Storm Stories: Rising Storm: Part Three

Today, the defining tale of how I became TheNorEaster concludes.  This is my Story to Tell.  And today, I earn my name.  Because today…

I AM THE STORM

by TheNorEaster

Tuesday night.

Nine and a half weeks later.

After a tense conversation, she finally said it:  ”I had an abortion Saturday, asshole!”

An atomic bomb went off in my chest.

Hard to believe that just a few years ago I had been among the most passionate supporters of the pro-life movement.  I attended rallies.  Held signs that read “Abortion Kills Children.”  Even made a cameo appearance on network television for stating my views with such conviction.  And passion.

But, what was I now?  Who had I become…?

A hypocrite?  Hadn’t gone to church since my friend had been murdered.  I figured if God was so cruel to let me live just to watch so many people die then I didn’t want anything to do with Him.

And in the days…and weeks…and months…and years that followed, every time I saw a baby I thought of the child I had lost.  Soon, it didn’t matter how old a person was; I could see a ninety-year-old man struggling to pick a dime up off the floor of the supermarket, and I would think of how precious his life is in the eyes of God.

Many times–so many times–I had wanted God to forgive me.  All I wanted was for someone “to tell me the story, the one about Eternity“.  But every time I had thought about Him, the merciless sea of billboards and bumper stickers would drive me away.

“Abortion Stops A Beating Heart.”

“the Abortionists:  Whacking Babies Since 1973.”

“Terrorists have killed 3,000 Americans since 1990.  Abortionists have killed 4,000 Americans since yesterday.”

“Abortion:  Infant Genocide” (with a Nazi Swastika in the first “O” in abortion).

“‘Vote Pro-Choice.’  -Satan.”

How could God possibly forgive me?

Of course, people say it “wasn’t your fault; you never knew.”  But I could have returned her calls.

I just didn’t love her.

Perhaps that was my greatest sin.

Eventually, I figured it was a fair trade since–according to those christians–even God didn’t love me.

And the pro-life movement I had once supported so passionately had me now filled with such false guilt and had taught me such self-hatred…

…I tried to kill myself.

For obvious reasons, I never really told anybody about that until now.

I have heard so many so-called “christians” tell me that I love God, then call me a murderer.

I have seen my grief turned into an advertisement on a billboard that forces me to remember my child felt pain.

I have been told that God cares about me one moment, and in the next instant I am guilty of genocide.

And I have seen prominent pastors and politicians exploit Christendom on this matter for the sole purpose of getting elected.

If you are among those who have said such things, you have done me more harm than any atheist and every satanist.  Yes, iron sharpens iron, but there are those who twist their gifts from God into fiery blades of inflammatory rhetoric–and they have stabbed my heart a thousand times.

As for the politicians, I remember during the 2008 campaign a pro-life vice presidential candidate had been asked an inflammatory question about whether or not she would put a teenager, who had been raped, in jail if that girl had tried to get an abortion.  As expected, the candidate answered that she would counsel that girl to “choose life”.

And I remember watching the interview and thinking, “Okay.  Great.  She chose life.  Now what?  Where will you be after her baby is born?  What if the girl’s own mother throws her out of the house?  Where will she go?  How is she supposed to work and raise a child?  Will you support day care services through your church?  Will you be there in ten years when the child gets sick or severely injured and needs medical attention?”

Such questions about the practical matters of raising a child are all too often ignored in the national dialogue of the pro-life movement.  And the pro-life political party has held The White House for twenty-four of the last thirty-six years since abortion has been legal in The United States.

This is what the pro-life movement, and its adjacent politcal party, both ignore in the national dialogue.  And until such truths are adequately addressed, I will never vote for such a candidate.  Should I support the noose that strangles me?

Now.  When you do something for twenty-four years and it doesn’t work, and millions of lives are at stake, I think it’s time to do something else.  So when Barack Obama said that he wants make health insurance accessible, I decided to listen.

“But universal health insurance means I have to pay for someone else!  And that’s not fair!”

Tell you what.  Let’s talk about what’s not fair.

It is not fair that Jesus never sinned and yet paid the penalty for your sins.

It is not fair that He took your punishment upon Himself.

It is not fair that He gave up His Throne and got beaten and battered unrecognizable.

It is not fair that you, sinner, will walk on streets of gold when you deserve to burn in Hell for all eternity.

He also healed the sick and feed the poor.  If He had done that today, He would probably be accused of supporting welfare.

Or communism.

Will accessible health insurance put an end to abortion?  Of course not!  It is simply one step on the road less travelled, which is certainly better than the path of least resistance.  Even if that step is successful, there are still miles to go.

But, One already paid your price.  Is your iPhone so important to you that you would be Cain?  (By the way, no one ever holds a charity dinner for a homeless prostitute.)

And why do I risk the wrath of these pro-life fanatics?  Because the ones whose politcal agenda takes precedence over God’s Truth are the ones He will hold accountable for the plague of false guilt I faced.

Just as I am accountable for my sins.

But, there is just one difference between myself and the pro-life fanatics:  I know that what I did was wrong.

And I certainly knew that I was an asshole.  She was definitely right about that.

Was.

I can say that, you know, because I have been forgiven for all eternity–despite the best efforts of the pro-life publicity to convince me otherwise.  Still, I believe in The Almighty.

But the land inside is still devasted because of the plague of false guilt.

And if I, a man, faced such false guilt, how much more so a woman?

And if one man endured that much poison from pro-life publicity, how many more actually did take their own lives?  Simply because the methods have surpassed the message.

In fact, the methods have become the message.

Judgment trumps justice.

Hatred overshadows mercy.

Condemnation takes precedence over compassion.

And the church travels the road to Hell with the best intentions.

Is it any wonder “prostitutes will get into the Kingdom of God before you do”?  (Matthew 21:31)

And to this day, whenever I see pro-life people marching, that atomic bomb goes off again.  My heart starts racing.  My hands start shaking.  My adrenaline shoots through my bloodstream.  And I want to get out of my car.

Shake my fist at them in a maddening rage of grief.

And.  Scream.

“I have been forgiven by The Most High God Himself!“

But, I know the sinful nature always wants to take the path of least resistance.

A complex matter like abortion cannot be reduced to the simplicity of a single law.

If we really want to put an end to abortion–and I definitely do–we need to address the reasons that lead women to make that decision in the first place instead of reducing the matter to simple definitions for our own convenience.

We need to start thinking beyond the first nine months.

We must consider the next nine decades.

Yes, I do believe that life is sacred.  So much so that my concern for it starts at conception and ends with a funeral.

I have never met a Christian who did not believe in life after death.

I just wish more of us believed in life after birth.

So we can give our children a life worth living.

Even God’s children must grow up.