Safeguarding the Vulnerable: A Church That Protects and Heals

Text: Hebrews 10:11-25 & Mark 13:1-8

Recent events have shaken us, haven’t they? The resignation of the Archbishop of Canterbury over safeguarding issues has left us questioning: Is the church truly safe? Can we trust our leaders to protect the vulnerable?

The devastating revelations of abuse — from John Smyth’s manipulation of young people to countless other abuses — are a stark reminder of how far we’ve fallen. The church, a place meant to heal, has become a place of harm for too many.

But here’s the truth: We can do better.  We must do better.

Today, we turn to the Scriptures. We are called to be a community where Christ’s love is more than words. It’s justice. It’s safety. It’s healing. And yes, it’s accountability. This is not a suggestion. It’s a command.

The letter to the Hebrews reminds us that Christ’s perfect sacrifice brings us redemption. You will probably know that that’s a theology I have questions about – but, let’s take it at face value for today.  The point is that the foundational sacrifice of Christ is not just for our individual salvation — it’s about the whole body of Christ. The church must reflect His care for the broken. His protection of the vulnerable. His commitment to justice.

The writer to the Hebrews says that “By a single offering, He has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified” (Hebrews 10:14). Christ’s sacrifice covers us all. And because of it, the church must be a place of refuge for all. A sanctuary. A safe haven for the hurting.

So, what does that look like? It’s more than policies. It’s a culture. A culture where compassion is the norm. Where transparency isn’t a buzzword, but a way of life. Where accountability is non-negotiable.

Every person in our care is precious. Every person. No one is beyond Christ’s love. No one should ever feel unsafe in His house.

Hebrews urges us to draw near to God with a “true heart in full assurance of faith” (Hebrews 10:22). But it’s not just about individual faith. We are called to stir one another to “love and good works” (Hebrews 10:24-25). The church isn’t just a place for personal growth. It’s a place where we protect and strengthen one another. Where we stand together, shoulder to shoulder.

For those who have suffered abuse, the church must be a place of protection — but also of healing. Too often, we’ve failed to act. Too often, we’ve turned a blind eye. The consequences are devastating. When leaders don’t protect the vulnerable, when they turn their faces away from abuse, the church becomes a place of trauma. Not healing.

So, how do we rebuild trust? How do we make the church a true sanctuary once more?

We create a culture where safeguarding is a top priority. Where leadership is accountable. Where everyone is treated with dignity and respect. And most importantly, we listen to those who have been harmed. We believe them. We support them.

In today’s Gospel (Mark 13), Jesus warns us about false messiahs. These aren’t just impostors in the traditional sense. These are abusers — people who exploit trust for personal gain. They may not wear a false crown, but they wear a mask of authority. And they lead others astray.

We’ve seen this all too many times. Mega-church pastors. Leaders of movements. All exposed for their abuses — financial, emotional, sexual. Recently, the founder of Soul Survivor in the UK was forced to step down after such revelations.

Jesus calls us to beware of these false messiahs. Because, just as abuse corrupts, so does the desire for power. Power misused is not the Gospel. Christ came to serve, not to control. To heal, not to harm.

So we must be vigilant. No one in the church should use their position to exploit others. No one. And when it happens, we expose it. We root it out. We do not tolerate it.

But to those who have suffered, we say: We hear you. We believe you. We are committed to doing better.  The church must be a place where victims are believed, where pain is acknowledged, and where healing is possible.

Christ calls us to be agents of reconciliation. The church isn’t a museum for perfect people; it’s a hospital for the broken. But for healing to happen, it requires safe spaces. Spaces where people can come as they are. No fear. Only hope.

Let’s commit to safeguarding the vulnerable. To standing against abuse. To creating a culture where all are treated with dignity, where all are protected, where all are loved. Let’s respond positively to those requests for safeguarding training, and for criminal records checks.  And let’s keep constantly alert to the possibility of abuse, whether physical, financial, emotional or spiritual.

May we be a church where the love of Christ is not just preached, but lived in how we protect, serve, and heal one another.  Amen.

Philemon and the Coming Kingdom

Texts:  The Letter to Philemon and Luke 17.20–25 (See the end of this post for the actual scriptures)

In Paul’s Letter to Philemon, we find a deeply personal message from one Christian to another about a complex issue: slavery. Paul writes to Philemon on behalf of Onesimus, a man who has been his servant, appealing for Philemon’s mercy and even suggesting he treat Onesimus as a brother in Christ. This short letter, often overlooked, raises a fundamental question for us: what does the gospel say about human freedom, justice, and love? And how does that message unfold in the ongoing story of God’s Kingdom?

