An Abortion Proclamation

Today, I retweeted this post by Kevin DeYoung (@RevKevDeYoung):

Everyone celebrating Roe should look in the eye a woman who just miscarried and tell her "It was just a clump of cells."

It posted to my Facebook page and I received a private passionate reply, one that I think missed the point of the post, likely due to the guyser-esque emotions that this topic incites. The reply simultaneously defended fetuses as more than "clumps of cells" and sympathized with abortion as an often necessary outlet for abused and shunned women. It obviously affected this person very deeply, provoking a patchwork of dramatic statements that awkwardly quilted an argument both compassionate for women who chose (or were forced) to abort their child and sorrowful over the tiny souls who suffered death even before they could experience birth.

I myself get quickly enflamed by the subject, as I see it as a direct affront to my Christian faith, which sees children as a blessing from God and prohibits murder. An abortion swims about in a broader pool of complex social problems and failures of love, which I find all very frustrating. So as I read the response, my own emotions were jostled, knowing that the words were likely motivated by a knowledge of the subject more acute than theory, but also feeling the conviction of a holy God who weeps and broils over humankind's insistence on violence and death in multitudinous forms. I'm sad this is even a discussion. I'm angry I have cause to be angry. I also feel compelled to speak some of my thoughts and counterpoints, hopefully with some clarity, and to share a call to anyone within reach of my community that may be considering abortion.

It was rightly pointed out by this writer that there are many ills in society that put some women in the position where they feel that terminating a pregnancy is the only viable option. This may include rape, incest, and relationships tainted by abuse, drugs, etc. These cases are not the majority, though. Numbers of women (this was passed on to me by a friend at Life International who talked with many of the hundreds of women who sought an abortion at the clinic that is now their ministry's headquarters in Grand Rapids, MI), chose to abort a child simply for the sake of convenience, like the thirty-something professional woman and her husband who terminated the child in her womb thinking it would too greatly compromise the perfect two child household they had already achieved.  To say that the vast majority of abortions are emergency or abuse related is simply false. Nor can I fail to point out that an abortion, regardless of the reason behind it, is a moral decision, which a woman (and her partner) must take responsibility for. I state this humbly recognizing that there are situations which are very complex and difficult, but the way out is never through a contrary evil. I was recently counseling with someone who said, "Sometimes the only way out of a sin is through another sin." That is bankrupt thinking and one (especially from the mouth of Christian) which belies a tragic absence of faith in the power, sacrifice, and love of our Savior.

This fighting evil with evil ethic is what is behind the suggestion that abortion prevents the tragic lives and criminality of the many unwanted children who are born to women who didn't seek or were prevented from seeking a termination. These children suffer rejection and abuse and degrade society, the argument goes, which apparently is enough to remove the dignity of their existence. It would be better for everybody if they were never born. When I hear this, I wonder how many of these should-have-been-aborted people, no matter how criminal, would agree. The fact that Roe v. Wade actually caused a drop in the crime rate has been convincingly hypothesized by the Levitt and Dubner, authors of Freakonomics (2009). But I still see no ethical justification for murder unless you are a hardcore classical utilitarian, a position that is generally untenable to any person with some appreciation for equality and a respect for basic human rights.

But wherever abortion lies on the ethical spectrum, the fact remains that there is a lot of brokenness out there motivating abortion and creating just-as-bad alternatives for the babies that get a chance at life. This is where people argue against the church especially. I agree that Christians ought to do a better job, both reaching people before violence and/or irresponsibility make abortion an option and supporting mothers and fathers who choose to have the child. However, to fault Christians/society for abortions because they have failed prevent or fix the problem is a tenuous argument. It would be like me saying it's your fault I burned down your house because you didn't stop me from getting a hold of matches. If you know I'm an arson, it would behoove you to take precautions, but I must bear the responsibility for my actions. And frankly, I think Christians do more to serve and support the poor, broken, and orphaned than just about any other demographic. I know for a fact my church would go to great lengths to support and love anyone wrestling with the emotional, physical, and logistical trauma of an unwanted pregnancy.

