Exile and Return
After Summerhill, I was very fortunate indeed to obtain an administrative post with Voluntary Service Aberdeen a large and diverse local charity where I spent nearly ten happy years just being ordinary. For me, going back into secular employment was the beginning of what proved to be a long healing process which perhaps is still not yet entirely complete. The duties of the post were well within my competence and I gladly took on a greater and more responsible work load. I was soon promoted and ended up in a position of responsibility and trust. The people with whom I worked were friendly, cooperative and highly motivated.
I had assumed that when I left Summerhill, I would have the advantage of understanding and support from fellow evangelical ministers but, with honourable exceptions, this was not to be so. Curiously enough, I received far more personal support and good wishes from fellow ministers and elders whom I would have categorised as more “liberal” in their theology. It is indeed a funny old world. It is one of several reasons why I now describe myself as a disillusioned evangelical. I will say more of that in Part 2.
The church where Carole and I had married in 1974, Gilcomston South, by and large gave us the cold shoulder (again, with honourable exceptions). By leaving ministry, I had let the side down. That, at least, was the very clear message that I received. Maybe sooner or later I might come to my senses. Until I did, I would remain persona non grata. And, in fact, that is what I have remained. I bear that congregation no grudges and all that is now behind me. Let the dead bury their dead.
Mr Still, the minister who had married us, certainly did not adopt this attitude. Indeed he was very kind and understanding, although I am not entirely sure that he did actually understand. He was rather hurt, I think, when I ceased attending his church only a few months after my leaving Summerhill, but he accepted it with characteristic good grace. I never returned to Gilcomston South after that, but I am glad that, many years later, I wrote to Mr Still to assure him that he and I had no unfinished business.
Mr Still and I had actually published a small book in joint names in 1977 on The Hope of Israel.{9} I had not always agreed with Mr Still on every issue. I am too much of an individual to do that with anyone. Nevertheless, I had regarded him as a father in God and held him in great esteem. To my mind there is no doubt that he was the Lord’s anointed. He died in 1997, a couple of months after I had written to him. I decided not to attend his funeral as I had absolutely no wish to re-enter Gilcomston South Church. However, I watched his remains being placed into the hearse at the close of the service from the opposite side of Union Street. I had paid my respects and that was the right thing to do.
Carole and I had tried attending a few other churches in Aberdeen after leaving Gilcomston South but my angry and negative feelings at that time towards the Church of Scotland – to say nothing of my own feelings of personal failure and guilt – kept getting in the way. Somewhat to our surprise, we landed up attending the local Elim Pentecostal Church. We were made very welcome by the congregation and people did not ask a whole lot of intrusive questions. This little fellowship truly was for me, a place of refreshing, like the Palms of Elim in the Old Testament.{10}
For someone as Scottish, conventional and reserved as I am, the choice of this kind of fellowship must have seemed an odd one. Of course, I have always had the capacity to surprise, being, in my mother’s words, a “dark horse”. I found classical Pentecostalism to be quite gentle and liberating. The prejudiced stereotype of such churches being populated by crazed wild-eyed people dancing in the aisles or swinging from the chandeliers could not have been further from the truth. In my experience, worship services were conducted decently and in order.
In case anyone is interested, I will say that I can speak in tongues although I would never do so in a way which might embarrass anyone. My time in the Pentecostal fellowship also did reignite my somewhat vague interest in spiritual healing. I am always slightly at a loss as to why so many Christians pray for healing and yet seem unwilling to believe that their prayers might just possibly be answered. In fact, perhaps because of an over-reliance {11} on a book “Counterfeit Miracles” by the distinguished Princeton Scholar, Professor B B Warfield, many evangelicals are dead scared of any movement of the Holy Spirit, indeed of almost anything that might be termed miraculous and over which they do not have direct control.
There were things in the Pentecostal fellowship that occasionally I did find at least mildly irksome. It was considered almost unspiritual to be organised and everything seemed to be done “at the last minute”. Occasionally, people ham-acted a little or exaggerated their experience of the Holy Spirit. This is nothing new. It goes back to the time of the New Testament. It almost invariably happens too that at times of revival and renewal some people will go over the score.
