I've struggled a lot this year with the concept of sanctity of life. This week, I had my third miscarriage of the year. In a search for answers about the souls of my unborn children, I've been forced to rethink my own deep beliefs about life and death. I've wept and screamed and pored over the Psalms like a teenager listening to sad music after a first break-up. Much of my theology about life and death, specifically my theology about pregnancy, came from evangelical traditions instead of actual Scripture. This post has been a long time coming, and I'm sure it's still a work in progress.
Christians who identify themselves as "Pro-Life" are usually referring to the idea that abortion needs to be made illegal. I disagree with that for some reasons listed on my other blog. Instead, I'd like to propose a larger, Scriptural argument for Christians to adopt a fully "pro-life" applied theology. (I'm realizing that some of this is influenced by Russell Moore and his 2015 book Onward that my friend Randy let me borrow a few months ago.)
The Creation account and the Imago Dei
Life itself is a gift from God. The first book of the Bible describes this through multiple poems, stories and genealogies. The first five chapters provide a framework for humanity to understand our place with God. (Our local church had a long series on the first five chapters of Genesis in February-April 2019, that influences this section.)
The Creation poem of Genesis 1 describes God as the Creator of all life, declaring life good. Human life, in particular, is declared "very good" by our very good God. So much so, that the creation story of humans is re-told with great details immediately in the next chapter. God confers within the community relationship of the Trinity to "make man in our own image," a phrase that missional, evangelical and woke churches all like to evoke: imago Dei. Taken literally, this means that every human reflects the image of God in some way.
The detailed account of Genesis 2 has Adam, the prototypical ancestor, formed of dust. Then, God breathes life into Adam. Next, God forms a counterpart, Eve from Adam's very self. This sets two precedents: #1) God is able to create humans independently. #2) God uses humans to create other humans. Subsequently, every human is directly connected to another human, while still retaining God's image (including Jesus). None of this is about abortion, but it's really important to start with this fundamental understanding of humanity reflecting God.
The Bible focuses multiple chapters on birth and death. Eve is promised "pain in childbirth" as a tangible consequence of the Curse of sin (Genesis 3:16). Then, her firstborn son goes on to murder her second-born out of jealousy. In this story and many others, the Bible recounts a human proclivity to weaponize life. After the stories of the first fallen family, we move into a genealogy (Genesis 4:17-25). This continues to show how important individual life is, reflecting God's image but now also exhibiting a fallen, sin nature. Lamech (the first recorded polygamist) brags about the curse of his ancestor, Cain, and pridefully claims that God will avenge any wrongdoing done to him. Sadly, this misguided entitlement reverberates throughout humanity and Christendom, living on in our current American Christian ideals. Genesis 5 focuses on the lineage of Adam, describing each subsequent family in terms of the years before fatherhood passed to the next generation and years until each ancestor met death. More than a trivial history, this chapter proclaims the importance of individual lives recognized by the Creator.
There are 1,189 chapters in the Bible. I would argue that every single chapter proclaims that God celebrates human life. But instead of writing a paragraph for each of the remaining 1,184 chapters, I'd like to shift to the applied theology of being a pro-life Christian in the USA in 2020. The passages highlighted for the following points come from all parts of the Bible because this issue of LIFE is an overarching theme throughout the canon, drawn from all sections of the narrative.
Being pro-life means you have a LOT of neighbors
Jesus used the story of the Good Samaritan to illustrate the point that everyone is made in God's image. This well-known story of the outcast defying stereotypes to be compassionate to a stranger is the way that Jesus answered a scholar's question: "And who is my neighbor?" Jesus expands the scholar's understanding of Leviticus 19:18, the Hebrew directive to not only love your neighbor as yourself, but also to forgive and stop multi-generational grudges and wrongs. Jesus told a story about a Samaritan on purpose.
As Christians, our view of our neighbors needs to extend beyond the walls of our Church. Our neighbors are the people sleeping on streets, not just the ones in our subdivision. Our neighbors are the immigrants risking everything for asylum. Our neighbors worship other gods, but we still love them. Our neighbors have different sexual identities and we still love them. Our neighbors share the same reflection of God's image and the same curse of sin. Through our love, they get to see God's goodness and salvation (John 13:35).
