Abortion, the Church, and the Gospel
Today is the 39th anniversary of the Supreme Court’s landmark decision legalizing abortion, Roe v. Wade. Since that time, around 50 million preborn babies have been killed. That’s 10x the population of Colorado, over 15 percent of the population of the whole United States. Obviously, if human life is sacred, our country has a massive problem on its hands.
But there’s another more personal, more immediate problem on my heart as I ponder this issue. It’s the problem the American church has had (in the past, at least) in dealing with abortion. Two problems, actually. We’ve over-politicized it, and we’ve under-personalized it.
By over-politicizing it, some Christians have relied exclusively on governmental means to address the problem: legislation, single-issue voting, rallies, etc. Others have gone the opposite direction in over-politicizing the issue—so afraid to get entangled in politics that they don’t do anything at all. Unfortunately, neither of these responses is faithful to the gospel. The gospel is inescapably about life, and its very shape—an innocent Savior dying for sinners—calls us to protect and serve and provide for those who can’t do these things for themselves. But the gospel also reminds us that societal structures will never be transformed through power and coercion. Jesus laid down His life so His kingdom could come; He didn’t start a political campaign.
By under-personalizing it, Christians have arrogantly assumed that abortion is a problem restricted to “those naughty people out there.” Jesus taught us the shallowness of that evaluation. He showed how abortion (i.e., murder) arises from the same heart as anger, and both are deserving of judgment (Mt 5:21-22). Even more egregious has been our tendency to ostracize those tempted by or connected to abortion—the unwed mom, the panicked dad, the protective parents. We shouldn’t be surprised when these people are drawn to a clinic who offers, “We will take care of you. We will not judge you. We will make all of this go away.” Ashamed, they keep their pain secret. Shamefully for the church, our sanitized façade of goodness often forces them to keep it all concealed.
Once again, it’s a failure to follow the gospel. We who gather at the cross are sinners all, none better, none worse. We all deserve hell; in Christ, we’ve all been there and back. And when desperate sinners realize they are desperately loved, it makes them happy—happy!—to welcome other loved sinners into the family.