10/04/2026
The role of the Church of England’s lead safeguarding bishop is not something I have sought lightly. While much has been done to strengthen safeguarding in our Church these remain deeply challenging times for us as we confront the reality of our failures. The present moment demands seriousness, humility, wisdom, and a continued determination to change, listening deeply to the voices of victims and survivors. Yet I take on this responsibility with a deep sense of call, rooted in the conviction that safeguarding is a fundamental expression of our vocation to serve the nation and to ensure that every person, whatever their age or gender, whether they consider themselves part of the Church or not, can be confident that the Church is a place they will be safe, valued, and protected.
This conviction is shaped by the work I have been engaged in over the past few years as deputy lead bishop in the area of theology and safeguarding. As this work progresses it will reinforce for us the why of our absolute commitment to the highest standards of safeguarding practice, reminding us that safeguarding is rooted in the very essence of what it means to be The Church.
To be clear, grounding our safeguarding in our theology does not make us a “special case,” nor does it mean we approach safeguarding differently from other organisations. Rather, it reminds us that we do this work because it is integral to the life of discipleship — to following Jesus Christ, who gave his life that all might find life.
This means that alongside the excellent training which keeps those of us, lay and ordained, who exercise leadership in the Church up to date in policy and practice, we must also integrate an appropriate level of theological reflection. Exploring themes such as creation, sin, redemption, power and justice grounds safeguarding as a core driver of our ministry and guards us against naïvety about the human condition.
Such an approach also compels us to care for — and to listen attentively to — victims and survivors: those with lived experience of abuse, made in God’s image, whom the Church has failed. That care demands we are not afraid to speak truth to power, about both how past abuse has been handled and how fresh cases are dealt with going forward.
I have again had the privilege in recent years, notably through my work reviewing the recommendations of the Scolding and Makin reports, relating to the Church’s handling of the allegations of abuse by Mike Pilavachi and John Smyth respectively, of sitting with survivors, hearing their experiences, and learning from their wisdom. This has, quite rightly, been deeply disturbing. As a parish priest, archdeacon and bishop, my life has been shaped by the Church — that body which, as the ordinal reminds those of us who are ordained, we are called to love. To listen to those whose lives have been traumatised by our failings is to face truths that challenge my very identity, and there have been times when I have simply been deeply ashamed of the Church.
Yet I believe in a God who, undefended as we are called to be, confronts darkness and overcomes it with light. The pectoral cross I wear contains a star — the light of Christ triumphing over the darkness of evil and sin. And although there have been moments when it would have been easy to walk away from the Church, the ordinal also reminds us that we are to work for its wellbeing — a wellbeing that cannot truly exist until all who engage with us are safe.
While there is much still to do, there is also much to celebrate in how safeguarding is lived today: from the commitment and dedication of our Parish Safeguarding Officers to the professionalism of our diocesan, cathedral, and national safeguarding teams. I have not met a single person in these roles who does not share my passion and commitment to this work, and we have much to give thanks for in all they contribute. We must be confident in telling that story and the difference it makes. Yet, as the voices of those with lived experience rightly remind us, we can never be complacent. Like every other institution, we can never say, “It can’t happen here.” Precisely this awareness is essential if we are to remain true to our calling.
And so I take up this ministry excited, daunted, and yes, a little nervous. I do so rooted in my ministry as a bishop connected to the parishes and communities I serve, using this experience to help ensure that what happens nationally is lived well locally. I am hopeful about the changes we are committed to making under the Safeguarding Structures work led by Dame Christine Ryan who presented to Synod in February: a whole-system approach with independence firmly built in, the power to intervene where change is needed, and a final-stage complaints process in which all can have confidence. All these reforms are necessary, and we need them to be carried out well and with urgency. My predecessor in the lead bishop role Joanne Grenfell, Bishop of St Edmundsbury and Ipswich, is staying on as a deputy lead safeguarding bishop to support the development of this work on independence and I would like to thank her for her dedication and commitment to safeguarding over the past three years, in a role which has been important but also immensely challenging.
Then, as a Church, we must inhabit these reforms not as an imposition but as a gift that enables ministry to flourish. My hope for the next three years is that we will go deeper in our commitment to care for and safeguard all, as an expression of the very essence of who we are called to be as God’s Church.