A farewell message from Archdeacon Fiona
January 2026
Five years ago, my husband and I packed up our worldly goods (with the help of a team from the removals company, thankfully!) and headed west for a place we didn’t know, answering God’s call for me to come and be the Archdeacon of Ludlow.
Now, unbelievably, it’s time for us to be packing up again and heading south, once more in answer to God’s clear call.
To say I’ve loved being your Archdeacon would be an understatement. There have been challenges and tough moments, of course, but that’s true of every role in every church anywhere in the world. You took me to your hearts, and I hope you know it was reciprocated. I’ve learned so much from the clergy and laity of this diocese, as well as from Bishop Richard, Archdeacon Derek, and my colleagues in the Diocesan Office and the Bishop’s Office. Those lessons have changed me and shaped me, and I shall take them with me to the Diocese of Bath & Wells.
It seems wrong to single places out, because so much of what makes this diocese special isn’t the huge, grand places and experiences, but the small, often hidden, very real, unfussy, day-to-day worship and witness of faithful communities in the Borderlands. So I shan’t name any places, just some experiences which represent so many more in our diocese of beautiful contrasts:
• The spring morning waiting outside a church on a hill, looking across a valley to the settlements on the other side, hearing the birdsong, listening to the lambs, breathing in the fresh air, knowing that soon the people of God in that place would be gathering to worship.
• The message sent to me from a Churchwarden the first time I visited their church to lead a Sunday service, in the depths of the autumn storm season, which signed off with advice to bring my wellies and the cheerful words, “Good luck!”
• Preaching the gospel at a May Fair service, on the dodgem ride, before taking to the dodgems and trying to avoid being bumped by all and sundry.
• Sharing a bacon butty with farmers, listening to them and their stories.
• Midnight Communion, in the stillness and darkness, where the words, “And the Word became flesh” are read with spine-tingling feeling before the church is flooded with light and we all belt out that wonderful final verse of “O come, all ye faithful, smiling as we sing “Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing” with that chord thundering on the organ.
• The service in one of our Welsh parishes where, with simple faith utterly rooted in the history and geography of the place, we sang “Guide me, O thou great redeemer,” some of us singing in English and some in Welsh, all at once.
• Hearing Churchwardens talk with passion and commitment about their churches during Triennial Inspections.
• Kneeling in our Cathedral among our ordinands, leading those present in prayer for the world, the church, and those offering themselves for ordained ministry, while the choir sang, “Come, Holy Ghost.”
• Praying with clergy, with churchwardens, with members of churches, and being prayed for.
• Giving communion to people in church, which never fails to move me as people respond to the love-driven sacrifice Jesus made for them.
• Meeting up with clergy either informally or as part of their MDR process, hearing how God is at work in them and through them, encouraging them when times are hard and rejoicing with them when all is well.
• Seeing the joy on everyone’s faces at a licensing service when their new priest arrives, and Bishop Richard asks if those present will support them in their ministry, and everyone declares, “We will!”
• Pilgrimages to high places in the heat of summer, celebrating Holy Communion, and declaring God’s presence and power.
• Visiting schools and being blown away by the depth of faith and wisdom in the children and young people who lead collective worship and who ask really searching questions.
• Hearing the thrilling stories of how God is at work changing lives in the places many people overlook.
• And, yes, even the committee meetings, because it’s so clear that everyone serving on them does so to move the mission of the diocese – to proclaim Christ and make disciples – forward, and they see how the committee’s work contributes to that mission.
So as I move from a place I’ve come to love, to head out once more following God, what would I want to leave you with, to ponder and pray as you go forward?
First, remember that faithfully doing “the old things”, like Sunday worship, pastoral care, schools work, harvest, remembrance, Christmas and Easter, especially in our deeply rural communities, is a highly effective way of sharing our faith. In our diocese, we see and show that ‘ordinary’ ministry, done well, carried out in humility, dependent on God, bathed in prayer and offered with all the grace and energy we can give, bears fruit in season.
Second, and in contrast, be ready to move when God calls. Doing the “old things” doesn’t always mean doing them in the old ways. Many of our projects, which complement parish ministry, are seeking to do the “old things” in new ways to reach new generations. Millennials, Gen Z, and Gen Alpha need to hear the unchanging truths of the faith, but we will need to tell them in new ways. That may be uncomfortable for us, but as I’ve often said to those who long for things to go ‘back to normal’: which normal? The normal of 5 years ago? 50 years ago? 500 years ago? Because none of those ‘normals’ were the same. As I’ve declared many a time, we’re not the National Trust with hymns, we’re part of the living church of Jesus Christ, and if we’re to bring the gospel to a world facing political turmoil, climate change, and the AI revolution we’re going to need to change the way we do all sorts of things, without changing the heart of the message. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever, but the Church of Jesus Christ is a pilgrim people moving towards the renewal of all things at his return.
Finally, keep on keeping on. There’s no secret to growth in faith and numbers other than praying, sharing the gospel, and loving those around you. Keep doing those things and leave the results to God. He loves the churches of the Diocese of Hereford even more than we do, and he knows their future. Eugene Peterson talked about the life of faith as “a long obedience in the same direction.” That is harder than it sounds, and it may not make headlines, but it’s what bears fruit that lasts. We may feel small, weak, and often fragile, but we are held in the hands of a powerful God.
So as we face the future, which is both provisional and certain, both rooted in the past and moving to God’s future, both extremely vulnerable and utterly secure, remember that being weak is a key to strength, doing the old things well is a key to new growth, and patient endurance is a key to a joyful completion of all things in Christ.
May God be with you till we meet again.
With my love in Christ, Fiona
- ENDS -