The Northern Lights of Old Aberdeen
I was licensed to preach by the Presbytery of Edinburgh shortly before graduating in 1969.
My first steps into real ministry were taken at the former Church Extension charge of Aberdeen: Garthdee where I served for a year as a probationer assistant. Garthdee (now linked with Ruthrieston West) was a settled congregation situated in the heart of one of the “better” post-war council housing schemes. I was very fortunate in my time there. It was a busy charge and the minister, Rev W P Drummond was a hard-working, faithful and conscientious pastor with a congregational visiting list that would make most ministers groan in disbelief. He also maintained a very comprehensive record of all the homes in the parish and what church connection, if any, each family had.
Mr Drummond had been the first, and thus the only, minister of the charge which had given an element of continuity that was unusual in church extension. Only too often, idealised young men had accepted appointments to church extension charges only to leave, exhausted and burned-out, after five years. And in those days, church extensions ministers were pretty far down the “status” order, if the truth be told, nor were they paid much above the minimum stipend.
I was also fortunate in being able to live in the new parental home at Milltimber during my Assistantship.
Mr Drummond gave me the opportunity to take part in all aspects of parish life and freely shared his own experiences with me. At no time ever did he “dump” tasks on me. He always gave me my “place” and treated me more as a colleague than as an assistant. He always referred to me as “Mr Gordon” in front of the congregation. I conducted one of the two services every Sunday, which was good practice for me.
I heard from my contemporaries that some of them were much less favourably treated in their assistantships. I have always been grateful to Mr Drummond for the gracious way in which he handled our relationship. In stature, he was a small man, which meant that he was sometimes underestimated. In the things that matter, he was a big man and also big-hearted. I was pleased for him that in his last year of his twenty-year ministry at Garthdee, he was elected Moderator of the Presbytery of Aberdeen – not before time. I was sorry that he only lived for a short time after he moved to St Andrews for his well-deserved retirement.
When my probationary year at Garthdee came to an end, I was eligible to be called to my first charge. This was both an exciting and stressful part of my life. I was not yet married and, at that time, this was a considerable disadvantage for a minister. Many congregations still expected the minister’s wife to adopt a particular role, including teaching in the Sunday school, presiding over the Guild and generally being a supplier and distributor of bounty and good works. In addition, it was expected that she would maintain the manse like a new pin and provide a 24-hour unpaid administrative and messaging service for the minister.
There were plenty of vacancies at the time although not many congregations were interested in a young bachelor looking for his first charge. I was “heard” by a number of vacancy committees, including a “good” charge in Carluke and the inner city, traditionally evangelical, Aberdeen congregation of John Knox (Gerrard Street). Both were genuinely interested but neither of them felt that I was “their man”. And they were probably right.
Yet, things suddenly moved quite quickly. Slightly to my surprise, I received a call to the newly linked rural charge of Fintray with Kinellar & Blackburn (“FKB”) on the edge of the Presbytery of Aberdeen. I was ordained and inducted into the charge at Fintray Parish Church in June 1970.
The vacancy committee told me that the congregations both wanted change and were looking for a young man, like me, to “stir things up a bit” (their words, not minesim). I am quite sure that the committee members meant what they said, but it became clear to me at an early stage in my tenure of the charge that they were certainly not speaking for the congregations as a whole.
It was not long before I found that the situation on the ground was rather different from what had been presented. There were no parish profiles in those days and cards were not always put on the table. The last thing that most of the two congregations actually wanted was any kind of change, even in the smallest detail. Also, the recent linking was (perhaps inevitably) unpopular with most of the two congregations who, perversely, seemed to blame me for it! During my ministry, even the office-bearers of the two congregations barely communicated with one another, which did not make matters any easier for me.
