Hope for a Hurting Church

Leadership, Trust, & the Future of the Church in Wales

For generations, our “ragged” Church in Wales has held together through change and challenge, sustained by the steady faith and prayerful devotion of its people. In recent years, however, that resilience has been tested. Many clergy find themselves stretched, navigating spiritual and institutional demands that have grown more complex. Lay involvement is shifting, institutional memory is thinning, and conversations that should be open and constructive too often stall or sour. The Church continues to speak of renewal, but alongside that hope lies a widespread anxiety that our common life is fraying.

In recent posts, I’ve written about clergy burnout, the Harries Report’s theological shortcomings, and weaknesses in our synodical structures. Each was an attempt to name what many already sense: that we’re not simply facing external pressures, but are contending with internal patterns of problems that threaten our health and witness. If we care about our Church’s future, then we must be willing to speak openly about those threats.

This post addresses perhaps the most painful of these patterns: the succession of leadership crises that have unsettled our Church over nearly two decades. These aren’t just unfortunate episodes or isolated lapses. Taken together, they reveal a troubling picture—resignations, fractured relationships, governance failures, and a persistent lack of transparency—that can’t be explained away as coincidence. None of this is about blaming individual bishops or senior clergy. Rather, these events expose deeper vulnerabilities in how we form leaders, structure authority, and hold power to account.

Likewise, what follows isn’t a catalogue of failings, but a call to recognise the pattern, and to ask, with urgency and faith, how we might finally begin to break it.

A Pattern of Problems

It’s tempting to view recent leadership crises in the Church in Wales as isolated cases—a difficult episcopacy here, strained relationships there. But when considered together, a pattern emerges that reveals deeper issues in how leadership is exercised, accountability functions, and issues are addressed.

• In 2008, the then Bishop of St David’s resigned over allegations of an inappropriate relationship.

• Around the same time, abuse allegations began to surface against Bishop Anthony Pierce. Earlier this year, he pleaded guilty to five counts of indecent assault.

• In 2019, the Bishop of Monmouth resigned following a prolonged absence and a mishandled response to a reported issue. The process was later criticised in the Monmouth Enquiry and Review Report for being confusing and lacking transparency.

• The Dean of Llandaff resigned in 2022 following a long, public, and acrimonious breakdown with the then Bishop of Llandaff.

• In 2023, the Bishop of St David’s resignation came after a period of intense public scrutiny and political controversy.

• And now, the recent visitation report into Bangor Cathedral has exposed a culture of blurred sexual boundaries, safeguarding failures, gossip, exclusion, and weak oversight.

Each case was damaging in its own way (and these are only some that have made the news). But they also share common themes: communication breakdowns, procedural vagueness, and the corrosive effects of unresolved conflict.

Since 2008, a quarter of Welsh diocesan bishops have either resigned under controversy or else later faced serious allegations (in the Church of England and The Episcopal Church, it’s around 7%). Two of our six cathedrals have lately endured prolonged dysfunction. Several recent episcopal elections have proven difficult or impossible to conclude, reflecting the complexity of discernment in a small and diverse Church. This isn’t about blaming individuals, but about recognising systemic vulnerabilities in how leadership and accountability are structured and carried out.

Put this into context: the Church in Wales is roughly the size of the Diocese of Oxford, though with far fewer clergy. Were Oxford to experience this level of disruption, it would provoke a major institutional response—likely with external oversight and a focused reform agenda. So let’s not pretend we’re just unlucky. There are deeper challenges here that need our collective attention.

A Crisis of Anglican Leadership

Admittedly, they ought to be seen in a broader context. Across the UK, there appears to be a crisis of episcopal credibility.

The Archbishop of Canterbury resigned amid public scandal, which implicated other senior figures. Both a previous Archbishop of Canterbury and of York can’t preside at the altar due to their mishandling of safeguarding situations. And there are now calls for the Primus of the Scottish Episcopal Church to step down over the handling of complaints involving the Bishop of Aberdeen and Orkney.

Meanwhile, the Church of England is struggling to facing a long list of episcopal appointments, while existing ones engage in open disputes—most publicly when the Bishop of Newcastle accused the Archbishop of York of silencing safeguarding concerns. In a subsequent Today interview, she noted that she had been “frozen out” by the other bishops on the English bench.

For ordinary Anglicans, this all adds up to a steady erosion of trust. In the absence of clear communication, congregations rely on hearsay and online speculation, which only breeds further confusion and hurt. Worse, the systems meant to resolve conflict or wrongdoing frequently, though often inadvertently, compound the pain. Investigations drag on, conclusions lack clarity, and both complainants and the accused are left in limbo. Trust, once lost, isn’t easily regained.

