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Sometimes the perfect truth detector is a child. Their honest innocence—void of political correctness and unaware of taboos—can serve as a barometer of inalienable truths. For example, every year with the assistance of five pounds of chocolate (without nuts, of course) I lure children over to my display table in the church Narthex.
The AV cart that usually plays their Veggie Tales, instead displays an edited version of the video Window to the Womb. With a procedure known as contact embroscopy—similar to laparoscopy—a tiny camera and light is threaded into the uterus of a woman early in pregnancy. The images are nothing short of wondrous; actual real time video of 6 to 16 week embryos in their mother’s wombs. Their translucent skin reveals their tiny hearts beating in their chests, while sucking thumbs and bouncing around their water filled world. Perfectly formed humans, knit together in the darkness.
With one hand in the candy bowl, the children stand mesmerized by the monitor. I love to lurk behind the miniature flock of chocolaty faces and listen. Every single one of them declares the truth that they so plainly see, “Ohhh, look at the baby...”
Not the fetus or embryo. Or worse of all, the products of conception.
The most innocent eyes—without agendas and politics—see another human being…a child like themselves.
But what do we see? Do we look beyond circumstances to see the human, or are we blinded by the fallacies that accompany the notion of “choice”? We ask for God to pour out his blessings on our country, but we bow to the altar of death in the name of free will. We have consecrated the act of infanticide, while celebrating the ability to do so. As a nation—secular and Christians alike—we have bought into this charade of choice.
How will the Body of Christ be judged for this? I have no idea, but quake at the thought. There are several mainstream denominations that are affiliated with the group Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice, who openly and financially support abortion providers in the name of their faith. They firmly believe that the Bible does not directly admonish the purposeful termination of pregnancies. Personally, I choose to err on the side of life. Even if the majority of believers oppose abortion, most are silent on the issue. Many churches don’t want to be confrontational, or to drive rear-ends from the pews with their wallets following. Even now, I am fully aware that I am alienating people as they read this, but Someone keeps reminding me that I am not suppose to fret about pleasing men. We as the Church are to be salt and light; even if the message stings, if it is said with truth in love, then God will bless the message.
For obvious reasons, discussions about taking the lives of unborn babies are uncomfortable for many believers, especially when the conversation turns to late term or partial birth abortions. However, for many believers their uneasiness comes from a darker place. Statistically, half of the church going women in America are post-abortive. Half. They belong to a heart broken, secret society that is grossly under-reported and massively misunderstood. Through pro-life churches and pregnancy centers, thousands of post-abortive Christian women participate in Bible studies and retreats geared toward healing the fissure on their souls. These women are the second forgotten victims of choice. Anyone can sympathize with the pain from losing a baby, but imagine for a moment the guilt from sanctioning the death yourself. After a miscarriage you might receive cards, flowers and meals, but post-abortive women find themselves on an ominous island; their pain is perceived as ridiculous from left, and comeuppance from the right. For many, the self-loathing that ensues lasts for decades. These women need mercy and love, not judgment and guilt. Lord knows that they have inflicted enough of that upon themselves.
Like many others in the pro-life movement, I fluctuate from blind optimism to burn-out and defeatism. I often wonder if this bloodletting will ever end; I am not sure that it will until the day that ends all days. We have been triumphant in some battles, but we’re losing the war with a margin of fifteen hundred casualties every day. It is by far easier to buy into the charade than to fight it. It is easier to ignore the bloodshed and hope someone else will slay the giant.
I choose to fight.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
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