Some evils shout. They march, they headline, they provoke outrage.
Others whisper. They slip through quietly, dressed as progress, framed as compassion, yet no less deadly.
It was this quieter evil that emerged on Wednesday 18th March in the House of Lords.
Under the language of reform, two decisions were advanced: the decriminalisation of DIY abortion up to birth; and the continuation of the status quo since Covid with the decision to not reinstate the requirement for in-person medical consultation before abortion pills are prescribed.
Many opposed it, including the new Archbishop of Canterbury and several bishops. But the effort failed.
And something has shifted.
Two Decisions. One Message.
Strip it down and this is what now stands:
- There is effectively no time limit on abortion.
- Abortion is treated as something that can be self-administered, without proper oversight.
Together, they declare: abortion is no big deal.
But it is a big deal. It is always a big deal. And it leaves me with three emotions: angry, ashamed and apprehensive.
Let me say first: there are real heartbreaking situations here. There are women under pressure, fear, coercion and deep distress. We must be compassionate. But compassion that demands silence in the face of wrong is not compassion; it is surrender.
Angry – Because Life Is Being Diminished
I am angry because life is being trivialised. We are told it is ‘just a foetus’. But that language collapses in the later stages of pregnancy. The unborn child can hear, recognise voices, respond, even learn.
This is human life. Yet the law now effectively says that ending that life, even at the very end, is not a crime.
Let us speak plainly:
Abortion doesn’t prevent a woman from becoming a mother. Abortion makes a woman the mother of a dead baby.
That is not rhetoric. That is reality.
And the Bible speaks with clarity:
‘You shall not murder.’
(Exodus 20:13 NIV)
‘Did not he who made me in the womb make them? Did not the same one form us both within our mothers?’
(Job 31:15 NIV)
Life is not ours to dispose of. It is God’s to give and God’s to take.
Ashamed – Because Responsibility Is Being Abandoned
I am ashamed. Ashamed that decisions of such gravity are made so quickly, so lightly.
Ashamed that moral seriousness is being replaced by cultural convenience.
And deeply ashamed that so many bishops did not even turn up.
When the church should have been present, it was absent.
When a voice was needed, there was silence.
When lives were at stake, seats were empty.
Absence, in moments like this, is not neutral. It is a statement.
The church has always declared that human beings are made in the image of God – sacred, not disposable. Yet now, under pressure, those convictions are quietly set aside. We were once a nation that aspired upward. Now we risk drifting downward.
Apprehensive – Because This Does Not Stop Here
I am apprehensive because this does not stop here.
If life before birth can be ended without consequence, what anchors life after birth?
If worth is decided by convenience, then no one is ultimately safe.
History warns us that when a society decides some lives matter less, it has already begun to lose its way.
Today the unborn. Tomorrow – who knows?
But my deepest apprehension is this ...
God sees. God knows. And God has spoken.
‘Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows.’
(Galatians 6:7 NIV)
‘Woe to those who call evil good and good evil.’
(Isaiah 5:20 NIV)
We may rewrite laws, but we cannot rewrite truth. A nation that sanctions the destruction of its most vulnerable cannot indefinitely escape the consequences – spiritually, morally or socially.
This is not just about law, it is about who we are. The gospel tells us that God does not discard the weak – he enters their world. He comes not in power, but as a child. And from that moment comes a truth that shaped civilisation at its best: every life matters. Especially the smallest. Especially the voiceless.
And there is no one more voiceless than the unborn.
So I will stand for them. Because in the end, a nation is not measured by its progress, nor its prosperity, nor even its laws, but by how it treats those who cannot defend themselves. And when we silence the smallest voices, ignore the weakest lives, and justify what should never be justified, we may quiet our conscience, we may pass our laws, we may persuade ourselves, but we will not escape this truth: God will judge.
‘Lord, have mercy on us.’
