A story is like a French art movie: it doesn't start at the real start, and doesn't end right at the real end. It's just a short cutting from a bigger tale. I'll tell my story from one Saturday morning at the Ardbeg Baptist Church in Rothesay, on the Isle of Bute. I was helping make a Gideon's presentation to the church and met Peter (the pastor) and Nickie (a deacon). They began to tell about St Ninian's point / Bay / Chapel just a few miles west (nothing is far away on this island.). "Go there!", they encouraged. So I did. I walked down the almost car-free road, yomped across a shelly beach, over some cow-tramped hummocks, and reached the destination. There, just past some simple buildings, on the highest point, lay the stony ruins of an ancient chapel dedicated to Ninian. I sat down and listened. Peace suffused the place. The day was calm with views to Kintyre, Inchmarnock, Arran and beyond. The peace was tangible; like being caught in a net of calm and rest. I thought: this place is special. I had recently moved to a converted mansion house, which it turns out was built on what was probably a chapel dedicated to Ninian. Again, the peace and calm is amazing. I had only ever felt this once before, at Pluscarden Abbey near Elgin. The abbey had been refounded by four monks from Yorkshire in the mid twentieth century with the text: in this place I will give peace (Haggai 2:9). It also reminded me of the ancient Irish monastery I visited near Enniskillen where, in a howling gale, my wife and I had smelt the strong odour of attar of roses. There are places with a deposit from the saints of old. A deposit of sanctity, the presence of God and holiness. St Ninian's Chapel on Bute is one of these places. God has brought us here to build a community of being and doing for him and for others. I am excited, and awed, as God has begun to show and tell us the scope of his plans for here. But, we must start from where we are now. What do I bring? My brokenness from failing health and career ups and downs over the decades. My quiet repentance for a failed Christian ministry. My awe and respect for a God who loves so much he has never given up with me, or with you. The photo (above) is one of the astonishing things about the bay and the point. Strewn across the land are quartz stones with crosses in them; not on them, but in them. There is even one stuck fast in the beach with three crosses set on a round hill. Bees create honey in the chapel. The acoustics in this low-walled ruin, open to the elements for miles in every direction, are surprisingly noise-less and resonant. Close your eyes to pray and you seem to be in a complete chapel. Kneel to pray at the altar and ... I could go on, but, I don't need to. Come, yourself. God is waiting to welcome you with open arms. Bro' John.
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AuthorsPeter, Nickie and John. Archives
May 2019
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