Let’s begin with a bit of background. In Paul’s day, slavery was woven into society's fabric. Most people would never have questioned it. The church, in fact, has had a difficult history with slavery. At times, Christians used scripture to justify keeping people in bondage, arguing that passages like Paul’s counsel to “be content in all situations” (Philippians 4:11) implied acceptance of social structures as they were. However, as the church developed and the gospel was re-examined through the centuries, some Christians began to realise that scripture also calls us to proclaim freedom to captives and justice for the oppressed. This growing awareness led to the church playing a major role in the abolition of legal slavery.

The Letter to Philemon, then, gives us a window into this evolving understanding. Paul doesn’t outright condemn slavery, but he asks Philemon to consider a different way—to welcome Onesimus not merely as a servant, but as a brother. It’s a challenge to Philemon to see Onesimus in a new light, as someone who deserves dignity and freedom. This approach, in its way, subtly undermines the concept of slavery and points to a radical equality in Christ that we can recognise today as a call for justice.

This idea aligns with Jesus’ words in Luke 17, where he responds to the Pharisees’ question about when the Kingdom of God will come. He says, “The Kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed…for, in fact, the Kingdom of God is among you” (Luke 17:20-21). This message—that God’s Kingdom is not a future event but an unfolding reality within and around us—invites us to live with open eyes and hearts, to constantly seek and nurture signs of God’s justice, mercy, and love in our world.

Jesus doesn’t tell his disciples to wait passively for God’s Kingdom; rather, he invites them to become a part of it. We see the Kingdom when people are treated with respect, when mercy triumphs over judgement, and when love overcomes prejudice. This is what Paul invites Philemon to do: to bring a bit of God’s Kingdom into the world by treating Onesimus as an equal, as a brother. 

Jesus’ words to the Pharisees in Luke 17 remind us that the Kingdom of God is not about waiting for a miraculous event to come to us from the outside. Instead, we are called to participate in the Kingdom as it unfolds around us, to see others as brothers and sisters, and to nurture justice and love.

The Letter to Philemon encourages us to reflect on the ways we view others. Do we see them as “servants,” as people defined by their roles, social status, or background? Or do we see them as brothers and sisters, as fellow bearers of God’s image?

Our faith has developed over the centuries, and so has our understanding of God’s will for justice. In the 18th and 19th centuries, Christians like William Wilberforce in the UK and Harriet Tubman in the United States worked tirelessly to end slavery, driven by a belief that all people were created equal before God. Their work was a response to Jesus’ call to build God’s Kingdom here and now, through love, justice, and mercy.

And so, as we read Paul’s letter today, we are reminded that God’s call to justice is not frozen in time. It grows as we grow in understanding and love. The Kingdom of God is not simply “coming”—it is also already here, waiting for us to take part in it, just as Paul invited Philemon to take a step forward in welcoming Onesimus as an equal.

But, in a week that has seen the resignation of the Archbishop of Canterbury, over his failure (more than a decade ago) to sufficiently pursue an abuser of children, we need to acknowledge that the unfolding of the Kingdom is a work in progress.  The kingdom is both 'now' - among us, but also 'not yet' - waiting to be fully revealed.  As that unfolding takes, there will be many mis-steps along the way, because we, like the Archbishop, are fragile human beings.  We are bound to fail.

But look how far we've come.  In the time of Jesus, slavery was considered normal in human society, and children were put to work in the fields as soon as they could walk and pick up crops.  Now, legal forms of slavery are abolished, and children are cherished, educated, and prized - not as labourers, but for their intrinsic humanity. 

There will, however, always be those twisted individuals who profit from modern-day slavery.  There will always be criminals who use organisations like the church (and many other collections of humanity) to prey upon vulnerable children and adults.  Our task, while continuing to unfold the kingdom, is to be alert to such people - constantly on the lookout for those who would undermine and pervert the kingdom of justice, mercy and peace; on our guard for the wolves in sheep's clothing.  That, ultimately, is what the safeguarding process is all about.

So - may we, too, seek to live out this Kingdom, seeing each person we encounter not through labels or roles but as a child of God. And in doing so, may we help to bring about the justice, mercy, and peace that Jesus so often spoke of, the Kingdom of God among us.