There were two similar but not identical services each Sunday morning, one at Fintray at 10.30 am and the second service, some three miles away, at Kinellar & Blackburn at 11.45 am. This arrangement operated well enough in summer, although the timing was just a little tight. People in Fintray criticised me for leaving their church as soon as the 10.30 am service was over, but I had little choice. The journey between the two churches was a source of anxiety in winter when the winding narrow road up the hill to Kinellar Church could be icy and dangerous. Even getting out of the manse, with its long pot-holed drive, could be nerve racking.
Fintray Parish Church was constructed around 1821 to the design of a distinguished Aberdeen architect John Smith. It is a plain and quite handsome building, but far too big for the tiny congregation (20 was a good turn-out in my time) who tended to huddle themselves together under the gallery in the two side aisles.
The result was that when I stood up on Sunday morning, I was mostly speaking to rows of empty pews. I found this both artificial and rather dispiriting. However, my tentative suggestion that folks might move into the centre area and that I might come down from the very high pulpit to speak from the communion table were firmly rejected. I was told in no uncertain terms that people would rather stay away from church than move “their” seats. There was no point in pursuing a lost cause and I soon gave up trying to do anything differently in this regard (and in most other regards, to be honest).
With honourable exceptions, I found that Fintray, of the two congregations, was easily the harder furrow to plough. In spite of the assurances of the vacancy committee that the congregation wanted change, the exact opposite was clearly the case, as illustrated by my futile attempt even to suggest a review the seating arrangements.
By and large, the small number of people who attended generally wanted the status quo to continue unchallenged. There was immediate resistance to any suggestion that even the smallest thing might ever be done differently. In the popular view, a major part of my role was to be permanently grateful to the congregation for allowing me to be their minister and for the fact that anyone even bothered to turn up on Sunday. It did not seem to occur to many people in the congregation that I could have done with some support and maybe even an occasional word of encouragement.
Curiously, the vast majority of the congregation – i.e. those who seldom or never attended or gave financial support – were equally unwilling to change in any way. They wanted the church to be there for them if and when they might need the ordinances of religion. This was based on the assumption that everything would remain just as it had been in the time of their grandparents. Even more curious was the fact that many of those same nominal members who were so resistant to change were also among the most vocal critics of me and of all aspects of the church as it was.
A small number of the Fintray elders – and I stress that it was only a minority – started what I could only describe as a whispering campaign to ridicule and criticise everything about me and my ministry. I was constantly compared critically with all the previous ministers who, it seems, in contrast to me, had been possessed only of the most outstanding virtues and had been totally without any kind of fault. This grew very wearying, especially as there was really nothing I could do about it except try to be faithful and maintain my dignity.
I remember well that when I wrote and published a short history of Fintray Parish Church {6} it was received in total silence and no one even acknowledged its existence. In 1971, I suggested that it might be appropriate if, in some way, we could mark the 150th anniversary of the building of the present church. This was summarily rejected as quite unnecessary. Even the suggestion that we might have a Church notice board to advertise contact details and the time of the service, was also rejected out of hand. That was fairly typical; everything was perfect as it was, it seemed!
Of course, there are always two sides to any story. I am absolutely sure that there were faults on my side. None of us is perfect. We all make mistakes and misjudge situations. Possibly, because I was a young man, I was too impatient and maybe somewhat brash at times. I wanted to make things better and to see the church moving forward; perhaps I expected too much too soon. Maybe I did not fully understand country ways. But I do not think I deserved the treatment meted out to me by some of the people at Fintray.
Curiously enough, some years after I had left, an invitation was extended to me, instigated by some of the people who had not exactly been among my staunchest supporters, to return one Sunday to Fintray as a guest preacher. Great surprise was expressed when, without the slightest hesitation, I gave them the response that most people would surely expect!
I want to balance this by reminding myself that there were also folks in the congregation who were unfailingly pleasant and appreciative. It was certainly not all negative and I believe that all of life’s experiences have something to teach us. On the positive side, I remember that a very successful and encouraging Children’s Mission was carried out in the parish of Fintray by David Tate of the Scottish Evangelistic Council in 1973, at my invitation.
