Five tenets of a pro-life advocate

[This post is published at Live Action News.]

In Portland, Oregon, in 1981, just eight short years after Roe vs. Wade passed, I was born to two fervent pro-life activists. 

Our home was the headquarters of traditional yet uncompromising pro-life advocacy. My father and his friend vigilantly interviewed those running for office and published the Voter's Guide for Oregon Right to Life. My mother and her friends stood outside of local abortion clinics, attempting to make contact with women to help them see the value of the lives in their wombs. Then they threw them baby showers.

In high school and college, I wanted my turn fighting on the balance beam of life and death. But in my college town, there was (thankfully) no abortion clinic to protest. Where did I belong?

Then a troubling new theme emerged, which forced a new bent to my activism. I began to meet women who went through with abortion, but not because it was their choice. They were forced, one by an abusive boyfriend and another by unsupportive parents. 

The polarized abortion movements offered them no options either. They were either supposed to embrace with pride their right to an abortion, or slink into the shadows as a new accusation of "Murderer" hung over their heads. How are these real choices? 

During college I studied social work, and after a few years in the field, my advocacy continues to evolve. Today I find myself among one of the highest-stress populations: military families. Social workers are thoroughly trained to swallow personal opinions. But I know lives are stake here. 

In my work today, these five beliefs and actions serve as my guide:

1. I believe "Every woman wants to raise her child". I realize this is not true in every circumstance, but this is the belief I operate under when talking with women sitting on the fence of abortion, adoption, or raising her child. The stories I've heard about women having abortions were nearly all out of fear and lack of options. But what if she had options? What if she felt supported? I believe in these conditions, most women want to raise their own child. 

Read the rest at Live Action News. 

What God Hates More Than Bad Government

When God donned human flesh and arrived on earth around 2000 years ago, he knew there was a big problem. But God's idea of the problem, and therefore his solution, were a little different than the expectations to which he arrived. 

Scriptures foretold a powerful warrior king who would rescue all people and set up an infinite and eternal kingdom of his own. In fact, God-experts and prophets had been talking up a great salvation for hundreds if not thousands of years by the time he got there. 

The legalistic few had plenty of time to define the problem: the truest, wildest oppressors were the men and women who ruled over them with a heavy hand, who did not have their best interests in mind. 

This problem in clear view, they knew exactly who were looking for: A king who would use military strength to overthrow oppressive governments who were in opposition to their God, culture and way of life. 

So it's no wonder when Jesus showed up as a carpenter from the wrong side of Israel, all scraggly and earthy, it was clear he was not the long-awaited Savior. 

photo cred: throughthescriptures.wordpress.com

Jesus, a guy who doesn't bother to start his ministry until he is 30. Not at all in a rush to solve world hunger by age 25. Not making a run for public office. Hanging out with children and sick people and various vagabonds and ruffians. He just didn't seem to have much of a political agenda. 

Sure, he spoke like a man who knew what he was talking about. He had the nation talking, a figure of controversy. He started a movement. 

But he was no king. 

Don't stop what you're doing and get all bothered with this guy," the teachers of the law urged the people. "He's obviously not the one we're waiting for."

That much was clear. He was NOT who they were waiting for. Jesus was not the answer to their problem. 

But God, being God and all, had a wider scope of the problem. He saw human history as impacted by a far greater evil, a much more wicked tyrant: sin. Sin and its deception that we too can be God plunged humanity into its deepest darkness without a plan for self-rescue. 

This problem did not touch only one small people group. Everyone alive was under the spell. 

So along came Jesus, into the muck. Knowing he would arrive to a people who should be eager to meet him, and yet he would become the nation's greatest disappointment. 

Today we still pick the wrong enemy. We magnify the darkness of tyrannical governments and the political agendas of others with whom we disagree, only to miss the world's most horrific evil: the sin and pride in every human heart. 

It's in me. It's in you. We all want to be God. This motive is behind every war, every mass genocide, every murder, every hateful thought. 

And if it weren't for Jesus, we and the whole earth, would be stuck this way. 

But thank God for Jesus, who understood the true oppressor and dealt with it violently. Putting death to death, ripping away its sting forever. 

But to live in the freedom we've been afforded, we must identify the problem the same as God does. What evil do we hate most? Is it those who disagree with us or those who vote differently than us? Or do we hate above all things the sin found in our own heart? This is where God can swing in with generous helpings of the grace and freedom Jesus purchased with his death.

www.thedailybanter.com 

As we see our President swear in for four more years, whether we agree with his beliefs and intentions or not, please be conscious of the thoughts and intent of your own heart. Because those are what Jesus died for.  

One final note:

We do not hate ourselves - not ever. That is not agreement with God as we are made in his image. To hate self is to hate God. But he despise anything that comes out of us that disagrees with who God is and ask for grace to rebel against it.