My time in the Elim church has certainly taught me to be more tolerant and laid back. I sometimes think that it would be good for every Kirk member to spend at least a year in a Pentecostal fellowship as part of their spiritual education! We can sometimes be too tight, rigid and controlling, especially in the evangelical tradition, and most of us could benefit from lightening up just a little. After some two thousand years, we, as a Christian church, still seem to be searching for the true freedom of the Holy Spirit. One day we might find it but, I suspect that like the Lost Chord, it will be only in heaven.
In 1994, there arose a strange phenomenon now referred to as the “Toronto Blessing”. It centred on the Toronto Airport Christian Fellowship, described as being a neo-charismatic evangelical church, in Ontario. Canada. People taking part in worship claimed to have experienced personal transformation, healing and a greater experience of God’s love. That sounds fairly uncontroversial. Less conventionally, worship was said to include falling in the Spirit, shaking, laughter, strange noises and other unusual manifestations. The Toronto congregation increased ten-fold over a short space of time and became part of a larger movement that spread, in small pockets, to the United Kingdom.
Not surprisingly, the whole movement was surrounded in controversy. By and large, evangelical ministers in Scotland were falling over themselves to misrepresent, condemn and ridicule it and to make sure that none of “that sort of thing” found its way into any of their sound Biblically-based churches. As usual, I decided to make up my own mind and I went to hear Guy Chevreau, one of the leaders of the Toronto church and also read his book.{12}
I was actually quite impressed by his moderate and balanced approach. I believe there was a true movement of the Spirit – a touch of revival - and, as often happens, some people did get too carried away. So far as one can judge, it was the same at the Scottish Revivals of Kilsyth, Shotts and Cambuslang and at the time of the American “Great Awakening”. In making blanket condemnations of the behaviour of a minority, there is always a danger of throwing the baby out with the bath water. But then, evangelicals are often much better at reacting than they are at responding. I would say that some (not all) of those who were so quick to condemn were themselves, dealers in small wares.
The Elim pastor and I became friendly and I gradually started to take part in a few of the services, moving on to quite regular preaching. To my surprise, people in the Elim congregation warmed to my somewhat laid-back and Presbyterian style of speaking. Also, my Church of Scotland background and membership was not seen as a problem. This was a good time for me and I felt I was spiritually moving forward again. All was going really well until the fellowship was rent asunder by the revelation of a sexual scandal involving the pastor and a young women in the congregation. He had to leave his post immediately. His quitting his ministry brought to the surface a whole lot of forgotten issues for me, even though his reasons for leaving were very different from mine.
There were also now some quite bitter divisions in the congregation as to its future direction. Recriminations and accusations were flying around like bullets in a Wild West saloon.
I did not, and do not, in any way condone the pastor’s behaviour which I perceived as a gross abuse of his office and a betrayal of trust. However, let him who is without sin cast the first stone.{13} I was one of the very few people in the fellowship who continued to visit him and his wife (who suffered far more than anyone else as a result of what had happened). I supported him on a personal and non-judgemental level. I did not ask him any questions and accepted only what he wanted to share with me. I helped him too when it came to looking for a secular job in which, fortunately, he was successful. He went on to train successfully for a career in social work.
But “things” for me were never quite the same again in that congregation. A new pastor, Rev David Holdaway, was appointed and he proved to be approachable, friendly and supportive. I greatly appreciated his friendship. He brought a real sense of healing to the church. Yet someone Carole and I never settled down again into the Elim fellowship. Spiritually, it seemed as though I had suffered another major setback.
In 1992, after my father died, Carole and I bought my parents’ house in Milltimber, on the outskirts of Aberdeen, and moved out of our small flat in the city centre. My mother had to be placed in a local nursing home. This strained our family finances and, more importantly, our physical and spiritual resources. She was well enough cared for but her stay in that home for some eleven years until her death in 2003 was more like a sentence in many ways. She had a long and wearisome time and, if I am completely honest, it did not strengthen my faith. However, we did the best we could.
There was (still is) a thriving and prosperous independent church a couple of streets away from our new home in Milltimber. We decided to give it a try and indeed we went to services there regularly for a number of years. The original church was founded mainly by Brethren people. I found the culture rather tight and controlling and very much into the prosperity “gospel”, although there were – and are – some lovely and genuine people who worship there. Carole offered her services to the church as a counsellor (in which she is well qualified and experienced) but that was completely ignored. Frankly, I did not care for their rather patronising attitude to women in general.
