Late-term Abortion and the Call to Adoption : a guest post by Ryan Macdonald

As New York and now Virginia nail their colors to the mast around late-term abortions, many pro-life advocates have wrestled with a real sense of defeat, anger and sadness at the thought of more unborn children losing their lives. And as the topic of abortion yet again takes center stage in our nation's rhetoric and news outlets, we are reminded that this is a major problem in our country. It is estimated that in 2016, roughly 880,000 abortions were performed in the United States. For context, if abortion was classified as a death by the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, it would have been the leading cause of death in the United States by a landslide. 

We need to pause for a moment and feel the weight of these statistics. They are not just numbers. They are people. They are humans who were deprived their right to life. Life that God created and life that God intended. If we truly believe it is wrong to take someone’s life and that abortion intentionally ends human life, we must speak up for arguably the most marginalized and voiceless population of our society, the unborn. After all, God calls us to be a defender of the defenseless, a voice for the voiceless. 

But how? How do we speak up? What can we do to help advocate for the lives of these precious, made in the image of God, unborn children? Well for starters…

We need to choose to do something 

If human life truly hangs in the balance, the church must do something. Gregg Cunningham, director of the Center for Bio-Ethical Reform, highlights this reality starkly when he writes, “there are more people working full-time to kill babies than there are working full-time to save them.”  We need to change this. We need to enlist kingdom workers who are going to push back against the cultural narratives and popular opinions that are resulting in the death of tens of thousands of children. 

We need to study and know the arguments

The strong and direct tethering of women’s rights to the issue of abortion was a clever and detrimental move to the “pro-life” cause. The conversation is almost entirely framed around the mother. Listen to how the National Abortion Federation describes the outcome of Roe vs. Wade (the ruling that made abortion legal in 1973): “after hearing the case, the Supreme Court ruled that Americans’ right to privacy included the right of a woman to decide whether to have children, and the right of a woman and her doctor to make that decision without state interference.” 

The way the conversation is framed by “pro-choice” advocates makes the mother the center of the issue. The life or death of the child is in the distant background. The problem with this argument is that the “pro-life” cause is not at all interested in attacking women’s rights and does not seek to dictate whether or how a woman conceives a child. It is simply interested in protecting basic human rights–and nothing is more basic than the right to live–once a human has been conceived. 

We need to find compassion for mothers of crisis/unwanted pregnancies 

It is at this point I believe the religious community (as a whole) has at times done more harm than good. We have yelled in hate and anger at women walking into Planned Parenthood (most of them going for reasons other than abortion). We have bought into the political rhetoric of an us vs. them mentality; speaking louder about the side of the aisle we sit on than the God of love and forgiveness we serve. And worst of all, just like the Pharisees, we have been unwilling to lift a finger to help with the great and enormous burden we leave with the mothers of these crisis pregnancies. 

If we really want to bring the life and love of Jesus to the issue of abortion, we need to stop acting like our role is to condemn these women (made in the image and likeness of God!) who find themselves so lost, scared and hopeless that they believe the best choice they can make is to terminate their pregnancy. 

I personally know how hard it can be to find compassion for the mothers of crisis pregnancies. On February 1st, 2019 my wife Stacie and I adopted our 18 month old foster daughter Nora Grace. It was one of the best days of my life! We met her in the NICU (newborn intensive care unit) when she was only 8 days old and have been her parents ever since. 

Nora entered the child welfare system because her mother was unable to provide a safe environment for her to be raised in. I do not know Nora’s biological mom’s full story, but I do know that she was a victim of abuse. I know that her life has been full of trauma, pain, death and addiction. I am tempted at times to be angry at Nora’s biological mother for the choices she made that harmed my daughter, but I always come back to the reality that she chose to continue with the pregnancy in the midst of terrible circumstances and great pressure to get an abortion. 

If I ever get the privilege of meeting her, the first thing I will do is thank her for having the courage to carry and deliver my daughter, it has changed my life and I can't imagine my world without her. She chose life for my daughter and for that I will be eternally grateful. 

Let’s choose today be “pro-life” not just for the unborn children, but for the mothers of crisis pregnancies! Let’s be willing and prepared to come around these moms not in hate and protest, but in compassion and love. Let’s be ready not just to preserve life, but to lead people to a place of flourishing. Below are 6 practical ways you can help. 

It is estimated that 4 out of 10 women who have abortions are actively attending church. If we are part of a faith community (especially in leadership), we need to make sure our churches are safe and welcoming to those exploring abortion. 

Many mothers of crisis/unwanted pregnancies will visit an adoption agency to explore their options. Some of these moms are living below the poverty line. You can support them financially by donating gift cards (ie. Target, Visa or for gas and groceries) to adoption agencies (like Bethany in La Mirada, Ca).

You can educate yourself and possibly train others  to support moms considering abortion with a curriculum like Making Life Disciples.

You can volunteer as a mentor of teen moms with orginiations like Younglives. 

You can become a lay counselor at a pro-life pregnancy center (like Living Well in Orange, Calif).