Liberty is Superior

I am a human rights snob. And it's all Jesus' fault.


Two thousand some odd years ago, he was walking around, a respected teacher and itinerant preacher, a man of kindness and compassion. But rather than hoarding all the honor everyone bestowed on him, he overflowed it into the lives of everyone he met. He crowned them with the grace he carried and the esteem that others gave him. He just bounced it back out to others. 


To the chagrin of the Religious Right-All-The-Time, he notoriously elevated the status of every person he came into contact with. [How irritating.] 


There were the prostitutes, or women with shoddy pasts, to whom he restored dignity and gave the right of access to him in friendship and support. Healing and forgiveness.


There was the guy formerly known as crazy out in the hills and caves, running around naked, slashing himself with sharp objects. He left his encounter with Jesus cleaned up and with "a sound mind". 


There was the Samaritan woman, ethnically "inferior", per the Jewish line of thought, whom he was discovered chatting with, telling her her own life story, and converting her heart out of love and the draw of redemption.


There were those uneducated, teenage fishermen he befriended at the local seashore. He gave them 24/7 access to himself, taught them everything he knew, well, as much as they could handle, and commissioned them to wreck the world for the sake of beauty and reconciliation. And wreck the world, they did.


Everyone he looked at, spoke to, touched was better for the interaction. Can you imagine what it would be like to be this way? Of course everyone wanted to be around him. That kind of love gave him an incredible power because he had no plans, no desire to abuse it. He was nothing like the Pharisees, the legalistic, power-hungry leaders of the day, who sought to maintain control over the people by interpreting God's words in ways that gave them more authority. Jesus had no room for this type of thinking, this flagrant abuse of power. 


I've lived under the acceptance of Jesus and his honor toward people, particularly women, my whole life. I took it for granted for much of that time. But over the years, I've grown to understand just how counter-cultural his worldview was. Now, America and sadly, even the Church in America, has a ways to go in accepting women as equals to men, and even for women to understand that inherently because of their humanity, and no other qualification, they have destinies, callings and rights bestowed on them by a Creator who will hold all people accountable for their interactions with each other. However, I am overwhelmingly grateful for the rights women do have here. 


I am going to work today. I am going to drive my car there. I have a Bachelors and a Masters degree in fields of study that I chose. I selected my husband - well, we chose each other - and I married him on a date that I set in a location I chose. I am a co-owner of this home, a co-pastor alongside my husband in our church. I have so many rights, I don't know what to do with them. 

Saudi women playing soccer. It's not really a sport there since women are playing. [Photo courtesy of Amnesty International]

So when I see women in Afghanistan or Saudi Arabia struggling to obtain basic literacy, living completely covered as if to say "We are ashamed of you", without the right to drive, receive medical care or select a life partner of their own choosing, I am outraged. If you must oppress women, then you are giving away your fear of them. What would happen if these women had educations and drivers' licenses? What if they could vote? Or wear pants? Yes, be afraid. Women are a force to be reckoned with. Why else would history have enslaved us? 


Ah, but I digress. 


It is Jesus' way of life that has earned for me, for all women, the rights that we have. Jesus knows our destinies, and he honors them. He sets us up to succeed in them. He and Father God are the ones who have given us each a call on our lives that can only be lived out and fulfilled by each, individual one of us. In the skin we were given, male or female. He certainly would not want to repress us out of living in the beauty and creativity he himself designed us to live in. 


Christianity lived out as it was taught by Jesus permits not only this creativity and innovation of a unique person, but also true free will and freedom of choice for all people, yes, even women. I long to see these nations come to know this Jesus who will give them freedom from oppression in their government, relationships, and most importantly, in their hearts. Their interactions with Jesus will elevate them for a mentality of a slave, a fearful child without a voice, to an adopted, accepted, beloved daughter. A human of such worth that God was willing to send his only Son to redeem her. 


Yes, we have the best God. I will brag about him all day. The more I talk about him, the more rights, liberty and the pursuit of joy will be released in the world. 


If you want to do something really practical with me though, join up with Amnesty International and take a bit of real-life action by signing this petition to allow women to drive in Saudi Arabia. It's a small thing, but think of the access to the world they will have with this simple privilege. Please join me in sending this message to the people of Saudi. 


We see you, Saudi women. Because we love Jesus and we know how much he loves you, we cannot help but honor you and stand with you in your fight for civil rights.

Happy Birthday, Freedom

So thankful for the freedom we have to play in the muddy water, get sloppy puppy love, eat hot dogs and drink beer (or soda or whatever), and watch a spectacle of color explosions in the sky, at least once a year.

