I will never forget the first time I stepped onto the sidewalk. I was a 22-year-old seminary student with no experience in pro-life ministry. In fact, I had very little “ministry” experience at all! I certainly was not accustomed to waking up at 6 am on a Saturday. Nevertheless, I committed to serve with a new ministry in our church called Speak for the Unborn. That cold and early morning marked the first of what would become 10 years of standing in front of an abortion clinic in Kentucky every week offering hope and help to moms and families in crisis. Though many experiences were formative, four truths stand out from my time on the sidewalk.
Abortion is Wicked
Like far too many of us, the only time I really thought about the sanctity of life was during an election season. That all change the moment I stepped onto the sidewalk. Every week I watched wave after wave of moms, dads, grandparents, and friends walk through the doors of an abortion clinic. These were not statistics. These were people; a lot of them. These were people who had believed the lie of abortion. These mothers were promised freedom, but in return received only a heavy burden on their consciences. I listened as abortion clinic staff and volunteers comforted these women with words of “empathy” and levity. Yet this simply masked what would happen soon after: the God-forged bond between a mother and her son, between a father and his daughter, between a grandparent and their grandchild would be severed forever. I saw that beneath all the flowery rhetoric, abortion is simply a gruesome act of de-creation. Since Cain in Genesis 4, sinful humanity has sought to hide the bodies of their fellow image-bearers in the shadows. I experienced firsthand how dark those shadows can be.
People’s Situations are Complex
When you stand on the sidewalk for a while you quickly come to see that crisis pregnancy is rarely an isolated issue. In calling for a woman to choose life, whether we know it or not, there are many subtexts to our message. In some cases, we are calling mothers to risk forfeiting their social or financial stability. I have seen boyfriends and parents threaten to abandon their girlfriend/daughter on the spot if she refused to go through with the abortion. I have heard single moms weep over the prospect of losing their job and not being able to provide for their other children because of this pregnancy. Another subtext involves trauma. I have walked alongside enough young women who were pregnant because of sexual assault and abuse to know it is no simple decision to “choose life.” Further, I have seen the intersection of motherhood and racial tension in numerous ways. All of these complexities reaffirmed that real life is messy. As we advocate for the lives of the unborn, we must always remember that for women facing a crisis pregnancy, it is rarely a disconnected and isolated choice.
Our Tone Matters
The complexity of people’s situations led to another realization: our tone matters. Though gospel hope is the universal message we all need, the way we apply it to individuals should not be uniform. Jesus, for instance, addressed Pharisees differently than he did the crowds (compare Matt 9:36 and 12:34). Different circumstances should evoke different responses (cf. 1 Thess 5:14; Jude 22–23). Though I have encountered ‘abortion activists’ pursuing abortion, they were by no means the norm. Most women were not there to make a political statement about bodily autonomy; far more often they were just scared and uncertain. One of the most helpful phrases I said after introducing myself was, “I would love to hear what brings you down here this morning.” Many women were disarmed by this. They may have been expecting a fiery sermon from the religious zealot. I, on the other hand, wanted to give them first a listening ear. I realized I must win their trust. By showing myself genuinely interested in caring for them, I was often able to learn how I could more effectively serve. Much of this was communicated in my tone. As Proverbs reminds us, “sweetness of speech increases persuasiveness” (Prov 16:21).
The Local Church is Essential for Pro-life Ministry
There are fewer places I have felt so alone in ministry than while sidewalk counseling. You pour out your heart pleading with moms and dads to not take their life of their children only to face repeated rejection. For those who do want help, the thought of caring for someone in crisis can be overwhelming. In all this, I came to see the pivotal role of the local church both in terms of caring for its members as well as caring for those who choose life. Without pastors and fellow church members keeping watch over my soul, I don’t think I would have made it very far. Moreover, without a body of believers ready to welcome a mom or family in need, I would have had little basis to make a genuine offer of sustainable support. But the gospel makes that kind of community. I could call for a woman to choose hope over abortion because I knew there was an army of saints who would rally on a moment’s notice. In this, I saw that the local church is not peripheral to the defense of the sanctity of life. Rather, the local church should both embody and motivate a pro-life ethic that leads her people, in love, to meet those in darkness.
