Kennedy of Dingwall

(The Pastor's Letter May 1970)

My dear friends,

In the year 1844 a young man was inducted to the charge of the Free Church of Scotland at Dingwall. His name was John Kennedy and he was soon to become one of the best-loved and most outstanding preachers of the gospel in his day. From far and wide the people flocked to attend on the ministry of "Kennedy of Dingwall," as he was to become known, and by the year 1870 a new church building had to be erected to accommodate the numbers who desired to be fed by the Lord at the hand of His servant.

Dr Kennedy's great friend and fellow comrade in arms, Charles Haddon Spurgeon, formally opened the Church on The 17th May 1870.

At the official opening of the church, a typically "Spurgeonic" incident took place which set the seal on the labours – past and future – of his dear friend and brother Dr. Kennedy. On making his way into the church on the evening of its opening, Mr Spurgeon paused by the wayside, stooped down, and plucked a small flower which he carried into the church with him. When he appeared in the pulpit, he appeared complete with flower in his buttonhole. Throughout the mighty sermon that he delivered, Spurgeon's flower remained in place, and it was not until the end of his message that he removed it and held it up before the great congregation. "You see I have been preaching," he said, "with this little flower in my buttonhole. It is called a 'Forget-me-not'!" He said, "and I would ask you to forget-me-not!" "However," he went on, "even though you should forget me, I would ask you not to forget the words of truth that I have spoken to you this evening."

How typical of Spurgeon. But, equally so, how much in keeping with the great Pastor of the Dingwall congregation, for he was, indeed, a stout defender of that very truth of God which Spurgeon had just unfolded and which he himself loved so dearly and prized so highly. Let me simply turn you over to some of the words of this man "Kennedy of Dingwall," and may the memory of all those who have "bought the truth" for us in the past, and "sold it not" stir us up to hold it as precious in our hearts and minds as they did. Listen to him here preaching on "Truths Defenders Vindicated."

"In times such as ours it is easy to seem a bigot, if one keeps a firm hold on truth, and is careful to have the seal of heaven upon his hope. No Christian can be true and faithful now-a-days on whose brow the world shall not brand the name of bigot. But let him bear it. It is a mark of honour, though intended to be a brand of shame.

Ah, those old Covenanters of our native land were stern bigots in their day. It was well for Scotland that they were. They could part with their lives, but they would not sell the truth. It was this bigotry which won its liberty for their native land. The legacy bequeathed to it by these men of faith, whose only home was oft the mountain cavern, and to whom the snow was oft the only winding-sheet which wrapped their bodies when they had given their lives for Christ, was a richer boon than all ever given to it by the kings that occupied its throne, and by all men of wealth and title who owned its acres. O yes they were bigots these, in the judgment of scoffing sceptics and of ruthless persecutors, but not all the piles they could kindle could burn their bigotry out of them.

And these were stern bigots, too, according to the world's estimate, who headed the crusade against Antichrist, when, at the era of the Reformation, a fire from heaven had kindled in their hearts the love of truth. A plaint Melanchthon* would have bartered the truth for peace - the stern courage of a Luther was needed to prevent the sacrifice. In every age, from the beginning, when the cause of truth emerged triumphant from the din and dust of controversy, the victory was won by a band of bigots who were sworn to its defence."

Sincerely,
      W.J. Seaton