Christianity: the great disruption

You can pass a surprising number of churches on a journey round the North Coast 500, sometimes finding more than one in a village that seems barely large enough to fill either. Some are falling down, while others look as though somebody might still turn up on Sunday and open the door. To understand how so many came to be built, we need to spend a little time on an argument about choosing ministers. Church politics may not sound the most promising subject for a day’s touring, but in 1843 it persuaded people to walk away from buildings, homes and livelihoods for the sake of their beliefs.

Before then, a congregation could fill the pews without having the final say over who stood in the pulpit. Under the patronage system, the right to nominate a Church of Scotland minister belonged to a patron, often a landowner. Imagine how that felt in a Highland community where the estate already controlled your house, your holding and much of your ability to earn a living. The minister might defend you, and some did so courageously, but his appointment tied him to a system in which the people listening to his sermon had considerably less influence than the people who owned the land.

On 18 May 1843, hundreds of ministers walked out of the Church of Scotland General Assembly rather than accept civil interference in Church government. They formed the Free Church of Scotland, giving up their pulpits, manses and stipends, and across the Highlands congregations went with them. Following your minister was one thing, though, and finding somewhere to hear him preach could be quite another. Some landowners refused sites for new churches, leaving people to worship on roadsides, beaches and exposed hillsides. At Strontian, the congregation’s answer was to commission an iron floating church on the Clyde and anchor it in Loch Sunart, where the landlord’s refusal to provide ground could no longer keep them from gathering.

That determination helps explain the churches we see today, although later splits and reunions added more buildings, and depopulation and falling attendance left many with dwindling congregations. It can be easy to look at an empty church and wonder why anybody thought a place that size needed it. For the people who built it, having somewhere of their own to worship was worth considerable sacrifice, especially after they had spent Sundays out in the weather. The laird might own the glen, the village and almost every piece of ground they could stand on, but they were determined to show him that he did not own their souls.

To learn more, book one of our North Coast Explorer private tours.