Some of you may have recently read about a woman named Emily Letts; she publicized her own abortion by video-taping it and posting it to YouTube. After working as an abortion-doula (that's apparently an actual thing) for years, she found herself in a predicament many of her former clients have been in--in the midst of an unwanted pregnancy.
She knew immediately that she'd get an abortion, but what she didn't plan on, at first, anyway, was using the procedure as a "teaching moment" for other women who may be considering an abortion. She said she could not find one other instance of the actual procedure publicized on YouTube, and she was going to be the first. She was warned of the backlash it would cause, to which she said "bring it on."
It was apparently brought. Letts says that she received the expected hate mail such an act might incite-- one person called her a Nazi-- but that the women she positively impacted made it worthwhile.
Because I vehemently disagree with Letts I am expected to act hatefully and aggressively. It's perhaps even the way Letts may want me to react, because that way I'm easy to dismiss. My arguments could be written off as heated and uninformed. I'd be just another brainwashed conservative American pitching Psalm 139 to a country that largely does not believe the Bible as truth.
I am not that person. I don't hate Emily Letts. I don't wish her ill. You cannot cast me off as uninformed and my arguments as unsound.
Those who know me understand that I am a people-pleaser to the core. My biggest struggles stem from the innate compulsion to mince my words in such a way that I will offend nobody. (Part of this comes from the fact that I had an outspoken year in high school that makes me cringe to this day.) It's hard for me to firmly and publicly say something I know people will disagree with, but I have no trouble saying this: Emily Letts was wrong.
The most important issue I take with the whole thing is not that she had an abortion, though I've made no secret I believe abortion is wrong. The thing that compels me to speak up about this is the attitude with which she regarded the entire thing-- a self-centered joy over the occasion-- and the hero's reception much of the media is giving her.
I've decided against linking the articles I've read to this page because they're appalling, if I'm being frank. But I'll summarize. Letts said things like "she was feeling the love of those in the room." She was humming along, much like an actual birth, and, to her, it was as birth-like as could be. Her goal was to show how relatively quick, easy, and painless the experience could be. Polymic thinks she's essentially destroyed the biggest argument pro-lifers stand behind, which is that abortions are scary, dangerous, and painful.
1. Her experience was not anything like a real birth. On so many levels, her pseudo-birth was not like a real birth. She did not have that nine month pause-- the nine month's hard work and build-up to the reception of a child. She did not go through waves of excruciating pain for hours. She did not let her body become maimed by the growing and birthing of a child. And she did not experience the surreal bliss that is accepting your baby in shaking arms for the first time. For that I mourn with her, regardless of whether or not she understands what she has missed.
2. Emily succeeded in showing that not all abortions feature gore and pain. They do not always leave a woman infertile or permanently damaged. For that I am happy--her life is a valuable and intentional part of God's design, and I do not desire things like that for anybody. But this does not dismantle pro-life's most essential argument against abortion, it highlights it.
Abortion doesn't disgust me because I fear for the women's safety who choose them. It disgusts me because it results in the loss of a human child. By painting abortion as a twisted form of cheapened birth-- a birth that has nothing to do with a child and everything to do with the woman undergoing it-- Emily (and those lauding her) emphasize what abortion is at its core: selfish.
I don't offer a disclaimer to that because it's true, but I feel it important to address the fact that I can relate to a woman contemplating abortion. Her frame of mind is neither foreign nor monstrous to me. It makes sense. I can imagine agonizing between wanting to bring the life inside you to fruition and preserving your life as is. I also feel it important to note that I grapple with the idea of abortion in certain instances. I don't believe abortion should be denied to a victim of rape. But I also don't think dire circumstances make abortion any less regrettable. An unwanted life is not less of a life.
Emily Lett's abortion is not the thing that puts a simultaneously angry and sickened knot in my stomach. Her attitude is. It's not only wrong but it feels like a slap in the face to anybody who has ever had to consider an abortion-- or to anyone who's ever gone through with one. I know women who have had abortions and who have not regretted it, and even they can't get on board with the mentality that says an abortion is a positive thing. A thing to be celebrated and lifted up as a beacon of hope to other women in similar situations.
I spent nearly a week of my life debating this question while three months pregnant with my son: If continuing to carry him means it might kill me, do I still want this pregnancy?
The answer to that question was yes, but I would be lying through my teeth if I said there was no room for "no" within that yes. I imagined what an abortion might be like. I wondered if it would hurt. I wondered if I could ever forgive myself for choosing my life over his, and it was agonizing. There is no other word for it. I do not believe I would have been wrong had the answer been "I choose to keep my life," but it would not have been easy and it certainly wouldn't have been something I'd want celebrated.
Thankfully I was spared having to grapple with that question for very long and I'm now the grateful mother of an almost two year old boy. A boy I loved before I held him, and a life separate from mine before he was independent of my will.
To say the biggest argument against abortion has been destroyed is laughable. To celebrate one woman's abortion is a jab to the gut of countless women who have agonized over the decision (regardless of what they chose). To relive the experience feels an awful lot like dancing on the grave of a baby.
