This essay was first published on my personal Substack. It has been slightly revised in response to a few concerns raised by earlier readers. My aim is simply to describe what I see in the Anglican Church in North America and to suggest structural changes that might help us live together with greater peace and faithfulness.
The Anglican Church in North America (ACNA) was founded in the hope that orthodox Anglican faith and practice might take root again on this continent. It was the hope that a divided and weary people might be gathered into one body under Christ, and that the ancient order of bishops, priests, and deacons might serve a renewed and missionary church.
That hope remains. Yet fifteen years in, we find ourselves living with repeated crises—of trust, of leadership, of legitimacy, of belonging. Some focus on failures of character; others on failures of doctrine or discipline. Those matter, but they don’t reach the heart of the problem. The deeper issue is mimetic rivalry. We are caught in ordinary human patterns of imitation and competition, and our structures often make them worse instead of better.
Because diocesan and parochial boundaries overlap, the church’s life is shaped by constant comparison. What might have been neighboring fellowship has become overlapping jurisdiction, and rivalry seeps into every level of the system. We built a system designed for rapid church planting in a time of enthusiasm, but we did not build one capable of sustaining peace in a time of consolidation. The result is predictable: factions, suspicion, and chronic institutional anxiety.
If we do not change our form of governance, no number of new statements, goodwill, or charismatic leaders will save us. What is needed is to reform ACNA to remove the structural incentives to rivalry. This reform must not only be a moral or spiritual aspiration but rather a constitutional reality.
The founding compromise between “geographical” and “affinity” dioceses was meant to preserve freedom; in practice it has bred competition. Multiple bishops may claim overlapping flocks, and clergy are encouraged to compare jurisdictions rather than inhabit a stable home. Without fixed boundaries, there can be no neighborly charity, only marketplace dynamics clothed in ecclesial language.
Bishops, rectors, and diocesan councils operate within unclear lines of accountability. Extra-canonical powers such as “godly admonition,” informal investigations, and unappealable episcopal decisions allow strong personalities to substitute for due process. When the law is elastic, every dispute becomes personal, and every personal dispute becomes a test of loyalty.
Our public tolerance of divergent practice on women’s ordination has hardened into parallel theologies of holy orders. This lack of settlement keeps the church in a permanent state of negotiation; each diocese is tempted to justify itself by contrast with another. Until we resolve this, unity will remain procedural and not sacramental.
Because safeguarding and discipline are tied to the same office that holds pastoral and political power, neither victims nor accused can trust the process. Even good bishops are compromised by a structural conflict of interest. The only solution is to make safeguarding independent of the episcopal office.
Power follows possession. Some dioceses hold property to secure control; others allow parishes to hold it to secure autonomy. Both arrangements create leverage instead of mutual obligation. The gospel cannot flourish under economic coercion.
Clergy live under the fear of arbitrary removal, or conversely, under the assumption of tenure without accountability. Neither extreme serves holiness. A clear process, slow to remove but sure in cause, would better reflect the justice and mercy of God.
The great Anglican insight that bishops, clergy, and laity should deliberate together has, in most cases, been reduced to occasional conventions and symbolic votes. Real governance happens elsewhere, in private networks. Until synods gain legislative authority, trust will not return.
The sections that follow outline a full re-founding of our polity: territorial dioceses with fixed boundaries; synodical governance from parish to continent; episcopal powers clearly limited to sacramental and doctrinal guardianship; independent safeguarding offices; property held in trust for mission, not leverage; rectors protected by due process; and immutable doctrinal foundations.
This is not a call for schism but for repentance in the matter of our ecclesial form. We ask our bishops, clergy, and laity to risk their present securities so that our children might inherit a peaceful and fruitful church. If we take these steps together, ACNA can still become what it was meant to be: a faithful Anglican presence in North America for the next century and beyond.
The first reform must be to end overlapping dioceses and competition for parishes. ACNA was born out of mission-driven chaos, and its early flexibility made sense when survival was the goal. But now, the same flexibility has become the root of our disease. When two or three bishops claim the same territory, and when parishes choose affiliation like shoppers selecting a brand, rivalry is baked into the system.
From the earliest centuries, the church has recognized that ecclesial boundaries are moral boundaries. They protect communion by defining responsibility. Where no boundaries exist, every bishop becomes a potential rival, and every parish becomes a prize to be won.
