Our Benefice (Mission Community)

---

 Tucked away at the end of a farmyard, Abbots Bickington’s Church of St James feels like the parish’s well-kept secret. Its modest size and medieval features—barnstaple tiles, a squat tower, and that original piscina—make it charmingly unpretentious, as if grandma popped open the door and invited you in for a cuppa. Despite its tiny village population (only around 35 souls), this little church brims with quiet devotion. The people here are the kind who pause mid-sentence to admire a spider’s web glistening in the morning sun. You’ll feel like a guest at a beloved friend’s home: no fuss, plenty of warmth, and perhaps a shared joke about mud on your boots 

 St John the Baptist in Bradworthy is the big-hearted hub of the benefice, where “community” truly means everyone (yes, even the village dogs). Services are followed by tea, cake, and friendly chatter that could last longer than the sermon, no one minds. There’s a comfortable mix of traditional and fresh expressions, and you’ll feel the welcome before the door even opens, thanks to the buzz of familiar voices. Beneath that Norman ceiling lies a congregation that’s as practical as it is faithful, always ready to laugh, to lend a hand, or to share the best scone recipe. 

 Nestled deep in rural North Devon, Bulkworthy’s St Michael church is like the village’s friendly grandparent, slightly tucked away, but always ready with a comforting word. The floors still hold their medieval Barnstaple tiles, but the people here are as down-to-earth as the turf beneath them. This church is not active in terms of service at the moment and is at risk of closure. there is a meeting on the 23rd September to agree next steps. The building is open for you to use for private prayer

 All Saints in Bradford-with‑Cookbury is the church with charming stories baked into every nook—like the time it stood resilient after lightning and poor parishioners rebuilt the tower (talk about community spirit). That history gives the place a down-to-earth charm. The people who help keep it going are equally grounded: they’re the kind who will froth milk for your latte at the coffee morning, then wink and say, “Now we caught you doing church the modern way.” You’ll leave feeling rooted to the community—and probably with cake crumbs in your pocket 

 Holy Trinity, Milton Damerel, is the kind of countryside church that manages to feel both humble and heavenly—its simplicity practically hums with tranquillity. The people here, like the building itself, are unflashy but steadfast—kind souls who’ll fix your hymnbook mid-service if the pages keep flapping in the breeze. You’ll leave having felt whispered grace, a toasted tea cake, and possibly an inside joke about the rector misplacing his glasses (again). 

 St Stephen in Putford is like that quietly witty friend who surprises everyone with a hilarious one‑liner when you least expect it. With medieval tiles underfoot and church life grounded in sincerity, it’s the kind of place where people know who you are—even if you’ve only visited once. Your visit might involve sharing a prayer, a cup of tea, and hearing a sharp remark about the vicar’s humming during hymns—delivered with genuine affection.  

 St Andrew in Sutcombe balances medieval charm—like its 12th-century doorway and bench ends—with rural friendliness. The parish is small (population under 300) but lively in spirit. Services may be small, but the conversations are big—about everything from Sunday roast secrets to quirky tile patterns in the floor. The locals are that rare blend of reverent and real. Expect to be called by name next service—and maybe invited for supper afterward. 

 Though Thornbury’s St Peter is formally in a neighbouring benefice, it connects through the wider community tapestry. Picture a church that greets you with a calm smile and a reliable hymnbook—solid, steady, and full of good humour. The kind of place where people greet each other like old friends, even if they only met last month. Here, worship is steady, fellowship is easy going, and stories about the vicar’s garden (and its bulldozing sheep) are cherished tradition. 

 St John the Baptist & the Seven Maccabees in Cookbury brings intrigue just in its name—and its people match the intrigue with warmth. Nestled in the Holsworthy Mission Community, it’s small but spirited. Locals will delight in telling you how they honour both a famous saint and those faithful siblings all while dishing about last Sunday’s sermon with affection. Expect to be welcomed with hearty laughter and an invitation back before you’ve finished your tea,. This church is used infrequently for services so do keep an eye on what's on