Being pro-life means you take care of those without family and you take care of family
James 1 is a clear description of spiritual discipline, concluding with the call to take care of widows and orphans. This is a reflection of God's very character, described in Psalm 68. God is described as a "father to the fatherless" and "an advocate for the widow." God is credited with "settling the deserted in their own homes" and "freeing the prisoners." This means finding forever homes for homeless people, migrants, single parents, and children in foster care. This means getting involved in legal issues. This means sharing a message of hope and forgiveness such that you oppose slavery and trafficking in all forms. This means providing help for those with mental illness, and resources to free people from addictions, no matter how taboo. These ideas should not be extreme in the Church, since they are scripturally attributed to God.
Now, the Bible does get incredibly specific about how we need to care for the family of the Church in 1 Timothy 5. It is incredibly important for us to care for our "flesh and blood" household and our spiritual household. Being pro-life means I do not sacrifice my literal family for a mission or ministry. It's not more spiritual; Paul describes this ministry over family choice as "denying the faith" in 1 Timothy 5:8. Or worse, choosing self over family. The pro-life Church reflects the healthy community within the Trinity. There is no room for physical or sexual abuse to be tolerated in the Church.
Being pro-life means you advocate for humane treatment of all people
Growing up as a girl in an evangelical church, I read Proverbs 31 a lot of times. So many stories in the Bible were about men. This chapter, though, was a poem passed down from a mother.
The directive portion from a mother to her kingly Son concludes: "Open your mouth on behalf of those unable to speak, for the legal rights of all the dying. Open your mouth, judge in righteousness, and plead the cause of the poor and the needy." (Proverbs 31:8-9) I know a few women with this reference tattooed as a reminder to be pro-life at all times. Pay attention to this: these verses remind a son to use the voice he has. The poor and needy are always oppressed. This is not a situation unique to 2020, rather a situation revealed.
This chapter of maternal wisdom continues. She describes a woman who "extends her arms to the poor and needy" (Proverbs 31:21) foreshadowing the outstretched arms of Christ on the Cross. It's no surprise that this woman cares for those beyond her household. That's the rallying theme of family in the Bible narrative. The idea of using power for the powerless is a reflection of the Savior's willing submission, described in a passage known as the Christ Hymn. Jesus "humbled himself to the point of death" to restore life for all who seek restoration (Philippians 2:8). As we follow God, we too will "defend the cause of the poor and fatherless" and "vindicate the oppressed and needy". (Psalm 82:3)
Jesus made a point to spend time with the disabled. Jesus made a point to spend time with the despised. Jesus made a point to spend time with those of no influence. Jesus made a point to spend time with the unwell. Jesus told a story to illustrate to his disciples and others in the crowd why it's so important to treat others well (John 10). The parable of the Lost Sheep is a pro-life parable.
One story that illustrates this perfectly is Jesus revealing his holy identity to the Samaritan woman (John 4). Jesus breaks multiple cultural rules to talk with her about real worship. He describes Himself as "living water." He knows the woman's story and welcomes her to repentance instead of punishment. Oh, we have so much to learn!
Being pro-life means you forgive
Most have heard the Alexander Pope couplet: "to err is human, to forgive divine." It's cute but inaccurate. Even before the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus, the Jews had a practice of forgiveness for situations of manslaughter (Deuteronomy 19). People can forgive people, it is a very human action. While Jesus was talking about forgiveness to his disciples, Peter ventured that he may "forgive his brother seven times." Jesus counters, "no, seventy times seven." (Matthew 18:15-22). This tireless forgiveness should be a trademark of Christianity, a refreshing counteraction to human culture.
Jesus further explains his controversial statement (seventy times seven) with another story (Matthew 18:23- 33). Living on this side of history from the Cross, we claim forgiveness of all sins by Jesus' blood. When we do not forgive others, we deny the power of His death and resurrection. Therefore, a pro-life posture is one of forgiveness. We must forgive as we have been forgiven. Recognizing our oppressors or transgressors as fellow fallen image-bearers helps us forgive like Jesus was willing to forgive us for everything.
Being pro-life, I forgive those who hurt me today. I forgive those who attacked me with words, with letters, and with physical actions. By forgiving, I don't excuse them from hurting me; I acknowledge the hurt they cause and boldly proclaim it has no power over me any longer.
