Our Baby, Planned Parenthood and Christmas

The news of the year in our house is that we are pregnant with kid number six, which means we’ll add a third girl to this circus in early March, giving us a nice round total of three boys and three girls. (Side note: I’m hoping for a February 29 birth date – how cool would it be to have that birthday?! My wife thinks I’m nuts.)

Six is a lot of kids and while we have (mostly) adjusted to that reality, it still overwhelms at times. A lot of times. But it’s also amazing, in the true sense of that word. Right now, as you read this, a real, live baby is inside my wife’s womb. I can see her kicking every night, my wife’s stomach bouncing in and out, a thin layer of skin all that separates us from the newest combination of our DNA.

Two baby-related stories are juxtaposed against my daughter’s kicking feet right now: Planned Parenthood and Christmas. First, PP. For the past few months, video evidence and testimony from former workers has shown Planned Parenthood clinics across the country operate as barbaric torture chambers where doctors rip unborn babies apart. The fact of abortion isn’t really news, but actually hearing and seeing it discussed in such stark terms makes it more immediate and disturbing.

Whether the practices of killing babies and distributing their body parts are legal is beside the point. They are immoral from a Biblical worldview. As a nation, we are murdering hundreds of thousands of children, and our new baby could have been one of them if we so chose. There would be no more nightly kicking, no more doctor visits, no more baby-related purchases and baby-induced house rearrangements. There would be no hopes and dreams, and no life. Not that abortion was ever an option for us, but somehow just being pregnant and knowing it could be an option is unsettling and makes me feel hollow.

As for Christmas, this is December, when we traditionally celebrate the coming of Christ into the world. As we contemplate daily Advent readings designed to point our minds to the mystery of the incarnation, the fact that God chose to come to Earth in the fullness of time as a tiny baby instead of a conquering king is more real than ever to me.

A young virgin named Mary once laid awake at night and watched her stomach bounce in and out. This baby had already turned her life upside down and he wasn’t even out of the womb yet. So much more would come – so much fear turned into joy, so much hope fulfilled, so much life turned into death and then, astonishingly, back to life, the power of death undone.

Yes, the power of death was undone. Millions of actual, real lives have been lost because of abortion in the United States, but ultimate power does not lie with their killers because a little baby from 2,000 years ago grew up to lay his own life down. Man may kill the body, but the souls belong to God.

Claim that abortion is not murder all you want, claim that women have the right to their own bodies all you want, claim whatever you like. Your claims will one day pale in the face of true justice made possible only because a little baby came from heaven to earth.

My daughter is alive and well and kicking, and I can’t wait to meet her. Jesus is alive and well too, and while we celebrate his birth this month, don’t forget that he was born to die that we might live.

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