an After abortion

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CALL 1-888-510-BABY or click on the picture on the left, if you gave birth or are about to and can't care for your baby, to give your baby to a worker at a nearby hospital (some states also include police stations or fire stations), NO QUESTIONS ASKED. YOU WON'T GET IN ANY TROUBLE or even have to tell your name; Safehaven people will help the baby be adopted and cared for.

Thursday, January 5, 2006

Part I - Running Wild In My Soul
My best friend once wrote a short story titled after a line from a poem by Carolyn Rogers, “Running Wild In My Soul.” For most of my life, I have been running wild in my soul. Convinced from an early age that I was damned, I held onto my conviction all the more after my abortion.

For years, it was a problem for me that Jesus actually intervened with grace. Although Jesus brought me peace in restoring my sanity and convincing me I wasn’t demonically possessed, I was more comfortable with the thought of being damned than with being saved. So I went about church-hopping, my journey taking me deeper and deeper into hellfire and brimstone. I craved it, seeking out sermons that reduced God to wrath.

I approached two ministers, wanting desperately to talk about my abortion. Both told me I should keep it secret, or it would ruin my testimony. It was just what I wanted to hear at the time – an abortion ruins one’s testimony. My translation became an abortion ruins one’s hope of ever entering the kingdom of heaven.

At my lowest point, I listened as a minister described a woman diagnosed with depression as being demonically possessed. He spoke about intervening with the woman when she was at the altar for prayer. He and three elders of the church escorted her into a back room and begged her to renounce the devil and proclaim Jesus as Lord. The woman never complied. I can remember thinking how fear must have shut her throat in silence.

When I heard this story, I decided to take my daughter and run again. Much as I may have wanted confirmation of my own peril, I couldn’t bear the thought of my daughter growing up believing that depression means demonic possession. I knew that if professing Jesus as Lord meant the end to all depression, there wouldn’t be a great number of people seeking Jesus as Healer, every time the minister in question issued an altar call. As for demonic possession, I decided to leave it to the exorcists.

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