Volition: A Long & Controverisal Post

The  Volition film is about 10 minutes long but WELL worth the time .

This video has stirred up  my heart to burn about abortion, reminding me of my own history related to it:

It was a cold snowy day in the middle of winter. I could not have been older than 4 or 5, and the snow outside of the car was deep. Mom had just parked downtown near a large brick building. Car doors opened and my three siblings were climbing out, but I remember plopping straight into a snow drift. The four of us were layered up like mummies against the cold, (I’m talking joints that could not bend bundled!) and as I climbed out of the snow onto the sidewalk I remember asking what we were doing there.

Mom had been walking around the front of the car to the sidewalk, and at my question came and stood in front of me. Getting down on her knees in the snow and taking my tiny hands in hers,  she looked long, and deep into my eyes. “We are here to pray. Because mommy’s are going inside of that building to kill their babies, some of them don’t know that they have babies, and some of them don’t even know that the babies are dying. So we are going to pray that God would show them, and that God would save the babies.”

Abortion was never an issue that I was innocent about. For years of our lives, every Friday morning was spent outside of that clinic holding silent prayer meetings for the mercy of God, the salvation of souls, and the lives of the innocent. Oh the stories I could tell about the things that happened to us while making intercession on that sidewalk. The Lord taught us to be tender, to hear His heart, to love with Him, to grieve with Him. For years we stood whispering that prayer “oh God, would You save the babies”.

Flash forward to a beautiful,  summer morning. I was 18 standing with one close friend, forming a wall of prayer stronger than the walls of stone. This particular clinic only performed abortions during certain hours on certain days, and we had one hour of that time frame left to pray and were determined to not leave the building without an intercessor, when a car pulled into the lot driven by a young boy.

By young I mean 16-17, and in the passenger seat was a middle aged woman so closely resembling him she could only be his mother. She got out of the car and approached the front of the building never once glancing our way. We were less than 15 feet from him, and though we did not cry out, held no signs, and carried no malice, he was nervous at our presence. It was becoming a hot day and he waited in the car with the windows down as we stood and prayed. I could feel something happening, remember the air seemed charged with electricity and the question posed in my mind “what are You doing Jesus?” while at the same time noticing the security guard step inside the building.

Instantly I felt the spirit of God well up inside, filling me with boldness. For what? I had no idea, but knew I had to speak.

“Hey, Could…could you come here? I want to talk to you”

There was indecision on his face, questions I couldn’t identify, but he opened the car door and stepped across the parking lot, crossing the grassy line that had restrained us for years and onto our sidewalk. Legally as a “protester” we are not allowed to leave the public property, aka, sidewalk, and one foot on that lawn would have sent the security guard into a frenzy and brought the police. Once he was in front of me I had no idea where to start, how to begin, what was happening, but felt the intensity of a divine situation.

“What are you doing here, was that your mom who went inside?”

“Oh, yeah. She said she had a doctor’s appointment”

I’d noticed the tags of the car were from some obscure county out in the country.

“A doctor’s appointment? This is a long way to come for a doctor’s appointment”

“Well yeah, but…she said there was some specialist at this woman’s clinic and she had to come this morning. She doesn’t have a license so I had to drive her”

And that was how it began. I asked questions, and the Lord gave grace for this young man to begin to tell me about his life. Parents divorced some years before, mother had sunk into alcoholism and lost custody of both her children. She lived in a town near them but they seldom saw her due to her lifestyle.  And here he was, roughly 17, driving his mother about 2 hours for a “doctor’s appointment”. Where do I go from here? My heart broke inside as I spoke the words as tenderly as I could,

“This is an abortion clinic. Your mom is here having an abortion”

And what else can I say? How can I convey the emotions that were churning inside of me, and the burst of confusion swirling across his face.  He was insistent “No, she’s here to see a doctor. No, my parents are divorced” but the look on his face showed clearly that he knew. The next few minutes are hardly believable as we talked about abortion and the heart of God. He was not a believer, had hardly stepped foot in a church, but knew that he believed that killing a child in the womb was wrong and asked what he could do to get her to talk to me. Even as we stood talking I could feel the importance of the minutes ticking by and I explained to him that I could not step across the sidewalk, that I could never get inside of the building.

“But you can go in”

Again, raw emotions racing across his face, as I told him which door to use, what to say to the receptionist. How did I know? I didn’t, but Jesus told His disciples to not worry what to say, that Holy Spirit would speak through them, and all I know is that on that day, He did.

“They will take you into a room and she will be in a hospital gown, tell her that you know what’s going on, and that there are people outside who will adopt the baby, who will pay for every bill. And we will stay out here until you get back”

Crazy move? Maybe, I mean I was single and 18, the friend with me 17, but we were desperate, and there was a tiny person, who desperately needed for someone to do something crazy. He looked terrified, and we prayed for him to have boldness. Then he crossed that lawn and went inside. We both hit our knees on that old sidewalk, sobbing and crying out for the Lord to save this one, this one little baby. Some time passed and he came back outside in somewhat of an emotionless state of shock saying, “it was just like you said, it happened just like you said.”

I wish I could tell you that his mother relented, that we saved a life on that day. But she didn’t. We spoke with him for sometime introducing him to Jesus, the God/Man who is King and longing for friends. Who loves to reveal Himself to the sons of men, and the power of the words backed up by what he himself had experienced that day convinced him and a soul was brought into the kingdom. It was noon, and we left.

Every time I stand in front of an abortion clinic with red tape on my mouths, and a red band on my wrist, petitioning the courts of Heaven on behalf of life in the womb, and for mercy on this nation, I see that little clinic, and remember the life that was almost saved.  Revival only comes after great sacrifice, not of violent actions or political overthrow, but of men and women willing to lay down their lives in the secret place of prayer and fasting. It’s that simple, and that difficult. To die to our flesh and our worldly desires that souls might be saved, that lives might be saved. Oh that You would find faith on the earth at Your return Jesus, oh that You would find a friend in my heart.

“Jesus, I plead Your blood over my sins and the sins of my nation. God end abortion, and send revival to America”

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