What would really happen if we defunded Planned Parenthood and ended abortion
by Ashley M Gorman
It’s no surprise that the most recent Planned Parenthood video and interview has started another wave of outrage. A Planned Parenthood “procurement technician” confesses that she was instructed to cut open a baby’s face while its heart was still beating, post-birth. The goal: procuring an intact brain that can be used for medical research.
First, before I get on my soapbox, let me say that I understand the outrage of my fellow Christians. I myself teared up, caught my breath, and prayed after reading the article.
For those of you who may not subscribe to Christianity, this is where the outrage comes from.
See, as believers, we believe that little, twenty-something-week-old baby was known by God in his mother’s womb, with its every day planned out. We believe he was fearfully and wonderfully made. We believe that his soul, like every soul, had fingerprints of the Divine on it. We believe that his whole being was knit together and seen by God, even in the moments that seem insignificant to the world. We believe that he was given a personality and unique gift-sets and passions that would light him up inside when he got to do them and even little, funny quirks crafted by the hand of the Lord.
I believe that very same thing of every human being I know.
Those are the things that incite all the outrage—the idea that this is a human with built-in, unique personhood that was cut short. I am one who understands and believes in the sanctity of human life, and I’m in favor of shutting down Planned Parenthood, and abortion in general. But I’m also one who wants to understand what that will mean for us all.
Now, let me tell you what I don’t understand about the outrage after seeing the pictures of a huge Christian protest to defund Planned Parenthood.
I was drifting off to sleep, with the images of the rally in my mind. I saw the signs and replayed the prayer that the pastor prayed in my mind. Things started blurring together and the haze of shouts and posters were starting to quiet down as I fell further into sleep.
And then the Lord, as He always does, prodded a bit. He, as usual, asked a question.
I was annoyed and tired and didn’t feel like going there. Come on, I’m half asleep.
Ugh, how many what? People were there? I don’t know. Thousands.
Whyyyyyyyyy do you ask ambiguous questions like this?
I tried to sleep some more but the question was plastered across my mind, in big bold letters. He wasn’t letting up.
I resituated myself. Sometimes he lets me do my thing, but this time, He clearly wanted to talk.
Okay. How many what? Abortions were there last year? 327,000 or something like that. I think something like 31,000 in North Carolina.
How many WHAT? Times are you going to ask this question?! I just told you the number of people at the rally and the number of abortions. I have no other numbers for you. And you already know them anyway because you’re God.
So you asked those … for me to put them together. But…why?
He went silent as he often does when he wants me to put pieces together for myself.
And then it came to me—clear as day…
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