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Abortion

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

March for Life: Six Take-aways

 

  1. Encouragement. It was the large numbers of millennials and iGens that thrilled my soul. Thousands of “Students for Life” signs and school groups with matching toboggans were everywhere you looked. There were thousands upon thousands of these thirty-five-and-under adults and teens.  The children of these people may ultimately carry the name “Generation Life.” I pray they do. 
  2. Urgency. The Catholic church was, by far, the most represented body at the March, There are lots of things to do besides march, of course, but I’m praying that our Lord’s church can/will be a more motivated and active protective group for life in the womb. Every voice of every Christian should be saying something, in some forum, for life.
  3. Sadness. Of course there were images of the unborn. Some very large images, along the sidelines of the march, showed the bloody and fully recognizable mutilated babies. Those images are easily seared into the mind. However, looking at those, I felt a great degree of sadness about other babies who are quite ignored, even at events such as this one. I’m speaking of those chemical abortions that occur with pills such as RU-486 on the day of (or a few days after) conception. And I’m speaking about those babies who are left in freezers, to simply remain there indefinitely (or expire and be trashed) following in-vitro procedures. These largely overlooked and uncounted babies are not even included, generally, in the 60 million, that we at least hear about, from organizations like NRLC. There are no flags or crosses displayed for them. They are disposable children who “don’t even count” to the majority of pro-lifers. I find that incredibly sad. 
  4. Motivation. One can hardly attend an event like the March for Life without wanting to do more for the unborn. I came home wanting to do more, say more, and influence more for the babies who are paying the ultimate earthly price for the national sin of abortion.  Immediately, I checked to be sure my representative had signed the Born Alive Protection Act petition. This document is a list of those who, in oversimplified terms, want to insure that every baby born alive as a result of a botched abortion receives medical care in an effort to preserve the already born baby’s life. In other words, this bill, which has been blocked for debate over 75 times by House democrats, would prohibit just killing and trashing a living infant. Could any thinking person tell me why any cognizant representative would defend infanticide? But they are doing it on the hill everyday. Thus, the immediate challenge is to contact your congressman and either thank him for signing the petition for the Born Alive Act or to beg him/her to do so. You can find information and a list of those who have signed here: https://www.republicanwhip.gov (And thanks, Representative Mo Brooks, for signing early on.)
  5. Appreciation. I’m thankful for voices that are powerfully protective of life in our nation at this moment in time. It was a historic moment when our President, for the first time in history, decided to attend and speak at the March. I cannot endorse everything the president says, but I appreciate the strong words he said in behalf of the babies. They were direct and profoundly simple. I’m thankful to him for his powerful pro-life voice. I’m thankful for voices like that of Steve Scalise, who is the strong arm for the Born Alive Act. I’m thankful for the work of Jeanne Mancini and others who organize the March and are tireless in their efforts for the unborn on a national level through the year. I’m acutely grateful to live in a country in which I can find myself in the middle of tens of thousands of people on the national mall making a statement of conscience about a principle of righteousness. Though the principle (of the  Biblical sanctity of life) has been trodden underfoot, it’s still an extreme manifestation of liberty that we can march en masse from the Washington monument to the Supreme Court with our message without fear of persecution and with the protection of our government. May we never take the liberty for granted and further, may we feel a personal responsibility to speak, at every turn, our faith—beginning with taking the gospel to others at every opportunity. The gospel is the answer to every societal malady.
  6. Outrage. The lack of logic on the posters of the few who showed up in support of the pro-choice movement was just that—outrageous: “Pro-Life Hypocrites…Didn’t see ya’ at the March for Climate Control?”  Seriously?….Could there be any conscience-driven person who could, in any universe, equate the hypothesis that man can significantly influence the weather with the historical fact of man’s destructive influence through the Roe v. Wade Supreme Court decision of 1973? That’s outrageous.To propose that these two concerns are on the same plane of urgency is absurdity. 

