Jenny’s letter 26th April
Dear Friends,
This week has held together a number of very different threads.
Last week, the Church remembered the Seven Martyrs of the Melanesian Brotherhood in the Solomon Islands, with whom we are twinned as a diocese. These were men who went out to make peace in the midst of conflict, unarmed and prayerful, and who were killed because of it. Their witness is both deeply moving and deeply challenging. They remind us that peace is not soft or easy; it is costly, courageous, and rooted in a quiet, unwavering trust in God.
Alongside that, many of us have been holding the news of the death of Adrian Longshaw Parr. Adrian was a friend to St Barnabas in the truest sense. He gave so much of himself, often in practical and unseen ways—bell ringing, sorting electrical complexities, grave digging, churchyard clear-ups—and always with a humour that could lift the mood and make us laugh. He was an incredibly important part of the BVCA and of the wider life of our community in Bromborough. His presence mattered, and his absence will be felt. We hold his wife Lin and all of his friends in our prayers.
Adrian’s death, after such a rapid journey with dementia, reminds us how cruel that illness can be. It takes so much, so quickly, and leaves families and friends trying to make sense of a loss that begins long before a life ends. It is right that we name that, and hold one another with care in the face of it.
And into all of this, the words of Jesus from the Fourth Sunday of Easter speak with a quiet steadiness: “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” (John 10:27). There is something deeply reassuring here. To be known. To be called. To belong to the care of the Good Shepherd, who does not lose sight of us—even in confusion, even in fear, even in death.
The martyrs of Melanesia heard that voice and followed it into places of danger for the sake of peace. Adrian, in his own way, lived out something of that same faithfulness in the ordinary and practical—turning up, helping out, bringing laughter, being part of a community. Different lives, very different callings, and yet both speak of what it means to give something of yourself for others.
Perhaps that is where this week meets us. Not in grand gestures, but in the small, steady ways we respond to the voice of Christ. In the ways we care for one another, serve where we can, and hold on to hope even when life feels fragile.
As we continue through this Easter season, we are reminded that resurrection does not ignore the reality of loss. Instead, it meets us within it. It speaks of a love stronger than death, and a Shepherd who calls us by name and leads us through.
May we learn to always listen for that voice, and to follow where he leads.
With every blessing,
