Normally the concerns expressed over our church’s telephone prayer chain confine themselves to someone’s illness or coming surgery. However, for the second time in a week, the voice at the other end of the line told of an arrest. The subject had grown up in our congregation, had gone to seminary and entered the pastorate—and now was languishing in an Atlanta jail for “disturbing the peace” in an antiabortion protest.
My mind drifted back 150 years to the heated debates of America’s antislavery movement. And not without reason, for the parallels with today’s antiabortion movement are numerous.
For example, like much of the prolife movement, the effort to abolish slavery had deep roots in evangelical movements and their commitment to the dignity and sacredness of all human life in the eyes of God.
Or again, antislavery proponents—like those supporting the antiabortion movement—sought nothing less than a radical reversal of the law.
A third parallel is in the prevailing attitude of society toward “the cause.” Far from meeting universal approval, abolitionists often met violent opposition, both in the North and South. Lecturers for the American Anti-slavery Society were routinely trained in how to react to mob violence and possible arrest. In 1834 several northern universities—including Harvard, Yale, and Princeton—banned all discussion of abolitionism.
Moreover, like many of their prolife counterparts, antislavery activists believed the law must sometimes be broken in order to rescue those who would otherwise perish. The philosophy of the Underground Railroad was not all that different from that of Operation Rescue.
Finally, abolitionism embraced all who would support it, regardless of theological differences—from Quakers to Episcopalians. Today it is fascinating to watch independent Baptists join hands with Roman Catholics and Pentecostals on the prolife picket line.
There was, however, a sixth, more ominous, characteristic of the antislavery movement that prolifers would do well not to emulate: its divisiveness among believers.
Probably no movement of the nineteenth century was as divisive within the church as the antislavery movement. First came the division between pro-and antislavery forces. Slavery was a factor in the Presbyterian split of 1838; it led directly to major sectional splits among Methodists (1844) and Baptists (1845).
Just as tragic, however, were the deep divisions among Christians who agreed slavery was wrong and should be eliminated—but who sharply disagreed on what to do about it. The more militant the antislavery movement became, the more it polarized churches, pastors, and laypeople.
The danger is just as great today. In fact, the first stage is already here: A gulf separates antiabortionists from proabortion denominations and clergy.
But the greatest danger is to evangelicalism. Thoughtful evangelicals agree abortion is a great evil that should be eliminated, but they disagree on how that goal should be accomplished. This disagreement is a ticking time bomb that someday could cause deep and bitter divisions.
How can this bomb be defused?
First, we must not back away from our opposition to abortion’s horrible holocaust.
But second, we must develop a unified strategy—one that is comprehensive, yet accepts diversity. The truth is, we will never all agree on any single method. But we can agree to respect one another’s differing approaches. Militant abolitionists labeled as compromisers all those who disagreed with their particular way of doing things. Thus a united front against slavery was lost, believers were divided, and victory was delayed. Will we make the same mistake?
If evangelicals active in the prolife movement can come together in a spirit of tolerance and mutual acceptance in spite of their differences, we may yet see the eventual victory of our cause.