Too Small to Handle Crises?

Here in Wales, our size makes matters worse. When a problem arises, it often implicates the very people responsible for resolving them. The intimacy of our relationships—something I genuinely value—can make it hard to act objectively, particularly when it involves friends or long-standing colleagues. This same closeness can also make it harder for others to trust that decisions have been made fairly.

This isn’t an abstract concern for me. I’ve been personally connected to most of the leadership challenges mentioned earlier. I know people on both sides. I’ve seen the pain up close. And I’m not alone. Many clergy find themselves caught in these webs, unsure how—or whether—to speak.

In such a small Church, it takes real courage to challenge the status quo or to call out bad conduct.

At the same time, we’re facing the slow erosion of institutional memory among the laity. As experienced laymen and women retire, there’s little sign that we’re raising up successors equipped to use our institutional mechanisms to check power and hold others to account. And without that shared constitutional knowledge, it becomes harder to distinguish legitimate authority from overreach, making arbitrary decisions more likely to go unrecognised or unchallenged.

This is compounded by the lack of open, constructive spaces for dialogue. The Church in Wales has no equivalent to the lively discourse one finds in many other Churches. To outsiders, this might look like complacency. In reality, many care deeply about the problems and issues within our Church, but they lack the forums, tools, and permission to speak constructively. Frustration speaks loudest in the widespread grumble of complaints. The 2012 Review rightly named this a “culture of deference.” That culture still needs challenging.

A Call to Courageous Renewal

And yet, there’s hope.

The Church in Wales is full of extraordinary people: dedicated priests, gifted lay leaders, and faithful congregations. It’s a Church shaped by prayer, animated by love, and sustained by deep pastoral wisdom.

But the crises we’ve seen aren’t random. They’re the fruit of a soil left unattended. When the pH balance of our ecclesial culture is off—when formation is shallow, governance overly centralised, and accountability weak—we shouldn’t be surprised that we’re producing a harvest of scandals and controversies.

The good news is that soil can be renewed. With time, humility, and intention, we can change what we grow.

Last summer, General Synod of the Church of England received a preliminary report on trust and trustworthiness in the Church. Its recommendations are timely, practical, and worthy of our own consideration. The report identified five key areas for change, each one relevant to our life together in the Church in Wales.

1. It begins with identity. The Church needs a unifying narrative, one that is broad and deep enough to hold even our most painful differences. Without such a vision, we risk fragmentation.

2. It calls for interpersonal transformation. All formation—clergy and lay alike—must cultivate empathy, integrity, and the skills to engage with difference and disagreement. We need spaces where new ideas can be explored without fear, and where benevolence becomes a hallmark of our communication.

3. It speaks to culture. We need to normalise honesty, admit failure, and support one another in the hard work of repentance and repair. This is about trustworthiness rather than perfection, especially from those called to lead.

4. It confronts power. Leaders must see themselves first as servants. That requires not only personal humility, but structural clarity about how authority is held, shared, and made accountable.

5. Finally, it urges reform in our structures and processes. Decision-making must be transparent, roles clearly defined, and systems strong enough to prevent the repetition of past failings.

Some have described these as the Nolan Principles for the Church. To them, I would add the recommendations of the the 2012 Church in Wales Review (also known as the Harries Report) for revitalised synodical life, collaborative Ministry Areas, and a genuinely empowered laity. A renewed commitment to subsidiarity would also ensure that power is shared widely rather than hoarded centrally. None of these reforms would weaken episcopal authority. Instead, they could free up bishops to be what they’re called to be: pastors, teachers, and unifiers of the Church.

C.S. Lewis once asked, “If the sheep huddle patiently together and go on bleating, might they finally recall the shepherds?” That’s not a rhetorical question. If we wait passively for change to trickle down, we risk becoming complicit. But if we speak up—if we insist on a Church worthy of its calling—and if we collectively press for the kind of structural reform our moment demands, then we may yet see something better take root. Both the “Trust and Trustworthiness” Report and the Harries Report offer a basis for this to happen. But we need to demand action, and then collectively work to build a healthier and more trustworthy Church.

Our Church is hurting. But it isn’t hopeless. Grace is still steadily and redemptively at work. And if we listen well, speak with courage, and act with faith, we might yet become the Church we’re called to be.

A true commonwealth of grace.