We must therefore redraw the map of ACNA. Every square mile of the USA and Canada should belong to one diocese, and one only. Every diocese should be defined by territory, not by affinity, theology, or personal affiliation. Existing dioceses that overlap must either merge or cede territory. No new non-geographical dioceses should ever again be created.
Each diocese should then belong to a province: a regional confederation of neighboring dioceses. The diocese containing the largest city in that province should designate its bishop as Archbishop, whose role is symbolic and coordinating, not hierarchical. These provinces should exist to facilitate cooperation between dioceses, but not control over them.
Above the provinces would sit the Church: a continental synod representing the whole body. Its powers are minimal and clearly enumerated. It exists to maintain doctrinal guardrails, handle appeals, and coordinate mission. It does not appoint bishops, manage dioceses, or adjudicate ordinary disputes. The General Synod will elect one of the Bishops or Archbishops to serve as the Primate of the Church for a fixed period of time.
Once established, diocesan and parish boundaries are to be treated as inviolable. They can be changed only by a vote of the relevant synod and never by episcopal decree or negotiation. Stability is the ground where peace can grow.
The second reform is to restore synodical government as the normal expression of Anglican order. Bishops, priests, and laypeople should together govern the church through public, legislative assemblies. In our current life, synods are often treated as ceremonial gatherings, while actual decisions are made informally by bishops’ councils, executive committees, or private meetings. This has eroded trust and allowed personality to replace process.
Each level of the church should have an active, standing synod:
This cascading structure ensures adherence to the venerable principle of subsidiarity so that decisions are made at the lowest competent level. Where power flows, it flows upward by delegation and not downward by command.
In this design, bishops preside in synods, but they do not rule apart from them. Rectors represent the clergy, and lay delegates ensure that the baptized people of God remain active participants in discernment and discipline. When all three orders are required to act together, rivalry will find no foothold.
The third reform is to clearly define and limit the powers of bishops. The role of a bishop is sacramental and doctrinal, not managerial. Bishops are to ordain clergy, confirm the baptized, guard teaching, and serve as visible signs of unity. They are not to be CEOs, politicians, or landlords.
In practice, bishops now wield discretionary authority over clergy appointments, discipline, and property far beyond biblical or canonical warrant. This can breed fear among clergy and encourage factional loyalty rather than godly submission. Limiting episcopal power will not weaken the church. Instead, it will strengthen it by freeing bishops to focus on their proper calling.
Bishops should not interfere in the internal life of parishes except in cases of heresy or gross misconduct, and only after an independent investigation. They should neither appoint nor remove rectors without cause and due process. And they should not withhold licenses or transfers as a means of pressure or punishment.
Episcopal authority must be exercised within canon law, and canon law must be transparent and consistent. The bishop’s word is not law; the canon is. Bishops should be spiritual fathers, not feudal lords or powerbrokers.
The fourth reform is to create an independent “Director of Safe Ministry” in every diocese or province (as practicable). This office should function analogously to an Attorney General: empowered to investigate and prosecute allegations of misconduct without fear or favor, and to act in the name of justice rather than politics.
The Director must be appointed by the synod, not the bishop, and must report to the synod, not the one holding episcopal office. They should have fixed terms and protected tenure. They alone decide whether a complaint warrants formal charge, and they should publish anonymized annual reports detailing case numbers, findings, and outcomes.
This independence serves all parties—victims, accused, and the wider church—by separating the pastoral from the judicial. It protects bishops from the suspicion of bias and restores public trust. The Director’s authority should extend over all clergy and licensed lay ministers, with the power to refer cases to an independent tribunal where warranted.
Without such independence, safeguarding will remain yet another site of rivalry, accusation, and defensiveness. With this independence, the church regains moral credibility and the capacity for truth-telling.
The fifth reform concerns property. Few things breed rivalry more than ownership. When dioceses hold property to control parishes, or parishes hold property to threaten departure, both sides are tempted to use assets as weapons. We need a system that neither permits schism nor enables domination.
Each diocese should hold all parish property in trust for that parish. The parish cannot sell or transfer its property without diocesan consent, and the diocese cannot dispose of or encumber parish property without the vote of the diocesan synod or its standing committee. This arrangement protects both parties and removes property from the field of leverage.