You can provide a home to safely surrendered children by becoming a foster and adoptive parent. Several children in foster care are there because of the bravery and love of a biological mother who chose life for their child. 

No matter how you help, do something, and do it with a clear head and a heart full of compassion.  

Planting Tumbleweed: Becoming a Multiplying Church in a Transient Culture

I was 18 when I first came to California. It was 1990. Mullets, bomber jackets, parachute pants and MC Hammer were in. I was part of a touring party of musicians and actors who performed around the theme of racial  reconciliation. It was the year Nelson Mandela was released from prison. South Africa was trying hard to shed its Apartheid past and we felt that we had a story to tell the world. We performed in schools and colleges and churches in five states around the USA. One of those states was California. 

On a day off between tour dates our hosts took us to Muir Woods outside San Francisco to walk amongst the giant Redwoods. I’m not sure whether it was the majesty of the trees or the Michael W. Smith song, “Place in this World,” playing on my new Sony Walkman, but God met me on that day in those Redwoods. I came back to our bus convinced He had called me to live and preach the gospel in California. I had no clue what that meant at the time. We hadn’t stayed in San Francisco or visited LA yet. In fact, the only place we’d stayed was Fresno, of all places. We hadn’t done the tourist thing in Hollywood, Disney, Napa or Malibu. But I was so convinced by the call that when I returned from our five-state tour I told my new girlfriend that if we got married she’d have to get her passport in order, because we were going to live in California one day. It’s hard to explain, but in strange ways my call felt as much to California as it did to the USA.

It was 17 years and many visits later before my family and I moved in to 542 North Hale Avenue, in Fullerton, California on December 30th, 2007. God was faithful to His call. Thankfully, my girlfriend back then did get her passport and has been my wife of 25 years. We honestly love California’s beauty, diversity, climate and influence in the world. We feel privileged to live here.  

But nothing could have prepared us for what I call Californian transience. At best, it expresses itself in a refusal to settle for status quo. It is always exploring new ideas, new trends, new tastes, new sounds, new sights and new technology. It is relentless in its quest for innovation. At worst, California transience resists commitment, idolizes individual freedom and is notoriously flaky at keeping promises. It simply refuses to be pinned down.

John Steinbeck, a California native who grew up in Salinas, described Californian transience this way: “When I was very young and the urge to be someplace else was on me, I was assured by mature people that maturity would cure this itch… Nothing has worked… When the virus of restlessness begins to take possession of a wayward man, and the road away from here seems broad and sweet, the victim must first find in himself a good and sufficient reason for going.”  

I have found no description of California transience more poignant than Steinbeck’s. The urge to be someplace else. An incurable virus of restlessness. Of course, the urge to be someplace else is amplified by astronomical housing prices, questionable taxes and crazy traffic. While many love the liberal morality, others are deeply troubled by what it means to raise children in a culture where the pursuit of uninhibited autonomy is idolized only after the pursuit of celebrity. Even with all its beauty, prosperity and warm weather, Californians often resent living in California. They often feel drawn to cheaper, quieter, more traditional places, where the moral fabric has not yet unraveled. Add to these factors a divorce rate that is close to 70 percent and you have a culture that appears to be coming apart at the seams.

 Californian transience makes building community an extremely taxing pursuit. Honestly, leading a church in California can be like planting tumbleweed. The moment you think someone is putting roots down, they just roll on down the road to a new job, a new town, a new church or just a new adventure. The temptation can be to cling feverishly to every single person who is rooted and committed because they’re such a rare breed. Sending your best can feel like you’re intentionally trying to kill your church! It’s hard enough to build a connected community, so why would anyone want to break it up through multiplication? I suppose it is because Jesus is building His church, and His building ways are not ours. But there are times when I still have my doubts.

One of the ways I see transience at work in multiplication is when people decide to leave at the same time as a church is sending. It never fails to surprise me that as you send a team out, gearing up to fill the gaps they leave, folk who felt left behind come and tell you that they also feel like God is moving them on to another church. It seems to happen every single time. At the same time as some are sent, others just went!  On one level, I can empathize. It’s unsettling having to say goodbye to your friends and some of your favorite leaders. But the truth is, when people just up and leave after others are sent, it impedes the health and momentum of the sending church. It’s clumsy and painful, like death by a thousand paper cuts. And it seems completely normal in a state where Christians change churches on average once every three years. 

Thankfully though, the California spirit is not simply about restlessness for the next new place. It’s also about restlessness for the next new thing, which can be channeled towards multiplication, with some wisdom. Californians are pioneers by design, hard-wired to cross frontiers through innovation. Whether it be Walt Disney, Aimee Semple McPherson, Steve Jobs or Elon Musk, California has produced incredible innovators and entrepreneurs who defied the status quo with their vision of a new world. For them and countless others, change is a constant and progress a relentless pursuit. This is a magnificent cultural trait. Some would say I live in the most innovative and influential place in the world.

