God values some things more than church unity, things like obedience, truth, and integrity.
— Richard Exley
I clearly remember the first time my church leaders discussed our church’s stance regarding pro-life involvement. A small group within our congregation had presented a proposal to the board requesting permission to begin a crisis pregnancy program.
Our discussion was intense. “I will vote in favor of the proposal,” said one board member, “only if we include strict guidelines prohibiting any form of public protest against abortion.”
Others expressed similar reservations. We eventually approved the group’s request, but this was only the beginning of what would become one of the most controversial issues of my twelve years of ministry at Christian Chapel in Tulsa, Oklahoma.
Superheated issues in our society have a way of starting fires within the church walls. Political wars can become church wars. Of no issue is that more true than abortion.
As a pastor, I had been reticent to get involved. In the course of everyday ministry, I take enough shots without asking to be shot. I’m more interested in calming church controversy than creating it. Like most pastors, I like people to like me. The last thing I want to do is make people in my church angry.
In the end, I overcame my fears and got involved in the controversial, and I made my church angry! But I learned a lot along the way about how to handle such issues.
Be Open to God
In August 1988 as I watched a national newscast from the Democratic National Convention in Atlanta, the news anchor reported that Randall Terry and a group of anti-abortion demonstrators were using their bodies to barricade abortion clinics. They were arrested and jailed. Many refused to give their names, identifying themselves as “Baby Doe.” I questioned their tactics, but I was challenged by their commitment.
After the convention ended, Operation Rescue, as it was being called, passed from the news but not from my thoughts. A recurring question haunted me: Would I do whatever the Lord asked to end abortion on demand?
In the ensuing weeks, my inner turmoil deepened. I didn’t question whether abortion was right or wrong. Both Scripture and science had convinced me that life begins at conception: therefore abortion is morally wrong, since it’s the taking of human life. In my mind the baby’s right to live outweighed the mother’s right to choose.
The conflict arose over my obedience, my level of commitment: How would I respond to this great tragedy?
I had serious reservations about Christians committing civil disobedience. I have a deep respect for both the law and the governing authorities, as prescribed in Romans 13. But I also knew that respect for the law doesn’t mean blind allegiance. Blind compliance has historically produced human rights abuses of the most serious kind, including the Jewish Holocaust.
I was also concerned about my relationship with our denomination. Traditionally, we have distanced ourselves from anything political or social in nature. If I became involved in any serious attempt to end abortion on demand, I feared I might jeopardize my ordination, especially if I participated in civil disobedience.
Of equal concern was my relationship with Christian Chapel. I was the senior pastor. I knew how tense the board meeting had been. I anticipated far greater controversy if I myself became involved in some form of public, confrontational pro-life activity.
Less nobly, I feared arrest and imprisonment. What would happen to my wife, Brenda, if I went to jail for weeks or months? How would she support herself if my income was suddenly cut off?
To escape the torment of my conscience, I plunged into my work, initiating new programs at the church and increasing my counseling load. Nothing helped. Like the fugitive in Francis Thompson’s Hound of Heaven, I encountered God at every turn; he wouldn’t let the issue leave my consciousness.
Throughout this time of uncertainty, I did not discuss the issue with anyone in the church. I didn’t want to cause any confusion until I was committed to a course of action. Finally, after nearly nine months of agonizing indecision, I still wasn’t decided on what my involvement would be, but I prayed, “Lord, I will take up my cross and follow in whatever way you lead. I will even ‘rescue’ if that is what you want me to do.”
For the first time in many months, I experienced an inner peace. The future was still uncertain; I was no less afraid, but I no longer felt as if I was fighting against God.
Time Your Moves
With my new resolve, I decided to preach an anti-abortion sermon. This wasn’t my first. At Christian Chapel, we addressed this issue at least once a year, always on Sanctity of Life Sunday.
But this was different. This was Mother’s Day 1989, not Sanctity of Life Sunday. Mother’s Day is for mothers, the one Sunday out of the entire year when they expect to be honored. On Mother’s Day, the entire family comes to church anticipating a “warm fuzzy” — a tribute extolling the virtues of motherhood.
Instead I broadsided them with a graphic message detailing the horrors of abortion, ending with a ringing challenge to act now!
Why was I so insensitive? At the time, I was convinced the Holy Spirit had directed me. Now I’m not so sure. I reasoned that Mother’s Day would be a day when our women would be sensitized to the meaning of motherhood and the value of children, and therefore more outraged by the horrors of abortion.
I was right, at least about the outrage part. Several mothers, horrified by my graphic description of aborted babies, fled the sanctuary before I could finish my sermon. I learned later that many others were offended, and at least one family left the church.
Unfortunately, my timing diverted the people’s focus from the tragedy of abortion to a discussion of my taste in preaching such a sermon on Mother’s Day.
