When I signed up for Presbyterian College’s Celtic Cross Leadership Development pilgrimage through Scotland, I knew it would be a meaningful and special experience. But I did not realize just how deeply it would shape my understanding of faith, the role of the church and my personal relationship with Christ.
The gift of conviction
We began in Glasgow. Our days there were full, visiting churches serving economically challenged communities, hearing from mission workers who live alongside the people they serve, standing beneath the arches of St. Mungo’s Cathedral, and taking time to explore the beauty and character of the city around us. But the most meaningful parts for me were the conversations. I found myself sharing honest dialogue with people whose beliefs didn’t always align with mine. Yet every exchange was marked by mutual respect and genuine curiosity rather than disagreement. For the first time, I didn’t feel the need to defend my faith. I was invited to simply listen, reflect and grow through the experience.
One of the hardest and most sobering moments of the trip came when we learned that more than 800 Church of Scotland congregations are closing. The leaders we met spoke openly about shrinking attendance, aging membership, and the painful decisions being made. It hit even harder when someone said, “And the PC(USA) isn’t far behind.”
More than 800 Church of Scotland congregations are closing … and the PC(USA) isn’t far behind.
That worry about churches closing stayed with me for the rest of the pilgrimage. I don’t want my church to close. I want it to grow. I want it to matter to my generation, to the next and to the communities we live in. Despite the dire realities surrounding mainline denominations in Scotland and America, this pilgrimage didn’t make me give up on the church. It made me want to fight for it.
The gift of stillness
From Glasgow, we made the long and beautiful journey to Iona, by train, ferry, and finally foot. The island felt different the moment we arrived. Maybe it was the salty wind or the rhythmic waves. Maybe it was the centuries of prayer soaked into its stones. Here, the pace of our pilgrimage changed. We were invited into stillness, reflection and communal life in a deeper way.
The highlight for me was our private worship service in the Iona Abbey. We led it ourselves, no tourists, no fanfare. Just our group, gathered in the sacred space, sharing Scripture, singing, and receiving communion together. It wasn’t polished or perfect, but it was deeply personal. I remember holding the bread and thinking, “This is the body of Christ, right here, right now, in the middle of nowhere, and yet at the center of everything.”
We returned to that stillness a few times during our stay. We’d gather in a circle and just sit. No words. No expectations. Just silent reflection with others who were also sorting out who they are, who God is, and how we’re all connected. It was one of the most honest forms of prayer I’ve ever experienced.
It was one of the most honest forms of prayer I’ve ever experienced.
The gift of difference
Finally, we arrived in Edinburgh, a city of contrasts: historic and modern, reverent and rebellious, structured and spontaneous. We visited St. Giles Cathedral, heard from Church of Scotland leaders, and toured spaces where faith intersects with art, justice and politics. We also visited Greyfriars and the Grassmarket Community Project, where church and community blend in bold and beautiful ways.
In Edinburgh, too, the conversations deepened. I stayed up late talking with people in our group- some who grew up in church like I did, and some who were still figuring it all out. We disagreed on theology, on church structure, on the role of religion in society, and the supper menu, but we always came back to a shared desire for truth, justice, grace, and chocolate. That, I think, is the heart of pilgrimage: letting the road make room for difference, without demanding resolution.
Now that I’m home, I keep returning to the silence of those reflection circles, the shared bread at Iona, and the voices of fellow pilgrims who taught me that leadership isn’t always about certainty. Sometimes it’s just about showing up, staying present and making space for God to move.
This pilgrimage didn’t give me neat answers or spiritual checklists. Instead, it gave me companions, new perspectives, and a quieter, more grounded kind of faith.
This pilgrimage didn’t give me neat answers or spiritual checklists. Instead, it gave me companions, new perspectives, and a quieter, more grounded kind of faith.
I left Scotland with fewer assumptions but more hope. And maybe that’s what transformation really looks like.
By the Rev. Dr. L. “British” Hyrams, Jack and Jane Presseau Associate Chaplain at Presbyterian College
Celtic Cross is a well-established church leadership development program at Presbyterian College. Relaunched in 2023-2024, the program includes student participants from diverse denominational backgrounds. These students share a common commitment to continued leadership within the church, with some planning to pursue seminary education.
The program offers a multifaceted approach to leadership development. Participants are paired with PC(USA) churches across Spartanburg, Greenville, and Columbia, South Carolina, for mentoring and practical experience. Additionally, an annual spring retreat provides exposure to how churches in Charleston, Charlotte, and Atlanta are addressing contemporary societal issues, with locations rotating each year.
Thanks to the generous support of the Lilly Endowment’s Thriving Congregations Initiative, the next five summers will feature international trips. These trips will broaden the program’s scope, offering participants an international perspective on church history and an opportunity to explore innovative responses to needs within diverse global contexts.