I remember one afternoon, sitting on a lawn at my college campus. Across the street were 100 small wooden crosses pounded into the ground outside the Commons. Anti-abortion protesters had set up a silent protest on the lawn of the Christian campus.
How brave, I thought, to protest something that the majority of the campus undoubtedly is against anyway. It puzzled me at first. And it made me cry.
A virgin at 20, I had never had to face the issue before. But I understood the heartless side of this campaign, the easy protest to pound stakes into the ground and walk away. What if there were silent women walking around the campus, seeing this mockery of a graveyard that screamed judgement at anyone faced with that choice?
I was embarrassed for my own school and for the lack of compassion I saw on a Christian campus. This might make some people leave the school, walk away from the church and even turn their back on people with whom they disagree. I decided to stay; it's easier to spread kindness from the inside. I argue a lot for compassion these days, mostly with Christians (ironically).
Why not direct this anger at the snake-oil salesmen who cashed in on women's fear and despair and left them so fragile that they can't walk past a few crosses without being crushed?
Why is it that the abortionist does the damage, and the prolifers get the blame?
No comments:
Post a Comment