By Heather Gresham
Based on a true story
A friend that I had not seen in quite some time was coming for a visit. We decided to round up the whole gang for a day of shopping and reminiscing. We went to a mall with shops that fit all of our interests. As time wore on, the group had separated to patronize different businesses, and it was now just my friend and me, walking along the store fronts. I hadn’t yet bought a thing, but he had purchased a book about the Holocaust.
Finally, we came upon a store that really interested me and I decided I’d go inside to take a look around, so as not to go home empty-handed. It was really a very frilly place and my friend decided he would be better suited to sit outside on a park bench and read his new book.
I bought a few items and spent a little more time just browsing. Eventually I returned outside where I found my friend wrapped up in an intense debate with another gentleman.
I approached the two men and I heard my friend saying, “How on earth was THIS justified?” He was pointing to a photo in his Holocaust book, showing a heap of skeletal bodies.
“How can you call yourself a Christian man? These people, they were all God’s children. The children…who knows what they would have become?”
I had no idea what the man had said to my friend (but I gathered it was both idiotic and unfounded). Not a word more from him. He glared long and hard at my friend and stomped away.
My friend looked at me, face beat-red, and said, “Hypocrite, HYPOCRITE! Can you BELIEVE the NERVE of that HALFWIT?!”
I must interject to tell you this: many a time, I felt similar anger towards a person. Ironically, that person was this friend, who now, before my very eyes, had steam coming out of both his ears.
How many times had I spouted out words at him like the words he had just spoken? Many, many times over the years.
You see, my friend has always made the claim that he is a staunch pro-choice Christian. He has often proudly proclaimed himself a Christian…but one that can justify the murder of unborn babies.
Now, it just so happened that in my purse tucked between my mail was a pamphlet on abortion from a Christian perspective.
I had been searching for the right time to give it to him. Now was the time.
Without saying a thing, I retrieved the pamphlet from my purse, opened it, and placed it, picture up, in his hands.
He looked down and I watched his eyes as he read in big, bold letters “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you”. I knew that he was well aware of the origin of the saying (he was a Christian after all). Then I watched his gaze go down the page to the large photo. It was a picture of a trash bin overflowing with aborted baby limbs. I took my index finger and pointed at the picture, just as he had done moments before to the photo in his book. I did not say a word. For once, I didn’t have to plead my case. He already had, just seconds ago.
His angry eyes at once turned sad. They watered with the realization. He looked deep into my eyes. “Hypocrite, HYPOCRITE” he said, “I’m such a halfwit”.
I muttered, “yes?”
He started, “For years you’ve been trying to show me this. Why, just yesterday I posted something on my Facebook wall that read ‘I’m pro-choice because I don’t think that anyone has the right to tell anyone else what to do’. I feel like such a fool.”
“Why’s that? I ask.
“This…these children…” He gazed all again at the photo. “All this time, I thought they were the Mother’s to decide what she wanted done with them. But…but, they aren’t just the Mother’s children. Firstly, they are GOD’S children. THESE MOTHERS ARE MURDERING GOD’S CHILDREN.”
I took my friend’s hand and I read his next thought. We looked at each other, and said in unison:
“WHO KNOWS WHAT THEY WOULD HAVE BECOME?”
Heather Gresham is a wife and mother to three children (ages 4, 2, and 1). She lives in Southwest Iowa, and she’s the Liberty Iowa Dist. 3 Coordinator. She enjoys homeschooling, photography, organic gardening, political activism and above all, serving God, her family, friends and community. She also dabbles in writing every now and then (on the rare occasion that the house is quiet).