The Great Assumption

THE GREAT ASSUMPTION

  R.B. BANFIELD

  Copyright 2011 R.B. Banfield

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  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  ONE

  After the European reformers made their bold, death-defying protest known to the established church of the day it was to be many years before peace settled on the Christian world. Protestants in the time of peace had no firsthand knowledge of life under a corrupt and cruel government of priests. But what they did know was the history of how their fathers had strove in the face of the fiercest opposition to see come to pass their ambition of freedom to worship as they wished. Such lessons kept all Protestants anxious to maintain their own religious life free from the corruption that had hindered the Romans. These were men whose sole concern was keeping their true Christian identity alive and sure to never fall into the same sort of ruinous decline. Of these men, Julius Mann became one of the most respected.

  Born in the southern English county of West Sussex sometime in May 1620, Julius Mann was raised in a small home-town church which kept strong links with the battling Calvinists on the European mainland, along with their own teachers, some of which followed the thinking of William of Occam and other respected English theologians.

  Showing all the respect for his elders that the Holy Scriptures demanded, young Julius never failed to accompany his parents to church every Sunday, week in, week out. When he turned eleven, in the notably cold and wet spring of 1631, he wanted above all else to devote his life to the church and become a priest dedicated to God. Told to wait until he was mature in both body and spirit, Julius accepted the advice and set about accomplishing such a maturity. The next few years of his life saw him disregard every part of his existence except daily chores and basic education. He worked with an extraordinary determination to achieve the self-imposed goal of memorising the entire Bible; both Old Testament and New.

  Although fortunate with money, his parents were not classed among the wealthiest in England, yet Julius was able to convince them to send him to the very best college of the day. The elite Most High University in Geneva was recognised far and wide for its unbridled depth of religious knowledge, and rigorous Protestantism. It was to be where young Julius’ learning would leave behind the details of estate management and horse breeding; associated with the Mann family for generations.

  The experience benefited both Julius and the college itself. When he celebrated his seventeenth birth-month, Julius was able to recite any verse from Genesis to Jude (and if his tutors could not hear, also the Apocalypse), in Hebrew, Greek and Latin, while able to translate, on the spot, into English, French or German. He was the prize of the university, if not all Geneva. For his eighteenth year he planned to learn Spanish and Russian, if the right tutors could be hired. They called him a genius; it was true only because there was no other word sufficient enough to describe him.

  In 1639 Julius returned to his home-town of Chichester to take up the role of deacon in the church of his childhood which still included numerous members of his extended family. The church was run in the strictest way possible; honouring God’s Word with the utmost reverence. Showing all humility, Julius let others take authority over him, and never once volunteered his services to help with the sermon. He was to wait a further twenty-one years until that privilege came to him.

  In 1660, two weeks short of his fortieth birth-month, Julius Mann was fully ordained a minister in his church. He had been married for sixteen years and had five children. He had been a loyal member of the same church, and had done everything required and nothing else. He had waited with patience and all quietness while the man ahead of him on the “holy ladder” continued to stand fast and never once thought of retirement. Over the trying years in the wings, Julius had ignored every request to take up another ministry, and the requests came frequently. His loyalty was to his home church, and while his parents still lived, he would never change.

  On 17 April 1660, Julius Mann stepped up to the pulpit for the first time as spiritual leader of a congregation numbering near two thousand. People had travelled from all over England to hear him, and the church could not hold them all. For those who could not get in, the doors were left open and they listened from the street.

  They all knew him well; this was no novice. He already had 3,061 pieces of writing to his name, ranging from Bible translations, commentaries and analyses, to small but beautifully written tracts showing the simplicity of salvation by faith through grace. He had exactly 2,461 hymns to his credit, each one based on a single verse from the Book of Psalms, and each one accompanied by its own exposition. As a scholar he had the respect reserved for the greatest of Church Fathers; some even called him the greatest teacher since Christ (a title he never himself claimed). But with all his experience, he had never stepped up to a pulpit to take charge as a leader. Until 17 April 1660.

  Those who witnessed his three hour sermon talked about it for the rest of their lives. They said they had never hoped nor dreamed to be able to hear such a sermon, so simple yet so profound; so eloquent, almost like a song; so easy on the ears that no one wanted it to stop. There were to be the occasional historians in later years who would puzzle over the length of his first sermon and why he did not hesitate in delivering it a total of three times during that one service. The reason could only be fully understood by those who witnessed it.

  The blessed witnesses saw the setting free of a man suppressed for years to an almost self-imposed loyalty to his elders, a brilliant man who yearned to be able to share from his vast spiritual insight and earthly practicality. They all knew his first sermon would be his best, as perfect as a mortal could get; literally years in the making. Some later wrote that it was what they expected to find in Heaven, never on Earth. On their first hearing of Julius Mann when he was finally allowed to voice his sermons, no one would even dare to doubt again that such riches could be heard by mortal ears.

