This morning I was sidewalk counseling out in front of Dr. Emily’s abortion clinic. I stopped a Hispanic woman in front of the clinic and was trying to explain to her how terrible it would be for her if she went inside. At that moment, one of the clinic workers returned from some small store across the street.
In passing, the worker said: “You need to back up. You’re not allowed to stand there. If you don’t move away, I’m going to call the cops because you’re blocking the door to the clinic…are you listening to me?”
My initial response was to point out her apparent lack of geometrical reasoning (as I was over a foot away from the property line and therefore easily seven feet away from their door). I then felt that perhaps I should ask her to provide me with a way to teleport if she was in favor of me moving at the very instant that she spoke.
But God stopped me. It was in that moment (well, in the moments of quiet following that encounter) that He gently spoke.
It is the workers in the abortion clinics who need to see love as much as the women who enter the building. The office workers, the “counselors”, the nurses, and the doctors are in desperate need of prayer. They face an eternity separated from God because of the veil of deception covering their eyes. And though I remember them in my prayers most of the time, they need to be on an equal tier of importance as the mothers seeking abortions.