A Thunder-Clap For God’s Heavenly Acre…

grave

The grave is deep for those whose lives have been snuffed out before ever experiencing breath in their lungs.

Though none have tombstones of marble, or mourners with flowers, their blood still stains the soil of my country and countless others.

They had beating hearts that wise ones desired to be stopped.

So we stopped them. With our laws. And our compliance. And our indifference.

Our selfishness.

We sit back in casual discussion and debate their very existence. Or slump in pitiable embarrassment of our own views. It’s easy to hide behind political talk and feminism. Or get distracted by other issues so much that we ignore their muffled cries from the crushing pain and extracting procedure. Or worse, we just don’t care about the pain. Even worse still, we convince ourselves they feel nothing.

But nothing with a beating heart feels nothing.

Cecil, a beautiful red-blooded lion, felt the pain of the bullet. And we hate that he had to. Why? Because he was innocent and the death was unnecessary. A man preyed upon a helpless animal needlessly.

Survival of the fittest is ugly.

It sits mournfully in the pit of our stomach, till we demand justice for it.

But we see survival of the fittest at its most unjustly prejudice and cowardous extent in the act of abortion. We are bigger, and they are smaller. We are stronger and they are weaker. We know better and they know nothing. We have important things to do and they do not. So let us exterminate them at our precious will. We spit on and kill what we don’t want. What do we owe them?

And as we now know more than ever, it is big business that we continue to do it.

Turns out these tiny human beings are precious commodities for all the wrong reasons. Inside those globs of tissue grows useful human organs. Organs that can be dissected, researched and harvested for the purpose of giving life to others. We unjustly take one life to give life to another.

But everything whispers His name. Everything screams of His story. Even the atrocious things remind us of the gospel. Of what He did for us.

Every child decimated in the womb relates to Christ. In His unwanted conception and controversial life inside a teenager. Then we spat on and killed Him too. He was crushed and blotted out unfairly. And then He too, gave new life. Ultimate life.

Now those sweet souls of every color, made in His image, see His mercy and rest safely with the Lord. His grace meets them at the gate. And every woman and doctor entrenched in the realities of experiencing and practicing these procedures of death can know the same grace and the same rest. Oh if only their eyes would be opened to the redness of it all. If only.

May it be so.

May this deafening thunder-clap of knowledge pierce the conscience of countless souls in every nation.

May we be awakened to the human blood running and the lofty political lies and the greedy business of it all. How many more disgusting video’s do we need to watch before we admit the inevitable?

Lord, may we finally see it for what it truly is, and open our mouths in defense of the mute. Please let us see swift change.

For the army of little ones in the grave.

In God’s heavenly acre.

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About hisgracemygrowth

I am a wife and full-time mom of a boy and girl who are 13 months a part. I am a Christ-following woman who is striving to honor God in all my endeavours! I stumble often....but His Grace is sufficient!
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