Finally, this is not exactly a take-away, because I’ve shared this treasure for a lifetime. I took this precious gift with me and brought it back home: the gift of fellowship with sisters. Twenty-four hours in the car and ten miles walking around Capitol Hill with a focus of protecting unborn life has a way of bringing sisters together like no regular fellowship meal (though we’re all about them, too) probably ever will. Our conversations, prayers, shared spaces and debacles were all catalysts for memories and for a hope to do it again with more sisters. So thanks, Lindsey Van Hook, for the idea of the trek (and the vendor pretzels at 4 pm after skipping most of breakfast and all of lunch…It’s hard to decide for which of those I was most thankful.) We’re all most thankful to God for constant provision and protection. 

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

Guest Writer: Isabella Mason on Abortion and Forgiveness (and President Trump at the March!)

As you read, four sisters from West Huntsville and I will be driving to Washington, DC to participate in the March for Life, hosted by the National Right to Life, on Friday. Neither of the five of us have ever been and we are all excited for the fellowship and the continued clarity and focus of the cause. I hope you’ll be praying that the combined voices of thousands will be heard by our legislators in behalf of those who are not given a voice. Sometimes when I step back and look at what’s happened over the past 37 years—the millions of lives taken, the deceit in rhetoric that promotes this murder, and the amazing laissez-faire attitude that even those who wear the name “Christian” can often have about the massacre—I am stunned. How can we see, in the recesses of a mother’s womb, the life that is genetically complete, watch it’s tiny limbs moving, and hear the beat of its heart…and then intentionally rip, or tear, or poison or suffocate that life and somehow think that’s something other than cold-blooded murder? Why are Christians often complacent about this unbelievable atrocity? 

Even as I’m preparing to publish this post, President Trump has posted that he will be present at the event and that he will speak to this large assembly of pro-life advocates. This will be a historic moment. He  will be the first president to ever be present at the March for Life which has been occurring since 1974. I’m excited to witness this Presidential support of the agenda of NRLC and pro-life legislation. We cannot become anesthetized to the horror of abortion just because it’s been routinely occurring for the past 37 years. The devil would love for the people of God to be able to “look the other way” and just not think about the daily and deliberate taking of thousands of innocent lives right in our own country.

I love to encourage young writers. Today, I hope you’ll read from the talented and convicted Isabella Mason, of Hot Springs Village, Arkansas. Isabella is 16. Though you’ll see she’s taken some literary license (writers get to take artistic license) with what a pre-born baby can think, her philosophy is spot on. I know you cannot enjoy what she’s written because of its subject matter, but I hope you will be moved by it and appreciative of it.  

                                                                     My Short Time on Earth

This is a story about me. I don’t have a name because no one bothered to give me one. It all started when my mommy met this guy. He told her he would never let her down, but when she told him she was pregnant with me,  he left, never to be seen again. Therefore, I know nothing about my father. But my mommy? I know her. You see, my life began at conception, so I’m part mom and part dad. After that I began to grow fast in my mommy’s tummy. By the third week I already had a digestive tube and a neural plate. Also, my blood vessels began to form and my tiny heart started beating. In my fourth week my tiny limbs started forming and the organs in my respiratory system began taking shape. In the fifth week I even got kidneys. I had a cartilage skeleton and a stomach making digestive juices by the end of the sixth week, and my brain had developed so much that it could send impulses to control my body functions. Next my nervous system started responding to touch in the seventh week. By the eighth week my heart looked exactly like any adult’s, only much tinier, of course. My cartilage skeleton began to be replaced by bone through a process called ossification. Now I obviously and distinctly looked like a tiny human being! Starting in week nine I was growing at super speed. And by the tenth week I had a fully operational urinary system. By the end of the twelfth week I even had muscles! But while I was busy inside mommy’s tummy living and growing, things on the outside weren’t so great.

