Why I am STILL a Sidewalk Counselor

A couple years ago I wrote about my experiences going to “sidewalk counsel” outside of Planned Parenthood in Denver, an attempt to persuade women not to abort their babies, to let them know one last time that there is help, and that abortion will not solve their problems. Since then, I have mentioned the pro-life activities now and then. Because I don’t write about it frequently, you may think I am only sporadic in my involvement. That’s not true.

From the beginning, I didn’t go to Planned Parenthood because of results. I have no superman complex that I have some special skill by which I can save the world. My power is as an instrument of God. If He will use me to save a life, then I am willing. To be willing, I have to go where He points. So I have gone “sidewalk counseling” because I believe God wants me to. Not that saves don’t excite and refresh me. There are some days when I plead for a save, just to remind us that there is hope. Because the days can get long and depressing for a small group of protesters faced too often with the hard-heartedness of parents and professionals who proceed with the wicked slaughter.

Neither do I go to prove that I am right. What people think of me because I go (or when I don’t) is not the point. So it doesn’t matter when angry women cuss at me, or when people driving by yell that we should “get a job” or “help starving children in Haiti instead.” I know that my value has been established by the price my God chose to pay to redeem me. I know that a gentle and quiet spirit is valuable in His sight, and He will not abandon me when the wicked slander me. That is to say, God is fighting for me, so there is no need for me to defend myself with reasoned arguments or clever comebacks. Speak up for the innocent being led to the slaughter. My voice is lifted up for them, but not for me.

Part of me goes regularly to the Clinic because of the other people there. There is common ground and purpose. We work as a team. But we are friends, too, keeping track of the cares and joys we are bearing. I miss those friends when I skip a week. And even when we are sharply disagreeing on theology or even on methods of saving babies, it is good to be with people who take the world seriously, who don’t just let life happen to them, but seize and pursue it.

The number one reason I go is the prayer. I am not a silent witness for the preborn children. My mission is not one of prayer for God to work while I refuse to obey Him when He calls me to speak. I climb ladders to be seen over tarps, step towards cars to offer them literature, and even call out to mothers and fathers, friends and grandparents entering the house of murder. But I pray. When I don’t pray there, where the battle lines are so obvious, I fail on every level, and am discouraged and distracted the rest of the day. Prayer softens my heart to those enemies of God who are even yet experiencing His grace and mercy. It aches my heart for the real wickedness being done on the innocent behind those walls. Talking to my Jesus relieves my soul of its worries: petty or deep. Seeking God’s heart changes mine. And it focuses me.

Prayer is not easy for me. I forget to pray. I don’t feel like praying, when I know I should. I start praying but have nothing to say, so I give up. But there, where life and death and spirits hang in the balance, prayer is urgent and real. I am sensitive to the messages and tactics of those warring against God. Praying about the spiritual battle there makes my eyes open the rest of the day to the real spiritual battle happening all the time and everywhere.

To be honest, when there is something hard I must face later in the day, I want to spend three hours outside in prayer at the clinic. When there is something playful and superficial (not always bad things) later in the day, I want to go do something important for balance. When my mind is spinning trying to process the complexities of relationships and choices, it is good to put my feet on solid ground, to stand before God and plead for the salvation of the innocent and the repentance of those that endorse their deaths.

So that’s it. I’m there once or twice a week. I believe in sidewalk counseling. I enjoy the fellowship and the focus and the purpose. Now to figure out why I’m still blogging…

To God be all glory.