Dear Friends,
We’ve been carrying something quietly for a long time, and now feels like the right moment to gently put it into words. After much prayer, searching the Scriptures, and talking honestly with one another, our family has come to a peaceful place in deciding to step away from this fellowship we have long been part of. This letter is not a list of grievances or a resignation of faith. It is also not to alleviate any feelings we may have about leaving. Rather, we hope that it brings the peace of the Father into your heart, for we are still believers in the same God, the same Love, and the same beautiful Word.
This decision hasn’t come from a place of frustration, nor from any bitterness. It’s come from a quiet wrestling, growing conviction, and a desire to walk in truth and love. And though stepping away comes with a certain sadness, because we love many of you dearly, we also feel a peace that surpasses understanding. We are deeply grateful for the many years of shared worship, friendship, and spiritual encouragement we’ve experienced with you. The time we’ve spent walking alongside many of you in this journey of faith has profoundly shaped our lives, and we hold those memories with love and thankfulness.
For those who wish to understand more about our decision, we’d like to share some of the reasons behind it.
In our twenties, we joined this fellowship because we were drawn to the sincerity, simplicity, and sense of spiritual depth we experienced in the lives of certain of our friends, in our Sunday morning fellowship meetings and Wednesday night Bible studies. We appreciated the testimonies shared from the hearts of the people we met with, honest, unpolished, and real. Most especially, we were touched by the voices of the children, whose simple faith and pure expressions often moved us in ways words can’t fully explain. It felt reverent and rooted.
Over the years, we grew in our convictions and experienced meaningful fellowship that we will always treasure. We are deeply grateful for so much that we’ve experienced along the way. The simplicity of gathering in homes has always reminded us of the early Church in Acts. There is beauty in meeting without pretense or performance and in striving to live humbly before God. We have witnessed workers and friends live sacrificially and with sincere devotion, often giving up personal comfort to serve. We are thankful for the reverence, the quietness, and the modesty we’ve seen reflected in daily life. These things have helped shape our faith, and we carry them with gratitude.
We also came to see more clearly a truth woven throughout the New Testament: that every believer is a priest before God. There is no spiritual hierarchy in the kingdom of heaven, no class of people with a holier calling or greater access to the Spirit. All who belong to Christ are called to minister, to intercede, and to bear witness. We are each invited to draw near to God, not through a human mediator, but through the living Christ. This is not a distant or abstract privilege. It is a living, daily invitation into communion with the Father.
When any person, group, or ministry claims exclusive spiritual authority over a person’s salvation, it not only burdens the conscience, it obscures the wonder of what Christ has already opened to all: direct, unhindered fellowship with God. We believe it is in this personal access, this daily, ordinary nearness to God, that the life of the Church is most fully known.
And yet, within the structure of the fellowship, there is a clear and often unspoken hierarchy. While the words may suggest equality, the practice shows otherwise. Workers hold spiritual authority not just over meetings but over individual lives. We’ve seen people hesitant to act or speak without approval. Those with questions are often quietly sidelined, while those who conform are embraced. This has created a culture where quiet compliance is mistaken for humility, and spiritual maturity is measured by outward conformity, not inward growth.
The New Testament speaks so clearly that the work of the gospel in a believer’s heart, creates a culture of spiritual freedom and faith where God’s grace teaches us to walk in love. When religion and the ‘traditions of men’ begin to take root in a community of believers, form and practice become more and more important.
These forms and traditions have always troubled the Church, and Christians for hundreds of years and from all walks of life have needed to guard against them. In the case of this fellowship, however, traditions have not only shaped our culture—they have given rise to doctrinal error. Chief among them is the doctrine of exclusivity, also known as the “living witness doctrine,” which teaches that salvation is tied to the worker ministry and that this ministry is the only true way of Christ on earth. We have heard this doctrine repeated both subtly and directly, in messages, in conversation, and in attitude, and it is one we can no longer support.
This doctrine has far-reaching consequences for believers. If salvation is believed to only be possible by coming to Christ through this one particular ministry, a ministry that began in the early 1900s, then anyone who objects to a perceived wrongdoing among the friends or workers risks being excommunicated. This creates a culture of fear and quiet conformity, where questioning or stepping away is spiritually dangerous. It leads to a kind of control that, historically, has enabled spiritual abuse, not unlike the Catholic Church during the era of indulgences, when salvation was treated as something to be managed and mediated by an elite group. We believe this is not the gospel of Jesus.
This teaching stands in contrast to the clear message of the New Testament. As believers, we are all part of a royal priesthood (1 Peter 2:9), called to draw near to God through Christ alone. “Therefore, brothers and sisters, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus… let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings” (Hebrews 10:19, 22). Jesus is our High Priest; no human intermediary is needed. The Church belongs to Him, and He is present wherever hearts are turned toward Him.
