I shouldn’t have to say this, but I will: this isn’t about looking left or right. Sadly, we’ve become so polarised as a society that not making that clear can create hostility and resentment for simply sharing thoughts and opinions. My intention here is not to argue politics, but to stand back, take a wider view, and ask: what is the true value of life?

From its very beginning in the womb to its final breath, life has always been sacred, precious, and worthy of reverence. Yet, in many ways, our modern culture has drifted from that understanding. We see it in how pregnancy is often spoken of as a burden rather than a gift, and in how we now debate assisted suicide as though life itself can be reduced to a choice of convenience.

Recently, I watched a college campus debate between Charlie Kirk and a young woman on the subject of abortion. The young woman asked:

“Are you suggesting I leave college to take care of a kid if I happened to get pregnant?”

Charlie replied:

“You don’t just ‘happen’ to get pregnant. It’s not like catching the flu or COVID. If you engage in coitus, there is always a chance of pregnancy. That requires responsibility.”

What struck me was how pregnancy was framed—as something casual, almost accidental, something to fear—rather than the creation of a child within her own body.

As a mother, that saddens me. Somewhere along the way, our culture shifted from viewing birth as a miracle to seeing it as a burden.

If we look at the nativity story, the circumstances were far from ideal. Mary’s pregnancy was unplanned in earthly terms and carried very real fears: her safety, her reputation, her future. In fact, it’s worth remembering that as recently as 60 years ago, single mothers in Western societies were often ostracised, shamed, and in many cases institutionalised simply for being pregnant outside of wedlock. No such treatment awaited the absent father. Against that backdrop, Mary’s situation would have been deeply precarious. Yet she gave birth in a stable, with none of the comforts we expect today. Still, the child’s arrival was celebrated—angels rejoiced, shepherds gathered, kings travelled with gifts. Joseph chose to stand by her. Despite hardship, Jesus’ birth was recognised as holy, joyful, and worthy of gratitude.

Now compare that with many modern experiences:

  • Pregnancies are often met with stress, anxiety, or even shame.
  • Fathers frequently walk away, leaving mothers to carry the weight alone.
  • Economic pressures—housing, debt, insecure work—add to the burden.
  • The miracle of new life is too often overshadowed by fear or despair.

So what changed?

In Western societies, the journey has been complex:

  • Industrialisation & Urbanisation (1800s): Communities shifted from large extended families to more isolated city living, weakening natural support systems.
  • The Sexual Revolution (1960s–70s): Freedom expanded, but responsibility was not always emphasised, as contraception and abortion became more available.
  • Rising Individualism (late 20th century): Success and personal goals began to outweigh family and community life, with pregnancy seen as an interruption rather than a natural stage of it.
  • Economic and Social Pressures (today): The high cost of living, unstable jobs, and reduced social cohesion have made many fear bringing children into the world.

From a faith perspective, children are always a gift and a calling, entrusted to us by God. Life itself is sacred, carrying immeasurable worth, even when circumstances feel overwhelming.

From a secular perspective, the decline of community, the breakdown of family structures, and rising economic insecurity have left many without the practical and emotional support needed to welcome new life with joy.

Alongside this, I cannot help but think about what is happening here in the UK with the assisted suicide bill, which has already reached the House of Lords. It reflects another step in how we as a society are redefining the value of life — this time at its end.

When we no longer celebrate birth as a miracle, and instead often see it as a burden, it’s perhaps no surprise that we also begin to see life’s later years as disposable, as something to end when it feels inconvenient, painful, or costly.

This trend — from how we view pregnancy to how we view old age or illness — reveals a consistent theme: a culture that increasingly measures life by convenience, productivity, and circumstance, rather than its inherent dignity and worth.

Both faith and history remind us that life, from its very beginning to its natural end, is sacred. When we lose sight of that, we risk losing not only reverence for others but also our own humanity.

Both lenses point to the same truth: we need to rebuild how we honour birth and support parents. Every child has the potential to bring light, love, and hope into the world—but only if we as a society choose to see them as a blessing rather than a burden.

I know this in my own life: my children made my life worth living despite hardship and pressures. In the midst of challenges, they gave me joy, purpose, and a reason to keep moving forward. They remain my greatest gifts.

So how do we return to valuing the gift of life? Perhaps it begins with shifting our perspective — from seeing life as something to manage or fear, to recognising it as sacred, even when it comes with hardship. It means supporting mothers and fathers, strengthening families and communities, and choosing compassion over judgment. It means teaching our children that their lives are not measured by convenience or productivity, but by their inherent worth. If we can reclaim reverence for life at its beginning and its end, perhaps we can begin to heal the spaces in between.