2-17-14

Since abortion is back in the limelight with the recent news events in New York and Alabama, I’ve been thinking about what else I can do in this fight to save babies’ lives and the souls of those who participate in this murderous act.

Right now, Steve and I pray about it and go to our local mill when we can (Greenville Women’s Clinic), to give these babies a voice in the womb and share the gospel with those intent on murdering them.

With his #endabortionnow movement, Jeff Durbin inspired me to look into going before my local lawmakers and hold them accountable to do everything in their power to shut down our local abortion mill and create/vote for laws that uphold life at conception and outlaw abortion completely. There is either a life from conception or not, therefore abortion at any stage should be legal or not. Here’s an example of filmmaker Marcus Pittman doing this in Batavia, New York.

Please keep this newfound effort in your prayers as I look into how I can do it here in Greenville. In the meantime, I also wanted to share a prayer I wrote after going to an abortion mill for the first time to fight for babies and the gospel. The title of this post contains that date, and all I can remember was an unquenchable pain, anger, sorrow and shock that I didn’t know how to express or quell. So I wrote out this prayer to God asking him to help me process and for strength to go back and glorify him again in this way. I hope it’s an encouragement for those who are already in this fight and for those on the sidelines to step in, even if it’s to pray—these unborn babies and lost souls are counting on us.

2-17-14

My Lord and my God, Daddy, I don’t want to write about this. But it keeps haunting me and this is the only way I can face it—staring it in the face. Lord I saw unspeakable horrors and I walked away on Saturday a different person. A few hours opened my eyes to a realm of evil I thought I could handle. But there’s no handling this. The only way to cope is to hand it to You. Lord I have no strength, nothing to make myself feel better about this—to ease my mind—nothing. And yet I have to go back. I’m so scared to face this reality of evil and sin, but there is perspective in it.

This campaign for eugenics, this concentration camp, this death trap—it’s real. My Lord You didn’t design us for this pain and sorrow but yet I’m here. I’m a soft Westerner that’s been sheltered from death most of my life. Yet there are people in the world who can’t escape the reality of it. Even what I was exposed to was a sanitary version of what some lay eyes on in it’s true form.

My Lord, those babies—those helpless victims—getting slaughtered every day except Sunday ironically. Those precious lives. Why do You give them to us to kill and destroy? Why do You give us any good thing? Why do You bother? We are so wicked—there is none righteous—no not one. Not anyone. Lord, those babies and moms, husbands, boyfriends, smiling/laughing nurses, doctors. My Lord this is our reality. This is who we are as a human race.

Daddy I’m traumatised by those images. I will never forget the look on that young girl’s face. After she let strangers invade her intimately with intent and tools to murder her son or daughter. To brutally and ruthlessly rip them apart—limb by limb—sending fire through their veins. My Lord it’s merciless, but that’s who we are—merciless.

Steve always mentions about John 3. God agapes us and we agape our sin—self sacrificially expecting nothing in return. Lord the depths of our evil, unfathomable evil, is limitless. There is no end apart from You.

Lord I understand now more of who I am. More of who You rescued me from. Lord, it’s in me. This evil is in me, and apart from You I would never know it. I would never know it except Your light to shine upon it and expose it. Thankfully Your light is the limit for my darkness—it can’t go any deeper than that. Your light stops it in its tracks—and my God—defeats it. Conquers it. Rips it limb from limb. Sending Your blood to destroy it—Your precious, abundant blood. We spill the blood of our brothers and sisters and by that same substance we are healed and made new.

My Lord, I’m devastated by the scenes I laid eyes on. And if I didn’t have You I would die from the tragedy. But I do have You—or rather You have me—and this is my only source of hope. My Lord I don’t want to recover from those horrid scenes and replace them with pretty distractions. I want to face them with You by my side.

Lord I am sinful and wicked and spawn from an evil species. But we’re not completely over the hill. We’re still made in Your image. Whether we believe or die, Your image limits our unadulterated evil—there are no words to describe it really. But still I live because You live in me. Because You saved me—rescued even. This is why I can stand, this is why I can do good.

Daddy, Your Spirit lives in me and gave me a new heart. My heart was dead and cold and You ripped it out and put in a live one—a pure one. And it can only come from You. How can a dead man give life to his dead brother? He can’t. Only You can. Only Christ can. Only the Spirit can.

So Lord I will go back if You allow. If it was the end of the story I wouldn’t bother. But it’s not. Our evil has a limit in You. And whether we believe or die, You are the end. Alpha and Omega. I can’t wait to be with You once and for all. But Lord, pour me out. Exhaust me to Your glory on this earth. Use all of me for the gospel that rescues men. Because this is what it takes. I don’t want a sissy, safe so-called evangelism—I want the costly one. This is the real gospel. You emptied Yourself for it and will guide me to my end.

Lord this is the work You have for those who believe in Your Son’s death and resurrection to pay the consequence (hell eternal) for their crimes against You, and satisfy Your justice towards them. This is why we’re here. Use me until I see Your face. Until I don’t care about anything else. This prayer scares me but I trust You with it.

To the Father of the lowly—Amen 🐘