Skip to main content

Essay on Aboriton

There are many cases, discussions, and considerations as to why abortion is either permissible or intolerable. Heated debates have climaxed to violent hatred resulting in the abortion clinics being raided with gun shots and the decapitation of children at the moment of birth. This matter is weighted and a lengthy undertaking. Approaching it with mere emotion is toxic, but disregarding all emotion is callous.

Is abortion a grey area? Is this medical procedure falling under a category of relative truth? Truly if the underlining case for abortion is the right to privacy then our government has deemed women able to make moral decisions based on their own conviction and beliefs. These convictions not strained by an outside dominating influence. We live in a democratic society where religion or in some cases morality is not to be forced upon anyone. As we spend time pondering this political landscape more children have been swept away and chosen for destruction. A principle problem with abortion at the present time is we have made it a political issue when it is in fact a moral corruption. We spend our time discussing the Constitution and what exactly our laws dictate as permissible and tolerable. We take lawyers to our judges and try to sway a nation to righteous by lofty arguments. We have yet to rend our hearts, put on sackcloth, and admit our sin as a people of God. We have bowed to democracy as our God and forgotten the knife at our children throat. We have looked to a supreme court to act justly when they have constantly failed us. Who has suffered from this delay and vain tactic? I dare to say it is no one other than the faceless, nameless generation of our God, the aborted babies.

So is the point of this book to sway one to believe abortion is wrong. No, for there is no need to defend such a truth. For indeed it is not a grey matter. God in all His majesty and beauty has made it clear, in all good faithfulness, that the eradication of an unborn child is murder in the first degree. Anyone to disregard this fact is a liar to his or her own conscience. I am not out to assault and slander the pro-choice movement. Judgment starts in the house of the Lord, my friends. To be brutally honest those of you who have been passionate about ending abortion might even admit to working fruitless deeds. You have come before the judges of our nation and the persecutors of life with boldness. But, you have yet to rectify yourself before the ultimate Judge. Being emotional and passionate can either lend itself to impulse and striving or it can press you under the weight and break you. Then you find yourself weeping as bitterly as Hannah. With little breath left you find yourself proclaiming, “Not by might or by strength, but by Your Spirit!” As Moses before Pharaoh you cry, “Let His children go!”

It is no longer a case of maneuvering around technical terms and finding loopholes in flawed law. It is giving God the right to punish a wicked deed. As Daniel lived among a Babylon Empire he was given his moment to stand in perfect timing. God afforded him the chance to take on an edict of immorality. Then God showered the land with a miraculous encounter in the lion’s den. God has placed anointed vessels to carry this weighted message and not everyone who is pro-life will have the authority to tear it down. Just as Martin Luther is synonymous with all men are created equal, so too will these voices be synonymous with every life is valuable.

So where do we begin? We can’t let hatred rule our conversation. Angry only heats more killing. The Bible makes it clear if you are angry with your brother you have committed murder. So we can’t point fingers when we have a plank in our eye. But, there are strategic places in God’s word that rends our zealous pursuit of ending abortion. I do not just mean making abortion illegal. I mean making sure that our nation is fully aware of the ramification of such an act. Do I long to instill fear? I don’t think I have to apologize if I were to desire to do so. I am not. In fact I want to pour mercy on these poor women who no doubt live with emptiness everyday. But until we come to grip the full weight of our complacency we will suffer from God’s wrath. I am not talking about signs in the heavens and on the earth beneath. I am talking about the deep depravity felt in one’s heart when we turn to repentance for an act done upon the innocent warrior. We are the captains of an army allowing are men and woman to enter the Valley of Slaughter.

Jeremiah 19: 4-6

Because the people have forsaken Me and have estranged and profaned this place [Jerusalem] by burning incense in it to other gods that neither they nor their fathers nor the kings of Judah ever knew, and because they have filled this place with the blood of innocents

5And have built the high places of Baal to burn their sons in the fire as burnt offerings to Baal, which I commanded not nor spoke of it, nor did it come into My mind and heart--

6Therefore, behold, the days are coming, says the Lord, when this place shall no more be called Topheth or the Valley of Ben-hinnom [son of Hinnom], but the Valley of Slaughter.

