Five months have passed since I wrote about the meeting with my DDO and ADDO regarding my discernment process for ordination. It feels longer. So much of this journey has been shaped by waiting, discerning, and understanding how calling and institution meet in real life. Those early months were hard. I was still processing the February meeting and learning how to navigate a system that had not yet learned how to navigate me.
After naming the distortions that have shaped how disabled and neurodivergent people are seen in the church in Part 1 of this study, we can turn to what Scripture actually says about the Image of God — and the picture is far more expansive, embodied, and hopeful than many of us were taught.
For years, disabled and neurodivergent people have been told—directly or indirectly—that their bodies sit uneasily within the doctrine of the Image of God. At a recent disability conference, I explored why these distortions persist, and why Scripture itself tells a very different story. Below is the first movement of that study.
I’s 7.19 am, I’m on the train, and I’m heading to The Living Well in Nonington, Canterbury. It feels strange to write that sentence as it carries more weight than a simple blog post entry. This is something I have longed for, as I prepare to give a bible study at a disability workshop. I’ve not publicly spoken outside of church in years, yet here I am, reading my notes, rehearsing, and trying to steady my anxiety.
The Church of England, through the General Synod, has approved the new Clergy Conduct Measure, and I felt something I didn’t expect. Relief. Not because the system is perfect or harm will suddenly disappear. Relief because the Church is naming what many of us have lived through for years. It’s listening and acting.
Since writing about the ordination process here, a few friends have been surprised that I felt called to be a priest. I thought it’s time to tell the story.
The Church of England released the Fearfully and Wonderfully Made report in February this year, but I know many have still not read it, even though it’s one of the most important pieces of research on disabled and neurodivergent clergy the Church has ever commissioned. It shapes how I live as a disabled Christian with FSHD and autism, my children and disabled friends lives, my calling and ministry, and how I navigate the ordination process.
I’ve mentioned it many times here but I realised I’ve never actually broken it down or explained it in a way that helps people understand what it says, why it matters, and how it affects real lives for those who haven’t read the seventy‑three page document. This post is my attempt to do that. A guide for anyone who wants to understand disability wellbeing in the Church of England.
This week Archbishop Sarah Mullally shared that neurodiversity is a gift, not a problem to be solved, while speaking at Synod about the need for neurodivergent-led training, structural change, and a network of Neurodiversity Champions across every diocese. She spoke openly about her dyslexia, the assumptions made about her, and the way she learned to see herself as intentionally made by God. Reading this felt like a blessing that landed at a time when I’m still processing my own ASD diagnosis, the battles it took to get it, and everything it has reframed, especially as I received my ASD assessment report the same day this article was published.
Tomorrow we gather to honour my curate, Sue at her thanksgiving service. 175 people have signed up. Our church fits around 140 – 150, and more will likely arrive. The hall across the road is our overflow space, livestreaming the service for those unable to fit in the church. It will be a big day. It should be. She was an incredible presence.
Some Sundays at church are work. Some are worship. This week was worship.
It’s not always easy to enjoy church when you serve there. There is always something to do, someone to speak to, and a task waiting. The Sunday before was like that. I had much needed work conversations before the service. The service itself was fine, but I wasn't uplifted. The sung worship was good and the band did well. The lead made me laugh with a story about her competitive streak when naming her childhood bear, which suited our teddy bears picnic theme.
I’ve seen my church grow, change, survive and thrive over the last sixteen years, but recently I've seen how fragile our identity has become when different backgrounds form and push different expectations of church and service styles. When those expectations clash with other leaders and congregation members, it splits the Church’s direction.
A Pentecost Study: Part 3 - Wind
“Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting.” (Acts 2:2)
Wind is one of the oldest and most mysterious images of God’s presence. In Hebrew, the word ruach means wind, breath, or spirit — the invisible movement that gives life. In the beginning, the Spirit of God hovered over the waters (Gen. 1:2), stirring creation into being. Later, God breathed into Adam’s nostrils the breath of life (Gen. 2:7). The same breath that moves the air also animates the soul. Wind is not seen, but its effects are felt — it moves, fills, and transforms.
A Pentecost Study: Part 2 - Fire
“Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them and rested on each of them.” (Acts 2:3)
Fire is one of the most powerful images in Scripture. It is never merely decorative. It reveals, purifies, guides, judges, warms, and transforms. In the Old Testament, fire is often the sign of God’s holy presence. Moses meets God in a bush that burns but is not consumed (Exod. 3:2). Israel is led through the wilderness by a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night (Exod. 13:21). When the covenant is made with Abraham, God passes between the pieces as a smoking firepot and blazing torch (Gen. 15:17). Fire marks God’s nearness—dangerous, beautiful, and alive.
Yesterday we lost a good friend. Our vicar. Our steady presence.
It happened on James’ fifteenth birthday. That detail sits heavily today. It marks the year I started attending our church and being under her wing. It marks the years she has shaped our family and my journey.
A Pentecost Study: Part 1 - Together
“When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place.” (Acts 2:1)
The Bible never imagines faith as a solitary project. From the first pages of Scripture, togetherness is woven into the fabric of God’s design. The Old Testament word most closely tied to this is ’echad—often translated “one,” but meaning a unity made of many parts. Israel was not a collection of individuals but a people bound together by covenant, memory, worship, and responsibility. Their life with God was always communal: festivals shared, prayers spoken together, burdens carried collectively, justice upheld by the whole community (Deut. 16:20; Lev. 19:18).
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Being a victim and being a survivor sound similar, yet the difference determines how people treat you, hear you, and decide whether your story is valid. This difference has come up in several conversations recently, from ordination discussions, the current CoE safeguarding audit, and general chats. This has caused me to reflect on what I name, why I name it, and how I understand the harm I have survived.
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I walked into Monday’s meeting with my DDO and ADDO prepared. I was calm and willing to shine a light, not fight, on the meeting with the Bishop, especially after meeting with Tim Goode.
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Today, I meet with my DDO (A Diocesan Director of Ordinands) and ADDO (Assistant Diocesan Director of Ordinands).
In my previous ordination process post I ended with a question. What do I do next, fight or accept? I wasn't sure. I am now.
