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While surveys tell us that 95 percent of Americans claim to believe in God, it's no secret that church attendance has been sliding in recent years. My own denomination, the Presbyterian Church (USA), has been losing members since the '60s. And, like other branches of organized religion, we are now facing a fresh challenge: a rising tide of religious books, television shows, and internet sites that invite people to practice a kind of self-help spirituality.

This issue has taken on new urgency for me since I became pastor of Fairfax Presbyterian, a congregation of about 800 adult members, in January 2001. It's a larger church with a broader range of programs than the congregation I had served previously -- Calvary Presbyterian in Alexandria -- but it's no less immune to the lure of private worship.

A new job always makes you reassess. This time around, I'm aware as never before that I'm not the only spiritual guide in town. As Phyllis Tickle, who writes about religious book publishing, pointed out to me, "much of what fifty years ago went into a pastor's or priest's or rabbi's study now comes [directly] to the bookstore's shelves."

People don't need to hear my sermon to get a religious message, or attend Fairfax Presbyterian's Sunday school classes to learn about approaches to prayer. It seems to Robert McKee, an electronic engineer who has served as an elder at Fairfax, as if a great many are looking elsewhere for spirituality: "My friends at work, my neighbors ... are the ones in the bookstores searching, on the internet searching."

All very well, you might say. For many people, religion is a private matter, but this shift does more than threaten to reduce the number of faces in our pews, and dilute the sense of religious obligation that can bind together the members of a congregation. It also undermines the spirit of community that is so central to the church -- one that not only benefits church members but serves the world around them. Self-help spirituality weakens not only moral clarity but also Christian charity.

In our increasingly fragmented and individualistic world, it is through the strength of community that congregations can provide soup kitchens, homeless shelters, and tutoring programs. Many of those activities are well supported at the moment, but they are far harder to organize and develop without a local institution as their focus. Francis H. Wade, senior pastor of 1,800-member St. Alban's Episcopal Church in Washington, sees the value of that support system. A number of his parishioners are involved in the Washington Interfaith Network, which pushes for housing, education, and childcare. The network "connects us across the socioeconomic barriers of the city," he points out. "No individual could do that."

At Fairfax Presbyterian, we stress the community aspect of our faith through regularly scheduled programs: two youth groups, eight choirs, fourteen Christian education classes, a preschool for 100 children, and a range of groups for men, women, young adults, and families. With the help of a small army of volunteers, as well as several full-time staff members, parishioners also come together to feed the hungry, help the homeless, and, in recent years, host Belarusian children on summer visits from their homes in Chernobyl.

Even with all this activity, our efforts to create community are sometimes undermined by competing demands on parishioners' time. "Churches are not losing people to other churches," observed my friend Kent Winters-Hazelton when he was pastor of Claremont Presbyterian Church in California in 2001. "They are losing them to the weekend." People are dropping out of Sunday church to pursue leisure activities -- at arts festivals, ski resorts, and beaches -- and trying to make up for that by going to bookstores and internet chat rooms. Books can be read while riding the subway; internet prayer requests can be offered at 2 a.m. Both books and internet prayer sites probably seem more accessible to shy people who might be uncomfortable asking a question in a public Bible study or raising a concern in a service of worship.

What we are up against these days is big business. Lynn Garrett, the religion editor of Publishers Weekly, the trade magazine of the book publishing industry, tells me that the religion category in publishing has been one of the fastest growing in the past ten years, and is currently among the top three in market share, just behind popular fiction and cooking/crafts. "Many people are pursuing a private form of spirituality," she says, "and these books are a key element."

Readers are showing steady interest in spirituality, prayer, and religious living, and a rising fascination with Buddhism, grief, and Christian fiction (the Left Behind series -- a fictional thriller based on the Bible's book of Revelation -- had sold more than twenty million copies by early 2001). The content runs the gamut, from self-centered nonsense to demanding biographical and autobiographical religious works, such as the writings of Kathleen Norris. Some bookstores even have sections called "Private Spirituality," with books ranging from the reflections of Zen masters to bestsellers such as Conversations With God.