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Paul’s letter to Philemon – verses 7–20

In this very short letter of the New Testament, Paul writes to his Christian brother, Philemon, begging him to also treat the slave Onesimus as a brother.

I have received much joy and encouragement from your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, my brother.

For this reason, though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do your duty, yet I would rather appeal to you on the basis of love—and I, Paul, do this as an old man, and now also as a prisoner of Christ Jesus.  I am appealing to you for my child, Onesimus, whose father I have become during my imprisonment. 

Formerly he was useless to you, but now he is indeed useful both to you and to me. I am sending him, that is, my own heart, back to you. I wanted to keep him with me, so that he might be of service to me in your place during my imprisonment for the gospel; but I preferred to do nothing without your consent, in order that your good deed might be voluntary and not something forced. Perhaps this is the reason he was separated from you for a while, so that you might have him back for ever, no longer as a slave but as more than a slave, a beloved brother—especially to me but how much more to you, both in the flesh and in the Lord.

So if you consider me your partner, welcome him as you would welcome me. If he has wronged you in any way, or owes you anything, charge that to my account. I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand: I will repay it. I say nothing about your owing me even your own self. Yes, brother, let me have this benefit from you in the Lord! Refresh my heart in Christ.

Luke 17.20–25

Jesus was asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God was coming, and he answered, ‘The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, “Look, here it is!” or “There it is!” For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among you.’

Then he said to the disciples, ‘The days are coming when you will long to see one of the days of the Son of Man, and you will not see it. They will say to you, “Look there!” or “Look here!” Do not go, do not set off in pursuit. For as the lightning flashes and lights up the sky from one side to the other, so will the Son of Man be in his day.  But first he must endure much suffering and be rejected by this generation.’

Sermon on Willibrord of York and the Great Commission (Matthew 28:16-20)

Sermon on Willibrord of York and the Great Commission (Matthew 28:16-20)

Today, as we reflect on the life of Willibrord of York, the missionary bishop and “Apostle to the Frisians,” (the people, not the cows!) we see a man who embraced Christ’s call to “make disciples of all nations” with a remarkable passion.  Matthew 28:16-20, often called the Great Commission, resonates deeply with Willibrord’s life and ministry.  These verses capture the moment when Jesus, standing on the mountain after His resurrection, instructs His disciples to go forth, to baptize, and to teach.  Willibrord took up this commission with fervour, venturing far from his homeland to spread the gospel in what is now the Netherlands. His life offers a powerful example of dedication, faith, and resilience in the face of challenges.

In Matthew 28, Jesus gives a command to “make disciples of all nations,”.  That’s a call to all Christians to go beyond their familiar boundaries in spreading the message of God’s love.  Willibrord answered this call with a heart open to wherever God would lead him. Born in Northumbria, trained in Ireland, and sent to Frisia (modern-day Netherlands), Willibrord left everything familiar to embark on a mission of conversion and education among people who knew little of the Christian faith.

His journey was no easy task. Frisia in the 7th century was a land with a strong pagan tradition, where the message of Christ was unfamiliar and often unwelcome. Willibrord faced resistance, even hostility, and yet he pressed on. This reminds us of the courage it takes to fulfil Jesus’s commission. How often do we hesitate when God calls us to speak to a neighbour, to reach out to someone in need, or to challenge an injustice? Willibrord’s life shows us that the call to “make disciples” is not limited by borders, by language, or by the opinions of others. Rather, it is a call to step out in faith, knowing that Christ’s presence will be with us always.

Then Jesus commanded us to baptise in the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Baptism is the outward symbol of inward transformation, a sacrament that welcomes us into the family of God. For Willibrord, baptism was central to his mission. His work was not just about introducing people to Jesus but about inviting them into a community where they could grow in faith, supported by others. Baptism offered new believers a sense of belonging and identity.

Willibrord’s dedication to baptizing people, despite the cultural and religious barriers he encountered, reminds us of the power of baptism to unite us across differences. Baptism doesn’t erase our unique identities but instead draws us into a shared purpose, giving us the identity of disciples. Through baptism, Willibrord gave the people of Frisia a new spiritual home, a place of belonging. This speaks powerfully to us today, encouraging us to see our baptism not just as a personal milestone but as an invitation into a lifelong journey with a community that supports and challenges us.