Keep Your Balance
But I didn’t give up my desire to demonstrate our commitment to the sanctity of human life, and the congregation and I quickly found ourselves at a philosophical impasse.
Although virtually every member felt that abortion was wrong, we were clearly divided on the church’s responsibility. Some argued against legislating morality, saying that free moral agents have the right to make morally wrong choices.
Others, though, argued that no one’s “right” to sin gives them the right to take a life, that abortion must be outlawed to protect the innocent. That was also my position.
Still others thought our involvement should be limited to prayer. They reasoned that this was a spiritual issue that could be resolved only through intercession.
I agreed but pointed out, “Historically the church has combined prayer with some form of direct action. In missions, it’s prayer and witness. In Christian service, it’s prayer and acts of mercy. In fighting abortion, shouldn’t we use both intercession and intervention?”
But the complaint I heard most concerned the “needs” of church attenders. Again and again church members said, “People don’t come to church to hear about abortion but to have their spiritual needs met.”
That complaint gave me pause. I was committed to the needs of my flock. Yet I also felt impassioned about the injustices of society. How to balance the needs of my members with prophetic action became a constant challenge, one I’m not sure I always managed well.
I easily could have become a one-issue preacher during this time. But the pastoral staff and elder board held me accountable and kept me in balance. Abortion is a great evil and one the church must address, but the message of the gospel is still “Christ and him crucified.”
My insensitive Mother’s Day sermon opened my eyes to the silent needs of some in my congregation. So intent to preach prophetically on the horrors of abortion, I had overlooked the pain of abortion’s other victim — the mother. Many women who have made this choice struggle with guilt and regret. Apart from the grace of Jesus Christ, they have no way of escaping the painful consequences of their tragic decision.
After counseling several women who had aborted their children, I became more sensitive to their needs in my preaching. While some needed to hear the prophetic message of the gospel, others needed to receive forgiveness and healing that comes only through Christ.
Prepare for Loving Confrontation
Christian Chapel soon became known as the pro-life voice for the Christian community in Tulsa. We organized a citywide pro-life rally attended by more than 2,000 concerned citizens. Six weeks later we staged a prayer vigil in front of the local abortion clinic, attended by scores of clergy and nearly 600 pro-life believers.
On the anniversary of the Roe v. Wade decision, we held a memorial service in our church yard, attended by 1,500 people of all faiths. In 1991 I chaired the committee for the Rally for Life at the state capital, attended by more than 14,000. Repeatedly, the local television news interviewed me concerning abortion issues, and several colleges and universities invited me to speak.
Our church swung into action. Members of our congregation picketed the local abortion clinics. Others counseled on the sidewalks leading to the abortion clinics, telling the mothers who came for abortions about other alternatives. Still others opened their homes to single pregnant women, and physicians from our church provided their services at no cost to these expectant mothers.
As a result of the loving concern they experienced, many troubled women found emotional healing and committed their lives to follow Christ. Many childless couples adopted babies who, except for our intervention, would have died at the hands of abortionists.
Keep Your Priorities Clear
As I review the past four years, I see that the cost of obeying what we felt was our responsibility has been high. Although all the leaders of Christian Chapel supported my efforts, others in the congregation did not. Some of the more imaginative dissenters accused me of having a mid-life crisis. Others suggested that if the official board did not censor me, I would lead the church astray. Over a period of months, scores of people left the church.
One of my greatest temptations was to sacrifice my integrity to maintain church unity. Things were going well at the church: attendance, baptisms, and giving — all were up. Why risk rocking the boat over something as controversial as abortion?
I returned again and again to the words of Christ, “Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to turn ‘a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law — a man’s enemies will be the members of his own household’ ” (Matt. 10:34-36).
I finally concluded that God values some things more than unity. Among them are obedience, truth, and integrity.
Stay for the Long Haul
“The race,” wrote King Solomon, “is not to the swift or the battle to the strong.”
Nowhere is this more evident than in pro-life work. Mobilizing a congregation to pursue any vision — especially something psychologically threatening like action against abortion — takes time. Just as it takes more than one sermon to teach stewardship or prayer, so it takes several sermons over a period of time to lead a church into a controversial issue.
I found that as our members participated in pro-life activities, their commitment increased, gradually rubbing off on others in the congregation. One of the least threatening ways we introduced our people to action was by encouraging their participation in Life Chain, a peaceful demonstration of pro-life supporters who hold signs and link arms in communities across the country the first Sunday in October. We also encouraged members to serve as volunteers in a local crisis pregnancy center.
“When you fill a swamp with stones,” said missionary Frank Laubach, who pioneered literacy programs in underprivileged countries, “a hundred loads may disappear under the water before a stone appears on the surface, but all of them are necessary.”
When confronting controversial issues, our prayers and efforts seem to disappear from sight, seemingly without effect. But I’m convinced that every action I take counts, and the involvement of my church makes a difference.
Copyright © 1994 by Christianity Today
