I first learned the news from two female co-workers. One clapped her hands, while the other one practically jumped up and down. The Supreme Court had overturned Roe v. Wade.
My response surprised me. I did not experience the same enthusiastic joy as my co-workers. Not that I’m the clapping-hands, jumping-up-and-down type, anyway. But I certainly was not doing that internally, either.
This was strange, because I have been a strong pro-life supporter more than 30 years. And as a media producer, I certainly have done my enthusiastic share of platforming multiple pro-life leaders on national television.
In order to hide my trepidation, all I could think to muster up in the moment was, “I never thought I would see Roe v. Wade overturned in my lifetime,” and then I just sort of snuck away to my office to sit in solitude.
I have not always been pro-life. In fact, as a senior in high school, I argued explicitly in favor of pro-choice on my final paper for government class. Even after I became a Christian at age 20, I secretly remained pro-choice for a time, silently hiding my objections while listening to leaders and peers at my church enthusiastically endorse the pro-life cause.
That all changed after a sort of “Road to Damascus” experience. One summer night on a long drive, I got into a huge shouting match with God, or at least I was the one doing the shouting. In loud tones, I reminded God of my scholarly high school paper, reciting every possible reason for my pro-choice stance — how democracies don’t work that way, freedom of religion, how I don’t get to choose for women what they do with their bodies, etc.
After listening to all my passionate reasoning over most of the drive, God finally answered softly and gently with just three simple words: “It’s my child.”
Now, my point in sharing this is not to convince pro-choice advocates with the “ultimate winning pro-life argument.” I do not expect those three words to suddenly resonate with everyone the way they did with me. As I share in my book Rethinking God, when God speaks to you, it most often is a deep “knowing.” Thus, the three words were just on the surface. The truth beyond them reverberated personally for me on a level almost impossible to describe.
God gave no detailed explanation of exactly when life began. There were no government lessons on what the U.S. Constitution says or does not say. Instead, I came away that evening with a profound new belief in the holiness and value of human life from its earliest of stages.
And here I was, 30-plus years later, with those words and that deep knowing forever etched in my heart, an ardent pro-life supporter. Yet I could not muster up the excitement to celebrate the most significant event in pro-life history.
I tried to share my honest feelings …, and the only words I could think to describe them were “wary optimism” — with a huge emphasis on “wary.”
I tried to share my honest feelings afterward with someone I trusted, and the only words I could think to describe them were “wary optimism” — with a huge emphasis on “wary.”
Optimism, because for a long time, I’ve been a strict constitutionalist, and I still cannot find those specific “privacy rights” listed in the original intent of the Constitution. For decades, I have seen Roe as the court overstepping its role and poor legal precedent, regardless of whatever moral beliefs I might have.
Optimism, because in all other cases, our nation believes a person’s bodily autonomy ends when it causes harm to another human being. For example, you cannot shoot a kid simply because your body personally and privately decides to move its trigger finger in a certain direction. And ever since that late-night drive, I never have been able to unsee an unborn child as anything other than another human being with value worth protecting.
Wary, however, because the last several years, and especially the last several weeks, I have been learning to listen — to set aside my arrogance and listen to those with different views than mine, to listen to the voices of those most personally affected.
My fellow conservative Christians often do a poor job of listening. And in the past, I certainly was no exception.
While accusing girls and women of “murdering” their unborn children, few conservatives stop to ask what would cause them to seek such drastic measures. No young girl grows up dreaming someday she would get a chance to have an abortion.
You may have noticed many social media posts or media soundbites of women sharing their stories — stories of extreme anguish and difficulty. If you have not, you need to find them. Or perhaps you need to talk to females you know with differing views than yours, offering safety in conversation and asking them to be honest.
The stories range from tough financial circumstances, to miscarriage, to pregnancy complications, to rape and incest. Yes, like all things social media these days, both left and right, it’s possible a few posts may be made up or exaggerated. But as evidenced by the recent story of the 10-year-old rape survivor, many of them are real — real stories, about real human beings, experiencing real situations.
Almost all of them seem to have one thing in common. Amidst the expressions of anger and advocacy, amidst the marches, protests and pushes for changes to legislation, lies one central emotion — fear. Fear of things that are already happening and fear of where things could be headed.
And if women and girls are fearful, it is up to us in the church to ask what we are doing to scare them.
And if women and girls are fearful, it is up to us in the church to ask what we are doing to scare them.
We tell them motherhood is a beautiful thing while we publicly shame them for being out of wedlock and kick them out of our churches, college campuses and even homes.
We proclaim the glories of the stay-at-home mom while we belittle those who seek assistance as “moocher moms” and “welfare queens.”
We advise women to pick themselves up by their bootstraps while we pay wages that fail to cover childcare, let alone the cost of living. We create workplace cultures and policies that offer little accommodation and punish ambitious women for not being as “readily available to work” as men.
We insist they take good care of their bodies and their babies while we resist every policy that could give them the affordable healthcare they need.
We share our grief over miscarriages and other complicated pregnancies while we continue to elect policy makers who demonstrate little comprehension of how the female body actually works.
We insist girls and women “keep their legs shut” or use protection while we make birth control often unattainable and fail to hold boys and men accountable.
We scold girls with protruding bellies and young moms with too many children as evidence of over-sexuality while we dismiss boys engaging in “locker room talk” as no big deal, brag about the significance of having a “smoking hot wife” and secretly stare at porn on our screens at home.