Being pro-life means you let God judge
My experience with the Church has been positive and I continue to fellowship with believers of many creeds. Many of my dear friends have left a church or the Church entirely because of issues regarding judgment. When we judge others, we question God's ability to bring justice. There are very clear Scriptural directives about judgment in the Church:
- "Do not judge so that you will not be judged" (Jesus giving the sermon on the Mount, Matthew 7:1-5)
- "Therefore we must not pass judgment on one another, but rather determine to never place an obstacle or a trap before a brother or sister." (Romans 14:13)
- "So then, do not judge anything before the time. Wait until the Lord comes. He will bring light the hidden things of darkness and reveal the motives of hearts. Then each will receive recognition from God." (1 Corinthians 4:5)
I believe that the Holy Spirit is big enough to convict anyone of their own sin (John 16:8). I can offer advice if a friend or student asks me about sin in their life, but it's not my job to call out their sin. When we single out specific sins as being "worse" (Romans 3:23) or specific gifts as "required" (1 Corinthians 14) we create an artificial hierarchy amongst humans created in God's image.
In this regard, I will share meals with "known sinners." I listen to sermons from male and female leaders, heterosexual and homosexual, from those who look like me and those who don't. I will help neighbors in need, regardless of the righteousness of the choices I can see. I wonder how our evangelism would change if we stepped back from the role of judge and into the role of worshipper?
Being pro-life means you repent
I was coming home from a quick trip to Malawi in November 2016. I had five connecting flights on Ethiopian Air that took a total of 47 hours. Between flights 2 and 3, I had a two hour layover in Addis Ababa. A middle aged man sat down next to me for some small talk.
He asked me a lot of questions about my traveling, particularly about the Malawian teachers I worked alongside while on my trip. Then, he told me he was from Nigeria. Instantly and subconsciously, I grabbed my purse and held it close to my lap. I'd picked up generational bias against Nigerians while I lived in Burkina Faso years earlier. I identified this man with the Samaritan stereotype, just like the scholar from Luke 10. It didn't matter that I had partnered with women in Malawi as equals. I still thought that some people groups were better (me) and some were not to be trusted (this man).
I'm sharing this personal anecdote because repentance must be personal, first. When I grabbed my purse in that airport, I was not seeing God's image in the man from Nigeria. I was seeing my own prejudice and projecting the stereotypes I had learned as a white girl in the US and a white woman in Western Africa. When we see people through our prejudice, we discredit God's creation. We dishonor God. I dishonored God in that moment.
The beauty of repentance is choosing the better path. Acknowledging sin is the first step in living a right life with Jesus. It's what Peter told the new Church to do at Pentecost (Acts 2). The practice is larger than a single moment at the birth of the Church: promised to Solomon (2 Chronicles 7:14), reminded by John (1 John 1:5-10), and preached by Jesus in person (Matthew 4:17).
If you're feeling uncomfortable with this call to repentance, consider this interchange in Matthew 3. John the Baptist calls out religious leaders for their inherited religion, without evidence of following God. I find that the times I am most uncomfortable are the situations where I need to repent. Repentance is part of restoration of the life God intends for all. That's why I see repentance as a pro-life practice.
Being pro-life means you mourn
Death by police brutality calls for mourning. Death by preventable disease calls for mourning. Death by child abuse, domestic violence or elder abuse calls for mourning. Death by miscarriage calls for mourning. Death by abortion calls for mourning. Death by car accident calls for mourning. Death by cancer calls for mourning. Death by suicide calls for mourning. Death by gang violence calls for mourning. Death by internment center conditions calls for mourning. Death by mass-shooting calls for mourning. Death by lethal injection calls for mourning. Every death is a loss of life, worthy of mourning. Full stop.
In college, my favorite chapter to read was Romans 12. This year, I've appreciated even more the call to "mourn with those who mourn." The entire chapter is relevant to the mourning we collectively experience during 2020. The virus that causes death and poverty is bringing us within the Church back to our knees. Living in harmony with one another is counter-cultural in a sharply divided partisan time, like this American election year. All American Christians need to learn to mourn. We grieve loss of life because each life reflects God.
As an angel revealed to the apostle John, mourning is irrelevant in Heaven (Revelation 21) In a year filled with mourning, this vision is beautiful hope. It doesn't remove the deep heartache of the moment. Instead, my soul is filled with an unshakeable confidence that eternity with God is a deeper joy than any pain I can experience on Earth. Eternity with God includes my past and this very moment; yet, when "the former things cease to exist" I will be gratefully worshipping God without tears.
