SEND Reform, Human Dignity and the Call of the Church

The government’s announcement of reforms to the Special Educational Needs and Disabilities (SEND) system is a recognition of something families have known for years: the system is under immense strain, and too many children are not receiving the support they need to flourish.

Proposals to expand SEND provision in mainstream schools, invest in local capacity, and launch a “national conversation” on reform are significant. They suggest a willingness to listen and a desire to address long-standing challenges. But for many parents of children with SEND, hope is tempered by experience. Promises have been made before. Too often, the gap between policy intention and lived reality has been painfully wide.

While the temptation for many will be to focus on overstretched services or broken systems, this moment shood not be restricted to being a policy discussion. It is an opportunity for a moral and theological conversation, because how a society treats children with disabilities reveals what it truly believes about human dignity, power and worth.

At the heart of a Christian response to SEND reform lies a simple but radical conviction: every child is made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). This includes children who are autistic, neurodivergent, disabled, non-speaking, anxious, sensory-sensitive or developmentally delayed.

The Bible does not ground human worth in productivity, independence or conformity. Instead, Scripture consistently affirms God’s particular concern for those who are easily overlooked. Jesus welcomed children whom others tried to push aside (Mark 10:13–16), and he repeatedly centred people whose bodies or minds placed them on the margins of society (Luke 14:12–14).

SEND reform must therefore be judged not only by efficiency or cost, but by whether it upholds dignity, agency and belonging for children and their families.

Christian author Andy Crouch has helpfully described human flourishing as requiring both dignity (being treated as someone who matters), and agency (having the power to act meaningfully in the world). When either is diminished, flourishing is compromised.

For too many SEND families, the current system undermines both. Parents often describe feeling disbelieved, talked down to, or treated as adversaries rather than partners. Children are reduced to assessment outcomes, funding thresholds and labels, with deficits foregrounded and gifts overlooked. Decisions are made about families rather than with them.

In Strong and Weak, Crouch reflects on the life of his niece, Angela, who was born with Trisomy 13 and lived only a short life marked by profound disability and vulnerability. Rather than treating her life as a tragedy to be explained away, Crouch allows it to challenge common assumptions about what flourishing really means. Angela did not exercise agency in ways our culture typically celebrates, yet her life called forth extraordinary love, attentiveness and community from those around her. Her dignity was never derived from achievement, independence or future potential, but from the simple truth that she was known and loved by God (Psalm 139:13–14).

Crouch argues that true flourishing always holds strength and vulnerability together, and that societies which fail to make room for the most vulnerable ultimately misunderstand strength itself.

This insight is deeply relevant to SEND reform. Policies shaped primarily around efficiency, independence or cost control risk sidelining children whose lives most clearly reveal that human worth is God-given, not performance-based (1 Corinthians 12:22–23).

One of the most consistent themes emerging from SEND families is not simply the absence of provision, but the sense that accessing support requires relentless struggle.

Parents speak of becoming accidental experts in education law, clinical language and tribunal processes simply to secure what the system already promises their child. Many describe being labelled “difficult” or “emotional” for persisting. The toll on family life, mental health and faith can be severe.

Roy McCloughry’s work on safeguarding and power offers a sobering lens here. He reminds us that institutions under pressure can become self-protective, opaque and resistant to challenge, even when staffed by well-intentioned professionals. When this happens, those with the least power—often children and their parents —bear the cost.

Scripture repeatedly warns against systems that burden the vulnerable while insulating themselves from accountability. “Woe to those who make unjust laws,” Isaiah declares, “to those who issue oppressive decrees” (Isaiah 10:1). Jesus himself confronted religious leaders who “tie up heavy, cumbersome loads and put them on other people’s shoulders” (Matthew 23:4).

SEND reform must therefore grapple honestly with power imbalance, trust and transparency. A system that only functions when parents fight relentlessly cannot be considered just.

Evangelical Christians have not always spoken well about disability and difference. Too often, we have absorbed cultural assumptions that equate flourishing with normality or independence.