We haven’t just sacrificed children to our own convenience. We have fashioned an idol. We have dictated to God that child sacrifice is appalling and still deem innocent life as dispensable. We made our God of life forgiving of taking life. This never entered His mind or heart. So what must we do?

Rend our hearts and not our garments. This means a full out repentance for the blood that is rising a violent cry. What will God’s response to this cry be but vengeance or mercy? We can’t approach this subject desiring to escape wrath. We must approach it with full expectation of wrath. We need to become serious and know that our God does not remain silent. He speaks for these children. He spoke in the day of Moses when the Hebrew babies were massacred. He spoke in His Son’s appearing when Harod sent out a decree to kill babies. Every time God rose up a Deliver there was an attack on innocent life. Could it be that another delivery is in the making. The earth is groaning under the weight of slaughter. The intercessors are giving birth to the Lord’s return to set things right. Do we need a constitution change to make us feel better? Or do we need a great high priest to speak a better blood over shed blood we can’t atone for? I will leave with one statement from Jeremiah that always pierces my soul when I consider our dependence on democracy to change abortion.

Jeremiah 8:19-22

19Behold, listen! The cry of the daughter of my people from a distant land:
"Is the LORD not in Zion? Is her King not within her?"
"Why have they provoked Me with their graven images, with foreign idols?"
20"Harvest is past, summer is ended,
And we are not saved."
21For the brokenness of the daughter of my people I am broken;
I mourn, dismay has taken hold of me.
22 Is there no balm in Gilead?
Is there no physician there?
Why then has not the health of the daughter of my people been restored?

Surely there is a king and He has the power of resurrection in His hand. The only cure for the wound of abortion.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Bought

Anthem of heaven incased in this CD on the market. A devotion song reformed to a green collection in his pocket. Culture how it has sought us! Taken our reverence and bought us! Worship sowing designer clothes for the artist. Melodies in bondage begin to simulate the masses. We have the radio to blare the repeat. Give us our fame and retreat This noise of adoration motivates a half hearted beat on the steering wheel. We can no longer own the heart and we can’t preach our message. We are just a copy of a man’s heart once spilled to His maker given over to another to do as he so pleases. We are bought. Owned. I want to work on this one. It seems a little hard to follow. I want it to be concrete and to the point but still lyrical. Any comments or suggestions?

Shy Suicide

Disclaimer: This poem was inspired by someone else's struggle with suicide. Don't worry I am not suicidal. Suicide, why do you hide beneath my white skin? Suicide, why do use my fake smile for your sin? Suicide, why do you keep your cover until the rope is tight, the trigger is pulled, the pills are swallowed, the wrists slit? A black phantom behind my face. A dark word behind my lips. A night in my day. Suicide, why do you ensnare all my companions? They didn’t know. They didn’t see. They didn’t recognize who had overtaken me. You left a message on paper; they read in disbelief. Suicide, you are shy, and yet you have the audacity to kill me.

The Power of Choice: A Short Story

The Power of a Choice Copyright 2010 Tamara Peachy As the money floated down to the bottom of the wishing fountain, I marveled that my baby girl already had aspirations. She was only three, but still genuine expectancy radiated from her confident smile. She had a secret wish tucked in her heart and believed in her two magical pennies. Beads of water dripped from her blonde curls. She splashed the water with her delicate hand. Her laughter seemed to bounce off the water and amplify. Several other children were tossing pennies into the fountain. Their youthful excitement was great entertainment. A thunderous truck engine interrupted the children’s sweet voices. I glanced behind me to see the man driving the truck. Judging from his expression, I assumed he was lost. He was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him over the engine. I lifted Sadie onto my hip. She nestled her head into my shoulder. Her grip tightened around my neck. “It’s alright Sadie. Mommy is going to help thi...