“What parish are you from?” the Catholics at the sign table asked us. I wanted to say, “The Will-Not-Perish. St. John 3:16.” Instead I said, “We’re pro-life Protestants.”
Most of the signs they were handing out read “Abortion Kills Children.” Instead, in keeping with the 40 days of prayer, I chose “Lord, Forgive Us and Our Nation.” Jerry, whose oldest granddaughter would have been aborted without his knowledge or consent if his daughter’s doctor had his way, held up “ADOPTION: the Loving Option.”
I wished I had more hands, so I could hold signs saying,
“Abortion stops a beating heart”
and “Aren’t you glad your mother chose life?”
and (my own variations) “Life shouldn’t be someone else’s choice”
and “Aren’t you glad someone else didn’t choose death for you?”
and “LIFE? Let GOD choose!”
and “You are unique! You were never ‘just tissue’!”
and “You are one-of-a kind! You were never just a piece of your mother!”
and “Abortionists are making a killing!”
I was so, so aware (and Jerry said afterward he was, too) that we were watchmen-on-the-wall, warning thousands of “random” Southern Californians of judgment to come. Aware that between 2:30 and 4:00 on Sunday, October 7, 2012, each of these people was confronted with truth for which they are now eternally accountable.
Aware that “hands that shed innocent blood” is listed third among the top seven things God hates. Aware that those who take the innocent blood of the unborn in this country are sacrificing to the same god, Moloch, as the idolatrous nations of the Old Testament who burned their children alive.
Some drivers honked in solidarity with our stand. Some held up thumbs. Some held up middle fingers. I didn’t have my glasses on and couldn’t distinguish digits so I just smiled at everyone.
Ezekiel 33; Proverbs 6:16-19; Wikipedia: Moloch (scroll down to “Biblical Texts”)