  Seven years later Julius Mann was in disgrace. The details of his tragic fall were preserved in only a fragmentary condition of vague reports and incomplete testimony. Numbers of historians, some not the slightest bit interested in religious matters, spent hours trying to piece together the reason for his failure. The conclusion of many (with some it was without doubt) was that the documents and details had been deliberately manipulated, distorted and destroyed by those loyal to Mann. The reason? Everyone knew it would be insulting and degrading to everything Mann had achieved, all his literary contributions, to conclude anything beyond the fact that he fell to the temptations of a seductive woman. Many historians indulged themselves in searching for the temptress, but to this day those loyal to Mann still plead his case that the nameless woman was a devil sent to undermine one of God’s greatest workers.

  Julius Man disappeared from public view for seven years. No one was sure where he went
—some say to Russia, others are convinced it was Jerusalem, or even Bethlehem, his self-confessed favourite and ideal place to live—but it was obvious he had gone; his voice was silent and its silence was felt like the death of a loved-one.

  Such was the strength of his fame, he was instantly recognised the day he returned ashore to his English homeland. It was the summer of 1674 when the fifty-four year old Mann announced he was now fully prepared to begin the most remarkable work of his life, his dream after seven years of contemplation and spiritual renewal, to finish the work of the first reformers. He was to found a new church.

  The church was to be perfect in theology; a perfect example of following the Scriptures to the letter, obeying the intended meaning without departure. Mann had written and spoken so often on the subject of God’s kingdom that it came as no surprise to loyalists when he announced his new church to be called Church of the Kingdom of God. All Christian churches, he patiently explained, were part of God’s almighty kingdom, but they were still in a state of growth, yet to come to full maturity. All, that is, except his one.

  Three years later, in 1677, he suffered a fall worse than his temporary fall from public favour; a drop from a balcony to a stone terrace. He died after seven days of frantic attendance by a host of the best doctors of southern England. In the years to come it was said that because of his hasty departure to the glory of heaven, he was unable to establish his church to his master plan. Critics said he could never have done so, that his plan was far from perfect and full of vanities. There were many critics in the early years, and for good reason, considering what followed his death.

  Two men were allowed close to his deathbed during his final painful hours, doctors only of theology, and Mann’s theology at that. Alexander White was sixty in 1677, and John Young thirty-seven. They were Mann’s closest followers, who learned everything they knew from the grand teacher.

  Several years after Mann’s death, Alexander White began to impose his own ideas on the church’s established doctrines. Until the day John Young stood up to the man who was meant to be his co-leader, and denounced him before the congregation (which was thriving at the time, with approximately 5,000 souls). The result was that White was voted out of leadership by the elders, and Young was installed as sole leader.

  Showing the true nature of his heart, White at once set up his own church, in the very same town of Chichester, where he relentlessly denounced all the followers of Young. To his credit, Young spoke only forgiveness of his adversary, an action that ensured he be known as a worthy successor to Mann.

  And so would say the historians of the Church of the Kingdom of God. Other historians tell of the fact that Young was not given any kind of leadership role by Mann when on his deathbed, and also the startling assertion that Young never once met Mann personally. If these accusations were true, the Alexander White was the true successor of Julius Mann. And if White was his closest disciple, it would mean his Church of God’s Glory was the one that truly followed Mann’s teachings and ultimate vision.

  But no one involved in the Kingdom of God churches had ever believed a word of such defamation against John Young. This new leader, and defender, had great ability in his own right. He was a man of delightful personality and rich humour; both qualities sadly lacking in Julius Mann (perhaps his only faults). With Young able to communicate in the beautiful language of Mann via his own engaging personality, his followers said the church was the perfect source of hearing the truths of God.

  By the time of John Young’s death in 1699, aged fifty-nine, the Church of the Kingdom of God had spread world-wide, even into areas of Catholic strongholds, where Protestant churches had never previously been allowed. Mann’s theological influence was even felt in the Holy See. On one famous occasion, the Pope of the day, Innocent XII, revealed to his stunned Monsignors that he secretly enjoyed reading from Mann, and went on to claim him to be worthy of the title Teacher of the Church. Although no succeeding Pope ever gave Mann such honour, that one true approval gained Kingdom of God churches great benefit over the following years, and in the twentieth century they were recognised as the very first advocates of inter-church and inter-faith harmony.

  At the turn of the eighteenth century the church founded by Mann and populated by Young had a great future to look forward to. Yet the next twenty years were so bad that their own historians always intentionally decline to speak of them. Other sources, even critics, only speak of it as a time of shame, when a deceiver took control of the vigorous young church and used it for his own gain, treading with evil intention on everything Mann had worked for. It was a testimony to Mann’s success that the church survived after the rampage of a man some truly thought was Satan himself dressed in the guise of a priest.

  Elijah Adams never once gave the appearance of being an evil man. He was always kind and gentle, and spoke with a soft voice. He always displayed great piety and respect for all people, especially children, in an age when they were neglected. Such a cloak well concealed his true nature; he would never go anywhere without hiding behind it. His true personality, revealed only when behind closed doors, was reputed to be so severe that people were known to be hit by his gestures alone.

