Hello everyone, and welcome to your monthly newsletter.
This week, I made a pit-stop on the way back from church to see if we could go conker-ing. My kids are 5 and 3, and it’s something we hadn’t done before. When I was younger, pavements seemed covered in conkers and leaves, but now it feels less common. Still, we went foraging. As we kicked through the undergrowth, turning over leaves with sticks, I found myself reflecting on how we’re shaped by our experiences.
Some conkers were already out of their protective shells, hidden amongst the leaves but still standing out with their shiny, rich brown. Others looked promising but, when flipped, were half-eaten or hollow. And some were large, spiky green balls with seams just starting to split—seemingly tough, yet opening easily under a little pressure.
I wonder if anyone else feels like this sometimes? We develop survival mechanisms over the years, shaped by our stories, experiences, and the scars we carry. These defenses are what people often see first when they encounter us. When we’ve been excluded or ostracised for who we are, it’s hard to remember the beauty and uniqueness God has created in each of us. In a world that pushes us towards being diminished to conformity and simplicity, the cost of true inclusivity is often considered too high, while the benefits of including the currently absent and excluded, are often overlooked or undervalued. But people matter. We matter. That’s the radical, extravagant love of God.
In September, I attended the Radical Love conference in Manchester, where I heard powerful stories of lived experiences—of discovery, acceptance, and affirmation, accompanied with a consistent faithfulness from God. The inclusive journey for St James and Emmanuel was catalysed by a devastating tragedy, that is still a very present source of grief. It takes humility and courage to face the truth that we may be part of the problem and to take steps to rewrite that narrative.
The conference was fully booked, a sign that more Christians are reclaiming their evangelical heritage, showing that it’s not a contradiction, but instead life giving and liberating to be inclusive and evangelical, to love Jesus, the Bible, and the LGBTQIA+ community. God's love is not conditional, and neither should the church’s actions and beliefs be.
I’m excited by this growing voice for inclusivity among evangelicals. While I don’t expect to lose my love of liturgy and incense anytime soon, I’m encouraged by the re-claiming of a label that has for too long been synonymous with exclusion and rejection. May we find and build spaces where it’s possible to shed our protective armour and be our true selves in safety. Our spiky defenses are just one layer. We all long to be seen, known, and welcomed as our whole selves—and we can and should offer the same to others. So let’s keep sharing our stories, living our truth, and learning from our mistakes, together.
May God’s love conker all… (sorry!)
Rev’d Chantal (NatCo) | 
