AT THE Lambeth Conference last year, the Archbishop of York compared the Church to various well-known businesses: where McDonald’s makes hamburgers and Cadbury’s makes chocolate, our product is disciples (News, 5 August 2022). I get the point that he was making, but I think it slightly misplaced.

Making disciples may be an objective, or even — we hope — a consequence of the mission of the Church; but it’s not the “product”, as such, in the sense of what we are offering. That would be like saying that the product of a business was satisfied customers. It’s not. The product is the goods or services that the business provides, which then lead to customers’ being satisfied. So, we need to start a little further back in the supply chain.

What is our core business? What are we “selling”? The answer, surely, is salvation. But what on earth does that mean in a world in which such terminology has lost all common currency?

In a society in which many do not value the consolations of faith, salvation is likely to be a hard sell. Our task, then, is to make it clear that, just as we need food and shelter, so we also need spiritual nourishment and sanctuary — and, moreover, that the Church has this to offer.

This should not be as difficult as it seems. In spite of plummeting attendance figures, and widespread antipathy towards so-called “organised religion”, questions of meaning, purpose, and value — spiritual questions, in other words — remain pertinent to many, even if it would never occur to them to seek answers from the Church.

IT IS important to grapple with this, because, without a clear account of what salvation means, and why we are in need of it, there is no apparent point to faith. And absolutely nothing — no diocesan strategy, no evangelistic initiative, no amount of trying to make what goes on in church more “relevant” or “appealing”, and certainly no amount of organisational restructuring — is going to make the slightest difference.

If people “need” to go to church because they are in need of salvation, then this is what needs to be explained. And for people to feel the need for salvation, they need to feel that there is a problem to which salvation — specifically, salvation through faith in Jesus Christ — is the solution.

The logic is simple. A solution needs a problem. Sine diabolo, nullus dominus — without the devil there is no Lord. Jesus did not come to call the righteous: it is the sick, not the healthy, who need a doctor.

And the problem, of course, is what we call “sin”.

But talking about sin is so negative. Should we not be more focused on the positives? Well, sorry. We need to talk about sin because, unless we realise that there’s a problem, we are not going to be motivated to seek a solution.

First, however, it is important to distinguish between sin and sins. So, to be clear, I’m not talking about sinful deeds, specific faults, or immoral acts. Of course, we shouldn’t do the things we shouldn’t do, but those sins are a consequence of something more fundamental. I am talking about sin, original sin, as a state that describes the human condition.

Humanity is alienated from God, and condemned to live in a transitory world of fleeting pleasures permeated by suffering: birth, ageing, sickness, and death, the frustration of not getting what we want, and of having to endure what we don’t want. It is this primordial alienation that gives rise to “sin”.

That is the problem to which faith in God through Christ is the solution. Jesus teaches us the way back to integration, to God.

SO, DO we just need to preach more hellfire and damnation to get people flocking into our empty churches? Probably not. But might some be attracted by a message that promised the solution to a problem, if presented in terms that were relevant to them? St Paul’s example of meeting people where they are is a good starting point. Rather than ask, “Why don’t people come to our services?”, we should be asking, “What service are we providing for the people among whom we find ourselves?”

Of course, many churches are already active in serving their communities in all sorts of important and practical ways; but how are we serving their spiritual needs? How are we showing people the way of truth which leads to life, the fullness of life which is the knowledge and love of God?

To be more relevant, especially to those who may be at the margins of faith, the Church has to speak to their condition, not just appeal to their taste in music. A lot of people are attracted to Buddhism (in which the concept of Dukkha, or suffering, functions as the equivalent of original sin) because it is framed as the solution to a problem that can be easily identified from our own experience. Christianity is no different in that respect. We’re just not explaining it.

I’m under no illusion that there are any quick and easy solutions to congregational decline. No amount of tinkering with either the medium or the message is likely to result in churches’ being flooded with new worshippers. But can we do a better job of appealing to the occasional visitor, or engaging with the spiritually curious who have come to the realisation that there must be more to life than this? I would certainly hope so.

But, unless we find meaningful ways of articulating the problem to which we wish to propose a solution, we will continue to sound like someone desperately trying to sell vinyl LPs to people who do not even have record players.

The Revd Dr Nicholas Buxton is the director of St Antony’s Priory, in Durham.