Standing on the granite steps of the Free North Church, you can see no less than five other churches. Three of them lie on the opposite bank of the River Ness as it cuts a great curve through the town. But of them all, this church with its Victorian gothic spire and massive stone buttresses is the most like a fortress – a mighty bulwark if ever there was one.

Just before 11 o'clock on a bright Sunday morning, with sunlight dancing on the waters of the river outside, some 200 people sit solemnly in the gloomy interior, dressed in sabbath-best, waiting for the service to begin. The building is austere: unvarnished floorboards; windows filled with plain glass; pews built for discomfort; the sort of leg room you get when flying economy.

However, austerity stops at the pulpit. This is a monstrous three-decker, a riot of carved pine, with reading positions at ground level, the half-way stage, and on the distant summit. At the very peak of this Mt Sinai in wood, some sixteen stairs above the congregation, is a preaching platform complete with a gigantic throne in which the Pope himself would feel perfectly at home.

A man now climbs these wooden foothills to sit at the half-way stage. Above him, a concealed door in the panelling opens and another man in a dark suit and dog collar sits in the throne. This is the Rev. HM Ferrier, who begins our service by announcing the first psalm. I wait for the organ to strike up – but there is no organ in Free North Church. Instead, the man at the half-way stage stands up and manfully leads us in the unaccompanied singing of Psalm 149.

Free North Church is a 'wee free' church (more politely known as the Free Church of Scotland). They split away from the Church of Scotland back in 1843 because they wanted the church to choose its own ministers, free of secular interference. But when it comes to worship, the 'wee frees' are not the wee-est bit free about any changes that have taken place since the Apostle Paul laid down his pen. Hymns and pipe organs are viewed with grave suspicion. Forget about electric guitars, choruses and dancing in the aisles – the stuffiest Victorian hymn, played in extra-slow time, would be a shocking novelty in a 'wee free' service.

Meanwhile, back in Psalm 149 (in a metrical version surely composed by William McGonagall?) we reach the third verse, which is sung by my fellow-worshippers entirely without ironyÉ

O let them unto his great name
give praises in the dance;
Let them with timbrel and with harp
in songs his praise advance.

Over the next hour and a quarter, the Rev. Ferrier, without leaving his particular layer of the stratosphere, takes us right through the service entirely on his own. Long prayers, the Bible reading, the 'intimations' (sounds exciting, but it was just the notices), the 35-minute sermon – Rev. Ferrier takes on the lot, without the help of anyone at pew level. Sitting in the shadow of this one-man pulpit, I had to wonder what had happened to the good old Protestant notion of 'the priesthood of all believers'.

Despite it all, there were highlights. There was a simple children's talk that put most of the sermons I've ever heard to shame. A cup of wonderfully weak tea when the service was over. People who were happy to say 'hello' to a complete stranger. These are great qualities in a congregation – but somehow I doubt that the Free North Church would want to be remembered for them alone.

Simon Jenkins is a freelance writer, editor and designer. He is a Reader in the Church of England and lives in London. This piece was first published in the magazine Leading Light.

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Easter with Attitude – Simon Jenkins celebrates Easter, Russian Orthodox style.

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Southern Comfort – Rick Dietrich is wowed by First Baptist, Atlanta.

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