The Sad Erosion of the Church of England

There is a poignant, but ultimately inspiring article by Terry Waite (remember him? he was long held captive in Lebanon).

"I fear the Church of England that shaped me has gone for ever."

My short term memory seemed to evaporate. So, for example, I could not remember the precise details of my capture, but I could remember happier events from early childhood. By giving me access to these more pleasant memories, I was being protected from some of the harsher realities of the moment.

I remembered All Saint's Church - as the Tin Tabernacle was properly named - and the language that had been communicated to me as a child came flooding back.

The old prayers took on a new significance: 'Lighten our darkness we beseech thee, O Lord, and by thy great mercy defend us from all the perils and dangers of the night.'