50 million candles lit for the death toll, all in the name of personal "rights"; rights which only extend to those who can sign a waiver.
Forty years. Forty.
What bothers me most is that instead of growing stronger in our stance, the Church's position on abortion is waning and becoming wishy-washy. We're succumbing to an evil that should never have been unleashed. We are devising unlikely scenarios to support why abortions should be legal. Let's not kid ourselves. Those scenarios are (in reality) few and far between. We've applied anesthesia to our convictions so much that we can't see the gangrene setting in.
He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.
~Martin Luther King Jr.
Oh my God. Have mercy! It's death like this that makes me wish we were accustomed to throwing ashes on our heads and beating our chests in agony. Any less of a response seems callous and white-washed.
How is it that the time of death is determined by the moment our heart ceases to beat, and yet we refuse to consider time of life as the moment a heart begins into it's precious cadence? How can we turn a blind eye to LIFE?
It is a poverty to decide that a child must die so that you may live as you wish.
We can busy ourselves with arguments such as, "We don't know who is missing from society. We have lost out on great minds, inventors, presidents, etc." As true as that is, that cannot sidetrack us from the crux of the issue. We are legally supporting the slaughter of millions. Let's call a spade, a spade. It's sin and we stand accused.
And yet, we need to remember above all, to put on love. Yes, a righteous anger is called for, but not a hatred toward fellow man. Years ago, I ran into an old friend. Her eyes seemed dull and her movement mechanical.
How are you?
Why? What's going on?
I just had an abortion.
My heart catapulted into my throat. What could I say? One look at her brokenness told me what not to say. A pro-life lecture would have fallen like so many knives on an already guilt-ridden heart. Shoving an "Abortion stops a beating heart" protest sign in her face would have served ill. I'm sure she would have appreciated joining me on a street corner, and listening to me blare my message through a bullhorn. I used to have a truck held together with bumper stickers, many of them touting catchy pro-life phrases. I wouldn't do it again. You know why? Not once did a frightened, single, pregnant woman motion me to the side of the road to say, "I want to thank you for displaying such a strong message. I hadn't considered what a conflict this was until I saw your multiple bumper stickers. Now that I know you are against abortion, my life is peachy-keen."
All I did was toss my hard-earned money to a stupid bumper sticker company.
It's not enough for us to be pro-life. We must be pro-love. Without compromising Truth, we must love the woman who spits in our face and claims it's a blob of tissue. We must love the doctor who has grown indifferent to his horrific task. We must love the scared teenager (or long-time friend), who has just made the worst decision of her life. Without entering into negotiations, we must love the employees of Planned Parenthood. We must love the woman who is battling post-abortion depression. We must love the woman who comes to us fearful and unsure of her next step. We must love our friends and family members who snicker and roll their eyes at our "backwards, archaic and chauvinistic" thinking. We must love the unborn and advocate tirelessly on their behalf, regardless of their abilities, disabilities, and/or propensities.
After all, "a person's a person, no matter how small."
I Refuse To Become Numb,