The third aspect of the Great Commission was Jesus’ instruction to “teach them to obey everything I have commanded you”.   Jesus’s command includes not only baptizing but also teaching. Willibrord’s missionary work went beyond converting individuals; he was dedicated to instructing them in the teachings of Christ. He established churches, trained leaders, and founded monasteries, understanding that faith needs a foundation built on understanding and wisdom.

In our fast-paced, information-saturated world, we might ask: How are we passing down the teachings of Jesus? Are we fostering a love of Scripture, a commitment to compassion, and a devotion to justice in our communities? Willibrord’s legacy challenges us to be intentional about teaching, not only through words but by modelling lives that reflect Christ’s love. He understood that true discipleship involves a transformation of both mind and heart, and he committed himself to helping others grow in their understanding of God’s Word.

At the end of the Great Commission – Jesus offer a promise: “Behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age”.  Perhaps one of the most comforting aspects of the Great Commission is that very promise to be with us “to the end of the age.” This promise gave Willibrord strength through many trials, knowing that he was not alone. History tells us that he faced setbacks, exile, and even physical threats, yet he kept moving forward. His resilience reminds us that Christ’s presence is not dependent on our circumstances. It is with us in every season, every struggle, and every triumph.

Willibrord’s perseverance is a testament to the enduring promise of Jesus’s companionship. We may not face the exact struggles he did, but we all encounter moments of doubt, loneliness, or challenge in our journey of faith. In those times, Jesus’s promise to be with us “to the end of the age” is a source of unshakeable hope. Willibrord trusted that Jesus would sustain him, and this allowed him to be bold and unafraid, even when his mission seemed uncertain.

So how can we live the Great Commission today?

Willibrord’s life urges us to consider how we might embody the Great Commission in our own context. Not all of us are called to leave our homes or travel to distant lands. Yet, each of us is called to make disciples by sharing God’s love, inviting others into community, and teaching through our words and actions. Perhaps it’s through mentoring someone younger, reaching out to someone who feels lost, or standing up for justice in our local community. Each of these actions is part of the work to which Jesus has called us.

Willibrord’s legacy teaches us that missionary work is not just about crossing physical borders but about crossing boundaries of fear, prejudice, and indifference. He reminds us that the Great Commission is lived out in everyday acts of kindness, in our willingness to serve, and in our commitment to growing in faith and love.

In closing, as we remember Willibrord and his remarkable dedication, may you be inspired to carry out the Great Commission in your own life. May you go forth with courage, baptizing in love, teaching with wisdom, and trusting that Christ’s presence will sustain us, now and always. Like Willibrord, may you be faithful ambassadors of the gospel, bringing the light of Christ to every corner of our world.  Amen.

The Cost of Discipleship

The Cost of Discipleship – A Reflection with Archbishop William Temple

(For the University of Winchester on 6 Nov 2024 - the Commemoration of William Temple)

Scripture: Luke 14:25-33

In today’s passage, Jesus speaks about the cost of discipleship in stark terms: “Whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:27). For those of us in academic settings, where reason, analysis, and pursuit of knowledge are daily practices, these words are a call to reflect deeply on the nature of commitment. Jesus is asking us not merely for belief, but for an allegiance that may require the sacrifice of everything we hold dear.

Archbishop William Temple, a towering figure in 20th-century Anglican thought, provides an invaluable perspective on this radical call. Temple is particularly known for linking Christian faith with a responsibility to act in society.  Notably, he was influential in the political debates which led to the creation of a welfare state, and the National Health Service, after the Second World War.  Temple’s perspective encourages us to apply our intellect and talents in service to the common good, not just personal advancement. His work reminds us that Christianity is not a private faith, nor a comfortable affiliation, but a way of life that requires an alignment between what we believe and how we live.

If you’ll allow me, I have three areas of focus I’d like to explore briefly.  First, I want to to ask what radical discipleship looks like.  Secondly, I’d like to ask how we can align our faith with our intellect.  And finally, I’d like to explore what Sacrifice and Solidarity with the Marginalized looks like.

1. A Vision of Radical Discipleship

William Temple’s writings often highlight the societal implications of the Christian life. In his influential work Christianity and Social Order, Temple makes the case that Christianity must extend beyond the walls of the church to transform the wider world. This notion complements Jesus’ call to discipleship in Luke 14:25-33. Temple asserts that a Christian’s devotion should not only be personal but should radiate outward, impacting communities and systems of society.