In our recent study of Numbers, we’ve been reminded of the structure and severity of the Old Testament priesthood, how standing against Moses or Aaron, as Korah did, brought judgment and even death. But that was under the old covenant, a system governed by law, sacrifice, and a single priesthood. The New Testament paints a different picture: we no longer live under the law, but under grace. The ministry of the New Testament is not an exclusive priesthood, but a gift of the Holy Spirit, given for the preaching of the good news and the edifying of the Church. Its purpose is not to mediate salvation, but to point people to Christ, our one true Mediator.
We cannot support a message that implies otherwise. We believe the Spirit of God moves far beyond any single fellowship or form. We believe there are faithful believers in many places and expressions of worship, and we no longer feel comfortable being part of a structure that suggests otherwise.
The events surrounding Dean Bruer have also impacted us deeply. In a structure where so much weight is placed on human authority, these failures are not isolated, they are systemic. We had hoped to see a clear and compassionate response, some effort to acknowledge and begin healing the wounds inflicted by years of ignoring, minimizing, or quietly moving pedophiles from place to place.
For a while, we had hope. In Texas, the friends, workers, and overseer worked diligently, traveling across the state, listening to concerns, and establishing meaningful protections. They implemented a system of deacons and advocates, developed training requirements, offered guidance on best practices and red flags, and provided clear reporting procedures. This felt like true progress, and other states began to follow suit.
But soon, most of those same states reversed course (with the exception of Texas), quietly removing the protections after those in higher positions decided they were no longer necessary. Instead of continuing toward transparency and care, the structure returned to old patterns of silence and control once again hoping time and inaction would cover up what had become a giant, growing wound.
Perhaps this shows more than anything else how easily corruption enters in when leadership becomes isolated, listening only to themselves, rather than to the voices of those they are called to serve, and the entire community suffers as a result. And while no one is beyond grace, leadership in the Church must reflect the character of Christ, not protect itself at the expense of the vulnerable.
We are reminded of the account of Eli in 1 Samuel, who was rebuked by God for failing to restrain his sons, Hophni and Phinehas, who acted wickedly while serving as priests. Though Eli himself was not directly guilty of their sins, his failure to confront and remove them led to devastating consequences for his household and for Israel. This story illustrates how seriously God views spiritual leadership that turns a blind eye to corruption. In contrast to this, we believe that the New Testament calls leaders not to preserve an institution, but to uphold justice, truth, and care for the flock, especially the most vulnerable among us.
As lifelong advocates for children, this issue strikes at the very core of our faith. For years, we have longed to see children honored more fully among us, to be listened to, understood, and nurtured in ways that match their God-given development. We’ve wished for spaces where their faith could be supported through stories, questions, and spiritual instruction suited to their age and wonder.
And now, to witness how this abuse has been handled, how children have been left unprotected, their stories silenced, their pain minimized, has been a heartbreak we cannot carry in silence. Some of these children are now grown, still living in the shadows of trauma, because their abuser has not been held to account and the structure has resisted change. Even now, in what should be a holy reckoning, the system remains unwilling to reimagine itself in a way that protects and prioritizes our most precious ones.
Our little children, those closest to the heart of God, have too often been treated as afterthoughts. And that…, we cannot accept. We believe true revival begins with repentance and repair, especially toward those most easily harmed and least able to speak. A faith community that cannot weep with its wounded cannot be trusted with its future.
We also carry regret, not because we were insincere, but because we once believed things we now see more clearly. We regret that our children grew up under a system of unwritten rules, unspoken guilt, and narrow spiritual expectations. We look back and grieve the isolation they experienced, the lack of friendships outside the group, and the separation from extended family who loved them dearly and had their own deep walk with God. We also grieve how the system often promoted what felt like friendship dynasties, where connection and belonging seemed reserved for those who came from several generations of professing families. This was often spoken of with pride, and it created invisible walls that made it hard for newcomers or those on the fringes to feel accepted. Our own children, neurodivergent, adopted, and one with cerebral palsy, were uniquely gifted and precious, yet often found themselves outside the reach of real fellowship.
One of our earliest experiences with this came when our oldest son was just an infant, born early, with brain injuries, and dependent on special equipment. We brought him to convention with a swing to soothe him during the long days under the tent. It was a small and necessary support for him, but it was not met with warmth or understanding. Years later, we would learn he had autism, and we now understand how deeply that rocking motion regulated and comforted him. But at the time, we felt the quiet disapproval and discomfort of a system that had little room for difference.
Now, as young adults, our children are still learning and growing, just as we all are. They aren’t angry or bitter, but they are beginning to understand why they often felt so alone. They have carried questions and quiet heartaches that didn’t always have a place to be voiced. But over time, they’ve come to recognize those feelings for what they were, and instead of closing off, they are gently learning how to offer the kind of welcome and kindness they once longed for. Their desire to understand others and create space for difference is something we deeply admire, and we continue to learn from them.
We also want to acknowledge that there have been individuals within this fellowship who have grown, who have opened their hearts and minds to understand those who are different from themselves. We are also aware that there have always been many workers who have sincerely and humbly sought to live lives of sacrifice for the sake of the gospel. These individuals have been some of the most Christlike examples we’ve ever known.
