Monday 11 February 2013

Free Presbyterian Church of Scotland


Sabbath morning service, Sunday 10 February 2013, 11.00am
Minister: Rev. George G. Hutton

What does “welcome” mean? I find myself reflecting on the disconnect between signs on the outside of the building saying “All Welcome” and “Visitors Welcome”, and fifty people inside the building who uttered not a word of welcome to this visitor, far from her Edinburgh home for the weekend but determined to continue the mission. Admittedly, there were two men in the vestibule who shook my hand, but I suspected they probably wouldn’t have done so unless I’d stuck my hand out first (was I breaching some kind of FP protocol by being so forward?), but I don’t recall the word “welcome” being used then or at any other point in the next hour and thirty-five minutes – yes, really! – and in exchange for my “good morning” to the woman who sat in the same pew as me all I got was a grimace in return.

The FPs have a fearsome reputation for being grim, joyless and uncompromising. Deserved or not? I wasn’t sure, but I approached this service with an open mind and a fair idea of what to expect – no instrumental accompaniment, sit down to sing but stand up to pray, and a leg-cramp-inducingly long sermon to sit through. It couldn’t be so very far removed from the many hundreds of other Presbyterian services I’ve attended in my lifetime. Could it?

Now, I do like a metrical psalm, I must admit. I’ve never been one for trendy worship music, and what was good enough for King David is good enough for me. There’s also an admirably robust logic behind the exclusive psalmody practised by the Free Presbyterians and other churches that have evolved down the same branch of the ecclesiastical tree that seems apt and in keeping with their view of scripture. How many times must I have sung my way around the psalter, and to how many tunes? Enough, I thought, to find no surprises here, so I was somewhat taken aback to encounter three tunes I’d never heard before. They were pitched a wee bit too high and the overall choral tone was less than harmonious, but everyone sang, which is more than can be said for some congregations I’ve been part of. The psalms, incidentally, were Psalm 24:1-6, Psalm 8 in its entirety, and Psalm 132:11-14.

But the main event, of course, was the sermon. Mr Hutton affects a “pulpit voice”, with a sing-song cadence and phrases of almost exactly equal length, lending everything he says a hypnotic quality. That might have been one of the reasons why several people nodded off, and I actually heard snoring at one point, but they might just have been exhausted by the sheer length of the sermon. I’m estimating at least 50 minutes – the other 45 being taken up with the three psalms, one bible reading (1 John 3, whole chapter) and one very long prayer – but it might actually have been longer. I wasn’t wearing a watch, and it didn’t seem appropriate to fish around in my handbag to check the display on my mobile phone.

The theme of his sermon, taking 1 John 3:1-3 as the text, was the nature of “sonship” and the privilege of being sons of God and therefore being like Christ, who is not ashamed to call us his brethren. Everyone sitting in that church, said Hutton, was either a child of God or a child of the devil. There is no in between, and that should be a matter of concern to us. Unless you are born again, you are a child of the devil, but a sinful world rejected Christ when he came unto his own and continues to reject those who receive and believe in him. This will always be the case, and Christians can expect to be despised by the world. Cheerful stuff!

The three text verses were frequently intoned throughout the sermon, which gave the appearance of being a deep and detailed theological argument but actually contained so much repetition that the salient points could probably have been delivered in around fifteen minutes if he’d been more concise about it – or indeed in a little over 100 words, as above. Nevertheless, I got the impression that the capacity a) to deliver and b) to endure a long sermon might be considered a virtue for preacher and congregants respectively.

I took a lot of notes, but no one else moved a muscle, except to slump involuntarily into slumber, and I found myself waiting for something conclusive, convincing, persuasive … whatever is supposed to seal the deal and send you home thinking about what you’ve heard and what it means for your life and your relationship with the Almighty. But that moment never came. Maybe I should have surrendered to the general tone of droning portentousness and allowed all that muted indignation to wash over me like whale song, because by analysing what was actually said I realised I’d pricked the balloon … and after he’d spent so long filling it with hot air too.

