WE KNEW NOTHING ELSE . . . .
March 1997
My maternal grandparents came into contact with this religious group around the 1940's, and my father's maternal grandparents probably around the same time or earlier. I had heard stories of them searching for religion and coming into contact with these two ministers who showed them the "true way". If I had continued to follow in their footsteps, as I was expected, I would have been a fourth generation member of the church, something to be proud of.
We were raised to believe that we were very religious and spiritual people, as our life focussed around the "meetings" and the "workers". We believed with all our heart that we were among the chosen few, yet we rarely understood the Bible, or even the doctrine of "truth". We were never read to from the Bible, nor talked to about God or the scriptures at home. Everything we needed to know about religion, we were to learn from the meetings and good examples of others. We never discussed with the workers or other "friends" of spiritual things, but rather about the work of this ministry in other areas. When other Christian people spoke of how they had found Jesus and had been saved, the "friends" and workers would mock them behind their backs and laugh at the foolishness of false religion. We were taught and believed that this way was the only way that was right; the only way to heaven. Anyone who didn't get to know God and Jesus through this church would perish for all eternity.
What would happen if I left the church? I knew the answer all too well, as it had been drilled into my head since I was a young child. I would be bound for a lost eternity. I believed with all my heart, that this was the only way, yet, why did I believe this? I believed it, because it was all I ever knew. It was all I had ever heard about from the workers. I believed it, because I was afraid of the reprimanding and disapproval I would get for not believing it.
Then as I became a teenager, I began, like most teens, to rebel. Only my rebellion was on the inside. I never showed how I felt, because that would show a "bad spirit" which would not look good for the workers. I began to think of leaving the church, even before I professed to be a part of it. But this was ridiculous. Where would I go? Who would I go to? I had no friends outside of the group, and the only "non-professing" relatives were in other provinces. How would I escape the meetings, with my parents right beside me? Most of all, what would the workers and "friends" think of me then? I professed at a convention at age fifteen because I was now "of age" and it was expected, but I still had these same feelings, the same urge to leave, with the same old questions. I became embarrassed of myself and my family. I hated to be seen on a Sunday or Wednesday night or a gospel meeting night, all dressed up, carrying my Bible and hymn book. I hated to be around people when they discussed what they had done on Friday night, while I was sitting in a gospel meeting. I sat in gospel meetings for years, wishing with all my heart that I could be anywhere else; be normal. I hated bowing my head in a restaurant, while others were looking at us. I began to hate going places with my family, and the "friends". We were so different. People always asked me after why the women always wore dresses and weird hairdos. I hated when people talked about sports, dances, movies they had seen, songs they liked or meeting each other after school. I knew nothing of these things. Slowly I was beginning to hate my life, and myself. I began to withdraw into myself, and suffer alone.
I chose to suffer, because we were told that we must suffer through these things for Jesus' sake. So I continued to go to meeting every Sunday and Wednesday believing that if I didn't suffer now, I would suffer for all eternity.
Still, I wanted out; I needed out; I wanted the life that "normal" people had; I wanted to be me, but how could I do it? I spent many disturbing nights in fear and guilt.
At 22 years of age, after six and a half years of professing, I left "the truth" behind, and ventured out into a totally new world.
It wasn't long before a worker came looking for me. Once again, it was enforced that "losing out of the kingdom" would ensure a ticket to hell. He expected me to turn and run back to meeting with dust flying behind me. After all, I had been a perfect saint, why wouldn't I? Wrong. I was a good actor, not a good little professing boy. I was out, and this time there was no facade. He pleaded that night for me to read and pray, which would help me. That was all the care and concern that I got. I rarely heard from him again.
At times I would meet some the "friends" on the street or in the store. The sight of these people sends you on an automatic guilt trip, heart pounding faster, looking for a place to escape to. One tends to go or look in the other direction, or fumble with something, pretending you haven't seen them, until either you or they are gone. Guilt and embarrassment. As I continued to hide on these occasions, I began to think about what I was doing. If they knew I was hiding, they would be saying things like, "He feels guilty because he's living in sin," or "He knows he's wrong, and he's embarrassed." I began to greet them as I had before.
