Culswick Methodist

I called at Culswick Methodist Church in Shetland this week. I had been here before, back in 2019, and marvelled then that it was still open and functioning; in 2026, it is now authorised to be sold. The Methodist District’s website observes, rather tartly:

Worship services are held at 3pm monthly, during the summer months. There are no services at Culswick in the coming months.

-or the coming years, either, I think.

Who will buy it? It is so remote and small, one wonders what purpose it can serve other than some kind of bothy. Next to the wooden pulpit was one of those old, American harmoniums. I attempted a few bars and chords of Fight the Good Fight, but the old pedals required more pumping than my feet were capable, and its wheezy, feeble groans seemed appropriate for a dying church. Once, this was a place where the gospel of Jesus Christ was proclaimed and sung, but now the wind is heard whistling under the door, while the sheep deposit their offerings in its shadow.

National Methodism is theologically warped, its leaders having forsaken the Bible for woke ideologies and worldly values. Even in Shetland, a place far removed from the urban centres of national decay, the Methodist leadership has soiled its garments. The God of scripture therefore removes Himself from their assemblies, and determines the closure of their high places.

Culswick is beautiful, its hills, valleys and lochs causing visitors to gasp in wonder. Once upon a time, however, a thing even more beautiful was shared here: the good news of Jesus Christ.

And say, Ye mountains of Israel, hear the word of the Lord God; Thus saith the Lord God to the mountains, and to the hills, to the rivers, and to the valleys; Behold, I, even I, will bring a sword upon you, and I will destroy your high places. Ezekiel 6:3

A  D