The situation was rather different in Kinellar & Blackburn. The place of worship, Kinellar Parish Church, was a small, pleasant and unpretentious building, reconstructed in 1801 on a very ancient Christian site at the top of a hill. There was a more enthusiastic, though small, congregation and, in contrast with Fintray, people were generally more open and did genuinely want to take their church forward. We seemed, however, to be constantly hampered by a lack of funds and resources.
Kinellar is the smallest rural parish in Aberdeenshire in terms of area and much of it is not strictly rural. The village of Blackburn, the main centre of population, was largely made up of council housing in my time. Since then, the village has greatly increased in size. Its culture has also somewhat changed as a result of several private housing developments. Although there had been a place of worship in Blackburn (former Free Church) it had closed some years earlier, having been judged unsafe by the Presbytery’s Property Committee although, to the best of my knowledge, the building is still standing and some fifty years later, in use as commercial premises. The lack of a physical church base in the middle of the village was undoubtedly a considerable handicap. The church did have the opportunity to hire what was then the village hall in Blackburn, a cold, bleak and depressing building if ever there was one!
By and large, my relations with the Kinellar & Blackburn elders and office-bearers were positive. I also felt that the congregation was easier for me to minister to than their neighbours in Fintray on the other side of the River Don. The church was very fortunate in having a thriving Sunday school in Blackburn, ably led by Mrs Margaret Campbell of Kirkton farm, who was always a great support to me and my ministry.
In 1972, some young people from the neighbouring parish of Newhills provided a week of mission in Kinellar & Blackburn which was a real time of encouragement and refreshment. The young folk were also supported by some members of Aberdeen University Christian Union, one of whom was Carole Morton, later to become my wife!
I was extremely sorry to learn that Kinellar Parish Church has ceased to be a place of worship and that this pleasant little church is in a semi-derelict condition and on the “Buildings at Risk” register at the time of first writing. There are plans to turn it into a private house, even though it lies in the middle of a graveyard. The Kinellar & Blackburn congregation now worship in the new Kinellar Community Hall.
I remember one strangely significant event that took place in my time at Kinellar. The local authority had designated a large field at Clinterty on the edge of the parish as a residential camp site for travelling people. This initiative was as generally unpopular with local people then as it probably would be today.
My first dealing with residents of the site was officiating at a wedding. The ecumenically-minded travelling people of Scotland expect to be married in a church although they will tend to go to the nearest one available, irrespective of tradition or denomination. I remember that the wedding in question was a somewhat chaotic event but I was perfectly happy to officiate at it and the families involved were entirely respectful.
My second dealing with the travellers was quite different. I was called in by Telephone Samaritans to speak to a young couple at the site who believed they were being tormented by some kind of evil spirit. I have always been quite sensitive to positive or negative “vibes” in places. At one or two points in my life I have actually seen dead people, including my own grandfather. I tend to sit lightly to all this as the veil between the world of the living and the dead can be very thin.
I do actually believe in what are often called ghosts, although most of these phenomena are no more than left-over energy and are quite harmless. What people see and experience of the phenomena often called ghosts is really no more than the equivalent of viewing a clip from an old film. They are not seeing a real person or a current event. It is rare for the appearance of a ghost to be evil. I also maintain a healthy degree of scepticism and would always first look for rational explanations of apparent strange noises and unusual phenomena.
However, when people meddle with the occult, they should be aware that they can be dealing with potentially dangerous forces. Just as there are people in the world who seem to be evil, so it is also in the spirit world. In this case, two feckless young couples in the travelling community had been playing a game with a Ouija board. Travelling people are traditionally involved in fortune telling, cursing and such like, most of which is hocus-pocus but which can provide a gateway into more sinister phenomena.
