David Hulme, born in 1946 in Britain, emerged as one of the most polished evangelists in the Worldwide Church of God (WCG)—complete with that oh-so-refined accent that practically screamed “spiritual authority” to anyone who appreciated a good BBC impersonation. A minister across the UK, South Africa, Canada, and the United States, he was ordained as an evangelist in 1986 and co-hosted The World Tomorrow television program, looking every bit the sophisticated successor in Herbert W. Armstrong’s media empire.
When the WCG began its dramatic shift toward mainstream Christianity in the 1990s under Joseph Tkach, Hulme bravely stood against the rebelling tide and supported Tkach, then in an about turn face, citing “contradictions and inconsistencies" ,he hooked his Jaguar to the righteous ministers conspiring behind he scenes to start United Church of God.” How noble. He helped launch the United Church of God (UCG), where over 260 ministers and thousands of members promptly elected him president. Because obviously, what this fledgling organization needed most was strong, decisive leadership from a man who truly understood governance (especially when it applied to everyone else).
His presidency lasted a whopping less than three years. In January 1998, the UCG Council of Elders voted overwhelmingly to remove him. The official reason? “Irreconcilable philosophical differences” regarding how the organization should be run. Translation: Hulme apparently believed the constitution he helped write applied to everyone except the president. He opposed the headquarters relocation, bypassed the council on hiring and expensive media projects, and generally treated elected oversight like an annoying suggestion box rather than actual authority. The council’s detailed letter to members read like a very polite British firing notice—only this time, the haughty accent was on the receiving end. How delightfully ironic.
The Arrogance That Made It All So Predictable
Those who worked with him often remarked on his distinctive leadership style—frequently described as haughty British arrogance blended with a towering sense of self-importance. In a movement already famous for strong personalities, Hulme reportedly viewed the corporate presidency as something closer to a divine anointing, the sort of role that mere councils, bylaws, and fellow ministers shouldn’t dare question. One former associate called it “blatant arrogance and superiority”—a self-righteous, holier-than-thou approach that treated servant leadership as optional and top-down rule as sacred.
Critics noted he had a remarkable talent for justifying authoritarianism in sermons while somehow missing the bits about humility modeled by, you know, Jesus and the apostles. When key people eventually left, were disfellowshipped, or simply drifted away, it was never framed as a pattern—just unfortunate coincidences, surely. Because nothing says “humble man of God” quite like repeatedly fracturing relationships over who gets to be in charge.
Those who worked with him often remarked on his distinctive leadership style—frequently described as haughty British arrogance blended with a towering sense of self-importance. In a movement already famous for strong personalities, Hulme reportedly viewed the corporate presidency as something closer to a divine anointing, the sort of role that mere councils, bylaws, and fellow ministers shouldn’t dare question. One former associate called it “blatant arrogance and superiority”—a self-righteous, holier-than-thou approach that treated servant leadership as optional and top-down rule as sacred.
Critics noted he had a remarkable talent for justifying authoritarianism in sermons while somehow missing the bits about humility modeled by, you know, Jesus and the apostles. When key people eventually left, were disfellowshipped, or simply drifted away, it was never framed as a pattern—just unfortunate coincidences, surely. Because nothing says “humble man of God” quite like repeatedly fracturing relationships over who gets to be in charge.
Founding His Own Group (Because History Rhymes)
Undeterred by the whole “voted out by your own organization” episode, Hulme did what any self-respecting Armstrongist leader does: he started his own group—the Church of God, an International Community (COGaIC). Based in Pasadena, it proudly proclaims itself nondenominational and focused on education rather than aggressive recruitment. How convenient—especially when your track record with large organizations has been, shall we say, mixed.
Today, the ministry chugs along through Vision magazine and its associated media. Hulme serves as publisher and delivers thoughtful commentary on everything from superbugs to the delusions of rulers, always circling back to Scripture with that signature intellectual polish. The organization remains delightfully low-profile: modest membership, content restricted to “approved viewers,” and an online presence that’s more contemplative boutique than booming movement. As of 2026, Hulme still posts on Facebook about current events, maintaining the dignified air of a man who has surely learned from past conflicts… or at least refined his presentation of them.
David Hulme’s journey perfectly encapsulates the post-Armstrong Church of God saga: a talented communicator who helped birth a major splinter group, only to be ejected over the exact same issues of authority and ego that have splintered the movement for decades. His British reserve and media savvy gave him an aura of sophistication, yet underneath it all was that unshakable belief in his own singular importance.
Today, through Vision and COGaIC, he continues his work on a smaller, quieter scale—still proclaiming a biblical vision, still shaped by the old doctrinal DNA, and still carrying the subtle scars (and perhaps a Jaguar or two) from the controversies that defined him. Whether this represents genuine maturation or simply a more polished version of the same instincts is, of course, best left for his remaining followers to ponder between issues of Vision.
Silent Pilgrim
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