It was a morning like all others, except my daughter was wide awake at 4:45 AM. I work hard at not being a morning person, but for her it came rather easily. I got dressed and made the quick decision to take my vivacious four-year-old with me. It was an ordinary morning, but at the last abortion clinic in Pensacola it was a morbid morning. Young ladies full of life were entering the house of death.
I am an ordained minister. I have sat through a presbytery oral examination. After having studied for six months, I felt fairly confident as I sat before six other pastors. The Bible verses and the theology flowed from my lips with tremendous ease. This morning, however, I was examined by my four-year-old. Suddenly I found my rhetorical abilities being challenged as I tried to explain to this beautiful little girl just how un-beautiful this place was. "We are going to a place where mommies don't want their babies," I said. "Why do they not want their babies," she asked. "Well, they simply don't love life." She paused and looked outside in silent wonder.
We arrived at the clinic and the signs were beautiful. The faces of lovely little children brought a temporary sanity to some of us. Another sign pictured a bloody and shattered body of an aborted image-bearer. She saw the image.
We joined the other saints. We read a psalm, prayed, and sang Psalm 92. They may not have heard us inside, but God did, and God acts through the prayers of his people. We sang of how the enemies of Yahweh grow like weed, but they are caught in their own evil schemes. Lord, hear our prayer.
We saw the vehicles as they drove by us. They reminded me of young college students flying through the college campus to get to class on time. In this case, they were young college students flying by in their expensive cars to terminate the life of their unborn children. It was a devastating sight to behold.
My daughter asked me to lower myself and quietly asked me: "Are the mommies going to kill their babies?" "They are, baby girl! That is why we are here. We don't want them to make this horrible decision." "But daddy, I don't want them to kill their babies." "We don't either. We need to let them know that God loves life, and that He loves babies." She was visibly shocked. In her world, mommies treasure babies, and daddies are not cowards. But in this world, mommies are bad characters in this unending movie, and daddies are participants in one of the most cowardly acts of history. "Daddy, I want to go home." I excused myself and took my four-year-old to the car knowing that I was going to be examined again. "Are they really going to kill their babies?"
Now she asked with greater conviction. Once again I said yes. We need to let them know that babies are gifts from God and that we cannot refuse his gifts. We then talked about how precious her baby brothers were. She told me she wanted to go home and kiss her 9-month-old brother. Once again, she silently looked out the window in a contemplative manner. Then she burst into righteous anger: "I don't like those mommies! They will never be able to kiss the babies! I don't want to come back here." I didn't respond. She then pondered for a minute or two. "Maybe I will come back," she said. "Just let daddy know, and I will bring you with me," I said.
It was a morning like all others, but this morning my daughter learned that not everyone treasures life. And her heart was broken, and so was her father's.