There was a woman living on the site who had led the couple into “playing” with the Oija board. Curiously enough, I recognised her as someone I had recently visited in Aberdeen Royal Infirmary in my capacity as parish minister. On that occasion, her reception of me had been cool, to say the least of it. Now, she was openly hostile and unwilling to speak to me at all. Indeed, she looked at me with what I could only describe as loathing. Just a few weeks later, she was prosecuted in Aberdeen Sheriff Court for ill-treating a dog. There is little doubt in my mind that this woman was into some pretty unpleasant stuff.
What might generically be called evil forces can only be present when someone has given them that right, as certainly happened in this case. The couples became frightened at the messages that issued from the board. They actually wrote them down and insisted that I must read them. The messages were clearly of a depraved and evil nature and I will say no more than that. I felt quite sickened just reading them. It was as though in some way my mind had been contaminated.
Since the Ouija session, one of the two couples had been plagued at nights by an apparition (seen by both of them) of a sinister-looking young man dressed in a fringed leather jacket and wielding a knife. This apparition was also, they told me, accompanied by an unpleasant smell and a strange greenish light. The couple involved were genuinely terrified out of the few wits that they possessed between them. I doubt if I have ever witnessed people as afraid as they were. They were literally shaking and the young man hung on to the sleeve of my jacket and seemed unwilling to let go.
I will not go into details about what I did. I will simply say that I pretty soon sent this evil spirit, or whatever it was, packing in the name of Jesus Christ. When I eventually got home, I was shivering and shaking like a leaf and had to lie down. It was as though the experience had temporarily drawn power out of me.
Of course, the story was soon round the parish and people looked at me with a new respect for at least a week thereafter! I am not the kind of person who sees evil spirits lurking behind every bush, but let no one try to convince me that there is no such thing as a force of evil. Not everything in the spiritual realm is benign, by any manner of means. The fact that many people today do not believe, or do not want to believe, in forces of evil does not mean that they do not exist.
The manse for the linked charge (the former manse of Fintray) was not exactly comfortable. It was one of several almost identical manses built in the north east of Scotland to the design of the Aberdeen architect William Smith who also built Balmoral Castle for Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. Although quite a handsome building, Fintray Manse was clearly designed for the days when ministers usually had large families and a fleet of servants. The rooms were large and difficult to heat. The whole house was damp and had suffered from years of virtual neglect.
Living in the manse over the winter could only be described as a feat of endurance, especially with the power-cuts of the early 1970s. When, after a few years, the fabric committee took pity on me and decided to install central heating, the oil crisis of the time had caused the price of heating fuel to sky-rocket and the cost of central heating even part of the house became prohibitive. I well remember how one member of the Fintray congregation, the wife of an elder, never missed an opportunity to tell me how comfortably well off and highly paid (i.e. over-paid) I was. And, of course, I was so “lucky” in having a house provided “for nothing”. I can only presume that this lady subscribed to the popular misperception that ministers only work for one hour each week! Fintray manse was sold some years ago and the present minister lives in a modern house at Blackburn.
During my time at FKB I made many interesting contacts. I struck up some friendships and especially so with Rev David Searle and his wife Lorna at the neighbouring parish of Newhills. David and Lorna were very tolerant of me and put up with a great deal. It left a considerable gap in my life when David was called to be minister of Larbert Old Parish Church. I greatly missed their understanding and support. I was honoured that David asked me to “preach him in” at Larbert. After an outstanding ministry at Larbert, David moved to a charge in Northern Ireland before moving back to Scotland to take up a strategic and pioneering post as Warden of Rutherford House in Edinburgh whose basic mission is to help people in Scotland to think biblically and theologically.
I also turned my hand to writing and published a number of articles and booklets, some of which I have reproduced in my Autumn Leaves project, although I destroyed most of my unpublished material some years ago. I proved to be a popular speaker at Guild and similar meetings throughout the Presbytery of Aberdeen. I also struck up a strange, if brief, friendship with the new Professor of Practical Theology at Christ’s College, Rev Ian Pitt-Watson.
