Stranraer Town Trail - The Muntin Kirk

Our church building features on the Stranraer Town Trail, which highlights 19 places of interest in Stranraer. The blue plaque, on the front well of the building, notes that when the original RP church building in Stranraer was built around 1797, it was known locally as the Muntin (Mountain) Kirk as a reminder of services held in the hills and mountains in Covenanting times.

An accompanying leaflet, produced by the Stranraer & District Local History Trust, says:

“The R. P. Church was built in 1825. Once known locally as the Muntin’ Kirk, it is a reminder of the days when members met in secret in the hills to avoid religious persecution. Beneath the modern road are the old ‘Mountain Bridge’ and another culverted stretch of the town burn.”

The first place of interest on the leaflet is the Castle of St John: “In 1678 it was used as a base by John Graham of Claverhouse — Bluidy Clavers — and his troops during their pursuit and suppression of local Covenanters”.

Other places of interest included are North Strand Street, Burnfoot, North West Castle, the Garden of Friendship, the Stranraer Distillery, McCullouch’s Mill, Tradeston, Little Ireland, New Town Hall, McWilliam’s Pump, Dunbae House, the Old Parish Church, the Old Town Hall, the Princess Victoria monument, the West Pier, George Street, and Jubilee Fountain.

The following history of Stranraer is included on the leaflet:

“The place-name Stranraer is thought to mean the row of houses on the strand or shore. Alternatively the name could be a combination of the Gaelic words struathan and reamhar and means the fat stream' or the 'place where the shoals of fish are to be found'.

The town of Stranraer came into being late in the Middle Ages. Around 1510 the Adairs, a powerful local family, built a massive stone castle which was both a family home and an administrative centre for their estates. Stranraer grew up in the shadow of the castle. It became a Burgh of the Barony in 1595 and in 1617 was elevated to a Royal Burgh by James Vl.

By the late 18th century Stranraer was the largest town in Wigtownshire. Its economy was based on tanning, fishing, boat building and linen weaving and it acted as the market centre for the western part of the county. Potatoes and grain were exported to Ireland and huge quantities of timber were imported from the Baltic and later Canada.

In the early 19th century Stranraer was a moderately prosperous place but further development was hampered by the town's geographical isolation. That was to change in 1861 when the railway came to town. The following year work was completed on the new East Pier and in 1872 the iron paddle-steamer 'Princess Louise' inaugurated the ferry service to Larne. Stranraer now had good rail contacts with Glasgow, central Scotland and the north of England and, more importantly, had become the principal ferry port between Scotland and Ireland.”

John G. Paton in Stranraer

Well-known YouTuber (and adjunct professor at the RP Theological Seminary in Pittsburgh) Matthew Everhard recently posted a short biography of John G. Paton. Born just outside Dumfries, Paton was an RP missionary to the New Hebrides. His autobiography is one of the most inspiring missionary biographies ever written. Paton began his mission work as a city missionary in Glasgow, working alongside Rev. William Symington, who had moved to Glasgow from Stranraer.

In 1863, Paton came to our church in Stranraer to give and update on his work. The following report appeared in the Ayrshire Express on 7 November 1863:

“MISSIONARY MEETING.—On Wednesday last, the Rev John G. Paton, missionary from Tanna, one of the New Hebrides or South Sea Islands, in connection with the Reformed Presbyterian Church, addressed two meetings here, in the Rev. Thomas Easton's (R. P. Church), the one at half-past five and the other at half-past seven o'clock, on both occasions giving most interesting details of the mission work on these Islands. The afternoon meeting was principally composed of sabbath-school children, the lower part of church being completely filled by them. By interesting anecdotes of the difficulties and dangers of the missionary work, and the blessings which the introduction of christianity had conferred on many of the little heathen children attending his classes, Mr Paton succeeded in gaining the attention of the children, and at the close he earnestly appealed to them for assistance in raising funds to maintain the missionary ship. and also in filling a missionary box with clothing for the poor naked boys and girls of Tana. In the evening, notwithstanding the unfavourable state of the weather, the church was crowded in every part with a most attentive audience. Mr Paton spoke for about two hours, giving a detailed account of the mission to these islands from the day on which John Williams touched at Erromanga to the latest news just received of the landing of the Rev. John Inglis at Aneityum, with the New Testament translated into the native language. The New Hebrides is a group of thirty beautiful islands, having a population in all of about 150,000, and except some 3500 on Aneityum who have become christians, they are all savage cannibals—the consistent christian conduct, home comforts, and advanced state of civilization in Aneityum contrasting most strongly with the ignorance, misery, degradation and barbarism prevalent in Tanna, the scene of his own labours.”

Incidentally, Rev. John Inglis, mentioned in the above report, was born in Moniaive (the house still stands) and retired to Lincuan Cottage, Kirkcowan.

An Ordinary Church Member

Christian biographies tend to focus on missionaries, ministers and others who have played prominent roles. A partial exception is the book Memoirs of an Ordinary Pastor by Don Carson. Carson is a prominent author and conference speaker – but his father wasn’t. Tom Carson was simply an ordinary minister who no-one would ever have heard of his more famous son hadn’t written his biography. 

