Letter to America

Even though you can’t stand my exclusive cries for true freedom; even though you’d rather I show more toleration with my mouth shut; even though you hear my sermons as an assault upon the things you hold sacred; even though you’d haul me to court to make me fall in line; even though your movies typecast me as the blundering hypocritical monster; even though you’d dig in your nails to stop other people from hearing my prayers in the name of a man who died 2,000 years ago; even with all of that, I can’t stop loving you.

Even though you’ve been charmed into believing that the sexual revolution was somehow liberating; even though you’ve given yourself at the altar of instant gratification; even though your body shows the scars of lovers torn from your arms; even though you feel the sting and hot anger over being cast aside and sing those radio songs with grit; even though you cry when no one can see how empty you feel in a roomful of friends; even though you’ve gone numb from rivers of meaningless promises; even with all that, I can’t stop loving you.

Even though you parade through the streets with banners rejecting the ancient chains of a book you detest; even though you throw yourself into the endless revels of the night; even though you churn out words meant to destroy; even though you suck, inhale, inject, consume fire into your veins and visions in your head; even though you scream and rage against the light; even though you hate the very One who longs to make you see; even though you refuse peace inside; even though you discard Truth in your search for meaning; even with all that, I can’t stop loving you.

Even though you defame the boundaries of what God joined together; even though you explore every dark corner of human connections; even though you raise equality as your golden calf; even though you brand those who disagree with spiteful epithets; even though you push the faithful from your midst; even from out there, I can’t stop loving you.

Even though you call the life growing inside nothing more than tissue; even though you reject the divine spark created in your womb; even though you tear out limbs and snip spinal cords; even though you spit on those who fight to save your child; even though you suffer the labor pains of regret for the rest of your life; even then, I can’t stop loving you.

Even though you hate me, I can’t stop loving your sin-soiled skin. I can’t stop loving your blinded eyes. I can’t stop loving your idol-worshiping hands.

He died for you, and that makes you lovely.


Pro-Life Is Not Enough

I’ve never accepted abortion. Even when God seemed nothing more than imagination, babies being ripped from wombs made me sick. Atheism didn’t blind me from that, at least.

But Christ made me see that my revulsion at doctors hacking babies to pieces isn’t enough. Even voting “my values” doesn’t go far enough. That’s because being pro-life (or anti-abortion, if you prefer) doesn’t stop with saving children from death. There’s much more.

There’s the root.

Women and men make the choice to rid themselves of pregnancies because they lack vision—vision of a world with them as parents. They see stalled careers; they see dead-end relationships; they see poverty. But they don’t see the lifetime commitment it takes to raise a child.

Passing laws, posting pictures of aborted babies, pushing ultrasounds—all of those have power, but none of them suck the fear out of the unknown. None of those give prospective parents a vision of a successful life for themselves or their child. They may see what’s inside, but they don’t see a way forward.

If we call ourselves pro-life, we have to go all in. We have to lay out a vision for single mothers that doesn’t involve poverty, drugs, and abusive boyfriends. We have to provide a road forward that doesn’t seem bereft of help. If we save a child from abortion, we’ve done well. But if we leave a mom without any support, if we’ve left her to fend on her own, we’ve shown her neighbors that abortion may be the better choice.

If we call ourselves pro-life, we have to take up with the young men of our nation. We have to provide them with examples of what it means to take care of others. We have to show them that love comes down to serving, show them a vision of responsible fatherhood. Otherwise, many of them are stuck fatherless and broken, which only empowers abortion providers.

If we call ourselves pro-life, we must adopt young parents as our own children—even if they aren’t married. Many of them have only TV shows and movies for instructions on raising kids, since their real parents weren’t around. They lack faith in lasting relationships; they have no idea that marriage can reveal Christ’s love for us. They need you. They need Him.

If we call ourselves pro-life, we can’t stop at the picket line. We have to take Christ to the core of the problem. We have to give vision and hope to those who see none beyond the abortion clinic.