But even more thankful for safety and freedom from fear, for the right to vote stupid and smart, for the right to bear arms, and the ever-increasing progress of civil and women's rights. May our nation always make the sacrifices necessary to maintain freedom in our law, our land and our hearts and minds.

Here's to freedom. Real Freedom.

Cauc.U.S.

This must be why they called it the Grand "Old" Party

They say you make some of the biggest decisions of your life in middle school. That's true. Partly because that's the first time I drank beer on purpose and the first time I asked a boy out. [Since you're dying to know, he said "No". But it's okay, Doug Adney. I'm happy now.] 

Fast forward 17 years and here I am again, in a middle school cafeteria, still making gigantic choices, but this time about who will run the United States of America. I attended the GOP Caucus for Riley County on Saturday, my first caucus ever. Needless to say I did a few things wrong, or backwards, but I wasn't ridiculed to my face so we'll call it a win. I got there two hours into the event so I missed the speeches from the candidates' representatives. I didn't even know they did speeches at these things. Fortunately, I still had time to talk with the reps though, but I didn't know that either until I'd sat down at a cafeteria table and cast my vote. I could've asked questions about the process, but that would've revealed my ignorance. Instead, I learned by trial and error. So consider this photo-journalistic journey through the caucus a raw tutorial if you've never "caucused" yourself. 

I guess you go in here.

Amazing that this stuff is held in a junior high cafeteria. Politicians and representatives hobnobbing amongst milk stains and Cheerio crumbs. Tell me you love the irony.

I found friends who came to caucus: Barb and her son, Dave.

Politician menu: oooh, oooh which one should I pick?  Not telling.

Newt's representative, Ms Friesen, offered me her speech to read since I missed it. To the left is a list of reasons why Newt is the man. 
[Most of the other reps had left for the day, except Ron Paul's, but his table was crowded with collegiate, idealistic libertarians, and I didn't feel like arguing about the fact that we can't pull out of Afghanistan tomorrow or that, for some many reasons, we can't dissociate from Israel. So I left them alone.]

And here she is, a very convinced Ms. Friesen, Newt's representative who also happens to be a homeschooling mother. She told me all the reasons why Romney's pursuit of venture capitalism wasn't really going to create jobs and Santorum just needed a little more vetting, although he's a very nice guy. She had some compelling arguments. But I'd already voted.

See you in 8 more years, GOP Caucus. Or 4, if we get more of the same in November.

So there you have it, a real, live caucus experience through the eyes of a real, live caucus rookie.

Something for everyone

Whether you need a politically savvy chuckle or a few moments of productive introspection, there's something for everyone here on this weekend update.

Something funny:

How to derail your presidential campaign in 56 seconds or less for $200, Alex.  

Answer: What is Herman Cain's newest Time for Action campaign ad?  No really, what is it?  As in, what was he thinking?  From the cigarette smoking to the creepo smile at the end, it's a little fun to imagine how the ad director must've been guiding this from scene to scene.  Maybe something like this...?

           "Okay, cue "I Am America", nice and loud.  Okay, great.  Now, Mark, look right at the camera, real serious, good, and take a big drag of that cigarette, James Dean-style.  Excellent.  Now cut to Herman.  Let's do a profile shot, and let's go from not smiling to a semi-smiling thing.  Okay, looks great.  Cut.

Someone was seriously smoking something to think this ad would get Mr. Cain even "one day closer to the White House".  (Pun intended.)  Maybe my favorite line: "I really believe that Herman Cain could put 'united' back in the United States of America, and if I didn't believe that, I wouldn't be here."  Oh, Mark.  I wish that was convincing.  But unfortunately, just believing something won't get Herman into the White House, anymore than it got Harold Camping followers raptured on May 22, or October 21.

As for me, I will be dutifully monitoring The Colbert Report and SNL for the spoofs that will most definitely ensue.  Herman, we're not laughing at you.  We're laughing with you, or at least smiling smugly.

Something thoughtful:
On a less disturbing/hilarious note, my entrepreneur and big-dreamer pal, Blair Reynolds, recently posted a blog on Intimacy on his publishing company website.  In it he discusses the subtle ways we protect ourselves from intimacy - and the answer may surprise you.  It's an ill many of us needlessly endure, and it's keeping us from real depth of relationships, the intimacy we crave. Give this some thought - see how anxiety may be eroding the quality of your intimacy.

She will be loved

Aren't they beautiful?  And to think they've all been named "Unwanted"...

My friend pointed me to this article on Fox News about a spot of hope in the plight of young girls in Asian countries like India and China.  For girls like these (above), changing their names could mean a chance to change their lives.

