What if we had more Christians working in abortion clinics?

It’s a scandalous question, but when I have shied away from a little controversy? There’s a song by Ani Difranko that tells of her abortion. She describes the picket lines of people yelling at her, and the cost and pain of the abortion procedure. It’s a very moving song, but one of the lines grips like no other.

“she offered her hand for me to hold
she offered stability and calm
and I was crushing her palm
through the pinch pull wincing
my smile unconvincing
on that sterile battlefield that sees
only casualties
never heros
my heart hit absolute zero
Lucille, your voice still sounds in me
mine was a relatively easy tragedy.”

It builds a haunting mental picture. Ani remembers two sets of people from that day: the Christians protesting her right to choose and the gentle woman who held her hand throughout the procedure.

Now that you see where the question comes from let’s get to the question. What if Christians weren’t the ones spewing hate, holding picket signs? What if Lucille had been a Christian? What if Ani had left that clinic with an understanding that Christians are caring, deeply compassionate people? Ani Difranko saw the venomous unloving side of Christianity on her way into that building, but what if the woman holding her hand had explained to her the grace and forgiveness of Christ?

It’s a scandalous question; but it’s also a scandalous grace.

The Leftover Communion Bread

It had been just bread, but we blessed it and we consecrated it and now it was, for us, the body of Christ – or a symbol of that body, or something in-between. We ate of it with tears of sorrow, joy, emotion, shame, and love. It was beautiful.

And that which was left was left with me. I had two options. I could eat the rest or throw it to the birds. These fit nicely with our theology, I was told. I neither ate the bread nor threw it to the birds.

I was afraid that if I ate it I would eat it wrong. Is it okay to eat the Savior with PB&J? Can I toast the Risen one without offense? I was afraid that I would commit a sacrilege so I didn’t eat the bread.

I was afraid to feed the birds. My neighbors already think I’m nuts. Who is this mighty madman Methodist out feeding the birds with half a loaf of bread? I imagined I would wait till dark and do it in the secret of the night. But, I put it off, and put it off, and put if off some more.

Until one day I came upon the bread. Now stale and moldy, it resembled not the Lord I had known. I forgot all my reasons for not eating the remainder of the bread or for not throwing it to the birds. I only saw the stale, moldy bread.

I only saw my own life. When I was afraid to live in the joy of the life of Christ for fear of what other would say. When I was afraid to tell others that they would think me ridiculous. I watched the tough, green bread and saw not the Christ, but rather – my own life.