Before I came into work today, I went and stood in front of Planned Parenthood in Memphis and prayed. I had absolutely no idea what to expect. I've see Pro-Life (Anti-Abortion, for those who want to argue the details) "protests" before but I had never participated in one.
I did this as part of 40 Days For Life, a group that organizes two of these 40 day events annually in various cities across the country. It's not really a protest in the traditional sense. Protests involve people holding signs, lots of shouting, maybe a march, and so on. 40 Days is a time for Christians to gather in front of Planned Parenthoods and pray whatever it is that God leads them to pray. Pray for the people inside. Pray that God would eliminate abortion. Pray that people who walk into the Planned Parenthood would change their mind. All of this is done silently while we hold signs (the only protesty thing we were doing). No one is shouting. No one is keeping anyone from going into the building to do whatever it is they came to do. We didn't even talk to anyone while I was there unless they approached us.
Someone did.
A woman, we'll call her Jennifer (she did gave us her real name, but probably not expecting that I would take to the web and talk about her), came out of the Planned Parenthood and approached the three women, we'll collectively call them Mary because that's the only name I can remember, who were standing with me. Being a man, I didn't want to act like I had any idea what she was going through, so I just stood by, held my sign, and listened to what she was telling my partners.
The wave of emotions I felt as she told her story was something I've only felt one other time in my life, the day I held my first born son in my hands as he slowly died from having under developed lungs. Jennifer told us that she has another daughter and that she's not married but her boyfriend/fiance/baby-daddy (she called this man all three of those things throughout her conversation with Mary) was still in the picture and very committed to her and their daughter. She explained that the burden of a second child was too much, so she elected to have an abortion. Mary asked her if she had considered adoption. Jennifer then said that if she had gone through with the pregnancy, she never would have been able to give up the baby because she would love the baby too much and then she would be responsible for two children, something she couldn't handle.
Let that sink in for a moment. Jennifer said she loved her child so much that she would never be able to give up her child for adoption so instead she had her child killed. I couldn't make that up if I wanted too.
As she said that, I felt angry; I felt sad; I felt sorry for Jennifer. I had no idea if I wanted to burst into tears, hug Jennifer, or lash out in rage over what she had just done. I also wasn't sure what part was most responsible for what I was feeling, the fact that she had an abortion and sounded so uncaring about it, or her completely irrational reasoning behind the decision.
Instead, I just stood there, looking out into the sea of traffic passing us by on Poplar Avenue, dumbfounded.
But, she wasn't finished.
She went onto explain that she's a regular church goer in Millington. This raised some questions in my mind. Does her church know about her lifestyle? If they do, are they ignoring it, or worse, do they support it? If they don't know about it, why not? Are they not active in her life? I realize she may not be as avid a church goer as she claims, but that doesn't excuse her church's lack of influence in her life.
Needless to say, it was difficult to listen to what I was hearing. I needed to think. I needed to clear my head. I needed to pray. That's what I was there for after all. So, I walked away from the group down to the corner of the property, one of three very small areas we were permitted to stand. I held my "ABORTION KILLS CHILDREN" sign out towards Poplar, closed my eyes, and began to pray. I prayed specifically for Jennifer and her daughter. I prayed that God would forgive her for what she had done. I prayed that her church would step up ministering to her, as they have obviously dropped the ball on that one. I prayed that when Jennifer's daughter inevitably found out that her mother had killed her baby brother or sister that she would be able to forgive her mother and not hate her.
I heard a noise that caused me to open my eyes and look around. Whatever it was, I couldn't see it. Before I closed my eyes again I noticed there was something written on the back of my sign that I hadn't noticed before. It was instructions on how to act and what to do and so forth. So, I read it and took it's advise. I knelt down on my knees and began praying in that position.
While my eyes were closed and my knees began to hurt a little, I heard a man shout at me to "Get a life!" as he drove by. Those three words that that man intended to be hateful kept playing over and over again in my head. "Get a life!" "Get a life!" "Get a life!" "Get a life!"
I didn't need to get a life. This is my life. Or, at least, I want it to be.
So, I'm going to make it my life. I've already agreed to go out and pray at the Memphis Planned Parenthood at noon every Friday until the 40 days is over. I'm also going to arrive at my church building an hour before the service every Sunday and pray that God would eliminate abortion in Memphis and Shelby County, forgive those who have committed this sin, and encourage members of my church to join me.
I want to encourage all of you to join me. You don't have to stand in front of a clinic that offers abortions and hold a sign. You don't have to write your congressman or senators. All you have to do it pray. Pray diligently. Pray often. Pray without ceasing.
Through prayer, not legislation or protesting or other worldly means, we can see the murder of our children stopped.
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