Temple’s vision of radical discipleship means that counting the cost, as Jesus commands, includes not just personal sacrifices but the courage to challenge injustice in society. In a university context, where ideals of fairness, truth, and progress are upheld, Temple’s insights remind us that discipleship demands more than intellectual assent; it demands action. For Temple, if our faith is real, it will lead us to care deeply about the conditions of others’ lives, to strive for justice, and to make sacrifices for the sake of the oppressed and marginalized.

Temple’s thought encourages students and academics to reflect on how our intellectual pursuits might serve the common good, extending the meaning of discipleship to embrace social, economic, and ethical concerns. This is costly because it may require us to question our assumptions, to make decisions that prioritize others’ needs over our own success, and to advocate for truth and justice, even when it is inconvenient or unpopular.

2. The Alignment of Faith and Intellect

One of the great challenges for university students and academics is finding harmony between intellectual rigor and faith. In his writings, Temple held that faith and intellect are not opposites but partners. He argued that the search for truth, wherever it may lead, is ultimately a search for God, for “all truth is God’s truth.” His theological framework sees God not only as the ultimate truth but as the foundation for all truth we seek to understand in every discipline—be it science, philosophy, or literature.

Temple’s perspective can help us understand Jesus’ command to "count the cost" as an invitation to examine not only our hearts but also our minds. For Temple, the intellect is a sacred gift to be used in service to God and others. When we commit ourselves to discipleship, it means dedicating our studies, research, and teaching to principles of truth, justice, and compassion. This may mean using our academic platform to speak out against unfair practices, whether in research ethics, social policies, or educational access.

In a society that often values intellectual prestige and individual accomplishment, Temple’s view of discipleship challenges us to ask hard questions: How do my studies contribute to the greater good? Does my research serve the common welfare, or merely my personal ambition? The cost of discipleship, therefore, includes aligning our intellect with our faith, and sometimes choosing paths of scholarship or professional action that might be less profitable or popular but more faithful.

3. Sacrifice and Solidarity with the Marginalized

Archbishop Temple was deeply concerned with the well-being of society’s most vulnerable. He argued that “the church exists primarily for those who are outside it,” reflecting the outward focus of a true disciple. This idea aligns with Jesus’ message in Luke 14:27 about “carrying the cross.” For Temple, carrying our cross means standing in solidarity with the marginalized, advocating for economic fairness, and challenging structures that perpetuate inequality.

In academic life, where resources, access, and prestige can create significant divides, Temple’s reflections push us to consider how we might “carry our cross” in a context that values competition and individual success. Discipleship might mean choosing to use our privilege to support others, to create opportunities for underrepresented voices, and to uplift the marginalized within our institutions and communities. As Temple writes, “Social welfare is rooted in a theology of incarnation”—a theology that sees God as deeply concerned with the material and social realities of all people.

Temple’s emphasis on social responsibility speaks to us in concrete terms: our faith requires us to live sacrificially, even in our educational and professional pursuits. We must be willing to consider how we can use our influence to advocate for policies that protect the vulnerable, to ensure access to resources and knowledge, and to build inclusive communities. This type of cross-bearing might not come with public recognition, but it is, in Temple’s words, an offering to God and to our neighbour.

Conclusion: A Call to Transformative Discipleship

As we reflect on Jesus’ words in Luke 14:25-33, informed by William Temple’s teachings, we are called to consider how discipleship might transform every area of our lives, including our academic pursuits. The cost is high, but the reward—participating in God’s vision of justice, love, and truth—is profound.

Temple’s perspective challenges us not only to “count the cost” of discipleship in our personal lives but to see it as a vocation that demands integrity, courage, and compassion in all spheres. For university students and academics, this means thinking critically about how our studies, our research, and our influence can contribute to a world that reflects God’s love and justice. It calls us to be both scholars and servants, to let our intellect be guided by a faith that seeks the well-being of all.

In a world that often prizes self-interest, Temple’s vision of discipleship is a reminder that following Jesus is countercultural and costly. Yet it is precisely this radical commitment that Jesus invites us to embrace—a commitment that seeks not only personal growth but the transformation of society in the name of love and truth. May you have the courage to answer this call, bearing the cross with hope, humility, and a vision of the Kingdom that Temple so passionately believed in.