The interior is overgrown, ivy has long since claimed the stonework, and a headstone recorded in the early twentieth century dates the continued use of the space for burial to at least 1775. What makes the ruin quietly compelling is not its age alone but how much of its original fabric survives alongside all that accumulation of use and neglect.

The church was the parish church of Inchinabracky, a rectangular structure measuring roughly 15.6 metres east to west and 7.4 metres north to south. The east gable and south wall still stand to their full height, though the north wall is broken near the north-east corner and the upper portion of the west gable is gone. Entry is through a doorway near the west end of the south wall, its pointed arch cut with a deep outer chamfer, a detail that speaks to careful late medieval craftsmanship. The east wall retains a pointed two-light window, its lights rebated along both inner and outer edges, with a segmental arch over the embrasure. Along the south wall, near the east end, two liturgical fittings survive in place: an aumbry, a small wall cupboard used to store sacred vessels, and a piscina, a shallow stone basin with a drain used for rinsing the chalice after Mass. Here the piscina sits in a recessed niche with a pointed arch, and its bowl is cut with a quatrefoil. Further west along the same wall are two more windows, both in poor condition. Even the base of what appears to have been an attic window can still be made out on the west gable.

The church sits at the centre of the surrounding graveyard, which gives the whole ensemble an unusual quality of continuity: the sacred space did not so much fall out of use as change form around its own ruins. Visitors approaching the site will find the south wall and east gable the most legible parts of the structure, and the liturgical stonework near the east end of the south wall repays a close look.