A knock at the Door

The last couple of months have been big trigger months for me. Starting in December with the memory of my abortions, then January; the anniversary of Roe v Wade, followed by February with newly elected officials that are clearly pro-abortion with no regrets. It has been difficult to watch as people I know and love, people who know my story, defend their positions, stating they are personally opposed but...

And I wonder. I pray. I ask God over and over again, when will this all end?

And I tell God I'm willing. Use me, please. We can't loose our children, our grandchildren to the pressure, the demands of a world going to Hell in a hand-basket.

And I feel fearful. And I pray. And a friend asks...will you help? Will you be part of the 40 Days for Life this Lent as we fast and pray for an end to abortion?

And I say yes. I'll help. I'll do what needs to be done. And I'll tell my story to whoever will listen, because I'm tired of being silent. I want to speak. I want to say something that will stem the tide that seeks to overtake our children, our grandchildren.

And my heart aches. Not only for my family but for my friends, my neighbors, for the world and all those who are so afraid to speak. Everyone who has been cowed by the demands of those who have been hurt, a world which celebrates symptoms...and the world is afraid to look at the deep festering wounds because this demands that people look at themselves and see the truth...the truth that maybe they might have some culpability, and they might need to change. And so we celebrate the hurts and appease instead of seeing and naming the pain so that healing salve can be applied.

And I sit at my window and pray, and ponder that we are all so afraid.

And there is a knock at the door...

It is frigid on a drizzly gloomy day and on my stoop is a young woman I have never seen. She is wearing a local news company jacket. And then she asks...did I know about the legislation that Illinois wants to push through? Do I have an opinion on whether or not LGBTQ history should be taught in our schools, starting at kindergarten through 12?

I ask her in out of the rain to talk. I do have an opinion. I'm completely opposed to yet another onslaught to our children's innocence. So many thoughts are flying through my head in the few short moments we speak, and there is a feeling rising within me which I try hard to fight. I fight fear.

I have been fighting fear for so very much of my life. As I became an adult and made so many destructive decisions, the fear was fed. What would people think of me? Would anyone love me? Would I be alone? I was so fearful to be alone. And Satan played on those fears, using them and the people around me to make the decisions I made and so regret. But fear is never true. Fear, as a good friend tells me, is FalseEvidenceAppearingReal. I can look back and see all the lies and deception. I can also look back and see how God drew me out of that pit of fear, how he opened all of my woundedness to apply his healing balm to the very depths of my soul. And...I no longer fear. Greater yet is my love too for my neighbors as I see them making choices out of fear. Fear of not being loved and living in a pit of sexual deprivation and bondage. I long to see my neighbors free of this and to see their worth as they are made in the image of God. And, I long to protect our children.

And here is this stranger asking...would you be willing to give your opinion on tape? It won't take long. You can say whatever you want! There are two others I've found in favor of this legislation and others against it but no one is willing to be interviewed. I've been in the rain for 45 minutes and can't find anyone...someone said you might...

Just this very morning as I read my daily scriptures I listened as Isaiah had a vision of Heaven with God on His throne, His mantle filling His Heavenly chamber, Seraphim  chanting, "Holy, Holy, Holy", as the smoke of incense fills the air. Isaiah is fearful...an unclean man living among unclean people. But the angel calms his fears and with tongs picks up a burning ember and touches Isaiah's lips. And the Lord asks who will go for them? And Isaiah says he will go! He says...

"Yes."

Come along inside. Do I have time to dry my hair? Can I prepare myself? I need time to pray now! (During filming, and after)! And as I give my heartfelt response to this dear woman with the camera I feel like Moses, stumbling over his words. But it's good...because I no longer fear.

All these years, God has been about His business with me, patiently healing, binding up, teaching me about the depths of His Mercy that I could never exhaust. Waiting and biding His time until the day I would be ready to answer the knock at my door.

God knocks on the doors of our souls every moment of every day. Maybe we just open the door a crack...maybe let Him in out of the rain...now today, He's in the front hall. Each moment, each day He wants a bit further in, to cast out all fear and as He sits on the thrones of our pierced hearts, His mantle fills every space, and we say, "Holy, Holy, Holy." This. This is what He wants for us. To be holy as He is holy. Will we be loved by the world when we answer the knock on our door? Most assuredly not. But with His help, and when He asks, we may fearlessly speak when He asks. He will gird us up and tell us what to say.

So I continue to ponder. I continue to pray. And when things look so bleak, and festering wounds in the world conjure memories of my woundedness, I will also remember how He has healed me and taken my fear away, and I will hope. Because what God has done for me, He can and will do for my neighbors.