"Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say."
-Puddleglum to the Queen of Underland, The Silver Chair (C.S. Lewis)
About a year ago, I went through training to volunteer at the local care pregnancy center (CPC), a non-profit Christian organization. I initially signed up for the 2-day course after reading Jill Stanek's biography. I was pro-life before I became a Christian at 16, and joining the church only solidified and strengthened the basis for my stance. Abortion, however, is a messy, unpleasant concept, and one that I shamefully dodged reading or thinking or talking about too much. Then I became a mother, and suddenly the concept of life being taken in the womb became a jagged issue that I could no longer accept being ignorant of. I started researching and stumbled across Stanek's story. I tearfully took in the whole thing, and a week later, a member of my church spoke at our ladies' night about her work at the afore-mentioned pregnancy center and how they were very much in need of help.
Regrettably, I found little time after I finished the initial training to actually go in and volunteer. But now, with my "newborn" nearing his 6-month birthday, my annual AF reserve tour completed, and everything about as calm as it ever has been in the last few years, I scheduled my first shift at the CPC. As I parked in front of the building last Monday morning, I couldn't help but notice the Planned Parenthood directly across the street. Who would I encounter? I wondered as I approached the door. Once inside, the volunteer coordinator talked to me as she bustled around preparing for the day. They had been very busy this summer, she told me. Sometimes over a dozen clients a day! A dozen... all weighing their options regarding the little life inside them. Some showed up solely for the free pregnancy test. Some, as they waited for the single/double bar result, said, "If that comes out positive, I'm walking right across the street to schedule an abortion."
When I left in the afternoon, I had sensed spiritual warfare in a new way that resonated far more seriously than it has before. I believe life begins at fertilization- I believe abortion is murder. Thus, stepping into the CPC to work is willingly emerging from the crowd to stand at the front where stuff is flying and lives -innocent, helpless- hang vulnerably for us to protect, or disregard.
It struck me a few days ago that many would label this opinion as aggressive. Others have their opinion on when life begins, and calling abortion "murder" is a dark, hateful, and one-sided view... hypocritical even in its judgment. But gosh- I, well, I really, really, really believe that it is murder. And with that certainty comes the broader acknowledgement that this faith I claim- well, I really, really, really believe all of it too.
I was reading this article by Sam Harris in Newsweek yesterday and amid all the arguments the author presented (some I agree at least in part with), what stood out most to me was the tone he used when discussing Sarah Palin's faith. Not his exact description of her beliefs and practices (I was saved in an Assemblies of God church, so his references were pretty familiar), but his obvious disgust that she actually believes this stuff. "Needless to say, she shares this belief [that "the Biblical God consciously directs world events"] with millions of Americans—but we shouldn't be eager to give these people our nuclear codes, either," Harris writes. Oi.
"He thinks she's nuts," I told my husband as I handed him the magazine. And then the light bulb: I guess that makes me nuts too.
See, it dawned on me that claiming a sense for spiritual warfare occurring around a care pregnancy center could come off as a bit loony to someone who doesn't share my beliefs. (Spiritual warfare? As in, invisible angels and demons zooming around clashing swords?) And yes, I believe God is sovereign and His will is done regardless of how much we rebel against it. I believe that Jesus Christ was a real person and He really lived and He really died in place of me (and you) as an atonement for our sins. And I believe He rose from death and because of all this, eternal life is available for me (and you.)
I really, really, really believe it.
With this confession comes the startling follow-up of, What do I do now? There are many paths that stretch out before me, places to take what I know, people to share it with. And some like Harris -like the Queen of Underland- will think I'm a big baby building my life on a pretty ridiculous fairytale. Like Puddleglum, though, I find the alternatives to be inestimably unappealing... So I too set out in the dark, holding what I really, really, really believe as a torch to light the way.
Regrettably, I found little time after I finished the initial training to actually go in and volunteer. But now, with my "newborn" nearing his 6-month birthday, my annual AF reserve tour completed, and everything about as calm as it ever has been in the last few years, I scheduled my first shift at the CPC. As I parked in front of the building last Monday morning, I couldn't help but notice the Planned Parenthood directly across the street. Who would I encounter? I wondered as I approached the door. Once inside, the volunteer coordinator talked to me as she bustled around preparing for the day. They had been very busy this summer, she told me. Sometimes over a dozen clients a day! A dozen... all weighing their options regarding the little life inside them. Some showed up solely for the free pregnancy test. Some, as they waited for the single/double bar result, said, "If that comes out positive, I'm walking right across the street to schedule an abortion."
When I left in the afternoon, I had sensed spiritual warfare in a new way that resonated far more seriously than it has before. I believe life begins at fertilization- I believe abortion is murder. Thus, stepping into the CPC to work is willingly emerging from the crowd to stand at the front where stuff is flying and lives -innocent, helpless- hang vulnerably for us to protect, or disregard.
It struck me a few days ago that many would label this opinion as aggressive. Others have their opinion on when life begins, and calling abortion "murder" is a dark, hateful, and one-sided view... hypocritical even in its judgment. But gosh- I, well, I really, really, really believe that it is murder. And with that certainty comes the broader acknowledgement that this faith I claim- well, I really, really, really believe all of it too.
I was reading this article by Sam Harris in Newsweek yesterday and amid all the arguments the author presented (some I agree at least in part with), what stood out most to me was the tone he used when discussing Sarah Palin's faith. Not his exact description of her beliefs and practices (I was saved in an Assemblies of God church, so his references were pretty familiar), but his obvious disgust that she actually believes this stuff. "Needless to say, she shares this belief [that "the Biblical God consciously directs world events"] with millions of Americans—but we shouldn't be eager to give these people our nuclear codes, either," Harris writes. Oi.
"He thinks she's nuts," I told my husband as I handed him the magazine. And then the light bulb: I guess that makes me nuts too.
See, it dawned on me that claiming a sense for spiritual warfare occurring around a care pregnancy center could come off as a bit loony to someone who doesn't share my beliefs. (Spiritual warfare? As in, invisible angels and demons zooming around clashing swords?) And yes, I believe God is sovereign and His will is done regardless of how much we rebel against it. I believe that Jesus Christ was a real person and He really lived and He really died in place of me (and you) as an atonement for our sins. And I believe He rose from death and because of all this, eternal life is available for me (and you.)
I really, really, really believe it.
With this confession comes the startling follow-up of, What do I do now? There are many paths that stretch out before me, places to take what I know, people to share it with. And some like Harris -like the Queen of Underland- will think I'm a big baby building my life on a pretty ridiculous fairytale. Like Puddleglum, though, I find the alternatives to be inestimably unappealing... So I too set out in the dark, holding what I really, really, really believe as a torch to light the way.
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