The ACR spoke to James Delanty, rector of St Alban’s Leura, about how God has brought renewal and joy to this historic Blue Mountains parish—and how a vision centred on being “overflowing with joy in Jesus” is shaping both church life and community outreach.
James, thank you for speaking with us. Could you tell us a bit about yourself and how you came to St Alban’s—starting as the youngest rector in the Diocese?
My journey to St Alban’s is a bit of a long story. I’d been an assistant minister for about seven years in different churches and was actually looking for another assistant role. I wasn’t aiming to become a rector—I just wanted to serve Jesus wherever he opened doors.
During the interview process at St Alban’s, I could see that God had gathered faithful, generous people who loved Jesus and wanted to see him known in Leura. My wife and I prayed, compared the options before us, and sensed God’s clear direction to come here.
I was aware of my youth and inexperience. I’d entered theological college early—at 21—simply because I wanted to serve Jesus, not to climb any ladder. Becoming the youngest rector just happened as God led one step at a time.
One of the ACR team recently preached at St Alban’s and spoke of renewed joy and faith in the parish. What encouragements have you seen?
St Alban’s has a 128-year history. We have a traditional 1662 Prayer Book service at 8am—robes and all—and a contemporary Anglican Prayer Book service later. I didn’t come with much experience in running traditional services, but God provided retired ministers who patiently guided me. They helped me understand the richness behind the liturgy and how deeply it’s soaked in Scripture.
When I arrived, the church had been without a rector for 18 months and was struggling through the lockdowns. On my first Sunday, there were 18 people meeting every second week, alternating with Zoom. But over time, through preaching God’s word and making the liturgy accessible, we’ve seen remarkable renewal—both in joy and maturity.
People have come to faith and grown in their walk with Jesus. Bible studies continue to multiply. God’s also blessed us with a part-time kids and youth worker, which has expanded our reach to two distinct groups in Leura—younger families moving up from Sydney, and older residents who prefer traditional worship.
We now have two thriving services with around 60–70 adults and 15 children each week, regular Christianity Explored courses, and annual mission months. We’re deeply involved in community life—from Anzac services to the Leura Fair, the Garden Festival, and local shops. In a small village, being the rector actually means something, and that helps the gospel take root.
You’ve made “joy” a central theme of your ministry. Could you explain how that shapes life at St Alban’s?
When I arrived, the church needed direction after being leaderless for a while. I wanted a vision simple enough to unite us but rich enough to sustain long-term growth. Over time we worked together with the congregation to settle on one word that reflects both this ministry and a key biblical theme—joy.
Our vision is to be “overflowing with joy in Jesus”. We chose that partly because Anglicans are often known today for doctrine but not for their joy. Yet Scripture is full of it—from Jesus’ promise that his disciples’ joy would be complete, to the psalmist’s assurance that in God’s presence is fullness of joy.
Our joy begins in personal delight in God—when he becomes our greatest treasure. That personal joy should overflow into our church life: our gatherings, Bible studies, kids’ ministry, even our morning teas. And then it should overflow again from our church into our village.
We use the image of the Leura Cascades—God’s joy flowing like water from the top pool down through each level: from God, to us, to the church, to our community, and beyond. Every two years, we meet as a parish council and ministry team to check: is this still what we want to be known for? Do we want to be “the joyful church”?
That focus has meshed beautifully with our traditional services. Joy is woven throughout the 1662 Prayer Book—in lines like, “Endue thy ministers with righteousness; and make thy chosen people joyful”. Our task is simply to bring that to life. To show that reverence and joy are not opposites—that serving God is perfect freedom.
Leading a joyful liturgical service, where God’s word and the sacraments are seen as sources of joy, has been one of the greatest blessings of my ministry.
What other initiatives have worked well in your time at St Alban’s?
One major focus has been building a culture of invitation— helping every member see inviting others as normal Christian behaviour. This idea came from Michael Harvey’s ‘Back to Church Sunday’ movement in the UK. When people are asked why they don’t invite others to church, most answers come down to fear—fear of rejection, awkwardness, or not knowing what will happen if the person says yes.
So each October we run a Mission Month—an ordinary church service, but one where everyone is encouraged to invite someone. The emphasis isn’t on whether the guest comes, but on the act of inviting. We celebrate every invitation, not just every visitor. That’s key.
Before Mission Month, we spend three weeks in sermons and small groups talking about:
- the power behind invitation (prayer)
- the barriers to invitation (fear), and
- the urgency of invitation (eternity).
At the back of the church, we keep a big blackboard where people write the initials of someone they’ve invited. One year there were 48 initials—not 48 visitors, but 48 acts of courage.
Our National Church Life Survey has the question “Have you invited someone to church in the last 12 months?” When we asked that question in my first year, we found that 36% of members had done so. That rose to 48% in my second year, then 58%, and most recently 82%. The whole culture has changed—it’s now normal to invite.
That practice has helped the church grow and stay outward-looking. Each year we adjust—new guest preachers, new timings—but the principle stays the same: like Philip said to Nathaniel, “Come and see”.
We even put that phrase—share our joy—in large letters at the front of the church. It sums up what we want for our community.
How have you balanced traditional worship with engaging families and younger generations?
Our robes and liturgical style actually work well in Leura’s context. They act almost like a “hearing aid,” helping people listen more attentively to the words of life being spoken. I sometimes joke that I’d wear a tutu if it helped people hear the gospel—but thankfully, the robes do just fine!
At the same time, we’ve worked hard to grow family and children’s ministries. We host Pupil Free Days (activity days for families), a Friday afternoon kids’ program, and regular school Scripture classes. Those programs act as stepping stones—gentle invitations that help people move closer to Jesus.
We’ve even mapped out a three-year strategic plan visualising ministry as crossing a river: people start on one bank, far from Jesus, and each ministry is a stepping stone helping them move closer. For kids, that might look like:
Scripture class → Friday program → Pupil Free Day → special services → regular Sunday worship.
We’ve done the same mapping for young workers and retirees, identifying both opportunities and gaps. Some gaps we can’t fill yet, due to staffing or space, but naming them has guided our priorities for the next few years.
How have the churches of the Upper Blue Mountains been working together?
The Anglican rectors meet monthly, and we recently started including our staff teams for prayer, fellowship, and mutual support. Beyond that, all the Protestant churches in the upper mountains meet together monthly as well.
Each year we host an interdenominational Pentecost Service, often at KCC or one of the local churches or schools. Different churches lead different parts of the service, united by a shared theological foundation. The event raises funds for our joint high school Scripture teacher—a partnership all the local churches support.
Those gatherings are vital. Ministry in the mountains can be isolating, but the unity among local churches is a powerful witness.
Finally, what has God been teaching you most during your time at St Alban’s?
Simply to keep relying on him. If I want to practise what I preach, my joy must remain rooted in Jesus. That means making time to read, pray, and delight in God; to love my wife and kids well; to rest in his grace.
When my joy is anchored in the Lord, that deep, settled gladness spills over to others. God keeps reminding me that he’s good, kind, and sovereign—and that ministry is his work, not mine.
I just pray that through St Alban’s, many more people in Leura would come to know the joy we’ve found in Jesus—and that all of it would be for his glory.