And then suddenly, in the final thirty seconds of his sermon, Hutton changed tack and issued a bizarre non-sequitur of a coda, as follows: “How sad it is that someone brought up in a Free Presbyterian manse should support the position of the present government, which would legislate to permit a gross immorality that is an abomination to God the creator.” That’s verbatim, by the way.

Clearly this was a reference to the legalisation of gay marriage, but who was the individual in question? I haven’t followed enough of the debate to know which son or daughter of the manse has been thus estranged from the church whose unforgiving code of ethics he/she had no doubt been expected to adopt, and cursory Googling has found no more than an FP petition to the Scottish Government on the subject with no names named. The congregation, one presumes, knew exactly who he was talking about.

And then it was all over. A final short prayer, a few notices about service times, the communion in Dingwall and a forthcoming sermon on “the history and destiny of the Jews according to scripture” (I’d like to have heard that, actually), and everyone left the church. They couldn’t have vacated the place faster if there had been a fire drill, and hardly anyone spoke … not to one another, and certainly not to me. No handshakes on the way out, no valediction, no eye contact, no acknowledgement of my presence. That’s their prerogative, of course. It’s their church and their faith and I don’t claim to be worth noticing, but I wonder if they ought to amend their signage so that it reads “Visitors Admitted” or something of that ilk, something that promises less than “Visitors Welcome”.

“Visitors not actually turned away” might do the trick. It occurred to me I could have turned up hatless and betrousered just to see what they’d have done. I wouldn’t, of course. I’m not setting out to shock or insult anyone, or to draw attention to myself, but I left with what are no doubt diabolically inspired feelings of cheerlessness and disappointment.

Chilled by the cold wind as much as by the FP experience, I headed along the road to Costa Coffee. The young man behind the counter smiled at me and I could have hugged him; I was among human beings once again. It was a simple transaction. All he was selling me was a latte, but he did it with good grace. The message the FPs are selling – that Christ has bought sinners their salvation through his death and resurrection – is infinitely more significant, though the sales technique is unlikely to win many loyal customers. But that seems to be just how they like it. 

16 comments:

  1. If it is the same place I think it is, I can tell you of a 90 year old who recently took her 88 year old brother to a service to enable see where she was going and try and entice him attend. Poor soul spoke with others present trying to introduce her brother by name amongst the congregation. On returning in the evening, at the start of the service there was an announcement made and I quote what I was told: "there will be no speaking amongst each other within this sanctuary until I the minister have left the building". One is left wondering would Christ Himself be welcomed into such premises!

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    1. Very interesting. That explains why there was no chat and no hanging about. Obviously I wouldn't have defiled their sanctuary even by saying good morning had I known about this rule, but I think it's safe to say I won't be darkening their doors again.

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  2. Hi, I belong to this congregation (an office-bearer for what it may be worth). The comment above is not something that has taken place in our congregation and I'm confident that the minister would not make such an announcement. Along with my family and a significant section of the congregation, I was at the Dingwall communion services otherwise I would have liked to have been there to welcome you. I'm very disappointed that you didn't receive the welcome that you hoped for. The main reason for the men being at the door is to provide a welcome and they always shake folks' hands. There is a welcome for anyone irrespective of their appearance or their views. The great purpose of our existence is to glorify and enjoy God and the only way to truly find this as well as the most fundamental matter of all is to come to the Lord Jesus Christ as the Way, Truth and the Life (John 14:6; Matthew 11:28) is the only one who can provide everlasting salvation, true freedom and deliverance from the infinite guilt of our sin before God as well as spiritual meaning. His righteousness and redemption is all that we need to trust in and it is not our religious or good works that can earn us salvation (Ephesians 2:8; John 3:16). He will receive all that come to Him putting their faith in Him and nothing else (John 6:37).

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    1. Thank you for this. I appreciate your taking the time to comment so fully. Perhaps I didn't catch the congregation at its best.

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  3. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. A bit of idle browsing has uncovered this report on an FP church in Glasgow, http://www.ship-of-fools.com/mystery/2006/1213.html mystery-worshipped in 2006 by Shaun the Sheep with remarkably similar results.

