 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
The church: Capel Fron, Penrhyndeudraeth, North Wales.
Denomination: Independent – a member of the Fellowship of Independent Evangelical Churches.
The building: This plain stone chapel (nice geometric plasterwork on the ceiling, mind) was built in 1901 by Calvinistic Methodists, just in time for the crowds produced by the 1904 Welsh Revival. Inside, the congregation sits in yellow pine box pews, each with its own little door and catch. The church was abandoned in the 1970s and was almost bought by a foreign country which wanted to use it to print its banknotes, but the present congregation dusted it off and took it over in the 1980s.
The neighbourhood: Depressingly, I counted three boarded-up chapels on my way to church, which is standard for this area of Wales. 'Capel Fron' means 'the chapel on the brow of the hill'. This is accurate, as the building is perched high on a hillside overlooking a river estuary as it winds into the sea. The view is so beautiful it's almost a shame to go inside to worship. Just across the road are the narrow gauge tracks of the Blaenau Ffestiniog Railway.
The cast: The pastor was on holiday, so Rev. Michael Perrin, the former pastor, was in the pulpit.
6.30pm evening service (in English, rather than Welsh).
How full was the building?
The 300-seater church was over half full. I saw a number of children dressed in Sunday best: a boy with short trousers, blazer and tie; girls with dresses and straw hats.
Did anyone welcome you personally?
Not really. The two men on the door gave hymn books to the people in front of me, but left me to grab my own. It made me wonder if I'd become temporarily invisible – like some angelic visitor.
Was your pew comfortable?
This was a pew made by Welsh Calvinists, who did not have pampered bottoms on their minds.
How would you describe the pre-service atmosphere?
I arrived on the dot of 6.30, I'm afraid, and had to wait in the porch with a group of other latecomers, while the long opening prayer was relayed to us by loudspeaker.
What were the exact opening words of the service?
Once I was inside: 'We sing our opening hymn from the overhead projector...'
What books did the congregation use during the service?
Christian Hymns, the hymn book of the Evangelical Movement of Wales.
What musical instruments were played?
Electric piano.
Did anything distract you?
Every one of the box pews had a smart little oval plate on its door, with the number of the pew in red enamel. I kept wondering why they wanted to number the pews, and couldn't imagine a single reason. It felt like sitting in little wooden railway carriages.
Was the worship stiff-upper-lip, happy clappy, or what?
Safe, predictable worship led in an uncreative way. We all did what we were told. The prayers were very long and felt like thinly-disguised sermons.
Exactly how long was the sermon?
29 minutes.
On a scale of 1-10, how good was the preacher?
4. I watched my fellow worshippers; the sermon made no visible impact on them. Like me, they sat in patient boredom, half-listening while the preacher failed to make any genuine connection between the words of scripture and our everyday lives.
In a nutshell, what was the sermon
about?
Basically: if you think you've got it tough, things are going to get worse. Life is going to get harder and harder, because in 'these end times', the Bible tells us that false prophets and persecution are on the way. 'The call of Christ is a call to conflict,' said our preacher, 'a call to battle stations'.
Which part of the service was like being in
heaven?
When we sang William Williams' great hymn, 'Guide me, O thou great Jehovah', which the congregation tackled with enthusiasm and conviction. The men sang the wonderful bass line (including the exposed 'want no more' arpeggio), as you'd expect in a Welsh hillside chapel.
And which part was like being in... er... the other place?
The long prayers and the rather depressing sermon felt like a dull day in Limbo more than anything else.
What happened when you hung around after the service looking lost?
People were chatting happily in groups and it felt very uncomfortable to be the stranger with no one to talk to. Eventually, I found the preacher and engaged him in conversation. It was sad that no one was looking out for people like me, because this church is in an area of tourism and must have many visitors.
How would you describe the after-service
coffee?
No drinks were provided – the building is literally one big room plus a small porch.
How would you feel about making this church your regular (where 10 = ecstatic, 0 = terminal)?
3. Watching people stay to talk afterwards, I could feel a genuinely warm community here. A shame that it found no expression in the service.
Did the service make you feel glad to be a
Christian?
No... it made me feel neutral.
What one thing will you remember about all this in seven days' time?
The man who collected the offertory at our pew. He looked sombre and Welsh in his dark suit, but on his lapel was a large button in day-glo orange with the slogan: 'Jesus Loves Me'.
| The Mystery Worshipper is sponsored by surefish.co.uk, the internet service provider from Christian Aid. By offering email services, special offers with companies such as amazon.co.uk and smile.co.uk, surefish raises more than £300,000 a year for Christian Aid's work around the world. Click here to find out how to become a Mystery Worshipper. And click here if you would like to reproduce this report in your church magazine or website. Top | Other Reports | Become a Mystery Worshipper! © Ship of Fools 1998 |
|
 |