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We offer daily services and a cultural programme of talks, events and concerts. We seek to be a welcoming space for people to reflect, create and debate
World cuisine, served fresh – Every weekday lunchtime
From local and traditional specialities, to international delights, our market proudly showcases a distinct selection of the capital’s small businesses offering the finest street food.
St James’s hosts inclusive services and a cultural programme. We seek to be a welcoming space for people to reflect, create and debate.
St James’s is a place to explore, reflect, pray, and support all who are in need. We are a Church of England parish in the Anglican Communion.
We host a year-round creative programme encompassing music, visual art and spoken word.
We offer hospitality to people going through homelessness and speak out on issues of injustice, especially concerning refugees, asylum, racial justice, and LGBTQ+ issues.
St James’s strives to advocate for earth justice and to develop deeper connections with nature.
We aspire to be a home where everyone can belong. We’re known locally and globally for our unique history and beauty, as well as faith in action, creativity and the arts, and a commitment to social and environmental justice.
We strive to be a Eucharist-centred, diverse and inclusive Christian community promoting life in abundance, wellbeing and dignity for all.
St James’s Piccadilly has been at the heart of its community since 1684. We invite you to play your part in securing this historic place for generations to come.
The work of St James’s, it costs us £5,000 per day to enable us to keep our doors open to all who need us.
A reimagined St James’s realised. A redesigned garden, courtyard and new building capacity—all fully accessible— will provide beautiful spaces for all as well as improving our environmental performance.
Whether shooting a blockbuster TV series or creating a unique corporate event, every hire at St James’s helps our works within the community.
St James's Church 197 Piccadilly London W1J 9LL
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Abi reflects on music as both a spiritual and creative practice that anchors her in the present, revealing the sacred in ordinary moments and drawing her closer to God through attentiveness, presence, and the quiet grace of everyday life.
I’ve often thought of music as a way to be suspended above the now. Whether I’m making it or listening to it, music holds an artful power – gently pulling me away from the roaring rush of life. For a moment, I’m offered an alternative to my own reality, a glimpse into life in all its fullness.
I recall this feeling as a child, innocently perched in the back seat of our family car, my late father blaring a Genesis cassette – song choice: ‘Jesus He Knows Me’ – as we slipped past the serrated edges of London, bound for my grandparents’ in the countryside. Words were few, but unnecessary. The music became our shared language, a bridge across our timelines, folding us into one rhythmic mess on the glorious M25. Even then, I sensed something expansive. It wasn’t an escape from life, but a deeper entry into it. Held by sound, I became aware of precious details: my dad’s hands rhythmically tapping the steering wheel, my mother settling gracefully into the long drive, my brother – my favourite back seat companion, and my own small self, discovering the colours of the in-betweens, and the breadth of her little life.
I find it amusing how both faith in an ever-loving God and a simple moment on the M25 can mirror one another. As I’ve grown older, written songs and released them into the world, I’ve come to see these creative acts as extensions of faith. They are a chance to claw beneath the surface of life, bold invitations to see life more fully, to meet it more honestly. I’ve come to view music not as a way to bypass reality, but as a means to deep dive into the vastness of my human experience. Faith reflects this same undercurrent, offering a chance to become rooted in the nowness of whatever is unfolding in front of you.
When I am willing to surrender into the present, to seek God in the everyday; the things of this world, whether beautiful or painful, and everything in between, begin to glow with presence. A holiness joins me in the ordinary.
I am reminded of the words of the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Colossians: ‘Set your minds on the things that are above, not on the things that are on earth’ (Colossians 3:2, NRSV). Perhaps this isn’t a call to disconnect from our world, but rather an invitation to shift our focus and to allow faith in Christ to widen our perspective. Just as music grants me moments of introspection and freedom to explore all in which God has shaped me to be, faith encourages me to embrace the detail of the now. It opens me to the possibility of finding grace in unexpected places, with a greater awareness of God in the here and now.
I find a strange alchemy in writing songs. The process, whether in isolation or collaboration, draws me to become attentive to myself and the happenings around me. I’ve often found that once a song is complete, I begin to understand what my heart and mind have been silently grappling with. Lyrics and sound become a mirror to what otherwise may have remained unnamed.
As a young adult, I’ve often been reminded of the Bible verse, ‘Be still, and know that I am God’ (Psalm 46:10, NRSV). But stillness has never come naturally to me. I’ve always had a tendency for doing, moving, striving, and seeking. The sentiment of God in stillness felt hard to come by. And yet, in the process of writing songs, I’ve found that stillness isn’t always about silence or inactivity. Sometimes stillness is about presence. It is about paying attention.
Where I’ve allowed faith to take root, it has become a patient teacher in attentiveness – a doorway into stillness. The act of searching for words and melodies slows me down. It calls me to listen to my own heart, and in that listening, to stare face to face with whatever I may find. Similarly to the cry of the psalmist, ‘Search me, O God, and know my heart’ (Psalm 139:23, NRSV), there is a call to befriend and extend an audacious love to the parts of you otherwise unseen. There isn’t a demand for instant clarity, but to simply show up with open hands and let God reveal what needs to be known.
I am learning, through the practice of creating music, to remain curious, to let the mundane lift me into spaces of unexpected holiness. To listen attentively to the liturgies of love quietly echoing in the everyday rhythms of my life. While the work of making music is not always smooth or clean cut, I’m grateful for a God who is willing to meet me in the labour of it. A God who gently interrupts my striving with the peace of His presence and everlasting love, to see anew the beauty of life swirling around me.
Because perhaps the most profound encounters aren’t loud and lofty, but maybe sound a lot like a Genesis song on the M25, and feel like a taste of God’s abundant creation, as you are suspended above the now.
Written by Abigail Le Fevre (Artist Name – Abi Ocia)
