This post has been a long time in coming. I keep waiting until I’ve processed, or waiting until I’m “ready” and I think this is as good as it’s going to get.
For as long as I can remember I have claimed to be pro-life. I have fiercely declared it, defended it, argued it, wept it, and bled it. I never memorized the pro-life arguments because I never had to. I feel them in my bones. I never needed a picture of a dismembered fetus to convince me it was a child. I have felt them in my womb. And I never needed anyone to explain to me why their right to life is more important than my right to my own body, because God has written that on my soul. He declared long ago on a cross that a parent’s own body is a sacrifice for the life of their children.
And yet here I am, realizing that I’m not that pro-life at all.
If there is one thing God has pounded into my soul over and over this year it is that my actions, not my convictions, define my faith. I say I want the world to know Him, but what am I doing about it? I say I want to love my neighbor, but when was the last time I talked to them? I say I follow Him, but exactly which of His footsteps am I walking in? And like a hammer, over and over I hear Live it out. Live it out. Live it out.
I may believe that I’ve been pro-life for 26 years, but I’ve really just been anti-abortion.
Being anti-abortion is sharing blog posts and reading articles and debating and spouting facts and voting. But being pro-life is kneeling down in the trenches and lifting someone out of death. It’s not just saving a life, but giving it a chance to be truly lived. Life is sacred. Every life is sacred. The unborn child’s life is sacred. The pregnant teenager’s life is sacred. The irresponsible father’s life is sacred. The post-abortive woman’s life is sacred.
And God keeps hammering. What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing?
I’m raising awareness. I’m staying informed. I’m voting. I’m praying. I’m getting angry at lawmakers and the president and Planned Parenthood and women and I am grieving over the thousands of children who die every day so that someone else might live as they wish. I’m wishing I had the courage to be a sidewalk counselor and the money to March for Life and the power to change someone – anyone’s – mind.
And then God reminds me that I don’t need any of that, because I have Him. I have a spring of life welling up to overflowing inside me, and I am called to share this water with the weary, the angry, the innocent, the guilty, the broken, the selfish, and the afraid so that they might have life in abundance.
He reminds me that if I am not for Him, I am against Him. And I wonder, if I am not for life, actively for life, am I against it?
Obey. Obey. Obey.
I contacted a pregnancy center this week about volunteering. My heart is full.