Slavery, Hitler and itty bitty fingers and toes

http://themattwalshblog.com/2013/06/13/i-dont-personally-like-slavery-but-who-am-i-to-tell-you-what-to-do-with-your-own-property/

For years I read things like this and my spirit responded with a resounding “amen”. Then I went on my way.  After all, I agree AND I even shared this blog with 476 people (who, lets face it, will probably nod their own “amens” and are unlikely to give me a hard time about it).  But eventually I found myself moved to pray more about the subject of abortion and I really couldn’t pray about it with sincerity if I wasn’t willing to say yes if God asked for more. So last spring I got involved with our local Right to Life.
I’m not saying all this to make anyone feel guilty. What I want to say is that we – you and I – are the answer. Pray, pray fervently. Pray with a willingness to obey, although God may never move you to do more than pray. Don’t make this someone else’s problem, it’s bigger than that. We’re not talking about a few back alley abortions, we’re talking about a staggering 54 million babies that were murdered in the womb. Let hope arise as you realize that the answer is living in you and daydream with me about being able to tell our kids that we saw this injustice and refused to look away and pretend it wasn’t happening. Daydream about a generation that will not know the horror of legal abortion and will only have to read about it in history books, much like the holocaust. Dream about friends, artists, writers, scientists, moms and dads that will live out their lives….Dream of life. Image

I survived Roe vs Wade. Roe vs Wade will not survive me. 

 

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Murder.

Read this.

 

I wanted to write from my heart about this, but I just can’t. It’s too overwhelming and nothing I can say feels like enough. Its easier to look away, I know, I do it. But as I follow this story and feel the pain of grief and loss over and over I think about how the Father feels. The horror and pain I feel over an infant born alive and having her spinal cord severed with scissors as she writhes in pain is no less real than the pain that Daddy God feels as a woman swallows a pill and kills her unborn child. 

I know its hard. I know its heavy. I know we would all rather read about how to raise awesome kids, how to organize your life in 3 easy steps or how to throw the party of the century. There will be time for that later. I pray that the things that break God’s heart would also break ours. Not so that we can remain broken hearted, but so that we will storm the gates of hell as the enemy tries to destroy generation after generation of babies, mothers and families and say “not on my watch!”. We will not be silent, we will not be still. 

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