      You see, at the time I didn’t know, but my mommy didn’t want me. She wasn’t ready for me to “invade” HER life. That’s why the thought came across to end MY life. She didn’t even consider at least putting me up for adoption, or even keeping me! People told her that an abortion would make this mistake go away, but all it did was make me go away. They convinced her to at least visit an abortion clinic, and for some reason she took their advice. The “doctor” (I thought doctors saved lives; not destroyed them…) told her that it would be a harmless procedure. My mommy was feeling guilty about it though and wasn’t sure she would go through with it. But the “doctor” convinced her that all I was, was “a piece of tissue”. (which wasn’t true!) Sadly, the “date” was set when the dirty deed would be done.

      I was twenty weeks, only two away from the second trimester. I was growing so fast that it wouldn’t be long before I saw my mommy! I would get to bust out of there and finally see the world! I would get to hear my mommy’s clear, gentle voice; and see her beautiful face! But something happened… something terrible… something I thought that my mommy would never do.

      Now I have to tell you about the day I was killed. Mommy went in and the doctor conducted a method called “salt poisoning” (doesn’t sound very harmless, huh?). A salt solution was injected into the amniotic fluid in the sac that surrounded me. It was poisoning me. I was thrashing with indescribable pain that I never thought I’d feel. I was slowly dying all alone. Within an hour and a half, that tiny heart I was telling you about… it wasn’t beating anymore. My life was gone, put out with about as much thought as one blows out a candle. Obviously I didn’t know it (because I was dead), but mommy birthed my dead body within about three days. But that body didn’t scream for mommy, or gasp for breath, or even utter a small cry. My old body was still and lifeless. 

      Like I said though, there was no life in my physical body. But when I opened my eyes next, it was like I was reborn (or, you know, actually born, since I didn’t make it that far on earth). I wasn’t in pain anymore. I couldn’t even feel sad about my mommy and dad not wanting me. It was an inexplicable peace. Then I saw Him. He was my TRUE Father. The One who had always loved me and wanted me when no one else did. He had been with me while I was in my mommy’s tummy growing and developing into a child… His child. He was with me in the dark when I thought that I was dying all alone. I belonged to Him! 

      I looked around and you wouldn’t have believed what I saw. I saw children like me who had been aborted and children that had been sacrificed to pagan gods by their parents. There were so many I could never count. I realized that many people had given their precious children up to death, and here I found them.

       LOVE. Love of parents, love of family, and love of a friend or spouse… I never felt in my short time on earth. But this… this love… God’s love… it was the love He wanted my mommy and dad and family to give me. It’s a shame I was never given a chance. But I spent my time in paradise….It was wonderful! And God gave me a whole eternity!

      And now I get to tell you about a great day, a terrible day, the happiest day for some, and the saddest day for others. It’s called the Judgment Day. When it came around all had to answer for the things they did. Sadly, some did not have the blood of Christ to wash their sins away so that God could see their sins no more and receive them into Heaven. I saw my mommy for the last time that Day. God asked her why she made the decision to abort me. I will recount to you her reply… “Oh, Lord, I was scared. I was selfish. I cared only about my own life and not the life of my child. After I birthed my child’s lifeless body, I went home and cried and cried until I was sick with grief. The guilt overcame me. But when I realized what I had done, it was too late. My child was gone forever… because of me. And I have rejected You too, my Creator.”

My mommy had never known God on earth. I wish she would have. We could have made up for the years we lost on earth. If only she would have listened to the Christian that tried in vain to show her the Way. If only she would have believed in the Lord, and that he died for her sins. If only she would have repented of the sin she committed… the Lord would have forgiven her! If only she would have confessed that Jesus was the Son of God. If only she would have been saved by the washing away of her sin though baptism and lived the rest of her life for God! But this, she did not do, though I wish she would have. Then I could have felt her love as she hugged me for the first time. 

                                       By: Isabella Mason

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

Practical Pure Religion: Your Chance to Help…

Practical Pure Religion: Your Chance to Help
 
It’s a rare thing that I ever appeal, in this blog, for funding for any private endeavor. However, during the past few years, I’ve sometimes been asked the question “How can I (or we) find the best way to keep the command of James 1:27 to care for the fatherless?” To this question I’ve recommended a children’s home that I know to be directed by God’s faithful people and I’ve recommended various pro-life organizations. Adoption is obviously another path to James 1:27 fulfillment, but sometimes it’s a very expensive process.
 
