A weathered stone parish church standing alone on a gentle Skye hillside, its pale grey walls mottled with lichen and rain streaks, and a simple slate roof darkened by years of Atlantic storms. In the foreground, a hand-carved Celtic cross gravestone leans slightly in soft, moss-covered grass. Beyond, low dry-stone walls trace the contours of the land, with distant sea lochs and rugged hills fading into mist. Diffused overcast light from a cloudy Hebridean sky wraps everything in subdued, silvery tones, with no harsh shadows. Photographed at eye level in photographic realism with a wide-angle lens, sharp focus throughout, creating a contemplative, sophisticated mood of quiet faith and enduring landscape.

Finding My Way on Skye

Thoughts and stories from a priest moving to the Inner Hebrides

Blog posts from my first weeks here

Inside the sheepfold

Sunday’s gospel reading was about Jesus being the Gate to the sheepfold. And we also had a reading from Acts about life in the early church in Jerusalem, which gives some thoughts about what life might be like inside the sheepfold. Here is the sermon I preached, bringing those two biblical ideas to bear on…

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St John’s, Caroy

I was taken this week to see a lovely old ruin, of St John’s at Caroy. This was the first church built specifically for Episcopalian worship, in the 1830s. I understand that the look and feel of worship in Skye’s parish churches changed in the early 19th century. Perhaps because this was a time of…

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The Road to Emmaus

It’s taken me a little time to figure out how to post this. Here is a sermon preached on Sunday 19th April at St Columba’s church, in Portree. The main things I said are:

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Coral beach

Someone said to me the other day that Skye has no beaches. He is a Harris man – an island which is fringed with wonderful white beaches – so he is biased. But he is broadly right, that Skye is mainly edged with cliffs, and the strands composed of rocks and pebbles. But today we…

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Whisky raid

Very kind colleagues with whom I worked until February bought me a voucher for the Isle of Skye distillery company as a leaving gift. These people have a dinky shop in Portree where they sell their own gin, and various local whiskies. There are, I believe, two distilleries on this island: one at Talisker on…

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Candles, pizza and movies

Susan and I went to see a National Theatre Live performance last night.  The play was All Our Sons by Arthur Miller.  Some astonishing performances – particularly Bryan Cranston, compelling as the patriarch around whom revolves a whole solar system of moral compromise.  (I already thought he was a genius.  I could not watch more…

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Crofting

I visited two church members this week who are crofters, up towards the north end of Skye. Their house sits on a hillside: a natural amphitheatre, looking down over one of Skye’s natural harbours, and beyond it views towards Harris and North Uist.  On a sunny April afternoon it was very heaven – they tell…

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Getting my Licence

I was licensed last Friday as Priest-in-Charge for St Columba’s, Portree, and St Michael’s, Raasay, and I’ve taken my first Sunday service.  A tremendously happy day.  The congregation here are so grateful that a full-time priest has been funded, after a long gap. Someone I told about the service was amused that I needed a…

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Vindication of the King

A sermon preached on Easter Sunday 2026 at St George’s church, Paris “Rejoice, heavenly powers! Sing, choirs of angels!” begins one of the canticles that we only use at Easter, the Exsultet.  And to you also I say, “Rejoice!”  Happy Easter! Why do we rejoice today?  What has the death and Resurrection of our Lord…

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Waiting for the Kingdom

Sermon preached on Holy Saturday 2026, at St George’s church, Paris. How are we doing? Holy Week can be emotionally gruelling.  We have watched as the events in Jerusalem moved towards crisis.  We have opened our hearts to receive the gift of the Eucharist, the transforming gift of Christ’s own self to us.  But those…

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Crucifixion as a Spectacle

A sermon preached on Good Friday 2026, at St George’s Church, Paris I hope no-one here has ever had to watch the kind of awful violence that we remember today.  If you have, then I am very sorry, and I hope that today’s account of the crucifixion will not revive for you the pain and…

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Wedding Feast of the Kingdom

A Sermon preached on Maundy Thursday 2026 at St George’s church, Paris The great theme of Jesus’ teaching is the Kingdom of God, and through this week’s talks I have suggested that Crucifixion and Resurrection are events that define this Kingdom.  They fall like a great axe-blow, cleaving the history of the universe into two…

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Crucifixion of a Blasphemer

A sermon preached on the Wednesday of Holy Week 2026, at St George’s church, Paris. I have spoken in previous talks about God’s Kingdom as the source of Christian hope, and the Cross and Resurrection as the inauguration of the Kingdom.  Yesterday, I discussed what it might mean for an individual to align her or…

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Being Crucified

A sermon preached on the Tuesday of Holy Week 2026 at St George’s, Paris. Yesterday I suggested that we understand the Cross and Resurrection as being about the Kingdom of God.  In Jesus, God show us that self-giving love creates all, holds all in being, and is sovereign.  Sin is rebellion against God’s love; and…

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Crucifixion of a Rebel

Preached on the Monday of Holy Week 2026 at St George’s church, Paris If you were present at Mass yesterday, you will have heard me introduce this series of Holy Week sermons, which I have entitled, Holy Week in the Time of Crisis. While our faith is ancient, the task of each generation is to…

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About Me

Since I was ordained in 2017, I have mainly cared for local churches, as well as some time working in diocesan offices. Before ordination I worked as an economist and organisational leader. In April 2026 I am moving to live on the Isle of Skye.