The pastor at the time certainly did not warm to me. He was sincere and hard-working, although I thought he was somewhat limited in outlook and, as is often the case with Englishmen, did not entirely understand the spiritual scene in Scotland, but thought that he did. I suspect that he found me to be somewhat threatening, although he had no need to. He certainly avoided contact with me whenever he could. I remember him making sarcastic and unfairly disparaging comments from the pulpit about all things charismatic and I did not respect him for that. Eventually, Carole and I just stopped going. This was a relief in some ways and yet, for me, it was yet another setback and another excuse to perceive myself as a disillusioned evangelical.
I am sorry to say that we did not worship regularly anywhere else for a number of years thereafter. Interestingly, independent churches which claim triumphantly that they are free from the shackles of established churches often develop a tight and controlling culture and finish up being more rigid than the churches with which they consider themselves too good to be associated.
Meanwhile, after nearly ten happy years at Voluntary Service Aberdeen, I took up a post of Lecturer in Business Studies, specialising in Law, at what was then Aberdeen College of Commerce (now part of North East Scotland College). I also undertook the in-service further education teacher training at Jordanhill College in Glasgow. I enjoyed my time of teaching, especially the interaction with the students. I believe I did reasonably well, including the publication of three student textbooks by a reputable publishing house. Two of these are still in print, although now under a different authorship.
I had very mixed feelings when, at age 55, I was given early retirement.
In 1999, after a few months of temporary employment with the civil service (an education in itself!), I took up an appointment as Personal Development Tutor at a vocational training centre for people recovering from brain injury. In other words, I became somewhat of a self-help guru, which I rather enjoyed. I stayed there for twelve years until I retired at the age of 68 in 2011.
During that time I clocked up (mainly in my own time and at my own expense) a good number of new qualifications, including Master Practitioner of Neuro Linguistic Programming (NLP). There was a standing joke among colleagues that I have so many letters after my name, that I cannot remember what some of them stand for. (This is not quite true!)
My major project over a period of three years was a professional doctoral degree in education (EdD) from Calamus International University, an overseas university, which included some very unusual and interesting courses, e.g. positive psychology, emotional intelligence and contemporary spirituality, subjects which would not normally be found in conventional university courses. I learned a great deal from this period of study, although it was hard work and a major commitment. I cannot help feeling just a little resentful when some people, who should know better, look down their noses at overseas qualifications, assuming that they are all worthless. I know of plenty UK qualifications that are frankly not worth the paper they are written on!
Interacting with, coaching and encouraging people who have sustained a brain injury was a demanding job and some of our clients were certainly “challenging”. But, I enjoyed the challenge and was able to rise to it. The centre was run on a shoestring and I believe that it has done a good job often with staff that were poorly paid and given little encouragement by the centre’s parent body, which I prefer not to name and with which I was much less impressed.
During my last few years in Aberdeen I regret to say that I lived a more or less secular life and did not regularly attend any church, although we visited a few. I certainly still believed strongly in the historical integrity of the Christian Gospel: but there was also far too much negative energy still hanging around. I had developed a kind of love-hate relationship with the Church of Scotland. Rightly or wrongly, I felt that the Kirk had let me down and had failed to support me on several important occasions in my life. At the same time, I retained a definite feeling of guilt and personal failure at having left full-time ministry.
In spite of my negativity, I never broke my ties with the Church of Scotland and even though I sometimes worshipped elsewhere or nowhere, I hung on assiduously to my “status” as an ordained minister through the Presbytery of Aberdeen. Fortunately, in recent years my attitude to the Kirk has gradually but surely moved in a much more positive direction. I longed for some way to return to active participation in church life but somehow could not find that opportunity in Aberdeen.
Carole’s home town, where she was born and went to school, is Hamilton in South Lanarkshire. Her mother lived in and around that town all of her life. We had been very regular visitors to Hamilton for nearly forty years and rather liked it. Indeed, we thought that we might move house to Hamilton on our retirement to give more support to Carole’s mother. Carole was given the offer of early retirement from Aberdeen University in 2011 and took it. I decided to retire as well at the same time, although I had originally planned to continue until my 70th birthday in 2013.
Just as we were in the process of retiring, Mrs Morton had a fall and died in hospital six weeks later. So, there was no longer any obvious reason to relocate to Hamilton. However, to cut a very long story short, we decided to make the move anyway. We both felt (me especially) that there was rather too much personal baggage in Aberdeen and we were attracted by the idea of retiring to somewhere fresh but not entirely unknown.
