Archives For death

Before October, 2009, no one had ever heard of Abby Johnson. She was a happily married mom who happened to work as the director of a Planned Parenthood clinic. In September of that year, when she was asked to help in the exam room, life as she knew it came to an end. That day, she assisted in an ultrasound-guided abortion and was horrified by what she saw on the screen. Expecting to see non-reactive fetal tissue, as the cannulae came toward it, she instead saw the baby begin to kick “as if trying to move away from the probing invader.” (p. 5)

Witnessing this—and being a part of it—was too much for Johnson and was the end of her career at Planned Parenthood.

When the news broke a few weeks later, it wasn’t because she had left the organization—it was because she had crossed the line and joined the Coalition for Life, the pro-life group that prayed daily behind the fence at Johnson’s clinic.

Since then, Johnson has been at the center of a major court case, having been sued by her former employers, and become a sought-after speaker on the realities of abortion throughout America. In Unplanned, she shares her story of how she moved from advocate to opponent of Planned Parenthood, and in the process was confronted by the reality of God.

Recently my wife and I sat down to chat about her impressions of the book. Here’s our chat in all its YouTube-y glory:

(Feed readers, sorry, you’ll have to click-through to watch—and please forgive the awful screen cap!)

One of the things you might not expect in reading a book like this is just how even-handed Johnson is when describing the realities of life at Planned Parenthood. She tries hard to avoid sensationalism and is very careful not to demonize any of the people working there, as if they wake up in the morning, stretch and say, “Gosh, I can’t wait to abort some babies!” Because the truth is, they don’t. Many, like Johnson herself, became involved because they believed what they were told about the organization’s desire to protect and care for women’s reproductive health. But it’s interesting how even the most noble desires—including Johnson’s, which was to reduce the number of abortions being performed—can be lost or twisted into something else. Continue Reading…

We are not orphans, for “the Lord is risen indeed.”

The orphan has a sharp sorrow springing out of the death of his parent, namely, that he is left alone. He cannot now make appeals to the wisdom of the parent who could direct him. He cannot run, as once he did, when he was weary, to climb the paternal knee. He cannot lean his aching head upon the parental bosom. “Father,” he may say, but no voice gives an answer. “Mother,” he may cry, but that fond title, which would awaken the mother if she slept, cannot arouse her from the bed of death.

The child is alone, alone as to those two hearts which were its best companions…

But we are not so; we are not orphans.

…There is one point in which the orphan is often sorrowfully reminded of his orphanhood, namely, in lacking a defender.

It is so natural in little children, when some big boy molests them, to say, “I’ll tell my father!” How often did we use to say so, and how often have we heard from the little ones since, “I’ll tell mother!”

Sometimes, the not being able to do this is a much severer loss than we can guess. Unkind and cruel men have snatched away from orphans the little which a father’s love had left behind; and in the court of law there has been no defender to protect the orphan’s goods. Had the father been there, the child would have had its rights, scarcely would any have dared to infringe them; but, in the absence of the father, the orphan is eaten up like bread, and the wicked of the earth devour his estate.

In this sense, the saints are not orphans.

The devil would rob us of our heritage if he could, but there is an Advocate with the Father who pleads for us. Satan would snatch from us every promise, and tear from us all the comforts of the covenant; but we are not orphans, and when he brings a suit-at-law against us, and thinks that we are the only defendants in the case, he is mistaken, for we have an Advocate on high. Christ comes in and pleads, as the sinners’ Friend, for us; and when He pleads at the bar of justice, there is no fear but that His plea will be of effect, and our inheritance shall be safe. He has not left us orphans.

Now I want, without saying many words, to get you who love the Master to feel what a very precious thought this is, that you are not alone in this world; that, if you have no earthly friends, if you have none to whom you can take your cares, if you are quite lonely so far as outward friends are concerned, yet Jesus is with you, is really with you, practically with you, able to help you, and ready to do so, and that you have a good and kind Protector close at hand at this present moment, for Christ has said it:

“I will not leave you orphans.”

Charles Haddon Spurgeon, The Believer Not an Orphan (Published in Till He Come)

An exerpt from Mark Driscoll’s recent sermon, Jesus Raises a Widow’s Son, from Luke 7:11-17. The edited transcript follows:

Jesus finds wrecked people.

That’s what he does. That’s our Jesus. God comes to earth as the man Jesus Christ, and he goes looking for absolutely wrecked people, people on the worst day of their whole life.

Luke says it this way: “He went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a great crowd went with him. As he drew near to the gate of the town, behold, a man who had died was being carried out.” Do you feel that?

Read these lines, “The only son of his mother, and,” what? “She was a widow, and a considerable crowd from the town was with her. And when the Lord saw her, he had,” what? “Compassion on her.” Compassion on her.

This is a devastating day.

This is a wrecked woman. Continue Reading…

“…Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures…” 1 Cor 15:3b

I just watched a stunningly powerful Good Friday service, which included a reenactment of the brutal execution of Jesus. Emily and I watched, horrified and captivated. It was not gratuitously graphic, but it was hard to watch, simply because it brings home the reality of the cross that we sorely need.

Listening to the powerful audio rendition of the story of Jesus’ false trial and murder shook me (in a really good way, I think). It pressed upon me.

Sometimes I wonder how seriously we take the cross. We say “Christ died for our sins,” but I don’t know if we fully appreciate the weight of the statement. Some state it as little more than a throw-away line to the declaration of a victorious life. Some rush past it as quickly as possible, remaining unaffected by it. But we dare not do so.

Christ died for our sins.

Christ died for our sins.

Christ died for our sins.

Let these words sink in today, if you happen to be reading this.

Tomorrow, Christians will be celebrating the Resurrection; celebrating the defeat of Satan, sin and death. Celebrating that those who have faith in Jesus have been made new creations, with hearts desiring to worship Him.

But for today, remember that Christ died for our sins—yours and mine. That His death was only necessary because of our rebellion: Our lying, stealing, gossiping, adultery, sexual immorality, hatred, cowardice and pride.

Remember that Christ died, not because you and I are worthy, but because God is.

Remember the cost. The godly for the ungodly.

The righteous for the unrighteous. 

Remember the cost, and praise God for His mercy.