Girls in these Eastern nations are dying of a strange disease.  It is social, not medical but a disease nonetheless. For many families, boys put them in a better social situation, bringing in a dowry at marriage instead of requiring one. Boys can carry on the family name after the parents pass and light the parents' funeral pyre at their death, according to the Hindu tradition.  Women, although rare, are treated as property, aborted when inconvenient, neglected in childhood, offered for a price and sold to the highest bidder when a wife is sought.  Unfortunately, this cultural practice of eliminating women creates a crisis for the "chosen" men who eventually want a woman later in life.  Where they are scarce, girls are trafficked in for marriage and breeding purposes, according to a report in the Economist.  And as we might suspect, their quality of life does not improve, even as wives. The personal narratives of several Indian women tell tales of socially acceptable abuse - beatings and forced abortions - endured until their bodies produce a son for their husbands.

It's a painfully counter-intuitive situation. Supply and demand rules suggest that if something is rare, it gains value. This is not the case with the girls of India.  Although sought-after as wives, they are named "Nakusa", or "unwanted" at birth, left to bear the disappointment of their existence, as if they chose to be female to spite a few distant family members. Instead of highly treasured as beautiful individuals with life-giving abilities, a quality much-desired by families seeking wives for their sons, they undergo the tortures of neglect, forced abortion and the grief of carrying this "undesirable" status.  The number of girls, decreasing at a rate of almost 7,000 per day, creates a new kind of poverty - a lack of women. And while this reality increases the monetary value offered for a girl, it somehow never touching her intrinsic worth in the eyes of her nation.

I'll be discussing this topic further in a liveaction.org piece, but I had to relay some of these discoveries now, vent some of the anger and sadness and sift through the injustice.  Thanks for reading.

Happy Singles Awareness Day

My friend, Alison, told me she got a Happy Singles Awareness Day wish from her friend today, and I thought I would pass on the good tidings.  Today is also Valentine's Day, if you're of that persuasion.  Or Anna Howard Shaw Day if you watch 30 Rock and listened to Liz Lemon's tirade about the true meaning of February 14th.

I have a new Valentine this year so I thought I would celebrate with a couple photos of us hanging out.

He's wonderfully squishy.

John's been quite the socialite lately, especially with his young lady friends.  Don't worry; his visits have all been closely chaperoned.  There was some hand-holding, but that's all.  And I'm pretty sure that wasn't even intentional.

John and Charleigh get cozy at their first play date.  John is slightly unsure of what to make of the situation.

Grace and John had a great time together.  Well, he enjoyed himself.  She was harder to convince.

Perhaps because it is not a tiny, human female, John felt quite comfortable giving this monkey a big hug.  I think it's the start of a lifelong friendship.

In other news, I'm finally getting around to keeping that commitment I made a few weeks ago.  What?  You already forgot the commitment?  It would seem I had also.  In case it's completely slipped your mind, I joined a six-week fitness program at work, complete with a team of equally out-of-shape but motivated individuals, willing to confess to each other how many fruits and veggies they ate a week, as well as how much time they spent in exercise.   The worst reminders of my less-than-convincing commitment to the program were when I had to turn in my piddly fitness points at the end of the week.  I was the weakest link to be sure.  After three weeks of single digit fitness numbers, I decided a change would do me good.  And I couldn't let my team down any longer.  It was going to be bad for my reputation and would certainly decrease my invites to co-worker events.  And so, a-running I did go.

To prove that I did in fact don running attire - you will have to take my word for it that I actually left the house wearing it - here is a photo.

Yup, here I am, baby, shoes and all.  I left him at home for the run.  Wasn't really sure how to carry him while I "ran"

.

Am I going to train for a serious race, like a marathon, you ask?  Ha ha ha ha ha ha!  I can't stop laughing.  (Serious face.)  Right now, I'm just proud I still know how to tie my running shoes.

Before I lose myself in self-deprecation, I'll have you know that I had a fairly successful first day back on the sidewalks.  After carefully plotting out an approximately 3 mile course, I decided to run 30 minutes, hoping to make the 3 miles in that time.  About 5 minutes into the run, I realized that this was far too ambitious for my semi-blobular body.  (Yes, blobular is a word, most often used to describe women who recently had a child and chose not to make fitness a priority anywhere in the past 18 months.  May not apply to all women who fit this criteria.)  At that moment, I decided 20 minutes was a plenty good start.  And so I schlepped on, my feet feeling heavier than they had all year.  Or all of last year for that matter.  I stopped at 10 minutes to rest, I mean, stretch, and finished the last half of the run tired but proud.  The run yielded close to 2 miles of sidewalk conquered.  Whenever I take running up after a hiatus, I try to start at 2 miles.  Since I accomplished that, I will call it good.  I do enjoy running for running's sake, but I will probably train for a 10k or some other race just so to keep myself motivated.  Let's hope graduating back into some of my pre-progeny clothing is also part of my reward.