Several months ago, I was contacted to help find parents for five embryos being stored in frozen containers. These embryos are known as “leftover embryos” from an earlier in-vitro process. While I know that there are thousands upon thousands of stored embryos in our country, I cannot help each individual one. This is the first time, though, that I had been asked to participate in trying to find Christian homes from which these tiny children, with eternal souls, can grow and live for the Lord and, one day, die and go to heaven. So I began to search and pray for these parents.
 
At this juncture, I must say that I’m convicted that in-vitro fertilization (IVF) is a process that involves abortion in almost all, if not all, cases, Multiple eggs are fertilized in the process (usually about 15-20 eggs—sometimes as many as 40). Generally, fertilized embryos are discarded when chromosomal defects are detected. Then the most viable of the group of fertilized embryos are implanted, usually one or two at the time, and, routinely, a number of “extra” healthy embryos are placed in storage, in case other children are wanted later or the first attempt at pregnancy is unsuccessful, which is, in many instances, the case. As you can see, it is a process in which, typically, multiple fertilized eggs are eliminated. It’s also a process that’s left an estimated one million-plus embryos (babies) in storage in the United States. About 5-7 percent of these are abandoned and no one is even paying the storage fees for these abandoned lives. In any case, in which fertilized eggs are destroyed, abandoned or left in storage without implantation, IVF clearly violates the sanctity of life that Christians hold dear.
 
While I cannot support or endorse IVF, unless there is a case in which all fertilized eggs are given the chance to live and develop in the womb, I certainly can search for parents for babies who’ve already been frozen and for whom there’s no current plan for placement in a home. And God has blessed me in the search. I was able to contact a faithful couple—exemplary Christians who had been praying for children. This special couple is willing and thankful to be able to implant all five of the embryos for which I had been praying. They have begun praying diligently for these children, that they will survive the transfers and implantations; and, while they know that it’s unlikely that all five will survive, they are praying for each of the five little lives—for health and wholeness. They are, most of all, praying for these five souls, that they might be able to raise them up to walk in the ways of the Lord. In their words “Our biggest goal is to raise them in a Christian home, giving them all the tools possible to stay on the narrow path once they are grown. We are so grateful for this chance to adopt, not just to grow our family, but to put our beliefs in action by…standing for life.”
 
For this reason, I’m now trying to help this godly couple, who have been approved for this adoption and the implantations (there will likely be three separate implantations over time), to accomplish this lofty financial goal. While the cost is much more than this amount, they are trying now to raise just five thousand dollars. They’ve been personally saving. There are a few donors, who believe deeply in the ability of this couple to raise these children, who’ve donated. But I want readers to have the chance to help, too.
 
I already know there are some of you who want to help. That’s the kind of women you are. The elders at the West Huntsville church have agreed to collect these funds for them. If you’d like to send a donation, make your check payable to:
 
West Huntsville church of Christ
1519 Old Monrovia Road NW
Huntsville, AL 35806
 
Earmark the check: adoption of five.
 
If, by His grace, we should get more than the 5K, we will apply the rest to the cost of their travel for implantation, if needed, and to jumpstart them in the big and expensive journey of raising these kids! I will let you know how much we are able to give them.
 
Finally, will you pray?…for the babies, for the parents, and for the ultimate good in the kingdom that may come through this faithful family. Pray for kabad!
 
Thanks for being the women of God that you are!
 
 
Because of the Cross!
Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

Teen Vogue: Not just about Hairstyles and Makeup, anymore.


I hope there are no parents reading BYH who think  magazines like Teen Vogue should be accessible lifestyle information for our teen girls. I think not. But what I’m not so certain about is our diligence—even our ability –in the prevention of that access. (After all, I’m posting quotes today that are just a click away…)  Even more important (and more difficult) is the prevention of influence that almost always comes through access; even through second-hand access to incredibly wicked stories put out by authority figures, who apparently have no conscience.  In other words, while your daughter may not read Teen Vogue, someone she knows, and who may have some influence in her circle of friends, probably does.