Although seven in ten Americans say they can be religious without going to services, my experience is that spiritual growth requires a community of support and accountability. It is amazing to see the ways church members help each other in times of illness and loss, willingly practicing Christian charity. Visits, cards, and casseroles are common signs of concern, but many congregations go much further. Some churches are making an exceptional effort to reach beyond their traditional role. The pastor, deacon, and members of St. Anthony's Roman Catholic Church in Washington care for the dying in the hospital, work closely with families who are experiencing loss, help with funeral planning, organize post-funeral meals, and offer a bereavement support group. Try to get that from a self-help book!

Along with this support comes accountability, and this is where some people balk. To be challenged to adhere to certain religious standards is a tough -- but important -- dimension of spiritual growth, and I would argue that achieving moral clarity requires the existence of a community every bit as much as practicing Christian charity. Some of my biggest challenges in ministry have arisen out of situations in which I have had to confront church members about thoughtless or selfish acts, such as an older member berating a new member of the church. Many respond with anger and defensiveness, and then show resentment toward me that can last for years.

I hate these conflicts, and yet I believe that ministry includes this sort of guidance. Books, television shows, and the internet simply cannot provide it. Touched By An Angel and Seventh Heaven are entertaining television fare, but they don't push people to move beyond their comfortable lifestyles. Frankly, in a spiritual marketplace that offers resources ranging from New Age guidebooks to religious classics, a person can find support for any perspective or any passion that feels good. "One thing is for sure," says Denise Giacomozzi May, chaplain for United College Ministries in Northern Virginia, "with so much specialized literature, and so many chat rooms, radio, and television options, our culture is Balkanized, fractured into untold numbers of interest groups and sub-groups that we can very easily -- I would say too easily -- lose ourselves in a tiny world of like-thinkers or like-believers."

It may seem odd for a pastor to worry about like-thinkers and like-believers, since the church is often accused of enforcing rigid orthodoxy. But I'm concerned when faith comes to be seen as only an individual, private matter. There's no limit to the narcissism of a spirituality that is completely cut off from scripture, tradition, and a community of faith. We are naturally going to become self-centered unless we are challenged to look outward by a congregation that is following the ancient examples of Abraham and Moses.

Not that modern media are inherently lacking. "Something like twenty percent of all Americans use the internet for spiritual purposes," says Steve Waldman, editor-in-chief of beliefnet.com, a website that is designed to appeal to all faiths. I have occasionally turned to this site when I am preparing sermons. "Yes, it is a more personal, private, and in some way intimate form of spirituality. But it is not without depth. These are real relationships that form on our message boards -- real consolation is offered, real compassion expressed, real prayers traded."

In fact, the institutional church has hurt itself by failing to use the web to energize its own communities. Churches "still represent the 'trusted brands,' " notes Waldman. "All they have to do is wake up and be creative about the web." Fairfax's McKee believes that the church must be "open to all, seven days a week, 24 hours a day. We must provide an ear to listen; we must provide opportunities to learn about God and about becoming self aware; and we must provide an example." To do this, it is crucial that we take advantage of the internet and other fresh forms of communication to proclaim both obligation and liberation. Fairfax's website now contains information about worship services and mission activities, links to reach pastors, and material for reflection such as prayers and the texts of Sunday sermons.

There's no doubt in my mind that congregational leaders and members still have something special to offer: a community of support and accountability, as well as what Waldman describes as "the feeling of someone holding your hand during a prayer, the emotional charge of a great sermon, the inspiration of gorgeous spiritual music, the evocative smell of incense." But the fact is that our customers are voting with their feet. In a world of spiritual self-help, the church has to find new ways to sell itself as an organization that is accessible, responsive, and relevant to members of an ever more individualistic world.

This raises, for me, the issue of "marketing" -- a word that is anathema to many committed Christians. Consider the difficulty I encountered at Calvary Presbyterian when a young man came into my office for a session of premarital counseling and asked me, "Why do you call it Calvary? Did someone in this church fight the Indians?"

