Abortion—a word that has been thrown around lately like a batter in a hot pan. In the state where I live, abortion to full term has recently been passed in Parliament. People have cried about it and others were dancing in the street over it.
Some call it a great day for women’s rights (choices), while thousands of women grieve for the impending loss of future unborn babies and wonder when they ever gave permission for a loud minority of women to speak on behalf of the rest of us?
My question is, when did we become God? When did we elevate ourselves so high that we have the audacity to think we get to choose who should have life and who should not? And when does the voice of the unborn matter?
A story I’ll never forget
I once knew a lady—for the sake of this article we’ll call her Jane. Jane’s husband didn’t want children and after the birth of their first daughter, he forced Jane to have abortions for the following four pregnancies. This broke Jane’s heart. She buried the remains of the aborted babies in four little plots under a tree in her garden.
When she discovered she was pregnant again, she hid her pregnancy for as long as she possibly could, protecting her baby with the fierceness of a lioness. With her husband’s long absences, by the time it was obvious that she was pregnant, it was too late to discard the baby. The abuse hadn’t ended, but her baby boy was given the chance to live.
The little boy born to Jane, grew up in not-so-nice circumstances. It was a sad cruel world he witnessed but he had been blessed with a natural empathy from a young age that noticed the pain of his mother. As he grew, he took it upon himself to look after her as best he could while she continued struggling with the lasting pain of what had been done to her.
Nervous breakdowns ensued as Jane continued to struggle with, not only her physical pain, but also her emotional pain. What was meant to ‘get rid of the problem,’ became the problem. Abortion had rendered Jane with a life-long sentence eventually killing her in her old age through cervical cancer.
Rejection and hope
Rejected by his father who was by then nowhere to be found, the little boy grew to become a teenager, and through the careful divine weaving of his path, he came to know a father who knew him before he was formed in his mother’s womb (Jeremiah chapter 1 verse 5).
He found God, and the love that God had for him was greater than this young man had never known before. He discovered that God had known him all along and had loved him all along, pursuing him until he was found.
This turning point would change his life forever. After joining a local church youth group, the young man met a beautiful young lady and together they felt a calling to live to serve God. Not long after their marriage, they had their first of four babies and studied to become church pastors.
The young man’s empathy and newfound love for God was now reaching out to help others, and he continues to bless people to this very day.
This man is my father.
Their sacrifices brought life
I am grateful to have grown up in a loving Christian home, where I have known about God all of my life. But I am well aware that my three siblings and myself, our spouses, our combined children and our future generations would not be here if it were not for the heroic act of my Grandmother hiding her final pregnancy.
My Dad is heroic for choosing a positive life despite his disadvantaged, abusive upbringing, and we are forever grateful for the sacrifices that went before us to give us the life that we have now.
So, if you want to talk to me about choices, there are always choices.
Some are just better than others.
Love the mother, love the baby. The future is bigger than here and now.
“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.” (Jeremiah chapter 1, verse 5)
Published 13th November, 2018 on Christian Today Australia
©Rebecca Moore 2018