The material that’s the subject of today’s post IS, at least in the case of the sodomy tutorial, adults peddling sexual information to minors. Some of the information readily available in Teen Vogue magazine would be classified as criminal if privately texted to a minor by an adult. Unbelievably wicked. 

Examples are plentiful, but let me give you just three recent ones:

An article touting the decriminalization of prostitution and even encouraging the sex trade as legitimate work for income. Here’s a snippet: 

“I am a doctor, an expert in sexual health, but when you think about it, aren’t I a sex worker? And in some ways, aren’t we all?”  (https://www.teenvogue.com/story/why-sex-work-is-real-work)

 

A tutorial on how to engage in sodomy (although it has been recognized, even by the CDC, as the riskiest type of sexual behavior.)  This article is perverse and obscene (and, frankly, unbelievable) on many levels, giving graphics of anatomy and telling teens about nerve endings in the anus that  “feel awesome when stimulated.” Here are a couple of blurbs, but these are not the the most explicit statements made, obviously: 

This is anal 101, for teens, beginners and all inquisitive folk,” author Gigi Engle wrote in “A Guide to Anal Sex.”

“There is no wrong way to experience sexuality…” (https://www.teenvogue.com/story/anal-sex-what-you-need-to-know)

Talk about “…Claiming to be wise, they have become fools.” This has to be the epitome of that phenomenon.

A  guide to obtaining an abortion without parental knowledge of the pregnancy or consent to the procedure ( i.e. the murder of their grandchildren).

“But if teenage me had a hard time broaching the subject of a hypothetical pregnancy with my pro-choice parents, I can only imagine how overwhelming it might feel to announce an actual pregnancy, much less a desire to get an abortion — in any circumstance, really, but especially to parents who are against it, and especially during a time in American history when the bodily autonomy of people with uteruses is under serious threat,” … “it’s only logical that if teens are mature enough to become parents, they are mature enough to decide whether or not they want to give birth.”  (https://www.teenvogue.com/story/how-to-get-an-abortion-if-youre-a-teen) 

Moms in 2019 have to be vigilant. Perhaps it would be a good idea to pick up a stack of Teen Vogue magazines at your grocery store or Supercenter, take it to the service desk, ask to see a manager, and ask him if he’s good with his daughter or grand-daughter reading about any of the above (or whatever the perversion of the month happens to be). Sobriety and vigilance are Biblically recommended tools against the one who is prowling to devour our children (I Peter 5:8). He’s on the prowl, for sure, in 2019.

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

Independence Day: Still on the Block

It was a bright summer morning and the small talk of the neighborhood could be heard as I meandered through the crowd that had gathered in the yard of the old home on the corner of 5th and Madison. The old couple had been married for more than 50 years, but all of the laughter and love, trials and tears that were a part of this old home place had been reduced to an echoing memory. The porch was cluttered with the “stuff” of this now vacant house and the people, some who had known its inhabitants, some who were dealers in antiques, and some who were just curious about the goings on of an auction, were milling about and browsing through the musty smelling memorabilia turned merchandise. The clock had been ticking at the base of the big staircase for all of the old man’s life and all of his father’s and…well, now no one seemed to care. Dealers examined its old Seth Thomas label and tried to determine what it would bring. There were quilts that had been stitched at quilting bees in the old parlor and there was even one that had been a wedding gift to Great Grandmother, but it had been removed from the old rope bed in the guest room and thrown in a big pile of bed linens on the floor of the wooden porch.