I say “strange” because I do not think that, when we first met, either of us took an instant liking to the other. I thought that Ian was rather intense and far too academic for my comfort. But, we seemed to grow on one another and he gradually brought me in to help him with some of his Practical Theology classes. I came to like and greatly respect Ian and, at one stage, I was in his confidence over a tricky and delicate personal issue that was troubling him. I was pleased for him when he was subsequently appointed as a Professor at the prestigious Fuller Theological Seminary at Pasadena, California. I am sorry that thereafter we lost touch. We did not have the advantage of email in those far off days. He too did not live to see old age.
I also became friendly with a Divinity student named Cliff Rennie, who was a member of Newhills Church, where my friend David Searle was minister. Cliff and I could not have been more different in many ways. He was about my age and probably cleverer than me. He already had a good Second Class Honours degree in English. He had the reputation (which he quite enjoyed) of having been quite a “wild” boy and never out of trouble at school. On the face of it, he seemed an unlikely candidate for ministry. He certainly did not fit the ministerial stereotypes. Cliff used to talk to me about his life for hours on end. I was never quite sure why, except that I listened to what he said and did not pass judgement although I did try to encourage him in what I perceived (rightly or wrongly) as being the “right” direction. He also knew that I do respect and keep confidences.
To cut a long story short, Cliff did manage, after a few wobbles, to be licensed to preach by the Presbytery of Aberdeen and began what was to be a two year assistantship at my old stamping ground at Garthdee.
Towards the end of his time there, I noticed that the charge of Altnaharra and Farr (“Bettyhill”), where I been on a student summer placement in 1967, had become vacant. I urged Cliff to apply. He summarily declined to do so as he refused in principle to apply for any charge. His view was that the Lord would open the right door at the right time. I tend to take a much more pragmatic view and believe that God helps those who help themselves.
So, I took matters into my own hands and secretly contacted the interim moderator on his behalf. Some weeks later, Cliff told me with great excitement that he had been invited to preach “with a view” for Bettyhill. I expressed pleasure and feigned surprise at this news. He was eventually called to that charge. He never knew that I had any part in the process. Was I being an interfering busybody or was I an instrument of God’s purposes? Others must judge.
Cliff was married at King’s College Chapel, Old Aberdeen, shortly before he moved north. I was his best man. After some years at Bettyhill, Cliff moved to Larbert Old to succeed my good friend and his former minister, David Searle (who, later, was to be my best man) when the latter moved to Northern Ireland. After a long ministry at Larbert, Cliff tragically died only a few months into his well-earned retirement.
I strongly believe that people cross our paths for a purpose. We always have something to learn from them and we also have something to teach them. We often do not see this at the time. It is part of the mystery of providence.
During my time at FKB, I also used to make regular visits to Rev David Randall and his wife, Nan, at Macduff. Dave had been a fellow Honours New Testament student at New College and we had become good friends. He was to have a long, faithful and fruitful ministry at Macduff Parish Church and I always looked forward to renewing fellowship with Dave and his family. He was to spend his entire ministry at Macduff. I was more sorry than I can say when, in his retirement, Dave decided to leave the Church of Scotland in the wake of the “gay minister” furore. However, we can only do what we believe to be right and I am certain that it would not have been a decision that was made lightly.
In 1974, I married Carole Morton, an Aberdeen psychology graduate from Hamilton and several years younger than me. We were married in Carole’s own church, Gilcomston South, Aberdeen by the minister, the redoubtable Rev William Still. David Searle of Newhills (soon to move on to Larbert Old), was my best man. Carole went on to have a successful career in further education teaching before moving over to the University of Aberdeen as a Lecturer in Education. Carole is also an experienced and well qualified counsellor, involved not only in her own practice but in training and supervising others. We have no children. We are both now retired and still happily married after over forty years.
Since 1972, I had been part of the “Crieff Fellowship” an informal gathering of ministers hand-picked by Mr Still who met occasionally for fellowship, discussion and teaching at Crieff Hydro. This gave me a valuable opportunity to meet a number of interesting fellow ministers including such names as James Philip (whom I already knew), George Philip, Eric Alexander, Sandy Tait and Tom Swanson.