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  4. Re ur report on sermon by Rev Hutton Inverness. I totally agree with his remarks about the MP concerned. SHE SHOULD KNOW BETTER BEING A DAUGHTER OF A NOW LATE FP MINISTER. If her father was STILL alive her views would be different GUARANTEED

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  5. "SHE SHOULD KNOW BETTER BEING A DAUGHTER OF A NOW LATE FP MINISTER."

    Why? Is she not entitled to an opinion of her own?

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    1. Apparently not, if a certain tetchy commentator had his way.

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  6. Leugh mi am blog agaibh le uidh. Chaidh mo thogail ann's an Eaglais Shaor Chleireach. Tha cuimhne agam dè cho coibhneil 's a bha na seann daoine a bha a' frithealachadh an eaglais againn. Bruidhinneadh iad rium agus bheireadh iad suiteis dhomh. Dh'ionnsaich mi mo chiad faclan Gàidhlig bhuapa. Bha e ceart gu leòr bruidhinn beagan ri clann ach cha robh e ceadaichte cabaideach air latha na Sàbaid.
    My grandmother, who was one of the kindest people you could meet, would always leave the church straight after the service without speaking to anyone as it was a sin to chatter idly on the Sabbath Day. So if people didn't speak to you at the Free Presbyterian Church, that might have been the reason. I have many fond memories of the old people in the FP church. However, the services were very difficult for a young child to sit through. In those days, a minister was not considered sound if he spoke for less than an hour and it was not uncommon to preach for an hour and a quarter. Believe me, I worked it out from the time it took a church sweetie to slowly dissolve in my mouth. I usually had four extra hard church sweeties, and if I popped one in my mouth every twenty minutes, I could almost make them last through the sermon.
    I was a very sincere believer until I left home to study and found that life in the world was very different from life in the very tight church community. I realised that if I tried to continue with the beliefs I was brought up with, I would either become a hypocrite or lose my sanity.
    Since I came across your blog a few days ago, I have been thinking about your mission to explore different churches. I went through a similar stage almost twenty years ago when I was living in London. I'm not sure if I visited fifty different churches, but I travelled all over London to try new churches. At that time, I would probably have described myself as agnostic, and I was determined to leave no stone unturned in my search for the truth about God and religion, although I wasn't convinced that there was anything behind it all. Sometimes I approached this in quite a systematic, scientific way, and at other times I felt a great longing for God which wasn't satisfied. To cut a long story short, I visited many churches and did not feel that any of them brought me even the remotest contact with God. This might have been partly due to my own attitude as I was in a very cynical, critical frame of mind.

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  7. The search ended when I was walking to a new church and felt an unseen force pushing me back. Since I had been brought up to attend church no matter what, even if I was no longer sure of the existence of God, I stubbornly kept on walking. With each step I took, the force seemed to get stronger until it felt as if I was wading through glue. The feeling stopped when I reached the steps of the church, as if whoever had put up the resistance had conceded that I was determined to get inside. I took a place on the back pew. A man with greasy hair and thick glasses slipped in beside me. He tried to chat me up and when we were told to offer one another the sign of peace, he wouldn't let go of my hand and started stroking me. For the first time in my life, I walked out of a church before the service was finished, and for many years I didn't darken the door of another one except for baptisms, weddings and funerals. Even at the time, it seemed to me that there was something supernatural about this incident. Maybe God didn't want me to be going to churches, because they were doing me absolutely no good.
    Around this time, I had what might be called a mystical experience when I had an experience that God's love was far greater and broader than anything we can imagine and that no-one can ultimately escape it. I was nowhere near a church when this happened. On that day, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that there is a spiritual reality beyond what we can sense in our everyday lives. Now I only have the memory of that certainty. I studied yoga and meditation and developed a sense that God works in many ways, through many religions and through people of no religion. I had an image of different religions being like blind men trying to feel an elephant. One feels the trunk, one feels the tail and one feels a leg and they all argue about what the elephant is like without realising that the truth of the elephant is greater than what they can comprehend. Gerard Hughe's book 'The God of Surprises' was also helpful. He talks about three different stages of religion: a childlike faith, the doubts of adolescence and finally a mature faith which acknowledges doubts.
    About two years ago I began attending church again. We moved home. My husband drifted back to the church he grew up in. At the same time a close family member was gravely ill and I went along to my husband's church, partly out of curiosity and partly because it helped me pray. One of the reasons was that a close family member was gravely ill, and I wanted to pray for them. I kept coming back, because I seemed to come back with more than I expected from the experience. It felt as if the God I had longed for twenty years before was no longer completely elusive. I experienced insights and emotions, I didn't expect. At other times, it was less eventful, but I left with a sense of peace. Sometimes I just felt that I had finally come home.
    Our searching doesn't always bring the results we expect. Does God hide away or is he always there, but we aren't ready to experience him (or her)? I've asked myself why it took twenty years. I suppose I had a lot of baggage to get rid of.
    Find God in cups of coffee or flowers or walks by the sea, and if it's ever time for you to be helped by a church, that will become clear. I told my daughter that she shouldn't ever feel obliged to attend church, because religion is like potty training. You can show a child what to do, but they can't do it until they're ready.