This frontier spirit can be a remarkable benefit for a multiplying church. Some of our members have been part of three different church plants on two continents. Each time they have served the church and the city where they were planted with humility and sacrifice. They have found ways to earn a living through starting new businesses. They’ve paid their own way to be part of these new communities. They’ve lived in different homes, learned new languages and eaten strange foods. They’ve learned new social customs in order to befriend new neighbors. They’ve transferred ministry skills to new cultures. I think this is what it means to come to grips with the California spirit and harness it for the gospel’s sake. Chances are, people from more conservative states would not be as willing to innovate and embark on new adventures in the same way. It’s why I love where I live and lead. 

You may live and lead in California like me. Or you may not live here, but you may be lamenting your own tumbleweed culture. Whatever the case, I urge you to keep fighting for a covenant community with sacred rhythms and deep roots. I also plead with you to allow the tumbleweed to keep rolling on down the road at times, to be planted in another city or town for God’s glory.

What is impossible with man is possible with God. 

(Excerpt from "Broken for Blessing: the underrated potential of the medium-sized multiplying church")

When Sarah Laughed: a reflection on faith and the sanctity of life

I've begun this year by exploring the faith of Abraham and Sarah, whose sojourn is exemplary for us. "Look to the quarry from which you were hewn. Look to Abraham and Sarah," says the prophet Isaiah.  We are made of the same stern stuff, justified by grace through belief and inheriting the promises of God through faith and patience. To turn from pagan gods to trust God, to leave their homeland and go to a land they did not know, to trust that God could give them a child in their barrenness and old age; all required remarkable faith. Faith that I want to imitate.

I find to my relief though, that their faith sojourn was a faltering one. "Abraham did not waver in faith but grew strong as he gave glory to God?" (Romans 4:16) I doubt it! In one sense, I suppose, they were unwavering. They never returned to their pagan gods. They never returned home. They kept living as pilgrims in tents even when God brought them to their new land. Their faith trajectory was up and to the right, as they say, growing stronger with the passing years. But there were some notable dips in the upward trajectory. Abraham lies about Sarah being his sister out of self-protection, allowing her to become one of Pharaoh's concubines. Sarah tells Abraham to sleep with Hagar her slave, because she becomes impatient with God's promise of a child. Abraham obliges and Ishmael is born. 

Yet, God is faithful. After Ishmael is born God changes Abram's name to Abraham - from father of many to father of many nations. This, to a man who has fathered only one illegitimate child! The whole name change is not only  incredulous to us.  Abram literally falls on his face laughing at God when he hears about his new name. It wasn't a good kind of laugh. The Hebrew here means to mock or scoff. Still, God seems undeterred. In the next chapter, God speaks to Abraham at his tent door, reassuring him that within a year his wife Sarah would have a baby boy. Sarah overhears this and laughs to herself. The same Hebrew word! She scoffs silently at God's promise. Apparently, unbelief is contagious. 

Abraham doesn't hear Sarah laugh, but God does. This time He is unimpressed and holds Abraham accountable. "Why did Sarah laugh?" He asks. When Abraham confronts Sarah she lies and denies it. Apparently, unbelief morphs into other forms of sin. Abraham stands his ground. "No, you did laugh." An awkward, unresolved tension because Abraham knows he is culpable.

And yet God is faithful. "The Lord came to Sarah as He had said, and the Lord did for Sarah what He had promised." She bore a child within a year and they named him Isaac. Sarah laughs again, but this time it is a laugh of pure, unadulterated joy. "God has made me laugh, and everyone who hears will laugh with me," she exclaims. 

How gracious is our God! They laughed at Him, yet He kept His promise to them. 

Of course, this raises the tension between God's sovereignty and our responsibility. If God is going to be faithful despite our faithlessness, why does our faith even matter? While God's faithfulness is clearly decisive, our faith certainly does matter. Otherwise, God would not have confronted  Abraham about the doubtful scoffing. Faith pleases Him and unbelief displeases him. We have a responsibility to a grow a culture of faith in our souls, our families, our friendships and our churches. It's become tragically hip to be cynical and pessimistic. In many ways, our world doesn't give us any good reason to be otherwise. Life is hard. Disappointment abounds. But God, who calls us to be a peculiar people in this world provides us with a peculiar hope against hope. This passage is not merely about faith though.

During a week in which abortion protagonists celebrated NYC's passing of a law permitting abortion of  unborn children up until birth, this passage is a powerful contrarian to a brutal cultural deception. Before Sarah even conceives, God tells the parents  that the child will be a boy and that they are to call him Isaac, which means 'he laughs!'  God sees the child with gender, personhood and personality before he is even in the womb! The Scriptures are saturated with the sanctity of  the unborn child.

Take heart if faith is at times faltering for you, like it is for me. If God was gracious with Abraham and Sarah's faltering faith, He will be gracious with yours. God, in His sovereign grace, can turn our cynical scoffing into a deep belly-laugh of joy, like He did for the mother of our faith. God will always have the last laugh.  And He will be laughing with us, not at us.