For a moment I was puzzled -- Indians? -- then I realized what he was asking. "It's Calvary," I said, "not cavalry! Calvary is the hill where Jesus died on the cross." He smiled and nodded.

At that point, I knew that Calvary had a marketing problem. Why would anyone come to us for spiritual nourishment if our name evoked Wild West conflict between the Indians and the U.S. Army Cavalry? And it struck me that if "Calvary" was confusing, "Presbyterian" was downright mystifying, even to people who have always belonged to the denomination. It takes a little knowledge of Greek to understand that "presbyter" means "elder," so a Presbyterian Church is a congregation ruled by elders. We have a fine tradition of decision making by democratically elected elders, but the word "Presbyterian" on a signboard does little to explain our distinctive Christian style to the world.

In short, Calvary Presbyterian Church is not a user-friendly name for a congregation, and this puts the church at a distinct disadvantage in today's Christian marketplace. Many people, especially adults born after 1945, shop for the church that is most convenient, comfortable, and satisfying for them. These shoppers have little denominational loyalty or sense of obligation to any particular community of faith. Instead, they are drawn to churches that have plenty of parking, attractive facilities, and programs that promise to meet their spiritual needs. Researchers such as Dean Hoge of Catholic University have found that many baby boomers are looking for "high-quality Sunday school and youth programs, uplifting worship experiences, and meaningful, authentic small-group experiences." They are looking for liberation from traditional forms, and are searching for a church that will provide them with a promised land of spiritual satisfaction.

Addressing these concerns is a new challenge for most churches, because for years congregations did not have to think about marketing. Their members came to worship out of a sense of duty -- religious obligation, you might say -- and congregational leaders could count on regular attendance and financial support. Older adults still feel this sense of obligation, and thus are the backbone of many congregations. They continue to support the churches they built or inherited, and they stay in the denominations they have been part of for all or most of their lives.

Today, however, congregations are required to market themselves, because younger adults come to worship only if it feels right. "Boomers see churches as selling a product which they are free to buy or not to buy as they wish," says Hoge, "and they feel perfectly free to change from one supplier to another if there is reason to do so." Even Roman Catholics are now crossing parish boundaries in their search for a church that has a good school, an agreeable priest, meaningful messages, and quality music.

Into this economy have stepped such full-service churches as the Christian Center of Alexandria. This nondenominational congregation offers contemporary praise and worship, drama, and special ministries for singles, children, and youth. As a seven-day-a-week church, its activities go far beyond Sunday worship: There are Saturday prayer groups and Wednesday evening classes, as well as a weekday Christian school and opportunities for mission trips. The church even offers country and western dance lessons!

The Christian Center is much more marketable than Calvary in other ways, too. The builders of Calvary all walked to worship, so the church has no off-street parking; the Christian Center has a huge lot. Calvary has a lovely but inflexible Old English sanctuary with rows of oak pews; the Center has a school gym that functions as its sanctuary and can be modified to accommodate a variety of seating arrangements and worship styles. Calvary was built over fifty years ago, and is beginning to show its age; the Christian Center is about twenty years old and still looks very new and modern. The name "Calvary Presbyterian" is not only mystifying, but it makes some think of difficult doctrines such as predestination; the name "Christian Center" is straightforward and attractive, as is their inviting slogan "People caring for people." In short, Calvary projects the kind of purity and exclusiveness we tend to associate with the covenant, while the Christian Center broadcasts an exodus-style diversity and inclusiveness.

My point is not that congregations such as the Christian Center are superior to traditional, denominational churches. Calvary has a proud history of quality worship and strong community involvement, and for a time grew rapidly through the incorporation of African immigrants. Rather, my point is that contemporary churches like the Christian Center are doing a better job of positioning themselves to attract young and middle-aged Americans who are questing for personal fulfillment and feel little or no institutional loyalty.