The trust relationship makes clear that buildings and land exist for the mission of the church that will outlive all of us, and not for the security or agenda of a current faction.
This model does carry risks, and we should name them plainly. In other denominations, property trusts have sometimes been used to punish parishes that remained orthodox when their dioceses drifted. That is why the locking-in of doctrinal orthodoxy is essential: the same structure that once trapped conservatives in liberal systems could just as easily, in our case, prevent theologically revisionist parishes from pressuring or departing their dioceses. In short, holding property in trust only works if both doctrine and law are secure. If done well, it can be a safeguard for the future, not a tool for coercion.
The sixth reform concerns the vocation of rectors. Rectors must be protected from arbitrary dismissal, and congregations must be protected from clergy negligence or abuse. This balance can be maintained only through due process administered by the independent safeguarding professional referenced above.
Once appointed, a rector may not be removed except through the canonical process of charge, investigation, and conviction for either (a) heresy or (b) gross misconduct. These charges are to be brought and prosecuted by the Director of Safe Ministry, not by the bishop or parish council. Only a tribunal convened under canon law may determine guilt and sentence.
This ensures that discipline is neither a tool of control nor a shield for wrongdoing. Bishops retain the power to suspend a rector temporarily when there is credible evidence of harm, but permanent removal requires judgment in law.
This reform will quiet the anxiety that drives much of the present system. Clergy will serve with confidence that faithfulness, not politics, secures their position. Parishes will know that misbehavior will be dealt with through due process, not personal favor. And bishops will be freed from the burdens and temptations that have so dogged them under the current system.
The seventh reform is to abolish extra-canonical powers and informal mechanisms of control—especially those exercised through the “College of Bishops,” through the “Godly Admonition” provision, or through any executive authority not defined by canon.
The church must be governed by law, not by personality. The canons are the covenant that binds us, ensuring that power is exercised predictably and accountably. Where unwritten customs or broad, undefined powers persist, they inevitably become tools of rivalry: used to punish dissent, reward loyalty, and bypass process.
The College of Bishops may continue as a forum for prayer and counsel, but it should have no coercive power over dioceses or clergy. “Godly admonition” should exist only as pastoral advice, not as a legal or disciplinary act. Any new structures or initiatives must derive their authority from the canons and be subject to synodical review.
The goal here is not bureaucracy, but peace. Clear, public law is the friend of peace, and informal or undefined powers are its enemy.
The eighth reform is to establish a permanent doctrinal settlement that cannot be altered by ordinary canonical process. The church must stand on a foundation that cannot be negotiated anew with every controversy.
This settlement should include:
Some dioceses may choose to ordain women to the diaconate; others may choose to institute deaconesses in a non-sacerdotal form of ministry. Either approach should be honored as legitimate within the bounds of Scripture and the Anglican tradition. What matters is that this question no longer divides our understanding of priestly and episcopal orders.
Ordination to the priesthood must cease for women. This conclusion is not arbitrary. It is grounded in the pattern of Scripture, the witness of history, the givenness of nature, and the consensus of the catholic church through the ages. To depart from that consensus would be to exchange unity for novelty. The church cannot embody communion while maintaining two incompatible orders of ministry.
These doctrinal positions should be declared virtually immutable: no synod at any level may amend or repeal them except by unanimous vote of bishops and a supermajority of clergy and laity across all dioceses. The intent is not rigidity but durability: we need a church stable enough to think about mission rather than identity.
These eight reforms, taken together, describe a healed and differentiated church. They restore the Anglican conviction that authority is shared, that boundaries make friendship possible, and that stability grows in the soil of peace. They demand great sacrifice, especially from bishops who must yield powers they did not seek but have come to hold. But they also offer a future in which ACNA might stand as a credible and unified Anglican witness to the gospel.
Further work must be done to prescribe in detail how a reform of this scale would unfold. The point here is not to deliver a blueprint, but to imagine a set of steps by which ACNA could move from rivalry toward peace without fracture. The process would have to be deliberate, collaborative, and marked by restraint. It would have to look something like the following set of steps.
The first task would be for the church to agree, in principle, on the need for the eight planks of ACNA reform spelled out in this document. Bishops, clergy, and lay representatives would need to affirm together that overlapping dioceses, unclear governance, and undefined authority cannot continue. This would not yet mean drafting new canons, but acknowledging the need for a new constitutional settlement, rooted in peace rather than competition.
