My first memory of being pro-life was knocking door to door as a young child collecting money for a pro-life walk. I remember our very nice neighbor Miss Shirley explained to me she couldn’t support my walk because she was pro-choice. I didn’t know then what that meant but my mom explained it to me later at home. It made no sense to my little brain how anyone could be pro-choice. Certainly not kind and gentle Miss Shirley.
As I grew, my conviction and voice for the unborn grew as well. Much to the chagrin of high school teachers, I debated this topic when given options for debate and was vocal with anyone who would listen.
When I became a voting adult, pro-life became my litmus test for voting. If a candidate wanted my vote, he or she better see the horror of the massacre of the most helpless in our society – the unwanted unborn.
On college campuses I saw the pro-life group come with their signs showing just what “legal” atrocities were performed in our communities and I listened to their pleading from a distance. I observed the mockery of my classmates, and I wondered at the effectiveness of their method.
As a graduated I continued to vote my conscience, speak my mind, and pray for our lawmakers and countrymen. I saw the second part of the puzzle: caring for the children who were saved from being aborted, and the plight of the orphan and adoption became major themes in our life. As life went along I saw the failure of foster care in our country and became an advocate for those children who were unwanted but not unborn.
The last few months my views on sanctity of life have been daily in my thoughts. The Lord began to work in my heart. There was something I had never done in this battle. Yesterday, I went to Planned parenthood. I held a sign. I prayed fervently. I observed a friend go every 15 minutes to the edge of the property and call out. What was she calling out? Scriptures. Genesis 1:1, Nahum 1:3, 1 John 4:10, Joel 2:32, Psalm 95:7-8 and Romans 3:23 were her cries as she pleaded with workers to reconsider their profession, with women to reconsider their options, and with waiting men to hear the hope of the gospel.
I was appalled at how many cars were parked there. I was surprised at the steady stream of people coming. Two moms brought in teenage daughters. One couple looked no older than 17. He waited outside with headphones turning his back to us. My friend said he was probably a driver. You need a driver. Someone who waits or comes back to get you. One girl sat in her car and cried. Workers came out and removed signs Pregnancy care centers had placed earlier with a number to call if pregnant. They didn’t look us in the eyes. We were flipped off. We were cussed out. We also were supported by friendly honks and thumbs up by passing cars. I didn’t care about the ridicule. Babies were being murdered in that building. And all we could do was hold some signs and plead with people who turned deaf ears to us. And my spirit was troubled. I wondered at my previous involvement in being pro-life.
How often have I looked negatively on those who lived near concentration camps but did nothing? How often have I wondered at the men and women who lived when slavery was legal and did nothing?
Much like Israel going against Goliath, it is so easy for abortion to seem an insurmountable evil that we must accept. But we must remember David. We must remember our faith. Most importantly, we must remember our God. He is grieved by these murders. Our ears don’t hear the screams of these unborn children being dismembered, but He hears them. All day long at every office like the one I visted all over the world and in the alley ways of places where it is done cheap, the cries of those whose life is being snuffed out before it truly began to shine, He hears.
Slavery was not ended by people sitting around doing nothing. A few people stood up and began pleading. The underground railroad began. People risked their lives to stand up for what they believed in. And the support grew. The end of slavery in our country did not come easy but came at the cost of outcry, blood, and courage.
Can we end abortion by sitting around? By talking the talk? Can we do more? Should we do more?
Perhaps you feel the Lord stirring your heart. You’ve been praying for abortion to end, you’ve been voting in this direction, but is there more you could do? Perhaps you need to go to the abortion clinics, my friends. Hold the signs. Let your voice be heard. Pray for these children and love the moms who are making this decision enough to go and warn them. Preach the gospel and know that God’s Word does not return void. David was prayerful, but he picked up the stones and went to meet Goliath. Paul was prayerful, but he left his home to travel the Empire preaching the good news. Christian slave abolitionists were prayerful, but they acted. Should we not also act?
Let us not be content to sit in conviction, but to rise up in the duty that our convictions demand and see what great mountains of deception our God will bring down.
This post is a guest post written by Randi Brunansky. Randi is the mother of four children, directs the Phoenix West Classical Conversations Foundations & Essentials Community, and is married to Pastor Robb Brunansky.