The Choice for Life

The arguments for and against abortion have raged on long before my birth. I suspect they will continue long after my death. It’s a shame we have to argue at all. This is the land of the free, home of the brave. But not everyone conceived here will enjoy that freedom or grow up to be brave. We are a nation that was once founded on Judeo-Christian values, values that prized human life as the pinnacle of God’s creation. The freedom to make our own choices is both our country’s greatest strength and its greatest downfall. We are, inevitably, a nation that embraces choice. Some choices are good, others are poor. We make both every day, often without thinking.

But the choice that determines life or death for human life? Some are able to perceive it as simply a fetus. Not a chihuahua fetus, not an orangutan fetus—a human fetus. The distinction cannot be argued. The choice for life is stolen from the least defensible of all humans, those whose voices cannot be heard. Values in the US have changed with every decade, in part because good men and women choose to do nothing. Thinking of ourselves and that which best suits our needs is at best a mark of self-preservation and at worst selfishness. Extend that to the inconvenience of carrying a child, and we must be the most self-centered nation on earth!

The desire to preserve life, whether unborn or on death row, must come from beyond ourselves. Those who call themselves followers of Christ are encouraged to give an answer for the joy they have within. What is that answer? Jesus. The One who gave His own life for ours. Because God made human life, human life has meaning beyond what we can impart to it. And the choice for death is not ours to make. If we don’t believe this, we’ll never have grounds to stand against abortion.

For roughly two years, I wore braces. On our way to the orthodontist’s office, my mom and I would pass a medical clinic that performed abortions. Without fail, an elderly woman with white hair stood outside the clinic holding a sign. She had two of them, and we never knew which one she would be holding. The first bore a simple image of a baby in a blanket. The word “Life” was printed at the top. The other sign displayed the dismembered, discolored remnant of an aborted human fetus. The first sign filled me with hope, but the second made me angry.

Who was she to offend me with gruesome photos? I knew about abortion. I didn’t need to see it. That tactic doesn’t sway hearts or change minds. In her attempt to help others make good choices, she made a poor one. Making a case against the ugliness of death is not how we should make the case for life. We should make the case for life by celebrating it. Celebrating life is what Jesus did when he destroyed death and rose again!

Ultimately, the choice of life or death in this case rests with mothers. I don’t pretend to know what it’s like to carry another person inside me for nine months. But I do that everyone alive today was given a chance for life. We’re all the result of pro-life choices. God made life. He sustains it. He takes it, too. God says life has value beyond what we place on it. Because of this, I believe abortion is wrong.

I won’t tell a woman what choice to make, but I will encourage her to learn what God says about life and why. He alone has the authority, and He says that life matters! My mother chose life for me. Yours did the same.

If you can, do likewise.

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