  When Adams achieved indisputable power in the church he did anything he wanted, all the time protected by the church elders who were scared of losing their congregations should the truth be known. Every one of the elders worked with ceaseless labour to cover up everything Adams did. The list of abominations can never be fully determined; from adulteries and rapes, to the suspicion of three murders in cold-blood by his own hand. One suspected victim was Julius Mann’s own cherished grandson, a man considered to have much of his grandfather’s talents. To their eternal shame, even this was covered up by the elders.

  When Elijah Adams died, in 1720, the relief and joy in the church was so great that some thought it was what they would expect when Christ returned from heaven for his saints. They had no doubt they had just see their Antichrist. The elders knew the next leader must be as Christlike as his predecessor was Satanlike. Although he was not quite the image of Christ, Robert Young was as close as they could get. His best qualification was that he was the only surviving son of the revered John Young.

  Robert Young was only twenty-nine when he accepted leadership of the still growing Church of the Kingdom of God. In complete contrast to Adams, his time at the top was uneventful, as he worked hard to reground the movement in Mann’s doctrines and his father’s style of public relations. From 1720 to 1767 the church continued to grow, leaving the dreadful and highly embarrassing years of Adams far behind them.

  It was during Robert Young’s reign when what was called the greatest moment in their church history occurred, when they survived a harsh and fiery test of the Devil. In 1753 a small gathering in Spain received repeated threats and ultimately suffered harsh persecution which created numerous martyrs. Their attackers were and remain unknown, and the locals, all staunch Catholics who previously did they best to ignore the only Protestant church in their midst, at once expressed their horror and pity.

  Of most significance was that Robert Young’s daughter, Sarah Taylor, was in the thick of the action and survived only by miraculous intervention. During their trials she never gave away the fact that she was hiding her four year old son. Robert Taylor not only survived, he became the leader of their world-wide church in 1775 and stayed there until his death in 1830.

  The nature of the escape from their persecutors served to convince many that it was God’s plan for the Taylor family to serve as leaders, with father succeeding son. This was never an official policy within the church, but the tradition came to be as much a part of the church’s structure as Mann’s doctrines. Of the next five leaders through the nineteenth, twentieth and twenty-first centuries, the only one not surnamed Taylor was John Reynold (leader from 1871 to 1888), who was a son of Sarah Taylor’s daughter. It was a family dynasty, supported by no official policy but no one ever complained; it was just the
way it was.

  The leader who took the church into the twenty-first century was Timotheus Taylor, eighth direct descendant of John Young, who succeeded his father and grandfather, and like them all, he lived long. In the year 2020 he was eighty-five, fit as a young man and showed no signs of relinquishing the longed-for seat of authority. Family history was always his fondest subject, together with the history of his church; in all truth, the two were inseparable.

  While leaders of other church denominations spent their time with the Pope, the Archbishop of Canterbury and many top evangelical leaders of America, Timotheus Taylor stuck to his guns and insisted they should all first approach the Church of the Kingdom of God and treat her with the respect he knew she deserved, before he would consider formal unity.

  Timotheus’ loyalty to the church of his family won him disfavour in world-wide Christendom, but never would that make him change his mind. His church was founded by Julius Mann. His church was built on the soundest of doctrines. His church was the greatest on the face of the Earth. In the heart of hearts of Timotheus Taylor, he knew he only hope for the Christians of the world was to desert their churches and join his. Many times he had stated that he would personally accept the Pope into his church. Christian unity really was his great goal, just the same as any other church leader.

  But the greatest concern for Timotheus Taylor was in choosing his successor. He knew some of his family were hungry for power and were fighting among themselves, and for that reason he drew up plans to divide the running of the church into twelve parts, shared between his sons, grandsons and a favoured nephew. In the year 2020 he gave them each the honour of the title Sub-leader, although it gave them no extra authority. While no one was really sure how sincere they were, all twelve men publicly stated that their position on ecumenism was the same as that of Timotheus Taylor.

  The Taylor Twelve, as they came to be called, were still waiting for their time at the top in the year 2026, when their leader was ninety-one and as alert as he ever was. For years they had exhorted themselves to remember the patience of Julius Mann; they could hardly have forgotten, for he had written voluminously on the subject.

  In 2026 world-wide membership of the Church of the Kingdom of God was three-point-four million, with over six thousand churches and eight thousand ordained celibate male priests. It was not especially large on a world scale, but they still thought of themselves as on par with any other major denomination, and historically significant; most churches had no recorded history back to 1674.

  On the small and fiercely independent island of St Antipas membership numbered three-hundred and forty-one. There were many churches in St Antipas, but the Kingdomites (as they were named by detractors from day one) were the first Protestants allowed to establish a church. The first missionaries to St Antipas were Judaits, monks of the Most Sacred Society of St Judas Thaddaeus; loyal and courageous men who tamed the land and the violent native people, and then protected them from anything they did not view as holy and Catholic. Over the years such tight control relaxed, and the Kingdomites were allowed entry. Their presence eventually paved the way for every other denomination and neo-Christian group, and for that reason the Kingdomites were always sure to have respect in St Antipas.

  Yet in the year 2026 the Kingdomites in St Antipas went from three-hundred-and-forty-one to eight, and it happened over one night.