We propose the mother simply give up the child for adoption while we fail to understand that for her, it’s still a gamble of whether the child she carries for nine long months will end up in a home of safety or in a dangerous one that looks much like the one she may have endured herself.
We publicly bemoan abuse and sexual assault while we insist women remain in harmful marriages, cover for and shelter perpetrators in our churches, and resist protective policies at work and on college campuses as being too “woke.”
We celebrate becoming a mother as a woman’s ultimate calling while we blame “Eve” for all our problems, warn girls to cover their “siren” bodies, belittle their opinions as too emotional to be valued, pay lower wages, and command women preachers to just “go home” — continuously sending the message that a woman is still somehow less than a man.
Wary, because I’m not sure the church, or even our nation, is actually ready.
Are we prepared to do the hard work it is going to take to alleviate all the fears? Are we ready to make cultural shifts within our churches to make sure they are safe havens rather than places of harm — emotionally, spiritually and physically? Are we prepared to commit the time, the resources and the money to meet the needs of those requiring assistance?
Incredible ministries, such as Embrace Grace, already are doing good work to alleviate the needs of those with unwanted pregnancies. I will sing their praises forever. But many such ministries and organizations are notoriously understaffed or underfunded already. Are we prepared to step in and meet the increased demand?
Are we prepared to work alongside organizations on the other side of the political divide, even — gasp — ones such as Planned Parenthood, to make sure all the needs are met? Because here is a statement that may sound redundant, but it’s true: Nobody wants unwanted pregnancies.
And “nobody” means people on both sides of the debate. While we do not have to agree on everything, can we at least work together to do what is necessary — providing education, birth control, assault prevention and not solely “abstinence” teaching — to prevent unwanted pregnancies in the first place?
And once an “unwanted” pregnancy occurs, which inevitably still will happen, are we prepared to work together to ensure the love, culture and resources are in place to meet all emotional, physical and spiritual needs? Will we do whatever it takes to make sure the future the new mom faces is not devastating — so that the child can become “wanted” and the future life it faces become secure?
And for those wanted pregnancies that take a turn for the worse medically, are we ready to do everything necessary to help alleviate the situation as well as to give space to the moms and their doctors as they make difficult decisions?
As we have discovered in the weeks since the Supreme Court turned everything back over to the states, some horribly written state laws — some of them written out of political posturing more than actual care — do a terrible job of defining terms, offer little room for complexities, and put those who are pregnant, as well as those needing certain medications, at dangerous risk.
Are we prepared through voting, lobbying and collaboration to quickly make sure these laws are rewritten to ensure everyone is safe? Are we willing to put more leaders and policy makers in place — and by that, I mean more women — who actually understand better how a woman’s body works?
Are we ready as a church and a nation to accept the fact there will always be medical scenarios that are often too complex for our simple moral platitudes and will still require private decisions between doctor and patient?
Wary because, if I’m going to be completely honest, I’m not sure I’m ready to step up to the plate myself.
Roe v. Wade served as an expedient boogeyman target for my moral outrage, even as the “problem” conveniently took care of itself through the availability of abortion. For example, fewer people with unplanned pregnancies needed care, and fewer medically complex situations showed up on my personal radar.
Now that is about to change. Am I ready to do the work? After all, I’ve still got a mortgage to pay, my own family to feed, a day job that keeps me busy and a thousand other things on my plate. Now to add in all the things I listed?
Note: This is not an attitude I am proud of; it is just that I am being honest. I wonder how many other “pro-lifers” feel the same. This new legal turnabout requires a change in me, a repentance to something new.
In my time of listening, I have come to realize I missed something important during that late-night drive. When I heard, “It’s my child,” God was not just talking about the unborn baby. God was talking about the mother, too, and about every person who ever lives, because they all started as an unborn child of God.
They all are profoundly holy and valuable and worthy of protection — at every stage of life. And this I can no longer unsee.
To the pregnant teenage girl who is scared and faces an unknown future, God says, “You’re my child.”
To the single mom of four who already is overwhelmed and cannot think of adding yet another baby, God says, “You’re my child.”
To the newly married couple who are just starting out their careers and not ready to start a family yet, God says, “You’re my children.”
To the young girl already bearing the pain of an assault, only to discover the perpetrator has left within her another part of him, God says, “You’re my child.”
To the woman who has spent her whole life dreaming about motherhood, only to learn her pregnancy is ectopic and she has to make the worst decision, God says, “You’re my child.”
To the couple facing their third miscarriage involving medical intervention, God says, “You’re my children.”
To the doctor on the front lines out of love for patients, who sometimes is forced to get involved in complex moral choices, God says, “You’re my child.”
To the couple struggling with infertility and needing to make decisions about in-vitro fertilization, God says, “You’re my children.”
Every single one of these and more are God’s children, worthy of love, care and attention.
Us pro-lifers have spent 50 years fighting on behalf of God’s unborn children. Are we willing to fight every bit as hard on behalf of all God’s other children as well? Are we willing to change ourselves?
Are we able to recognize the profound value and holiness of every human life? Unfortunately, I myself have failed for way too many years. And I have so much more to listen to and to learn from everyone affected.
Regardless of how we feel about Roe, it is gone and likely will never come back. In the meantime, while the nation readjusts, people still are getting hurt. We still have real work to do.
It is time to stop scaring — and instead make sure we are really loving — all God’s women and children.
Steve L. Baldwin is a media producer and author who has served in ministry more than 30 years. He is the author of Rethinking God: Because God is Bigger, Closer, and More Real Than You Think, often shares his thoughts at HonestlyThinking.org, and can also be found on Facebook or Twitter.
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