Does It Work?
We’re used to thinking of beliefs as things we either accept or reject based on whether they’re true. But what if we asked a different question: not “Is it true?” but “Does it work?”
This idea comes from Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP), a pragmatic system of thought developed in the 1970s. NLP treats beliefs not as sacred truths but as mental tools. If a belief helps you function better—if it gives you confidence, clarity, or motivation—it’s worth keeping, even if it’s not objectively true.
“The truth of a belief is less important than its utility.”
At first glance, this sounds radical, even cynical. But it also has a certain common-sense appeal. If someone believes they’re capable of learning a new skill, and that belief helps them persist, it doesn’t matter whether they are especially gifted. What matters is that the belief moves them forward.
So where does that leave Christianity?
Christianity as a “Useful” Belief System
Apply NLP to Christianity, and the question changes. We’re no longer asking whether Jesus literally walked on water or whether the tomb was empty. We’re asking:
What happens to people when they believe this story?
Actually: quite a lot. For centuries, Christianity shaped Western culture at its deepest levels. It offered meaning in suffering, purpose in daily life, and moral structure in community. It spoke to:
- The dignity of the individual (“Made in the image of God”)
- The call to mercy (“Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive”)
- The paradox of strength through humility (“Blessed are the meek…”)
People endured hardship with hope because of their belief in divine justice. Communities cared for the poor not just out of pity, but out of a sense of spiritual duty. And countless individuals—saints, reformers, artists—drew their strength from a story larger than themselves.
In short, Christianity “worked”.
But What If It No Longer Works?
Today, for many, that story no longer functions. It doesn’t explain their suffering. It doesn’t give direction. It may even provoke discomfort or rejection.
- The rituals feel empty.
- The metaphysics feel implausible.
- The moral teachings feel out of sync with modern values.
And in a purely pragmatic framework, that’s reason enough to let it go.
From an NLP point of view: If the system doesn’t serve you—change it.
Two Possible Paths
This leaves us with two basic options:
- Abandon the whole structure
Treat Christianity like an outdated operating system. Thank it for what it once provided—and move on. Find new stories, new tools, new beliefs that suit modern minds and needs. - Translate and reinterpret
Instead of discarding it, reimagine it. Ask: What did these ancient teachings mean in their time—and what might they mean now?
Perhaps “resurrection” isn’t about a physical miracle, but about the renewal of hope.
Perhaps “sin” is not moral failure, but alienation from our better nature.
Perhaps the cross is not a punishment, but a symbol of honest suffering lived with courage and grace.
The Risk and the Reward
The risk of the NLP approach is shallow pragmatism. If we only ever ask “Does it work?”, we may end up chasing quick fixes and abandoning hard truths. A belief might “work” in the short term but lead to delusion or moral compromise down the line.
The risk of religion, on the other hand, is insisting something is true even when it no longer transforms lives.
There is a tension here. NLP says: Change your beliefs to change your life.
Christianity says: Hold fast, even when it costs you.
So we are confronted with a paradox.
On one side, the institutional Church is demonstrably failing to attract new believers in large numbers. The story of Christianity—so laboriously built over two millennia in bricks, mortar, and rigid hierarchy from Pope to priest—is now seen by many as a fairy tale. Worse, it offers little comfort to those who don’t conform to the heterosexual norms that once formed its social backbone.
Efforts to modernise the Church—introducing female and transgender clergy, endorsing gay marriage—fail to convince. They often feel like surface gestures that contradict the institution’s deeper structure. I do not want to attend Midnight Mass officiated by a team of women clergy—not out of hostility, but because the entire form has lost credibility. The Church is no longer believable. And yet…
The message of Jesus—anchored in inner truth—remains as relevant today as it has ever been.
But here lies the problem: this message cannot be preached effectively within the current Church framework. The Church has always positioned itself as the intermediary between God and humanity. But self-realisation cannot be taught alongside the abdication of self to an external authority. You cannot be told to think for yourself by someone claiming divine authority over you.
Thus we are left adrift—robbed of a narrative that once gave shape to human life and endeavour. It is not taught. It is not lived. It is brushed under the rank and stained carpet of materialism.
Final Thought
As things stand, I see no formal solution. The Church cannot simply be reformed. The New Testament cannot simply be re-packaged. But for those who glimpse anything beyond the mist of survival in the modern world, there is still comfort in these words:
📖 Matthew 5:16 (KJV)
“Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.”
All children raised in loving, caring homes stand a chance of discovering this truth for themselves: that there is a better way. A way rooted in integrity, kindness, and courage. The hope for the future lies not in restructured theology, but in our children, who may become beacons of light in a dark world.
“In him was life, and that life was the light of all people. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not understood it—or overcome it.”
— John 1:4–5, adapted from the Greek text (cf. NRSV & interlinear)
It may be easier to make better lives for our children than to rescue the Church. But the message of Jesus remains—for those willing to hear it.