I attended a gospel meeting not long after I left the church, and the reaction I got from the"friends" was unbelievable. Many of the young "friends" stood off in a group staring at me, making me feel more uncomfortable and out of place than I already was. Out of forty some young people at that meeting, I could count on one hand the number that came and spoke to me. All I got from the others were cold, hard stares, and not because they didn't know me. I got such a horrible reception, I decided I wouldn't go back, even just to see the people, as I had that night. This is normal among the group, as the workers encourage the "friends" to not associate too much with those who have left the group. The reason behind this, is that they are afraid that those on the outside will begin to influence those on the inside. After I left the group, it was as though I had died. I rarely received any phone calls or invitations from the "friends." I knew it would be this way though. I really didn't want to associate with them, as I was trying to get away from the group, but it showed how much they really cared.
The first few months after leaving the church were both wonderful and depressing. They were wonderful because for the first time in my life, I was doing things that made me happy. I did things that I enjoyed doing. I went places I wanted to go. I was living my life, not the workers'. These were also difficult months for me. I didn't fit in with the "friends", because I was now an outsider. They treated me different now. I was a sinner, and therefore not to socialize with. I also didn't fit in with the "world." I had lived a separated, segregated life for so long, that I had no idea how to even begin to fit in to my new world. I had to learn to come out of my shell and make friends, despite my lack of knowledge of this new way of life. Another thing that made this time difficult, was guilt and shame. Often I would think, "What if the workers were right? Then what would I do?" I felt shame because I had gone against the workers, and guilt, because, "what if I was wrong?"
It was about this time, that I found the truth about "the truth." I had been told since I was a child, that this "truth" had been continued on from Jesus' day. That the workers today were continuing the work of Peter, Paul and other "workers" in the Bible. This was direct and uninterrupted from the New Testament days. We were told that the church took no name, because Jesus took no name for what he taught. We were taught by example, to have no respect for other churches, because they were all false religion. It was acceptable to scoff at and make fun of other religions and beliefs, Christian or not, and doing this in front of the workers, would give them the idea that you had a deep understanding of "truth." We all heard how anyone who had left "truth," had led a life of misery, embarrassed to come back, and those who did return, were an example to the rest of us that this was the only way. In reality, for most of these cases, it was the only way they had ever known; the only way they knew how to live, and feeling like misfits in the world, they would return to what they felt most comfortable with.
Was all this true about the beginning of "the truth"? I was typing out some old workers' lists once, of the time that the "truth" came to Canada. I began to wonder why there were no lists before the turn of the century. There were no pictures of workers before this time. Where were records of workers between Bible days and the late 1800's? But I knew I must never question it.
When I was eleven years old, there was an advertisement in our local newspaper. It was to order a book about "Two by two's." I remember my sister saying how terrible it was that these people were going against the true way of God. This was the first time that I had heard doubts about "truth," and after hearing the workers degrade the book and anything written about "truth", I had a stronger desire than ever to read it. It took eleven years, but I finally had that book in my hands! The Secret Sect, by Doug Parker. Just prior to leaving the church, someone in the same city was mailing letters, tracts, etc. to the friends. I never received any, and never was told what was in them. All the workers and friends ever said, was that this person had a wrong spirit, was bitter towards "truth," and it was the works of Satan. I found out two years later that this person had found the truth. The real truth.
I began my search for the truth. I started at the library, searching through religion encyclopedias, and ended up with three books at the check-out counter. Because we were forbidden to read any material that was written about "truth," I still had a guilty feeling, checking over the shoulder, as I was signing out the books, even though I wasn't even professing. I did it though, I had waited eleven years to read these. I also found a web site on the internet, under The Church Without a Name (http://ourworld.compuserve.com/homepages/2x2info_namelesshousesect/homepage.htm). There is so much information out there, and the "friends" are forbidden to read it. While reading, they can see so clearly why the workers don't want them to read it. The truth is all there. Origins in Ireland in 1897 with Wm. Irvine; the names that this nameless unregistered church has registered with governments; right down to the differences from country to country, state to state, worker to worker of this church that is supposedly the same the world over.
So how does one become the perfect Two by two? Fitting the mold seems very easy to do, but in reality is very stressful on your daily life. When I professed, I didn't profess for salvation. I professed so that I could fit in and be accepted in the church. I couldn't fit in if I wasn't professing, because I wouldn't be one of them. I couldn't fit in with "the world", because I didn't know how the rest of the world lived. I professed, not to know God, but to live my life the only way I ever knew how. The strain on your daily life to be the perfect professing person has a great effect on your mental health and personality. One feels worthless, because only the workers are worthy before God; unaccepted by society; discouraged because you could never fit up to the standards of the workers; embarrassed of the odd lifestyle. We were taught to hide our feelings; don't talk about or show them, while at the same time struggling to show your joy. A joy that was never there. Many become shy, uninteractive with people outside of the church, and unable to make decisions that involve other people. We wanted to please others, so let them make the choices; putting others before yourself. We were never to question the workers. They knew best,and that's all there was to it. We must agree with the workers, even if we didn't feel right about what it was we were agreeing to. Constantly, we had to give in to others and never admit our misery. This loyalty to the church left one feeling intimidated, inferior and with a low self-esteem. So, to be the perfect Two by two, there are three requirements; submission, self-denial and silence.
