THE BITTER COLD
This morning I went and stood for an hour on the sidewalk outside the abortion clinic--to keep a vigil on behalf of those tiny ones whose little eyes will never see the light of day. I was there to give voice to the voiceless--whose silent screams will be unheard as the cruel instruments of death invade the sanctuary of their mother's womb. Of course, God hears--and that should put a chill down the spine of us all.
It was a bitterly cold day, in the lower 20's--and matched the icy hearts of those who would butcher a baby for a few bucks. My fingers and toes got so cold, that they began to sting with pain--a pain that persisted for fifteen minutes after departing in the warmth of my car. But, as I rubbed my hands together and patted my feet on the pavement, it led me to think how this pain was nothing compared to the suffering which the unborn go through before their brief sojourn on earth is terminated. The pain in my extremities is nothing compared to the extreme pain in the hearts of mothers as they weigh the harsh reality of their choice in days to come--haunted by the grim specter of doing that which is so contrary to every maternal impulse. Of course, no pain will be like that of eternal torment for unrepentant butchers who brutalize these innocents. Maybe they are desensitized to it. All I know is that the murderer who faces God with blood on their hands and without the blood of Christ on their hearts will have an awakening of the senses beyond anything they have ever known--and wish for endless ages it were not so.
For all involved we offer our pity and our prayers.
We pray for a nation and wonder how much longer God can resist roaring from heaven to answer the cry for vengeance that pleads with Him from a blood-soaked soil. May God have mercy on us all!
If we had more hot tears, more fervent pleas, might it melt the cold hearts that conspire in this tragedy of cosmic proportions?