As dawn broke over the Scottish Highlands, a lone bus wound its way through misty fields and rolling hills, carrying a man torn between family duty and spiritual hunger. For one traveller, the road to Inverness wasn’t just a scenic ride — it was a lifeline.
Family Ties and a Tangle of Plans
For many, a family reunion in Scotland sounds like a dream — castles, clan histories, the rugged Isle of Skye. For the writer behind the Arise from the Dust blog, it was all that and more: a once-in-a-lifetime chance to connect with his wife’s ancestral roots.
But as the busy itinerary took shape, no one noticed that the highlight — a guided tour of Skye — was scheduled for Sunday. The day many would have set aside for worship was now booked solid with breathtaking scenery and packed minibuses.
It seemed harmless at first — until he realised what it would cost him spiritually.
Wrestling With the Spirit
He thought about skipping the tour. But family obligations weighed heavily — his wife needed him with the group, and the fee for the tour wasn’t cheap. So, on Saturday, he made peace with it: he’d go along.
Then came the text message.
Someone close to them — someone they deeply love — shared that they were leaving the Church. The news hit like a punch to the chest. Doubt. Worry. Guilt. And a powerful sense that he needed more than just the green hills of Skye that weekend — he needed the quiet sanctuary of a church pew.
He prayed. He pondered. And he realised: sometimes the only way to lift the fog is to step away and worship.
Early Morning, Hard Conversations
So before the sun had even properly risen on that Sunday in June, he turned to his wife. Could he break away? Could he really skip the big family tour?
To his surprise, she understood. Others in the group, some already awake, offered kind words and practical help. It didn’t erase the awkwardness — changing plans always stirs up tension — but their support made the next step clear.
A Seat on the Bus — and a Little Peace
So he boarded a bus heading to Inverness. Alone, but somehow not lonely.
For some, this might sound small. But for him, it was a moment of decision: an act of faith, a gesture of love for someone drifting from the Church, and a reminder that worship sometimes demands sacrifice — even on holiday.
Through the bus window, the Scottish countryside passed by like a painted mural: mist hugging the hills, sheep dotting the fields, ancient stone walls marking the boundary between then and now.
The Blessing of a Simple Service
When he finally arrived at church in Inverness, he found what he’d been hoping for — a quiet place to listen, to pray, to make sense of the news that had shaken him.
There were no fireworks, no dramatic revelation. Just simple hymns, familiar faces, and a chance to feel close to God again.
And maybe that’s the whole point: sometimes, when the path gets foggy, you get on the bus. You show up. You listen.
And you remember that even when the road is rocky, you’re never really travelling alone.
