Exile and Return
After I had decided to leave 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 as Senior Administrative Assistant. The people with whom I worked were friendly, cooperative and well-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. But, at least he tried to 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 and shortly before his death, 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.{10} 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.{11}
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 nor would I do it to show off. To me, it is not a “big deal”. 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 {12} 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 experiences 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, the 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 when he came to Aberdeen. I also read his book.{13}
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 so 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 small misguided 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 the Toronto Blessing were, themselves, dealers in small wares and men of limited vision.
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 that, at long last, 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 completely 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.{14} 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 subsequently went on to train for a useful and productive career in social work.
But “things” for me were never quite the same again in that congregation. A new pastor, Rev David Holdaway (shortly to take up the post of Principal of Wales Bible College) was appointed and he proved to be approachable, friendly and supportive. I greatly appreciated his friendship and we used to meet regularly to share lunch. 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, Deeside Christian Fellowship, 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). That offer was completely ignored. I suspect that if a man had made a similar offer, it would have been treated with far more respect. Frankly, I did not care for their patronising and (in my perception) somewhat disrespectful attitude to women in general. In the communion service, only men were allowed to speak. Women were not allowed even to choose a hymn (although a surprisingly large number of hymns in the hymnbook are written by women). The Christian gospel generally, and the ministry of Jesus in particular, revolutionised the status of women but one could certainly be pardoned for thinking otherwise in Deeside.
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 certainly had no need to as I maintained an exceedingly low profile. 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, and sometimes even arrogantly, 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.
My major personal 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 unconventional and interesting courses, e.g. positive psychology, emotional intelligence and contemporary spirituality, subjects which would not normally be found in conventional university studies. 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 certainly 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 are 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.
Quite regularly at weekends, I was involved with supporting the training of aspiring NLP Practitioners carried out by Rosie O’Hara, then principal of NLP Highland. Working most of the weekend when I was also still in full-time employment was quite demanding but it was very enjoyable and enabled me to clock up the necessary hours of practical work which counted towards my Master Practitioner qualification.
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 from time to time. I certainly still believed strongly in the historical integrity of the Christian Gospel. I read my Bible and prayed. 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 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.
We did have one interesting development in Aberdeen as a result of meeting up with some lovely people from the Camphill Community, which has been settled for many years in the nearby Murtle estate. This Community supports children and adults with learning difficulties and a whole lot of others whom the mainstream has, if we are being honest, washed its hands of.
Camphill practices follow the anthroposophical teachings of Rudolph Steiner. Some of Steiner’s teachings seem odd to conventional Christian thinkers. For example, the belief that there were two figures called Jesus (hence the conflicting genealogies of the Gospels) and two Johns. Towards the end of our time in Aberdeen we used to meet up with a lovely couple from the Community once a month for an evening of discussion and fellowship. There were often issues and interpretations on which we could not possibly agree but we were able to understand where each was coming from. Too often, theological discussions can become heated and disrespectful, descending into a competition in text jabbing.
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 even 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 both 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. This we finally accomplished in the summer of 2012. 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. It was a wrench for me to say goodbye to the house that had been in our family since 1967 and which had so many memories of my parents. However, it was the right time to move on.
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 Very Sheltered Housing, where Mrs Morton lived for nearly ten years and was one of the first residents to move in. 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 family table.
Carole and I are both members of Hamilton Old Parish Church which is within easy walking distance of where we live and, to my surprise, we both soon 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.
The congregation were very fortunate in having Rev Norman McKee, retired minister of Uddingston Old, as Interim Moderator and locum Minister. Norman was able to hold the congregation together and did far more than would ever have been reasonably expected of him. What would the Church of Scotland do without its retired ministers?
Fortunately, the congregation was eventually able to call a new minister, Rev Ross Blackman, who was ordained and inducted to the charge in November 2015.
I have to confess that I did not find the induction day at all easy. It was absolutely nothing to do with Ross or his call to Hamilton Old. It was, however, very much about me and my feelings about the past. All the wrong buttons, for me, were being pressed. Even in the late afternoon of the day of the induction, I was unsure if I could “face” the whole thing. I thought I would simply say that I wasn’t feeling well (This was true – I was feeling absolutely dreadful!) and convey my apologies. Around 5.30 pm, I finally decided I would go and take my proper place as a member of the Presbytery of Hamilton. I did and I am glad I did so. But there was no way I could have sat through the induction social that was due to take place after the service, so I slipped away quietly, and under cover of darkness, as soon as I could. Fortunately, virtually no one noticed my absence in the melee of people present. I am glad I didn’t have to make excuses or try to provide an explanation. People generally would not understand and, to be fair, why should they?
