Jonathan Fletcher has now been found to have committed indecent assaults spanning decades. The court this week heard allegations involving humiliation, psychological domination, and abusive “discipline” presented within the language of spiritual mentoring. But the truly damning part is that this was not hidden abuse suddenly uncovered. This went on for years.

At what point does an “improvement plan” stop looking like progress and start looking like an admission that the system itself has been profoundly dysfunctional for years?

I attended what was described as a house blessing. It developed into a form of deliverance ministry, what some might describe as a minor exorcism...There were no levitating bodies or anything resembling a scene from a horror film. No spinning heads, no dramatic soundtrack. And yet the safeguarding concern was there, subtle, complex, and hidden in plain sight.

Safeguarding within church contexts has, rightly, focused on protecting children and vulnerable adults, often where clergy or church officers have been the source of harm. But this has created a fundamental blind spot. There is far less recognition or confidence when harm flows in the opposite direction, from congregant to clergy.

If you haven’t yet watched Power: The Downfall of Huw Edwards , be prepared: it is difficult viewing. But it is important viewing, not simply because of the subject matter, but because of what it reveals about trust, and how easily that trust can be misplaced. Huw Edwards was not just a public figure; he was a trusted presence in the homes of millions. For years, his calm, measured, and mellifluous delivery offered reassurance during moments of national significance and colle

Archbishop of Canterbury History was made this week at Canterbury. The installation of a woman as Archbishop marks a significant moment for the Church of England and the wider Anglican Communion, particularly for generations of women whose vocations were resisted, delayed, or denied. But history does not exempt leadership from scrutiny. It sharpens it. In her first sermon, the Archbishop acknowledged harm within Christian communities: “ We must not overlook or minimise the pa

In busy seasons like Easter, it’s easy to focus on the practicalities; services, music, hospitality, and managing the flow of people. But alongside all of this sits a quieter responsibility. Safeguarding isn’t separate from welcome; it’s part of what makes welcome real.

This blog reflects on themes raised in Martin Sewell’s recent commentary, published on Surviving Church, about the experience of victim-survivors and the institutional response to persistent or ongoing safeguarding concerns within the Church of England. His reflections raise difficult and necessary questions about accountability, whistleblowing, and safeguarding culture. The reflections that follow draw on my own experience and build on earlier posts on Guarding the Flock.

I am deeply grateful for every single one of you and for the encouragement you continue to show.

Serving on a Parochial Church Council (PCC) is more than a voluntary commitment. Trustees carry significant legal responsibilities under charity law, yet many step into their roles without clear training or preparation. This gap can lead to challenges in governance, compliance, and safeguarding the parish’s mission. To address this, the Empowering Trustees session offers practical, focused training tailored to the realities of church and faith-based charity governance.

Safeguarding competence is not a matter of sex or gender. Sex or gender does not make someone a safe pair of hands. Safeguarding is about judgement, accountability, humility, and moral courage. It is about how power is exercised, constrained, and scrutinised. It is about what happens when harm is disclosed, when difficult questions are asked, and when institutional reputation is at stake.

Victim-survivors don’t experience safeguarding as a policy. They experience it as a decision: will you protect me, or will you protect yourselves?

Many bishops now carry moral residue: the enduring weight of having chosen what was least disruptive rather than what was right.

Justice does not simply need to be done; it needs to be seen to be done. Yet the Church of England repeatedly behaves as though how things look to survivors is an inconvenience rather than a safeguarding imperative. Survivors are told to “trust the process” while watching the same group of senior leaders rotate roles; gatekeeper today, colleague tomorrow, and respondent the next.

The Church does not need a nurse to hold its hand. It needs a surgeon to cut out the cancer.

When I found myself in a management meeting as the newly arrived safeguarding adviser — a lay observer in a collar-heavy room — I was utterly fascinated. The dynamics. The factions. And what appeared to me to be an almost obsessive preoccupation with sex. Then someone said it: “Shall we talk about LLF?”

safeguarding is not an “add-on.” It is an expression of pastoral care — rooted in the same common sense and compassion that shape all good leadership. When safeguarding is embraced as part of vocation rather than a burden, the church becomes a place where people can truly flourish.