Yet if a book entitled Memoirs of an Ordinary Pastor is unusual, a book containing the memoirs of an ordinary church member probably doesn’t exist. (The exception might be if they end up being killed for their faith, like the Wigtown Martyrs. But what about folk who have served away for decades, died and been forgotten?), Being a missionary or minister doesn’t make anyone more valuable in God’s sight, and so surely it is right to also celebrate those who have played less upfront roles.

Given that background, I was delighted recently to be given an insight into the life of an ordinary church member from my own congregation who lived two hundred years ago.

The information came to light in January after Storm Isha blew the roof off a garage belonging to a descendant of John Milory (1770-1847). Milroy was an ancestor of the Scottish Rugby captain Eric Milory, who was killed in action during WWI. John himself however was simply, according to his obituary, ‘late tenant, Freugh, Stoneykirk’.

That obituary appeared in the Galloway Advertiser and Wigtownshire Free Press on 13th January, 1848. There is also a transcript of a letter which he wrote from ‘Clayhole, Stranraer’ to his daughter and son who had emigrated to Ontario.

His obituary described him as ‘a man distinguished for moral courage and decision, for sincerity, uprightness, generosity and a deep-rooted aversion to anything bad in principle, or mean or dishonourable in conduct’.

We also read that: ‘He was also distinguished for the strict observance of the duties or family instruction and worship, for the great interest he took in the weekly prayer meetings, and for the undeviating regularity of his attendance on the public ordinances of religion’.

Milroy may not have been called to ‘full time gospel work’ (a dubious phrase in itself), but he was an encourager and financial supporter of those who were. ‘By his private and public conduct he proved himself to be the warm and generous friend of the faithful ministers and missionaries of the church, and of the efficient maintenance and diffusion of the gospel at home and abroad’.

When he died, he had been a member of the Reformed Presbyterian Church in Stranraer for around 60 years, and for the furtherance of its principles and interests ‘he made no small sacrifices’. In his surviving letter, written in 1847, he expressed concern that the congregation had only had a few members added in the previous six months.

 He was, however, encouraged that the congregation had reduced the debt owed on their new church building and manse from £920 to £280. His obituary noted that they day before his illness began had been devoted to a scheme he had organised to see the remaining debt paid off, to which he himself contributed £60.

He knew what it was to sacrificially support the spread of the gospel in his own community and farther afield.

In his letter of 5th June 1847, John Milroy told his children: ‘My days is near a close: I feel myself done’. Six months later he was dead, and is long forgotten even in the congregation to which he contributed so much.

The Christian does not live for adulation on earth. For a start, no matter how glowing our obituaries may be, we (and those closest to us!) know that we’re far from perfect. Our hope is not that our lives will have earned us God’s favour; I’m sure John Milroy would have been the first to testify of his reliance for salvation on Jesus Christ alone. The most we can do is simply what was our duty to do – we are ‘unworthy servants’ (Luke 17:10). And yet Jesus also promises that ‘your Father who sees in secret will reward you’ (Matt. 6:4).

I for one am thankful that God has brought to light the life of this, in one sense very ordinary, ‘Clayholer’. May his example be an encouragement and a challenge to many. It’s hard to overestimate the impact it would have on church and community if, by God’s grace, we had more people like John Milroy today.

Published in the Stranraer & Wigtownshire Free Press, 28th March 2024.

The Heroine of the Princess Victoria

January can be a grim month. Intimations cover shop windows, announcing death after death. In 2021, a Covid outbreak in Thorney Croft Care Home saw 14 residents die. And on the very last day of January 1953, the Princess Victoria sank, with the loss of 135 lives.

The tragic story is known only too well. The Victoria made slow progress up Loch Ryan that morning. Emerging from the Loch she met with a gale-force storm and thirty-foot waves. Captain Ferguson managed to get the vessel turned, but it was then smashed on the stern by powerful waves. The car deck doors were damaged beyond repair and water flooded the deck.

At 09:46, radio operator David Broadfoot transmitted a message saying: “"Vessel not under command. Urgent assistance of tugs required”. An SOS message was sent at 10:32. In the meantime, the captain seems to have concluded that he had no option but to resume his original course and head out into the storm for Ireland. Five miles from safety, with the engine room flooded and the ship badly listing, Broadfoot messaged at 13:15: “We are preparing to abandon ship”.

The weather conditions, as well as confusion about the Victoria’s location, severely hampered the rescue. Only the lifeboats on one side of the ship could be used, and tragically the one containing women and children was smashed against the sinking ship, meaning none survived.

As with similar disasters, there were some who emerged as heroes. Broadfoot was posthumously awarded the George Cross for staying at his post. The captains of the merchant vessels who came to assist were made members of the Order of the British Empire. Officers of the HMS Contest were awarded the George Medal for their bravery in entering the water to assist the survivors.  

One woman, whose story is not so well known, has been hailed as ‘the heroine of the Princess Victoria’. Her name was Nancy Bryson, and she was from my home county of Londonderry. She was a missionary in Kenya, and had come back to the UK with her husband and three children to visit relatives and speak at some meetings. In 2013, her daughter told the BBC: ‘She was one of the bravest women on board who whispered words of comfort to other passengers and led them in singing a hymn. She also tried to help a three year old child into one of the lifeboats but failed to do so, going under the water herself in the process’.