However, we have also seen that when some of these workers have expressed concerns, raised objections, or asked for change, they were often silenced, discouraged, or even removed from the work by those in higher positions of authority. We hurt for the sister workers and young brother workers who, instead of being nurtured in an environment of mutual respect and gentle teaching, like Jesus taught His disciples, have been silenced, their personal needs overlooked, and their voices dismissed in the name of conformity or unquestioning submission, often without understanding why. This has not only been disheartening, but it has contributed to a culture where honesty and accountability are discouraged instead of nurtured.
This culture of silence and unexplained exclusion has affected others as well. We’ve seen individuals restricted from speaking in meetings for months or even years following a divorce, regardless of fault, without ever being given a reason or path toward restoration. We’ve known sincere believers who expressed a desire to be baptized and were made to wait indefinitely, sometimes told that their outward appearance didn’t reflect a spirit of submission or inward change. In such cases, no open conversation was offered, only vague impressions or quiet disapproval. This has led to confusion, shame, and a lack of trust, making it difficult for individuals to grow in their faith and fully participate in the life of the Church.
To so many of you, we are so deeply grateful for your love and friendship through the years. You are forever gifts from God, and we treasure you. The problem has never been the people, it is the foundational structure. While individuals may embody the love of Christ, the system itself has become corrupted by leaders who failed to respond to sin, much like Eli in the Old Testament. They failed to protect the vulnerable, accept accountability, admit wrongdoing, or humble themselves to serve. When leadership prioritizes self-preservation over repentance and power over compassion, the system no longer reflects the heart of Jesus.
We have also felt moved to live out our faith more openly in the community around us. We feel this is a much-needed change and not easy, having spent the last 30 years in a fellowship that has often emphasized separation from others rather than openness, connection, and the call to share the love of Christ freely with the world around us. Yet we are reminded of Jesus’ words in Matthew 5:14–16, that we are “the light of the world,” and that no one lights a lamp and hides it, but instead places it where it gives light to everyone.
We want to be part of the Church not just on Sunday or Wednesday, but in the everyday: in our neighborhoods and in our city. We believe every believer has gifts to bring, gifts that should be seen, encouraged, and used to glorify the Lord. When the Body functions as it was designed, each member brings life to the whole. In the parable of the talents (Matthew 25), Jesus speaks of servants entrusted with different amounts, each called to invest and multiply what they’ve been given. We feel convicted not to bury our talents in the ground out of fear or tradition, but to use them boldly and faithfully for the good of others and the glory of God.
We also want to say this with care: we know our decision may be difficult to understand for some, especially for those who have walked faithfully with the Lord their whole lives in this way. We think often of the example our own parents, grandparents, and many of the friends have set, not just in what they believed, but in how they lived with compassion, humility, and love for others. That witness mattered. It still does. We don’t want to ever lose sight of the kind of faith that shows up in quiet kindness, in patient listening, and in a heart that stays open to people. If anything, our desire to step forward in faith has only deepened our appreciation for those who’ve gone before us with steady faith and gentle strength.
In stepping away, we are not walking from faith, but into it more fully. We are not rejecting, but responding, to the gentle pull of the Spirit inviting us into a season of deeper worship, deeper grace, and deeper community. We have not found this through criticism or comparison, but by lifting our eyes to Jesus.
Moving forward, on Sundays, we will still have a meeting in our home, and we want everyone to feel welcome and at peace here. We’re glad to continue offering our space to those who find meaning in this way of worship. But we feel it’s important to be honest: while we continue to respect and love many in this fellowship, we can no longer support the belief that this ministry and fellowship is the only true pathway to salvation or that those outside of it are without the Spirit of God. We believe God’s love and redemption are far too vast to be claimed by any one group.
We made the choices we did back in our first days in the fellowship as the result of very clear answers to specific prayers. One by one, we were led. And we do not regret those decisions or the years we’ve shared together. It was all part of the Lord’s design, and we are thankful. But we are still listening, and still asking, just as we did back then. Over the past six years, the answers have been coming, gently and persistently. And now, we believe we have been told it is time to open a new chapter. You are all welcome in it.
We aren’t trying to persuade anyone to follow our path. We simply want to be faithful to the journey God is calling us into. We want to walk in the light, as He is in the light, and to live our lives with hearts wide open to the fullness of Christ’s love.
We feel so incredibly blessed to have met with each and every soul in our Sunday and Wednesday meetings. The kindness, sincerity, and quiet strength of those we’ve gathered with have shaped our faith in beautiful ways. We carry deep gratitude for the love we’ve felt, the prayers we’ve shared, and the steady support of those who have walked alongside us through seasons of joy and sorrow. We would never wish to change that. We wish we could continue just as we are, and yet, the Lord has impressed upon our hearts the need to speak honestly about what we have been shown. With that leading comes the painful realization that we must now step away and resign our place.
To those who remain in the fellowship, we bless you. To those who may quietly be asking the same questions, we’re here. And to all, we say this: the love of Jesus is wide enough, deep enough, and strong enough to hold us all.
With gratitude and love,
E & H Waters
March 30, 2025
Texas