IN A meeting I attended this month with other women clergy, it was noted how, since the General Synod had voted against the women-bishops Measure, many priests had been contacted by "cultural Christians", people who had until now attended only christenings, weddings, and funerals, and possibly midnight mass with their families, but now either wished to be involved, or simply felt that they could make contact with the Church.

Many of the priests felt inspired that, out of this difficult situation, we had been given a rare chance to become relevant to people's lives again.

A majority of these people probably form the 70 per cent in the 2011 Census carried out by YouGov to complement the ONS Census (News, 14 December). There they described themselves as having been brought up as Christian, but have sought spiritual sustenance elsewhere, or not at all.

Although generations of work have been dedicated to this ministry, if we are to grasp this opportunity, we need to re-examine why people have not been able to find what they are looking for in a tradition as rich as our own.

THE most common reason that people now give for not attending church regularly is that they see religion as one of the main causes of destructive behaviour, both in history and around the world today.

Religion is often in the news, if not as the cause of conflict, then pervading or appearing to condone unacceptable social or political situations. In the past decade or so, perhaps since 9/11, many people seem to have become more concerned that, in attending church, they might align themselves with this record.

Some have, therefore, searched for a God that is beyond organised religion, so that they can simplify their faith and begin to relate to a transpersonal divinity. When asked, many reply: "I am not religious, but I am spiritual."

They have searched through meditation, mindfulness, self-examination, alternative healing, and westernised versions of Eastern traditions (the last of which appear to have left aside their political histories).

Yet, in Western Christianity, we have a long heritage of exploring spirituality, vividly shown, for example, in the work of the Desert Fathers and the monastic orders. We have generations of teaching on spiritual experience, mindfulness, and a simple and yet profound unity with the divine: works from Gregory of Nazianzus to Ignatius of Loyola, and from Julian of Norwich to Bede Griffiths. So why is it that we struggle to reach people in this way?

ONE person was asked whether he would attend a meditation class at a church in his lunch break. He replied: "No, because they would force their prayers on me at the same time, and I don't trust them." I wonder whether we have underestimated the trust that needs to be rebuilt for people to be able receive what is inherently their own tradition.

It can be hard for us to receive attacks and be blamed for corruption. But, if we are frightened to enter the conflict - if we feel accusations can be exaggerated, uninformed, unjust, or that people are digging up the past, associating us with other religions, ignoring the terrible things done to us, or missing the positive contributions - then we are afraid to meet those who are wounded.

Our fear is as strong as theirs, and we, too, are in need of remembering God, who is beyond conflict, and forgives. A remembering that supports us to step into ideas of betrayal and the desecration of the sacred will be painful for us. But, with the support of a loving God, this step could help both sides to listen to each other and to change.

THE second most common reason that people give for not looking to the Church for spiritual guidance is the distance they feel from the life of Christ. One person who sought to reconnect with his church recently said: "I just couldn't sit and listen about Jesus, who lived 2000 years ago with all the different people of that time, and find it relevant to my life. I found more meaning in spending time with my family."

Another said: "I was asked to be a godmother, and thought I would start going again with my niece, but when I had to say the vows, I couldn't do it. The things we had to say were disturbing, and we were told we had to believe completely in it all." Yet another said: "I didn't get why the Old Testament readings could be so cruel, and why that was something they would want to read out and respect."

Our tradition has a vast body of teaching about the steps that can be taken before being able to encounter the life of Christ. For example, an Ignatian spiritual director has to assess people to see whether they are ready for a 30-day silent retreat that prays through the life of Christ. The spiritual director looks for faith in a loving God - nothing more. Many, however, are sent away to prepare, and the preparation can take years, if not a lifetime, before they will be ready.

Doubt is not something to fear. Neither is it something that has to be overcome in order to live with Christ: it is something to be companioned. True companionship seeks to find two things: a language that those whom we accompany can relate to, and the willingness to watch for God at work in their lives.

Perhaps if we were to talk more to people who express such doubts about the Church - asking them where or when they have felt a connection with something greater, and if we were then willing to find grace in the most unexpected answers - then we would meet them where the Spirit was working in their lives, and support them towards finding a loving God.

A FURTHER question is the relevance of our church community to most people living in an area. A group of teenagers in one city were found laying candles and cards in a street, where a friend had fallen out of a window. They said that if the church could have done a memorial service in the way they would have believed in, "just spiritual", they would

have gone to it with their friends; but they were told that they had to have certain Christian prayers. They were turned away from the church because of its insistence on particular forms.

What is remarkable about this is the growing sense of community values. Lamp-posts are laden with flowers marking the place where someone has died. Hundreds helped to clear up their cities after the 2011 riots. The Olympics had 70,000 volunteer Gamesmakers.

People are inspired to rebuild their community; something that is at the centre of our message. The Church has a strong record of charity work, but perhaps we are being asked to step further into what is happening on the street, and join in.

WE NEED to grapple harder with the question of how we might build a bridge wide enough for this large part of the population to find guidance for their spiritual life in what is their own heritage. Many feel that if our services and outreach (such as feeding the homeless or youth work) does not involve discussing the gospel explicitly, then we will not have honoured our ministry.

Yet, because such a careful first step is needed, perhaps we are in danger of underestimating that God is still at work "with thee when we know it not", as Wordsworth wrote. We are being asked to reveal our confidence in God: the good news that God is working in people's lives. What is more, we are being asked to show that people's relationship with God can be enriched through contact with their own tradition, which seeks only to look for where grace is working within them, and to serve.

Many of us have spent years working with people who have left the Church. Yet the public seems to be saying that we are a long way from doing enough. This voice should not be heard with disappointment, because their renewed interest is a great opportunity to move forward.

Some people look for a connection with our belief in hospitality and community; others need to find support in conscience; while others want a loving God, or God's awe-inspiring mystery; and others still need to find a way to live with fear and doubt. They look to us to listen to them, and to accompany them. Our rich tradition, filled with people exploring God in music, literature, the arts, architecture, nature, hospitality, social action, community involvement, inner development, spiritual experience, and so much more, is there to be used in all its variety.

If we could find the courage to step into conversation, and not to underestimate the trust that needs to be rebuilt; if we could have the faith to meet these people with their doubts; if we could look for grace in their lives in new ways - then we might find, with the grace of God, that we are able to serve them again.

The Revd Marie-Elsa Bragg is Assistant Curate at St Mary's, Kilburn, and St James's, West Hampstead, and a Duty Chaplain at Westminster Abbey.