At ten o’clock sharp the gavel came down and the auctioneer began to chant. His call was intriguing and it was easy to become lost in his song and hardly even notice the items as they were sold, one by one, to the highest bidder. Wardrobes, dressers, watches, dishes, tools, washtubs, crocks and hats with big boxes…all with numbers, sold to people with numbers, for dollar values. It all seemed such a thoughtless way for this old place to end. Yet the anxious bidders continued to nod with excitement as they anticipated taking home something that had caught their fancies.
The grandfather clock was different, though. At first, the dealers bid quickly against one another, until one by one, they were eliminated. Finally one of the bidders found himself bidding against an old white haired lady who stood solemnly on the bottom porch step . As I glanced her way, astonished at her persistence in bidding against the wealthy dealer, I saw a tear roll down her cheek. Knowing then that the clock was more to her than an investment, I strolled over as she held up her number, relieved that her competitor for the prized clock had finally relinquished it. “You see,” she said, “that’s my father’s clock…No price is too high.”

Perhaps there are lessons to be learned from the Saturday morning auction that is a part of Southern Americana. I doubt that the couple who ambitiously worked , played and raised their children in this old house ever gave serious consideration to the fact that one day this house and all of its contents would be listed on an inventory and sold to strangers. None of the members of this family would have ever considered selling out; not just a few years ago. But now things are different and it’s a little easier, now that the old folks are gone. It’s not so hard to watch the items go, one by one, knowing that each one is bringing its fair price. Life is changing and so these remnants of another time, are slowly bartered, and with them goes the recollection of the way things used to be.

There’s a sense in which we as Americans are witnessing an auction. It’s a grand estate…this home we call America and many sacrifices were made through the years to maintain it. It has weathered many a storm and has been a haven of freedom and happiness for generations.

Times are changing and those who built the house have long been gone. The “stuff” of this house is on the porch and the auctioneer is chanting to the crowd. One by one the” pieces” of this old home are placed on the auction block. Several of the most valuable and memorable items have already been sold and the prices they have brought have paled in comparison to their true value. Someone can recall a time when purity filled this old home, but alas it has already been sold out to immorality. Fidelity was a foundational part of the house, but it has been replaced and so the auctioneer sold it cheaply. Hard work and its rewards have stood side by side in the house for generations, but, alas they, too, have been split into small lots and are being sold a little at the time. The Word of God was the centerpiece of this old dwelling. How many memories emerge from its use in this place! The children were taught daily from its pages and the family gathered around it each night before bed. For years, now, though it has been unopened and forsaken on the shelf. Life without it just hasn’t been the same. It was placed in a box and auctioned off as a box lot along with public prayer, the sacredness of marriage, the leadership of fathers and the value of mothers in the home. Life is changing!

As a matter of fact, it is time for the bartering of life, itself. Could it be that the value of life itself could be defined by a mere crowd of bidders gathered around the front porch? They are always there in every auction crowd… those who take no thought for the real intrinsic value of an item… those whose interest in the piece is merely mercenary. Could it be that no one who remembers where this life came from, to whom it belonged in the very beginning, will even enter a bid? Doesn’t the thought of the real value of this precious article come to the mind of someone who recalls that it was a gift given by the Father before this house was even built? Which merchant in this thronging crowd can presume to know the value of this entity called life?

“What am I bid?” calls the auctioneer.

As a tear rolls slowly down my cheek, I enter a bid from the steps of the porch. You see, this is my house. That is my Father’s. And no price is too high.
“Thou hast granted me life…” Job 10:12

Article by Cindy Colley as first published in Christian Woman Magazine, Gospel Advocate, Nashville, TN

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

Glenn Beck and Abby Johnson: PLEASE take the time…

 

Today’s post really needs no commentary from me. But listen to the honesty. Listen to the world inside Planned Parenthood from a “non-actress”…real and raw. It’s clear that she’s aware of the absolute necessity of her story being truth, from an ethical and legal standpoint. Also, as a very important side note: Christian girls and moms, please  listen all the way through for the word “immodesty”. Please take the time.

And please share if your conscience is on board.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MxgS95iN90&fbclid=IwAR1pK8CGxat6_rEKb1hpq1ILO78re2hdWvpw-yoWVfQ65Avn_i_HzI_dDLU