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    1. This was depressing to read. Please study Christian apologetics as you will well find the doctrines of the historic Christian faith to be the unvarnished truth, perhaps after embracing the the Lord with your mine you may embrace Him with your heart.

      Only His Spirit can do this in us.

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  8. Taing mhòr, a Chanaich, airson ur beachdan inntinneach a chur an cèill an seo. Tha argamaid gu leòr air a bhith ann air na sgrìobh mi mun Eaglais Sh Ch dhan deach mi ann an Inbhir Nis an-uiridh -- a' chuid as motha dheth, gu mì-fhortanach, a' cur cuideam air cofaidh agus briogais seach cultar agus diadhachd na h-eaglaise fhèin -- agus tha e math a bhith a' cluinntinn bho cuideigin a tha air tighinn a-mach às, air rannsachadh a dhèanamh am measg eaglaisean eile, agus air tilleadh le barail nach eil cruaidh no cumhang ach tuigseach. Feumaidh mi sùil a thoirt air leabhar Gerard Hughe. Tapadh leibh.

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  9. Gur math a theid leibh air an t-slighe seo, Soul Searcher. Chan urrainn dhuinn mar daoine a' tuigsinn Dia. Tha creideamhan agus eaglaisean a' cleachdadh riaghailtean, cleachdaidhean agus samhlaidhean airson gar treorachadh gu Dia. Tha trioblaidean ag eiridh nuair a tha sinn a' cuir barrachd cudrom air na samhlaidhean fhein na air de tha a' tachairt nar cridhe-san. No nuair a tha sinn a' smaoineachadh nach eil luach sam bith ann na cleachdaidhean agus samhlaidhean eaglaisean no creideamhan eile. Sin am beachd agamsa co-dhui mar cuideigin a tha ag iarraidh a bith pairt den eaglais a' rithist ach aig an aon am tha mi a' faicinn gu bheil cunnart ann gu bheil mi a' fas ro chruaidh nam bheachdan agus a' breithneachadh air daoine eile. Le durachdan

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  10. Tha siud cho fìor 's a ghabhas, a Chanaich. Tha mi cinnteach nach eil sibhse a cheart cho cruaidh nur beachdan 's a tha cuid sna diofar eaglaisean.

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  11. Hello Soul Searcher - nuair a lorg mi am blog agaibh an-uiridh, bha mi a' smaoineachadh torr air creideas ach cha robh mi cinnteach fhathast de dheanainn. Thainig mi gu co-dhunadh bho chionn greiseag agus bha an t-uabhas de smaointeann nam cheann gun do thoisich mi blog. Seo an larach-lin ma tha sibh airson tadhail air uairegin http://scotinprogress.com/
    Canach

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    1. Taing airson beach fhàgail, a Chanaich. Tha am blog agad a' coimhead gu math inntinneach, 's tha mi a' dol a leantainn airson faighinn a-mach ciamar a thèid leat air an t-slighe. Gura math thèid leat, ma-tà.

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