I write these words chiefly to women and girls who have had an abortion. Still, it is my humble hope and honest prayer that anyone weighing this life-versus-death choice might also read them with an open mind and a hearing heart.
I share these truths in love. Some of you already know them. Others deny them.
Yet truths they remain.
It is through obedience to Christ and in the authority of His Spirit that I write you this letter. It may be difficult to read, but I pray you will read it.
First, let us dispense with the oft-asserted notion that, lest one is a woman – more particularly, lest one has faced an unwanted pregnancy – one has nothing to say about abortion.
Abortion profoundly impacts us all. When you became pregnant, the child growing within you was, without exception, one of two sexes – male or female. Abortion affects men, women, boys, and girls of every race, color, and creed.
Before we were born, we all, to varying degrees, lived under some threat that “choice” might kill us.
Aren’t you glad your mother chose not to kill you?
Know this about your choice: Yes, you are still a mother. Yes, you have killed your child. And yes, there is forgiveness, love, redemption, and healing available through Christ Jesus alone.
These are hard truths.
Your inner voice was right. You have indeed committed a sin most grave. Those “pro-choice” flowers you were sold, though alluring, were, as you suspected, too good to be true.
Instead, you purchased a bouquet of lies awash in the foul stench of death. You were told that for a few hundred dollars, you could buy freedom, only to be bound by a horrible thing that, in this life, cannot be undone.
But with eternal life, it can be undone.
Your blood-covered hands can be washed clean by the blood-covered hands of Christ the Savior.
You need only ask, receive, and believe.
Abortion kills God’s children and hurts women and men alike. Your child has an earthly father, too, regardless of whether he took responsibility.
Abortion makes men fathers of dead sons and daughters.
I’m the father of five beautiful children, three of whom are with me and two of whom are in heaven. My wife and I lost our first child together in miscarriage; but long before that, my first child died at the hands of an abortionist.
As a teenager, I was not living as God intends. On a sunny fall day when I was 15, I heard a knock at our Gunnison, Colo. home. With a full house, it was I, by chance (or not), who answered the door.
There stood a girl – we’ll call her Lisa – with tears streaming down her face. I hadn’t seen her for months. She hadn’t been in school. As a volley of muffled cheers came from the living room in celebration of a John Elway touchdown, I opened my mouth to speak.
Lisa interrupted me.
“My mom thought it was right for me to tell you,” she said, “that I had an abortion and the kid was yours.”
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