A poem written about her says: ‘God had her there on purpose’. That might seem a strange thing to say. There were those who were booked to be on the ship that fateful January day who ended up not sailing, due to illness or other reasons. Why would anyone think God had her on that ship on purpose?

The answer is because of what she was reported to be doing as the ship sank. The poem recounts ‘She spoke of Jesus and his love and all his power to save’. As a missionary, Nancy Bryson had given her life to tell people of the hope there is beyond this world. She probably imagined that her most important missionary work would be done in East Africa. It may well be that it was done on the Princess Victoria instead. ‘God had here there on purpose, upon the ship that day / To point the soul to Jesus, the true and living way’.

What a contrast she is to another woman on board that day. That secondly lady was seen walking around in a fur coat clutching bags. Someone told her to forget about them, but she replied: ‘This is all the money I have in the world’. She was later seen dead in the water, still tightly clutching those bags. Nancy Bryson, on the other hand, pointed people to true riches, which even death can’t take from us.

In his book on the disaster, Jack Hunter argued that the Victoria’s loss was due less to unseaworthiness than to an unsuccessful rescue operation. More modern ro-ro ships have sunk less than thirty minutes after water invaded their car decks; the Victoria stayed afloat for four hours.

Those four hours would have been agonising – and yet would also have given those on-board time to think about eternity. And in God’s providence there was someone there to point them to the one who endured the waves of God’s wrath so we could live forever.

Published in the Stranraer & Wigtownshire Free Press, 25th January 2024

The Princess Victoria: 70 years on

1953 saw the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II, the first documented ascent of Mount Everest (by Edmund Hillary) and the discovery of the DNA double helix. More significant than any of those for our own part of the world however was the loss of the Princess Victoria. Seventy years on, the horror of the deadliest UK maritime disaster since WWII has not lessened – nor have the stories of bravery been forgotten. A painting of the disaster by Norman Whitla, a minister I had the privilege of knowing, provides a vivid portrayal of the disaster. The painting shows lifeboat number four, containing women and children, about to be dashed against the side of the ship. As a result, only men survived the disaster. 135 perished, and only 44 survived. Those who lost their lives included the Deputy Prime Minister of Northern Ireland, the MP for North Down – and 23 people from Stranraer. Communities on both sides of the Irish sea were rocked by the events of that day – and have not forgotten them. A BBC programme made to mark the fortieth anniversary was entitled ‘Things don’t happen to boats like this’. And yet, tragically, they did.

So how do we reflect on this disaster seventy years on?  

Well surely we are right to remember and highlight the bravery of many on that day. As the 30,000-page report concluded, ‘If the Princess Victoria had been as staunch as those who manned her, then all would have been well and the disaster averted’. The bravery of the captains and crew of ships who responded to the Victoria’s SOS message – including those who dived into the water to help survivors – was also acknowledged by the awarding of medals.

No doubt many from that day down to ours have asked the question ‘Where was God on 31st January 1953’? Did Jesus not calm a storm when he was on earth? Leaving experienced fishermen – who had been terrified by the storm – even more scared to see it instantly cease when he spoke. Could he not have done it again?

It all brings to mind another January maritime disaster – the sinking of the HMY Iolaire at the entrance to Stornoway harbour on 1 January 1919. The Iolaire (Gaelic for Eagle) was bringing sailors who had fought in WWI home to the Isle of Lewis when she hit rocks and sank. At least 201 of the 283 on board perished – of whom 181 were islanders. Almost an entire generation of young men was lost.

The people of Lewis erected a memorial to the disaster in 1958. On it are the words of Psalm 77:19 in Gaelic – ‘Your way was through the sea, your path through the great waters; yet your footprints were unseen’. It was an acknowledgement that even in such a disaster, God was still sovereign. That even though his ways are often unseen to us, that doesn’t mean he is absent.

And surely we can say the same about the 31st of January 1953. The very fact that seventy years later we still remember it shows how valuable we consider human life to be. If, as we’re often told, human life is no different from animal life, why bother remembering? If life is really about the survival of the fittest, why do we believe that those who risked – or even gave – their lives to save others, did the morally right thing?

What is the greatest expression of love? It’s a question that evolution cannot answer.

But the Bible’s answer is: ‘Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends’.

Jesus Christ – the one who uttered those words – demonstrated exactly what that sort of love looked like by going to the cross. As Jesus hung on the cross, it looked like God was absent. Jesus himself cried out ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’

And yet while it looked for all the world like God was absent – as it did 70 years ago too – he was anything but. He was making a way for us to be reconciled to him.

In a sense we could say that humanity at its best was seen on 31st January 1953. In the bravery displayed and the selfless sacrifice shown. Humanity at its best reflects the image of our maker. And yet it still falls short of his glory.

But on the cross, the Son of God in his perfect, sinless humanity, gave his life that we might believe in him and live with him forever.

Published in the Stranraer & Wigtownshire Free Press, 26 January 2023