Once consensus exists, theologians, canon lawyers, and synodical representatives could translate the eight planks of reform above into concrete proposals: redefining diocesan boundaries, clarifying episcopal powers, and structuring safeguarding, property, and doctrine accordingly. What matters here is transparency: nothing done in private, nothing announced without explanation.
When new canons and constitutions are ready, they would be received by diocesan and provincial synods for amendment and approval. Boundaries could then be redrawn, overlapping jurisdictions reconciled, and new synods elected to govern under the revised order. Independent safeguarding offices could begin their work, and property deeds could be adjusted to reflect the new trust model.
Once the new order is established, it will take time for its practices to settle and for a renewed culture to form around them. The essential doctrinal commitments should remain fixed points of reference. The College of Bishops should serve chiefly as a council for prayer and encouragement. As these structures mature, the habits of synodical governance, clear accountability, and mutual trust will take root until they become the ordinary way of life for the church, creating the stability and confidence from which new mission and church planting can grow.
This is not a technical program but a moral pathway. It would require patience, courage, and restraint at every stage. Bishops would need to give up powers that no longer serve the gospel; clergy and laity would need to assume responsibilities long neglected. But if walked together in humility, such a path could lead to a church whose very form embodies the peace it proclaims.
Every institution pays for its design. ACNA’s current design, built for speed and flexibility, now exacts a price of conflict and instability. We can no longer pretend that our divisions are temporary or that goodwill alone will hold us together. The system itself breeds rivalry. Unless we change it, the future is predictable.
If nothing is done, three outcomes are likely.
First: fragmentation. Affinity-based dioceses will continue to multiply, each tied more to ideology or personality than to place. Bishops will draw clergy from one another’s dioceses. Parishes will change affiliation whenever a dispute arises. The church will splinter again and again.
Second: moral exhaustion. Leaders will spend more time managing suspicion than preaching Christ. Talented clergy will burn out or withdraw. Laypeople will grow cynical about governance and safeguarding. Each scandal will produce committees and apologies but little trust.
Third: loss of credibility. A communion that cannot govern itself cannot witness to the world about truth or reconciliation. Other provinces will tolerate us but not take us seriously. Younger generations, already suspicious of authority, will not join a church that mirrors the rivalries they see everywhere else.
We must face these realities honestly: without structural repentance, ACNA will not endure as a united and faithful body. Eventually it will disappear altogether.
The alternative is hard but hopeful. To rebuild the church on peaceable foundations will require real sacrifice.
Bishops will have to surrender much of what they have come to control: discretionary powers, informal influence, and overlapping jurisdictions. Some will lose office through redistricting; all will lose unilateral authority. Yet what they will gain is the freedom to be true pastors and teachers, trusted not for power but for holiness.
Clergy will need to accept greater transparency and accountability. Some will lose the protection of vague canons or personal alliances. But they will gain security in vocation and clarity in law, knowing that their ministry stands on right rather than favor.
Laypeople will have to take responsibility for governance. Synods will not function unless lay representatives attend, prepare, and deliberate. But through this, the baptized will recover their dignity as full members of Christ’s body, sharing in discernment.
The whole church will have to exchange our culture’s false “freedom from” for the gospel’s true “freedom for”—freedom for mission. The reward will not be quick success but long stability. We may gain an ecclesial peace that can last generations.
Within a generation, ACNA could become a calm, credible, and fruitful Anglican presence in North America. Its dioceses would cooperate rather than compete with one another. Its clergy would serve without fear. Its laity would govern with confidence. Its bishops would embody unity rather than rivalry. And its common life would reflect the peace of the gospel it proclaims.
This is the opportunity before us. It is an act of stewardship for the next century. We cannot guarantee success, but we can choose integrity. If we do so, our children and grandchildren may look back and say that, at a time of confusion, this church chose faithfulness, peace, and mission.
The Anglican way has always trusted in ordered liberty: authority shared among bishops, clergy, and laity under the Word of God. What’s proposed here isn’t innovation but restoration—a way of making our form match our faith.We have lived for too long in rivalry masked as fellowship. The time has come to risk everything for the sake of truth and peace. The Lord has promised that those who lose their lives for his sake will find them again. Perhaps the same is true of churches.