In the 1990s, three Calvary couples in their twenties and thirties left Alexandria and purchased homes in more distant suburbs; this was a fairly typical migration pattern. They were all faithful, gifted people, and I would have loved for them all to remain in our denomination, but there was no guarantee that this would happen. Blake and Missy, the parents of a disabled child, found a Methodist Church with a special ministry to families in their situation. Peter and Laurel, who served as elders at Calvary, looked for a place that felt like Calvary, visited churches of several denominations, and then settled on a Presbyterian Church. Bette Jo and Kris, both lifelong Presbyterians, joined a large Methodist Church near their new home, one with a variety of programs that enabled them to put their talents, such as Kris' artistic abilities, to use. Four out of six left the Presbyterian denomination, but not because they disliked it; they simply failed to find another Presbyterian Church that met their needs and challenged them to live out their faith.

Church shopping and church hopping are not limited to young laypeople -- these trends are seen among future clergy, as well. In the late 1990s, Charles Foster of the Candler School of Theology at Emory University in Atlanta asked his 39 seminarians how many had been members of more than one denomination's congregation. More than two-thirds had. He concludes that "younger adults tend to have higher loyalty to the congregation to which they currently belong than to any denomination." Denominational ties are bound to get even weaker if both lay people and seminarians feel free to hop and shop. This is bad, because denominations are the church groups that support worldwide missions; the training of church clergy; and the taking of stands for peace, justice, and religious freedom on the national and international levels. Individual congregations are not equipped to do this. And theologically, there is a loss of historically based understanding of the faith, as well as unity within the church. The liberation of Moses is edging out the obligations of Abraham, with some rather troubling implications.

So how can traditional congregations such as Calvary and Fairfax Presbyterian carve out a niche in the church market? Not by trying to be more self-consciously Presbyterian, but by focusing on the unique strengths they have as individual congregations. For a time, Calvary proclaimed itself to be an "International Community Church," and attracted not only large numbers of African immigrants, but also young Americans looking for a multicultural Christian community. Fairfax has a vibrant youth program with a strong emphasis on summer mission projects, and this has been attractive both to young people (there are currently over 100 in the program) and to their parents.

Church leaders also need to realize that many churchgoers expect that worship will be entertaining. This troubles me, because worship is meant to be an opportunity to glorify God and encounter Christ in Word and Sacrament, not a musical concert or self-improvement seminar, but I cannot deny that many young adults are attracted to churches with contemporary praise songs, backed by synthesizers, drums, and electric guitars. At Fairfax, we now have a Jubilee service with contemporary music, in addition to our traditional worship with organ and piano music (a style that is most meaningful to older adults). In my preaching, I try to focus more on scripture than psychology, but I know that people are coming to hear a message of hope and new life, not a lecture on the Bible. In my sermon planning, I have to keep in mind that many attend worship with needs for personal support and reassurance, as well as inspiration and spiritual guidance. There is no getting around the fact that potential new members are looking for uplifting worship services, high-quality Sunday school and youth programs, and meaningful small-group experiences -- features of church life that we have to provide, if we want our congregations to grow.

Can traditional churches become more user-friendly without selling out to our individualistic, consumer-focused society? Perhaps. There is certainly nothing wrong with convenient parking, attractive buildings, and music with a contemporary beat. We can make an effort to pull people away from their individualism by gathering the church community around important mission projects such as soup kitchens and tutoring programs. We can even use the web to energize congregational life by providing sites that allow the church to be open to all, seven days a week.

But as we attend to these practical matters, we have to be careful. If traditional preachers lose their prophetic edge, and focus on comfort to the exclusion of challenge, then the church will become nothing more than another self-help group. People should certainly have their legitimate needs met, but they should also be challenged to confess their sins, be reconciled to one another, listen for God's Word, and then do good work in the world. Jesus did not ask people to choose him and use him; instead he called men and women to follow him in a ministry of service to a troubled world.

Maybe such an approach, based on a balancing act between moral clarity and Christian charity, is the commodity that people are really looking for as they shop and hop from church to church. The challenge for congregations -- whether traditional or contemporary -- is to practice both clarity and charity, so that people will see that these desirable qualities are most readily available in a community of faith, rather than in the self-help section of the local bookstore.