And so rather than just stew about the world's moral decline and continue to be a part of the stereotypical problem, here is my public declaration and promise to any person, man or woman, within my community's reach who might be considering an abortion: in the name of Jesus Christ my Savior, who laid down his life for me and to whom I am eternally accountable, I will lay down my life for you. If you need help, my family and my friends will be there for you. We will listen. We will cry. We will share. We will work. We will celebrate. We will adopt. We will change diapers. We will make meals. We will love you and we will find a way to help you do the right thing. We will not be perfect, but we will try and maybe if you try, too, we can both find hope and life.

I can be reached at http://recastchurch.com.

Ugly Treasure

I was reading Acts 17 today where Paul gets separated from his buddies and decides to take a stroll around town while he waits for them in Athens. It says "his spirit was being provoked within him as he was observing the city full of idols." (vs. 16) He just can't help himself (in spite of flying solo without anyone to tell him if a rock is about to be thrown at the back of his head) and he starts preaching about Jesus, which is all cool until he gets to the crazy part—the resurrection. "Now when they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some began to sneer, but others said, 'We shall hear you again concerning this.'" (vs. 32) Believing that someone came back to life after being dead is nuts. Believing that those who believe in a guy who came back to life will also come back to life is nuts. The Christian faith rests on a pretty outrageous claim and Paul just lets it fly.

Some people today are disenchanted with the Christian Faith, often describing their condition as a distaste for "organized religion." It's true, in many churches (in many people, rather) the Faith has become an ugly conglomeration of man-made rules and practices, which at best conceal and at worst assist the very evil the Gospel is meant to eradicate. Christianity is merely a screen these people use to dull the definition of their empty, average, unholy lives. It's all very unresurrection-esque. Have we forgotten that a Dude died and came back to life? It seems to have somehow lost its pop. We talk about it now two-thousand some years away but it's become all cloudy and cute and super nonfantastical by tradition and repetition and familiarity.

I have a picture in my head of me preaching in a church somewhere. I'm up front and I say something about Jesus rising from the dead. I stop. The good church folk are sitting, listening, some slightly smiling, legs crossed, heads tilted to the side warmly. As I wait, a few eye-brows raise good-naturedly in anticipation, as if to say "yes, continue with your pleasant talk." No reaction. "People," I think, "I just said someone came back from the dead! Sneer, laugh, believe, get mad, something!" Something as ludicrous as rising from the dead deserves a reaction, and yet for many of us in the church, it simply slips right on by as harmless religious jargon.

I wonder if we've become too comfortable with the resurrection. As I read, I had to stop at the part where Paul tells the Athenians, "He has fixed a day in which He will judge the world in righteousness through a Man whom He has appointed, having furnished proof to all men by raising Him from the dead." (vs. 31). The eternal outcomes of the souls of men will hang on their reaction to Jesus' resurrection, in which He defeated death and made God's justice and His mercy one. Without the resurrection, we have a weak, stupid, unspectacular religion.

It reminds me of the parable Jesus tells about the Kingdom of God as a treasure buried in a field, so valuable that the man who finds it sells everything he has to buy the field and own the treasure. If I might modify this a bit, imagine that the treasure is the resurrection, an actual factual real-time event that makes righteousness and union with God possible, the place where true, sold out faith begins (if this is possible, what isn't?). Has the church lost the treasure among the weeds of programs, buildings, committee meetings and lame outreach events? Have we even dug it up yet or are we content to have the field and to know where the treasure is if we need it? Do we consider it an ugly treasure, the scary claim of our religion that will repulse as many as it attracts? If we did go through the dirty, messy process of digging it up, would we hold it high in joyous celebration for all to see or be ashamed and try to sneak away with it under our shirt?

I think part of the success of the early church was its focus on and embracing of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. It may be that the intellectual and emotional turmoil that arises in one's soul after considering the actuality of the resurrection gives the Holy Spirit something to sink His teeth into. It is a rubber-meets-the-road proposition, one that if understood fully demands a response. Paul obviously knows this because he never hides it. To him it is a glorious, life-changing truth. He holds the treasure up high for all to see, knowing that if someone is to have true faith and if the church is to be all that it can be, they must know, share and participate in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Paul pays for all this resurrection talk, and we will, too, maybe even with our lives (some sneerers can get pretty nasty), but do what they may, they can't take away our treasure.