I have not made my ministerial “status” a secret in Hamilton but neither did I go 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. As part of my ministerial function, I occasionally provide 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. Characteristically, 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 wanted to remain open to possibilities as to how I might best serve the church, no obvious doors seemed to open. My feeling at the time was that maybe I needed to learn that it is more important simply to be faithful and to concentrate on being rather than on doing.
At the time of the fourth edition (2016), I have taken one service at Hamilton Old. 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. I was pleased to be asked back to conduct the service on the last Sunday of 2015.
However, God moves in mysterious ways. In the late summer of 2015, I received a phone call from the Depute Session Clerk at Hamilton West Church. This lady told me that she knew Carole from schooldays and remembered Carole’s Mum who had been a member of the West for most of her adult life. The church had a vacancy at present and could I take the service in a couple of weeks’ time as the designated preacher had called off due to bereavement? At first I said “no” and then I heard myself saying “yes”. It was only after I had agreed that I realised that this involved two services, one at Gilmour & Whitehill, in the centre of the Burnbank area and another at the West. The two congregations had recently been linked. Anyway, I duly went, with a good spirit, and took both services. I was very well received at both churches but expected that this was very much a “one-off”.
After I came home, I felt strangely restless and, unusually for me, had a sleepless night. Somehow, these congregations had “got” to me and I simply felt that I had to make some kind of offer of help. I knew that Gilmour & Whitehill had been vacant for well over three years. In that time they had united with Burnbank Parish Church, although only a small number of members of the latter had actually joined the union. The next phase was supposed to have been a union with Hamilton West, maintaining both buildings at least in the meantime. Presbytery had looked at the matter again and decided that it would be better to have a linking at present rather than full union. Hamilton West had been vacant for a shorter period but both congregations wanted to move on and call a new minister.
I am still not quite sure why I felt so strongly that I had to make an offer of help. I would like to think it was God’s calling rather than my own personal vanity. When I visited the two congregations, I saw them, especially at Gilmour & Whitehill, as needing a bit of help and support which I felt I could possibly provide. At any rate, I found myself offering to do regular pulpit supply, in order to provide an element of continuity. If the congregations were surprised by my offer, they were not nearly as surprised as I was! Both congregations had been fortunate in having good supply, but it had tended to be three or four people on a rota. No matter how good the supply, this is unsettling to the congregation.
So, it was soon amicably agreed that I would be the regular supply preacher, which involves two services every Sunday with effect from the beginning of 2016. The Church of Scotland has a very sensible policy that temporary appointments of this nature should be for periods of six months, with the possibility of renewal, so as to give all parties the opportunity to review how well the arrangements are working out. So, this takes me, in the first instance to the end of June 2016. At the date of writing, I plan to take most of July off, returning to regular supply thereafter, if required.
For the sake of the two congregations, I am hopeful that a new minister will be in place before the end of 2016. Nevertheless, this time with the two congregations has been meaningful for me. I have been well received and have found the two congregations responsive and appreciative. More than one person has suggested that it would be ideal if I would just “stay on”. As explained above, there have been times in the past when I have allowed myself to be flattered into making wrong decisions. I am not going to make such a silly mistake again.
Even if I wanted to accept such a call, I am aged 73 (2016) which, in my view, is far too old for a pastoral charge, especially one of this size and with so many challenges. The linked parishes cover large areas of housing, both local authority and private. There are two Victorian places of worship to service and maintain. To an extent, both churches have now only a loose contact with the communities that they are expected to serve. To be fair, both are currently making strenuous efforts to keep their fellowships going. I greatly admire the sacrificial work and generous giving that I see in both churches week by week.
This linked charge will require a minister with vision, energy and leadership. I have a certain degree of vision but, at my age, my energy is flagging and I certainly lack the necessary skills of leadership.
But I believe my time at the two churches has given them a period of continuity (which they needed) and for me it has been a time of healing.
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.