I have an honest admission to make because I have a weird feeling that I'm not alone and maybe this can encourage a fellow believer.
I've never made it a secret that I've been committed to the pro-life cause for the entirety of my adult life. And yet, ever since Friday's landmark ruling in Dobbs reversed the judicially created "right to abortion" that had been imposed by unelected judges on citizens in all 50 states for 50 years, something has been bothering me. I expected to feel triumphant, but I don't.
Certainly, that isn't because I don't rejoice at the inevitability that there will now be far more beings who bear the image of Almighty God permitted to draw their first breath in the world in which they were created to live. As a believer, I am a slave to Christ, where His commands become my convictions without regret or apology. So determining the morality of the act of abortion was never a question.
Even beyond matters of personal faith, there has never been anything honorable about abortion. It has always been precisely what President Biden accurately called "tragic" in a multitude of ways. It has always inflicted enduring scars on those who were either pressured into it or who chose it for any number of reasons. And the near unanimity of pro-life and pro-choice citizens have always agreed that the world would be a much better place if no one felt that abortion was a necessary or preferable solution.
I also think it's fairly obvious the case was properly reasoned. Constitutionally, this was always rather open-and-shut, which is why the outraged objections to the decision we are now encountering rarely if ever attack the actual words of the Court's opinion. The Court didn't outlaw abortion in the United States last Friday; they ruled that it isn't the place for unelected judges to decide something so personal, and so they handed the power to do so back to the people.
So by all accounts, I should feel excited and hopeful. But I don't. And the only thing I can conclude is that I don't feel that way because I see hearts that have been made even harder, hatred that has become more visceral, division that has become more pronounced, and contempt that has become more widespread.
I see misinformation and hysteria ruling the public conversation, driving hateful wedges between people who ultimately have no reason to be at odds with one another.
I see rage fomenting explosive outbursts that pull back the curtain to reveal the moral poverty of blackened, racist hearts:
And though I know in my own heart and mind that Jesus is the answer to all of it, that He is the only hope lost humanity has of attaining enduring peace and eternal joy, I see how many are blaming faith in Christ for the sudden deprivation of their "rights:"
The hatred seems so strong, so controlling, so overwhelming. How can I possibly hope to reach such people with the truth of the Gospel? How can I possibly persuade them to set aside the manmade idols they worship, to burn the manmade altars they have created, and submit to the Prince of Peace?
Why, in this environment, will they ever believe that the same God who cares for unborn children also cares for them? How can I be an effective ambassador of Christ when they so fervently and passionately regard me - and Him - as their enemy?
Now more than ever I'm at a loss to answer to those questions, and I'm sure that's why my heart seems heavier these days than most – and far heavier than I ever thought it would be should Roe be overturned. I'm burdened and grieved by it all to the point that this is all I know to do:
- I will choose to pray for those who have labored for this day for over 50 years, and I will pray for those who feel they've lost everything because of it.
- I will choose to love those who worship the God that affirms and values all life – whether that's unwanted children or abortion-minded mothers, and I will choose to love those who regrettably worship the powers and principalities of this world.
- I will choose to offer my time and money to those who welcome unwanted children into their homes and lives, and I will choose to offer my time and money to those who don't know how they can.
In short, I will do all I can to live like Jesus, choosing to submit to the sometimes-difficult truth that this life isn't about my feelings, but my faithfulness. May I be found faithful today.
