I think of the British martyrs, going all the way back to Saints Aaron and Julius, and St. Alban, in Roman times–and if grieves me to see the state of our mother country. Not that we’re exactly swimming in holiness on this side of the Atlantic.
Reading British fiction gives me the impression that Christianity was in deep trouble in Britain over a hundred years ago. And the two world wars didn’t help.
But, oh, depressing thought! Replacing God, replacing Jesus Christ Our King, with your… “friends.”
I don’t think I can think of anything more hopeless than that.