Being pro-life means you surrender your right to comfort
I saved this for last because it's the most offensive to American Christians. In my home state, our churches were asked to stop meeting in person in March so that the spread of a deadly virus could be stopped. Suddenly, the cracks of our American society began to show. I wept as I watched people I respect equate their inconvenience to persecution. We are promised suffering, troubles and sorrows (John 16:32-33). Jesus explicitly promises that we would be scattered out in our own homes, a point of note for the Church of 2020. We are also promised to be disciplined (Hebrews 12:6, quoting Proverbs 3:10)
Or consider the Hall of Faith of Hebrews 11:36-40 depict a life of discipline and devotion on a far greater level than quarantine with live-streamed church. I have never been tortured. I have never been flogged or sawn in two. I have never been imprisoned for my faith. However, in my lifetime and still today, there are brave followers of Christ experiencing these atrocities. Using the word persecution to describe our discomfort cheapens the sacrifice our sisters and brothers in Christ are making world-wide.
This also applies to the voices I choose to seek out. If I am only hearing about God's word and God's love from people with my subculture, I cannot view my suffering in a heavenly context. My brothers and sisters in other countries struggle to understand my teacher heart grieving remote schooling. Similarly, I cannot imagine how my sister Viviane endured miscarriages in Burkina Faso. We learn from the cloud of witnesses, too, reading stories in the Bible and Church history of those who have walked with Jesus on earth before our time (Hebrews 12:1).
The recent resurgence of calls for justice for black men and women who died in police custody is causing every American to re-examine their heart. The Church has a complicated history with the American Civil Rights movement, with some denominations finding their history with abolitionists, some with slaveholders, and some as former slaves. I have been challenged by friends in churches around our country and in our own community to examine my own attitude first, but then move to action. Being pro-life, we need to listen to those in pain. Many black men, women and especially children are in pain right now. Some pain is immediate, like those experiencing loss this year. Some pain is generational, the result of a system designed to suppress. The beauty of the Gospel is that all can be free; none are unclean (Acts 10:28).
Celebrating the Creator through all people is bigger than the current "Black Lives Matter" movement. In my local community, multiple native tribes experience judgment and hostility from people who look like me, and some who claim similar beliefs about God. Again, the Gospel is big enough for everyone (Romans 1:16). This idea of a Gospel first intended for someone else (the Jews) compels me to love those different from me, even when it's awkward or humbling.
Conclusion
I've had two abortion procedures in the last year. Both times, my baby stopped developing before eight weeks. Before that, I had a healthy son born by cesarean-section surgery. In a different time or a different country, I could have died during childbirth. I learned during my first pregnancy that women of color (particularly black and native women) are up to 3 times more likely to die in childbirth than their white counterparts, like myself. (CDC, 2019) Racial disparities continue in the US even though most maternal deaths are medically preventable, according to the same publication from the CDC last year.
Furthermore, women of color are less likely to have equal access to prenatal or postnatal care, including mental health care. Those of you who know my story know about my struggles this year with OCD, depression, anxiety and suicidal ideation as my body has moved in and out of pregnancy three separate times. My struggle has been transparent so that others in my situation don't feel alone during this global season of isolation, and so that God can get credit for the redemption and restoration as it happens. (Pugh, 2019 and Pugh, 2020)
I first saw sanctity of life as a worship issue after I contemplated suicide during the hormone swings of my second miscarriage. My family and Church surrounded me with prayer and support, battling for my sacred life even though my child was no longer alive.
I was reminded of a news story from 2017, when I was carrying my firstborn. Charleena Lyles was a pregnant mama of four who called the police during a now-suspected mental episode. The police shot her and she died in front of her children. ( Levin, 2017, Seattle Times, 2020, Pugh, 2020). I've been going to rallies in my community with a sign that says "Charleena Lyles + unborn son" in her memory.
Who is my neighbor? Every Charleena in my community. Every baby fighting to be born. Every mother scared of the unplanned life within her. Every stranger battling demons of depression, anxiety and suicide. Every smelly kid. Every family separated in political custody. Every angry meme-sharing Facebook friend. Every police officer, teacher and even every politician. Every Republican, Democrat and Libertarian. Every person, made in God's image.
Being pro-life means I believe the Gospel is for everyone who believes.
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