A lot of people seem to wonder what got me into the pro-life movement. I suppose that I’ve always been pro-life, in that I strive to see all people as they are, endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, simply because they are living human beings. I am often asked questions like, “What got you into the pro-life movement?”
This answer may seem like an irrelevant rabbit trail. It’s not.
In Cambodia, visits to Choeung Ek and Toul Sleng (S-21) shook me to the core. Decades after a genocide at the hands of the Khmer Rouge, the country's devastation was still visible. In the United States, I read whatever I could about Cambodia's history. While reading, one day it hit me that what the Khmer Rouge had done to Cambodia, Planned Parenthood and the abortion industry were currently doing to America. The two atrocities have their differences, but they also have their similarities. Though passionate about many things related to Cambodia, when it came to the topic of abortion in America, I realized that my apathy was a result of ignorance. I hadn't even prayed about abortion. I had never thought about abortion or its role in American culture. I prayed that God would make abortion bother me.
Since that time, I've read the epitaph given to 16,433 unborn children, whose grave is marked with a single stone. I've stood an arm's length away from aborted children who were packaged up inside cardboard boxes, stacked on the street. I've seen a woman's expression after a botched abortion, as she was placed into an ambulance. I've seen the tears of women who've had abortions. I've heard from a woman who has been sexually assaulted by an abortionist who works in the Bronx, and from a young lady who was forced by her father into having an abortion. I've heard the gruesome details of recurring nightmares that keep returning, a decade after an abortion. I've met people my age, whose parents had considered abortion.
Needless to say, abortion bothers me.
This answer may seem like an irrelevant rabbit trail. It’s not.
In Cambodia, visits to Choeung Ek and Toul Sleng (S-21) shook me to the core. Decades after a genocide at the hands of the Khmer Rouge, the country's devastation was still visible. In the United States, I read whatever I could about Cambodia's history. While reading, one day it hit me that what the Khmer Rouge had done to Cambodia, Planned Parenthood and the abortion industry were currently doing to America. The two atrocities have their differences, but they also have their similarities. Though passionate about many things related to Cambodia, when it came to the topic of abortion in America, I realized that my apathy was a result of ignorance. I hadn't even prayed about abortion. I had never thought about abortion or its role in American culture. I prayed that God would make abortion bother me.
Since that time, I've read the epitaph given to 16,433 unborn children, whose grave is marked with a single stone. I've stood an arm's length away from aborted children who were packaged up inside cardboard boxes, stacked on the street. I've seen a woman's expression after a botched abortion, as she was placed into an ambulance. I've seen the tears of women who've had abortions. I've heard from a woman who has been sexually assaulted by an abortionist who works in the Bronx, and from a young lady who was forced by her father into having an abortion. I've heard the gruesome details of recurring nightmares that keep returning, a decade after an abortion. I've met people my age, whose parents had considered abortion.
Needless to say, abortion bothers me.
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