A narrow single-track road on the Isle of Skye, its dark, rain-slicked tarmac glistening, winding gently between undulating moorland covered in rust-gold bracken and deep green heather. Wooden passing place signs stand at intervals, slightly tilted, their white paint chipped by salt-laden winds. Low clouds hug the distant Cuillin peaks, their outlines softened by drifting mist. Soft late-afternoon light breaks through gaps in the cloud, casting subtle highlights on puddles along the roadside. Captured from a low, slightly off-center perspective, using the rule of thirds so the road pulls the eye into the distance. The photographic realism and muted, natural palette create a reflective, journeying atmosphere that hints at finding one’s way in a remote, spiritual landscape.
A small, sturdy stone manse tucked into a Skye bay, its rough-rendered walls painted a soft off-white, with deep-set windows reflecting the dull silver of a calm sea loch. In the foreground, a simple wooden gate, weathered and splintered, stands half-open in a low, lichen-covered stone wall, inviting the viewer inward. Tufts of wind-bent grass and scattered wildflowers cling to the rocky ground. Gentle, cool evening light filters through high cloud, creating faint streaks on the water and a subtle glow around the house’s edges. Photographed in photographic realism from a slightly elevated angle, with crisp detail on the textures of stone, wood, and water, the mood is quietly hospitable and reflective, suggesting a place of ministry, retreat, and thoughtful Skye life.
An intricately carved wooden altar cross resting on a simple, well-worn oak communion table inside a small island church. The wood is deep honey-brown, polished by generations of hands, with fine Celtic knotwork and interlaced patterns that catch the light. Behind it, a narrow lancet window reveals a blurred view of the Skye coastline: dark hills, muted sea, and a strip of overcast sky. Soft, natural light filters through the glass, illuminating dust motes and creating a gentle halo around the cross while leaving the corners of the sanctuary in shadow. Shot at eye level with a shallow depth of field in photographic realism, the cross is sharply in focus against a soft, atmospheric background, evoking a serene, contemplative mood of quiet priestly ministry rooted in place.
A rocky Skye shoreline at low tide, where dark, seaweed-draped boulders glisten with moisture, and small tidal pools mirror the pale grey sky. In one clear pool, a single smooth, oval stone inscribed with a small, simple cross rests among shells and sand, its surface slightly worn. Layers of distant headlands step into the horizon, each more misty and blue-grey than the last, under a vast, cloud-heavy sky. Gentle, diffused evening light creates soft gradients across water and rock, with no sharp contrasts. Captured in photographic realism from a low, intimate angle, focusing on the inscribed stone while the coastline recedes into a subtle bokeh. The mood is meditative and sophisticated, suggesting quiet prayer, discernment, and the meeting of faith and wild Hebridean nature.
An interior reading corner in a Skye manse: a solid, dark-wood writing desk with a slightly uneven surface and faint ink rings, positioned beside a deep-set sash window. On the desk lies an open, ribbon-marked prayer book, its cream pages gently curled at the edges, alongside a leather-bound journal and a ceramic mug with faint tea stains. Outside the window, blurred in soft focus, lie grey-blue hills and rain-speckled glass. Overcast daylight filters through, creating a cool, even illumination with subtle reflections on the window frame. Photographed in photographic realism from a three-quarter angle, the composition uses shallow depth of field to emphasize the books and mug, cultivating a quiet, thoughtful atmosphere of study, sermon preparation, and reflective writing about Skye life and ministry.
A small stone cairn built beside a windswept Skye footpath, each rock uniquely shaped and coloured—from dark basalt to pale, speckled granite—carefully balanced to form a modest waymarker. Around it, coarse grass bends under a steady Atlantic breeze, and patches of purple heather cling to shallow soil between scattered stones. In the distance, low, cloud-draped hills form a soft, undulating horizon. Late-evening golden hour light slips under the cloud layer, casting warm highlights on the upper stones of the cairn and long, delicate shadows across the path. Captured in photographic realism from a low, close perspective, with the cairn in crisp focus and the path leading into a gently blurred background, the mood is quietly hopeful and symbolic, evoking guidance, pilgrimage, and the process of finding one’s way on Skye.