I lost my childhood and teenage years to this group. The years that affect one's life the most were totally immersed in "the truth". We were constantly attending meetings. Sometimes four nightsa week, and twice on Sunday. We were required to attend one four day convention every year, and if we could make it to more, we would gain praise from the workers. As I grew towards my teenage years, I began to despise going to meetings and conventions. I felt the pressure of the workers wanting me to profess. From that time until I did profess, I made absolutely sure that I was never left alone in a room with a worker. I did not want to be questioned as to why I "hadn't made my choice".
The legalism of the church leaves people socially stunted. We were unaware of what happened in the real world. We were ignorant of things that were a part of every other child's life. Sesame Street, Flintstone's and Disney were strangers in our house. We knew some of the characters, but only briefly encountered them in story books. When the other kids talked about movies and TV shows that they had seen or enjoyed, we felt stupid, because, not only did we not see it, but we had no idea what the show was about or who the actors were and what they were like. When we did have the occasional opportunity to watch TV at an unprofessing relative's, we would act those scenes out for months, having got a taste of the real world. It was embarrassing when faced with comments like, "What, you don't know who Kevin Costner is?," or other Hollywood stars. We were taught that we must put up with this embarrassment because Jesus faced scorn and shame by the world, and we must live like Jesus. In reality, we were following the workers.
Our leisure life was under control as well. I never wore a pair of shorts, sandals or a muscle shirt until after I left the church. We were not to do anything on Sunday except attend meetings and visit "friends". Having to wear dress clothes from ten o'clock a.m. until bedtime on Sunday, we were forbidden to ride bikes or play outside, so we would spend hours on a Sunday afternoon playing board games. To this day, I hate most board games. Whenever people questioned me on why we did or didn't do certain things, I became very embarrassed about who I was, and kept my distance from people for fear they would think I was strange. I had no identity among social groups at school. We could never really make friends with the "worldly" kids. There were the sportive type, but we had nothing in common because sports were forbidden; there were the brainy kids, but they formed clubs, and we had to go straight home after school; there were the good Christian kids, but they were considered heathen and we were righteous. That left only one group; the misfits and loners. That is who we played with on the playground and ate with in the lunch room. Other than that, we never saw school kids outside of school. I remember one time another schoolboy followed me home, wanting to be friends. He had arrived not too long before from Vietnam. I tried to tell him to go home, but he wanted to come in. I knew he shouldn't, so after what seemed like an eternity, he left, probably wondering why I would be friendly to him at school, then so cold to him in front of my house. The workers told us that we can not have fellowship with those who do not know God, so we should avoid spending time with them other than at work or school. In our community, the only young "friends" we saw were while visiting relatives or at the meetings. We never chummed with them, but kept only amongst ourselves. I never had a close friend until I was twenty-two years old, after having left the church. We were told that if we ever felt lonely, we had a friend in Jesus. This is hard for a child to understand,especially when we had no friends, how we could have a friend in a spirit, I could not understand.
Associating with the other "friend's" kids was not something we did a lot of. The main reason for this was that there were only two in our town, and they were older than me. The other reason was that they had "worldly" friends and we couldn't, so the effect of their friends on them might wear off on us.
We took vacations, but they always included conventions. We never stayed in hotels, always at some of "the friend's" or professing relatives, rarely with relatives outside of the group; never went to a lake or camp ground, but spent our summer weekends working at convention preparations.
When I left home to go to school in another city, I wanted to stay at the dormitory, where deep in my heart, I knew I would be able to be free from "truth". I found that this was not an option. If I didn't have a place of my own, I was expected to live with "friends". It was my first time away from home, so I still had to be under the influence of "saints and workers".
One year later, I moved into my own apartment. In a few months, I made my decision to leave"truth" behind and to begin a new life ... my life. I felt like a prisoner set free after twenty years. Where do I go from here? What have I missed? What was new and exciting for me, was old news for everyone else. I had lived a restricted childhood, and arrived in the outside world of adulthood ... lost.
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