From quite early in my ministry at FKB, I became involved in Presbytery committees. At the time, Aberdeen Presbytery contained over 80 charges and stretched from Stonehaven in the south to almost as far as Peterhead in the north. It was an interesting mixture of city and rural charges. Somewhat to my surprise, in 1974 I was appointed Assistant Presbytery Clerk, which meant that I actually acted as Presbytery Clerk during the year when the much respected holder of the post, Rev John Mowat was moderator of Presbytery.
With my legal background I enjoyed the procedural aspects of the Clerkship and the small amount of church law involved. Much more rewarding were the many pastoral opportunities such as encouraging ministers and elders, troubleshooting misunderstandings in congregations, providing a shoulder to cry on and sometimes even (dare I say it?) suffering fools gladly.
Being a Presbytery Clerk is a ministry in its own right and like all ministries much of its most useful work tends to be both hidden and secret. Although I can be both outspoken and self-opinionated, people have been kind enough to tell me that I can also be a good listener and mediator. I am not judgemental and I can – and I do – keep confidences. By nature, I am not a good leader, which perhaps is one of the reasons why I was not a particularly successful minister. However, as Clerk I did not really need to have such skills and the job seemed to suit my personality.
John Mowat could not have been more encouraging or supportive. Although my appointment as Assistant Clerk was initially for eighteen months, there was always an unspoken hope and expectation that I might success Mr Mowat as Clerk when he retired. Although no one has yet been born who pleases everybody, it is fair to say that my eighteen-month tenure as Assistant Clerk was generally popular. I fell into the post easily and I was known to be approachable and fair-minded. The fact that I was a “known” evangelical was neither an advantage nor was it a handicap. I adopted my usual pragmatic practice of perceiving all the ministers, elders and church members whom I met, or with whom I corresponded, as my brothers and sisters in Christ. There was no question in my mind of some being more equal than others; besides which, a Presbytery Clerk should and must always be even-handed in all of his dealings.
But there was a problem. The local authority boundaries throughout Scotland were due to be radically realigned. The General Assembly, for reasons best known to itself, had decided that it would be in the interests of the Church of Scotland to ensure that Presbytery and new local authority boundaries coincided. Aberdeen Presbytery was then a large and diverse Presbytery, especially since it had absorbed the entire landward Presbytery of Ellon and parts of the defunct Presbytery of Kincardine O’Neil earlier in the twentieth century. Under the proposed adjustments, most of these landward charges were to be disjoined and added to two new re-formed Presbyteries: Gordon and Kincardine and Deeside. FKB was to be added to the new Gordon Presbytery. Clearly, I could not be Clerk to Aberdeen Presbytery if I lived in and ministered in another Presbytery.
Aberdeen Presbytery very much wanted me to fill the impending vacancy of Clerk. I had been acting acceptably as such for more than a year. This, of course, was flattering and, to be honest, I allowed myself to be flattered. To cut a long story short, I was offered a new combined post that would allow me to continue having some kind of pastoral ministry and also undertake the duties of Clerk in what was a reduced, but still quite large, Presbytery with just over 50 charges.
It should also be pointed out that I had absolutely no administrative support as Clerk. I had to do everything from answering the phone and buying the stamps to arranging the formal meetings and inductions and the 101 other duties that go with the territory.
So, with a certain degree of relief, I demitted FKB at the end of 1975 and took up a post of 50% Presbytery Clerk and 50% Associate Minister at the Langstane Kirk, a newly united charge of nearly 2,000 members situated in a rather splendid Victorian Gothic building on Union Street in the heart of the City of Aberdeen. On paper, it seemed an ideal arrangement.
Well, the Good Book warns us {7} that we cannot serve two masters and this turned out to be highly relevant in my case. Within a short time, I was trying to hold down the e