We now live in a pleasant and old established residential street, near to the centre of the town of Hamilton. Our house is actually the lower half of what used to be the Episcopal Rectory.
Carole and I are both registered volunteers at Woodburn Court, where Mrs Morton lived for nearly ten years and was one of the very first residents. Through our frequent visits, we had got to know many of the residents and also became friendly with some of the staff. We now make regular visits to the complex and provide support through a “Down Memory Lane” project and occasional social events. I have also been involved in some staff training on communication skills.
Since coming to Hamilton in 2012, I have gladly linked up again with the Kirk in an active sense and I am a full member of the Presbytery of Hamilton. To me this has been a real process of healing and, although I am well aware that the Church of Scotland is not without its faults, I am more pleased than I can say to have “come home” again. I feel that I have come back to my rightful place at the table.
Carole and I are now members of Hamilton Old Parish Church which is within easy walking distance of where we live and, to my surprise, we have both joined the choir. We have been made very welcome. I have been elected Vice President of the Monday Club, which gives opportunity for fellowship, mainly among older people, over the winter. Carole is also involved as its membership secretary. In addition, both of us are on the Link Committee which provides occasional functions and outings for members of the congregation over the age of eighty (whose number increases every year).
Hamilton Old, whose congregation worships in a handsome eighteenth century building, designed by William Adam, is well attended and enthusiastic and, at the moment, all seems to go well. But when I look round and see that nearly all the heads in the congregation are grey, I cannot help wondering how “things” will be in 20 years’ time. At the time of the second edition of this booklet (2014) the pastoral charge had recently become vacant and the congregation were looking forward to calling a new minister. I suspect that Hamilton Old, like most churches, will have no one united view as to what kind of minister they will seek out. There will be the usual fantasy figure of someone who will be good at everything, will fill the church with younger people and be happily married with a wonderful family. That is the fantasy; the reality will almost certainly be different.
At the time of this third edition (2015) the charge is still vacant. With a rapidly ageing ministry and fast approaching a 20% vacancy rate throughout the Church of Scotland, it may be a slow process to find the “right” person. We have been very fortunate in having Rev Norman McKee, retired minister of Uddingston Old, as Interim Moderator and locum Minister. Norman has kept the congregation together and done much more than would ever have been expected of him. What would the Church of Scotland do without its retired ministers?
I have not made my ministerial “status” a secret in Hamilton but neither have I gone out of my way to make it widely known. In coming to a new area, I did not wish to be stereotyped and to have a set of expectations imposed on me. I have had too much of that in the past.
At the time of writing, I have taken one service at Hamilton Old and invited to take another. I occasionally receive approaches from churches within Hamilton Presbytery to give holiday pulpit supply, which I usually respectfully decline. As I no longer drive, offering supply is not really a viable possibility. Also, I prefer to attend my own church on Sundays and to leave pulpit supply for those who are more in need of the money than I am. In summer of 2015, I did provide supply on a couple of Sundays at Cadzow Parish Church in Hamilton, which is also within walking distance of where I live.
My other current ministerial duty is occasionally providing a brief Sunday afternoon service at Woodburn Court, on behalf of Hamilton Old.
I do not know where God will lead me in this latter part of my life. I am still open to possibilities as to how I might serve the church. Early in 2014, I applied unsuccessfully for the temporary post of Assistant Clerk to the Presbytery of Hamilton. Considering that I don’t generally even go to its meetings, I think I had a bit of a brass neck. I was interviewed by a panel of four and was extended every courtesy. The interview lasted a full hour. I gave the interviewing committee a run for their money and felt I had acquitted myself well enough. Possibly I had a narrow escape. Possibly the Presbytery of Hamilton had a narrow escape. So, although I remain open to possibilities as to how I might best serve the church, no obvious doors seem to open. Maybe I need to learn that it is more important simply to be faithful and to concentrate on being rather than on doing.
As I have got older, I have become more interested again in matters of spiritual healing. I am a Reiki Master and Teacher and occasionally operate distance healing when requested. Some Christians will disapprove of this. They can disapprove if they wish. Frankly, I don’t much care. I take the view that the earth and all its fullness is the Lord’s.{14}
So much for me and where I have come from: in Part 2, I want to turn my attention to less personal and much more important issues.