Brethren – merely an offshoot of the much larger and vastly more evangelical Plymouth Brethren.

The tract includes a farewell letter written to Darby by Bellett when upon his deathbed in 1864.

The Errors of the (Exclusive) Plymouth Brethren

Feelings ran high in the established churches as disaffected parishioners left to taste the Plymouth Brethren during the early to mid-19th century.

It wasn’t so much that they were leaving other churches or the fact that the early Plymouth Brethren actively prosetalyzed established churches and their members. It was the fact that many saw errors in their doctrine and already, the public testimony of the now multi-split Exclusive Plymouth Brethren, was anything but attractive.

This is an 1869 transcript of three sermons delivered by one Rev. James Carmichael in Montreal, Canada.

The Right Rev. Carmichael was eventually the 4th Bishop of Montreal.  He was born in 1835 around the time that the ‘Brethren from Plymouth‘ began to be noticed. Rev Carmichael died in 1908.

“Once it was a compact body, composed soley of believers … now its ranks are broken; its body of believers split up into antagonistic parties, who not only will not commune together, but who speak in anything but a Christian way of each other.”

“The Brethren glory in the fact they have no creed … [their] creed runs thus:-

I BELIEVE that the Church is composed of believers.
I BELEIVE that we constitute that Church.
I BELIEVE that all professing Christians outside of the Church are connected with Apostacy, Infedality and Socianism, that no denomination owns the spirit of God…”

“We cannot – dare not, allow a false idea to go forth unrebuked…”

J N Darby (1800-1882) - Architect of the Exclusive Brethren

Originally published in 1866, Groves produced two later editions (1876 and 1880) explaining “It has been my aim to soften what seemed harsh … endeavoured to avoid all judgment of motives.” So in this edition, the reader is receiving the softest version possible. (We know how some of you will appreciate this.)

Groves outlines the history leading up to Bethesda and the aftermath very succinctly. By creating a narrative of facts and by the use of quotations from published words by the participants, Groves has produced a concise explanation of the doctrinal components in a fairly readable form.

There are some rare extracts and quotations which are difficult to locate elsewhere. The one constant of Plymouth Brethren early history that  all commentaries of the time agree upon is the immense influence that J. N. Darby accumulated.

Although not the Originator of the Plymouth Brethren, Darby began to be seen as the architect of its future development. Unfortunately, history shows that some of his decisions led his ‘flock’ right back into the sectarianism from which the movement wished to escape.

There are one or two hints of activities that will remind some of more recent Exclusive Brethren techniques, that of ‘The Lord moving on‘ and of incriminating quotations being edited from view.

The Exclusive Brethren today physically enforce the biblical concept of spiritual Separation

This 19th century document is probably the closest thing to a Constitution for the Exclusive Brethren. To this day, the Exclusive Brethren verbally use the title of this pamphlet in response to questions about their anti-social activities.

John N. Darby taught that a physical separation from the world was necessary for the Exclusive Brethren and this philosophy, together with his insistence upon central administration of the ‘Assembly’, were some of the early major influences behind today’s cult.

In typical Darby form, he broaches no criticism and allows no deviation. It must be done this way. His way is right. This is why many years later, Alfred J. Gardner, a London-based senior member of the Exclusive Brethren, wrote a paper on The Recovery and Maintenance of the Truth which extolled the development of the philosophy described in the attached document.

To those unfamiliar with the ways of the Exclusive Brethren and who baulk at the thought of trying to understand Darby’s words, we will attempt a quick paraphrase:

The established Church (Roman, Anglican, in fact most other established churches) has fallen into Apostasy (disagree with our teachings – this is Bad). We are starting over (The Recovery) and if you are considered good enough to join us (you can’t just walk into an Exclusive Brethren assembly, we need to ‘vet’ you first) you will become a member of the purest, most special church that there has ever been. The task of the church is to keep it pure (The Maintenance) and so we, who are now the closest to the Throne of God, do our best to weed out all dissent (Bad), wickedness (Bad), worldliness (Bad) and anything else which might disrupt the wider unity (We’ll tell you what that is when we think of it). We have enjoyed an unbroken line of universal leadership (aka Man of God, Minister of the Lord in the Recovery)  and have a levitical system of local leaders that care for the fellowship (includes shunning and Excommunication where necessary). We believe that we will be raptured (physically transformed and caught up into the sky) and are to be granted a special place in heaven (the Bride of Christ). There is only one church (Us – we are the purest) that represents the Body of Christ: both locally (there can only be one church in a town – Ours) and universally (Us – we are the result of the Recovery and Maintenance of the Truth).

This philosophy has brought nothing but heartbreak, anguish and terror to those who have been separated from their lives, families and friends over the years. It has also killed.

John Nelson Darby by Edward Penstone

These notes cover Darby’s ‘Apostolic’ travels and church planting activities in Europe where he spent a great deal of his time during 1840′s and 1850′s. These notes were taken at “The Tea Meeting at Rawstorne Street, 24th November 1853″.

The raw energy of Darby should not be overlooked and these notes speak of the way in which he worked, whether in the peat bogs of Ireland or deep in the civilized centers of Europe. His mission was to create a new church by calling out congregants from other churches. Note his frequent use of the term ‘the truth’ and ‘infidel’ applied even to clergymen. The ‘Irish Clergyman’ certainly held no punches!

The most noticable aspect of the report, which reads like a contemporary version of Acts, has to be the assumptive tone implying that there was no real light outside of the new movement. This characterization of the Darbyite movement would become even more focused in years to come as new Exclusive Brethren leaders followed in Darby’s footsteps and even those few cracked-open doors began to be closed and padlocked.

The title page to an anonymous 1852 pamphlet deriding the teachings of Darby

This anonymous 1852 pamphlet is written by someone with considerable ‘inside’ knowledge of the Plymouth Brethren and, as it is published just 4 years after Bethesda, some may consider it an important addition.

The last section of the pamphlet contains a controversial theory – it builds upon the Darbyite belief that the Exclusive Brethren represented the ‘One Assembly of God’ and the author presents these principles in full.

The author then suggests that the Plymouth rift was seen as an opportunity by Darby to establish himself and his pre-millenial rapture theories – by linking together Newton and his alternate prophetic versions and branding them as “evil”. It is a section worth reading twice – if you can deal with the intense doctrinal debate.