Yet the Bible offers a richer vision. The Apostle Paul reminds us that the body needs every part, including those that seem weaker or less honourable, and that God gives special honour to those parts (1 Corinthians 12:22–24). Neurodivergent and disabled children are not problems to be solved, but people to be welcomed—reflecting God’s creativity in diverse and sometimes uncomfortable ways.

This has profound implications for education policy. Inclusion is not achieved simply by placing children into mainstream settings without adequate support. True inclusion requires proper resourcing, trained staff, flexible environments and relational patience. Anything less risks exchanging exclusion in one context for isolation in another.

Christians should therefore resist narratives—however unintentionally framed—that imply some children are “too complex”, “too costly” or “better managed elsewhere”. The measure of a compassionate society is whether it adapts to its most vulnerable, not whether it quietly redirects them.

Therefore, while government bears responsibility for reforming statutory systems, the church is not a bystander.

First, be a community where parents are believed.
Churches can model a radically different posture: listening without suspicion, acknowledging exhaustion, and refusing to spiritualise or minimise struggle. “Carry each other’s burdens,” Paul writes, “and in this way you will fulfil the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2).

Second, honour children with SEND as full participants.
This means adapting church life rather than expecting children to mask or conform in order to belong. It includes flexible children’s work, sensory-aware spaces, and leadership that speaks positively about disability and neurodiversity from the front.

Third, walk with families through the system.
Practical accompaniment matters. Churches can attend meetings, help parents prepare for reviews, offer respite, and stand alongside families navigating appeals and assessments. This reflects the incarnational pattern of Christ, who did not heal from a distance but walked with those who suffered.

Finally, speak prophetically into public life.
We should engage constructively with consultations and policymakers, pressing for reforms that strengthen accountability, protect legal rights and place families - not systems - at the centre. Compassion without justice is not enough (Micah 6:8).

Most people are either directly affected or know a family impacted by this issue. If that is your situation consider what being an advocate at a local level looks like – or use our guide of how to reach your MP to contact them and share your story.

This is an issue close to my own heart, but not an issue CARE has – so far taken up with national policy makers. If we did (and I would love to hear from you if you think we should) here are some personal suggestions as to what the Government should consider:

First, reform must protect and strengthen enforceable rights for children and families. Although ‘Rights’ can be controversial in evangelical circles they do exist to safeguard the vulnerable, not provide false or over entitlement. If reform reduces the need for parents to fight, that will be a sign of success, but only if it does so by making the system work better, not by narrowing routes to challenge (Proverbs 31:8–9).

Second, parents should be treated as trusted partners who know their children and are seeking their wellbeing. Parent should not be seen as reluctant participants by policy makers and those delivering local services. Genuine co-design, transparency and a presumption of good faith would go a long way towards rebuilding confidence. Scripture reminds us that wise leadership listens carefully to those closest to the reality on the ground (Proverbs 11:14).

Third, reform must invest not only in places but in people, including specialist staff, training and professional support. Inclusion depends on relationships and expertise, not just infrastructure. As Jesus observed, “the worker deserves his wages” (Luke 10:7).

Finally, success should be measured not only in financial sustainability, or system efficiency, but in whether families experience greater trust, reduced conflict and a renewed sense of hope. Justice, in biblical terms, is always relational, seeking peace as well as fairness (Isaiah 32:17).

All this said, we should welcome the government’s willingness to re-examine SEND provision. Listening to parents, investing in local capacity and seeking long-term sustainability are necessary steps. With challenges such as they are, money alone— however much—cannot provide the support and outcomes we should all desire for every chid and family struggling to cope. Yet if this is a first step towards a more caring, empowering system within compassionate communities then there is hope that things might get better.

However, hope must be matched with vigilance.

SEND reform will only succeed if it restores trust, rebalances power and affirms the full dignity of every child. Anything less risks repeating the mistakes of the past - with devastating consequences for families already worn down.

As the church, our calling is clear. We are to defend the vulnerable, challenge unjust systems, and embody a different way of seeing.

“A bruised reed he will not break, and a smouldering wick he will not snuff out” (Isaiah 42:3).

May our response to SEND reform - in policy, practice and pastoral care - reflect that same heart.