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Saturday, April 19, 2014
A Lesson In Humility
This weekend has been a meaningful one for me. Matt and I both had Friday off (which was so nice, you don't even understand), and it gave me time to meditate on the Easter season, which I'd neglected to some extent until then. Life has been chaotic, inwardly and outwardly, for me the past month. Maybe longer. And I let my circumstances dictate my worship, which is something I strive to avoid. But it happened.
This weekend, though, I could feel God's gentle pull on my heart. My daily commute brings me through the mountains. It is gorgeous in the summer-- lush, green, and vibrant-- and treacherous during the winter. Even though winter's wrath has slowly begun to recede, its grip has lingered on the slow changing trees and hills I pass on my way to work. As I settled into my morning drive, I subconsciously took in the dead things around me. The dead trees. The dead grass. The dead leaves in the road. And then I noticed it, just a flash at first, and then another, and then another: Purple. I'm not a botanist and couldn't tell you what it was, but protruding from the craggy mountain walls were purple flowers. Just patches of them, here and there, the only life on a mountain of death.
I've noticed this all weekend, not just on my drive to work, but everywhere. My neighbor's flowers, the only ones in bloom, purple. On the side of the highway. On our way to the zoo. Purple.
For those of you who don't know, purple is traditionally a color of royalty. To me it was a reminder of Christ's royalty, as I acknowledge Him as King and Lord of my life. And as I began to ponder His royalty, I started thinking about His coronation process. It was not a glorious one. It involved being whipped and ridiculed, and, eventually, being crucified.
How humble God made Himself.
Humble. That's a word we don't understand as a culture. It's a word movie stars and professional athletes throw around upon acknowledging success. I watched the Oscars this year (as I do most years), and I can't tell you how many award winners stand on stage and say "I feel so humbled to be standing here."
You're standing on national television wearing a multi-million dollar dress and holding an Oscar. The word you're looking for is honored. You feel honored to be standing there.
You know what's humbling? To be God one day and man the next. To let yourself be tortured by a bunch of ungrateful, arrogant peons because irrationally, unquantifiably, you love them.
You know what's humbling? To be turned over to a death sentence by one of your best friends. To know your mother is watching you cry out as you're whipped by men you knit together as infants in the womb.
You know what's humbling? To beg your torturers for a drink of sour wine. To have your body pierced with a spear after you've yielded to death, just to prove you're gone.
You know what's humbling? To rise from the dead and then be turned into a borderline superficial symbol by those who want to use you to justify religion in their lives. Who want to use you to make themselves feel righteous by intermittently giving you a shout out, but never engaging in a relationship with you, not really.
You know what's humbling? To have your instrument of torture turned into jewelry or tattoos by people who neither know nor care what it really means.
That is humility-- willing, intentional humility, motivated by love and extended to the proud. Extended to me, the person who feels so entitled to her own happiness that she can't yield that to accept joy. (There is a profound difference between happiness and joy.)
Thank You, Jesus, for Your willingness to be humble. Thank You, thank You, thank You.
This weekend, though, I could feel God's gentle pull on my heart. My daily commute brings me through the mountains. It is gorgeous in the summer-- lush, green, and vibrant-- and treacherous during the winter. Even though winter's wrath has slowly begun to recede, its grip has lingered on the slow changing trees and hills I pass on my way to work. As I settled into my morning drive, I subconsciously took in the dead things around me. The dead trees. The dead grass. The dead leaves in the road. And then I noticed it, just a flash at first, and then another, and then another: Purple. I'm not a botanist and couldn't tell you what it was, but protruding from the craggy mountain walls were purple flowers. Just patches of them, here and there, the only life on a mountain of death.
I've noticed this all weekend, not just on my drive to work, but everywhere. My neighbor's flowers, the only ones in bloom, purple. On the side of the highway. On our way to the zoo. Purple.
For those of you who don't know, purple is traditionally a color of royalty. To me it was a reminder of Christ's royalty, as I acknowledge Him as King and Lord of my life. And as I began to ponder His royalty, I started thinking about His coronation process. It was not a glorious one. It involved being whipped and ridiculed, and, eventually, being crucified.
How humble God made Himself.
Humble. That's a word we don't understand as a culture. It's a word movie stars and professional athletes throw around upon acknowledging success. I watched the Oscars this year (as I do most years), and I can't tell you how many award winners stand on stage and say "I feel so humbled to be standing here."
You're standing on national television wearing a multi-million dollar dress and holding an Oscar. The word you're looking for is honored. You feel honored to be standing there.
You know what's humbling? To be God one day and man the next. To let yourself be tortured by a bunch of ungrateful, arrogant peons because irrationally, unquantifiably, you love them.
You know what's humbling? To be turned over to a death sentence by one of your best friends. To know your mother is watching you cry out as you're whipped by men you knit together as infants in the womb.
You know what's humbling? To beg your torturers for a drink of sour wine. To have your body pierced with a spear after you've yielded to death, just to prove you're gone.
You know what's humbling? To rise from the dead and then be turned into a borderline superficial symbol by those who want to use you to justify religion in their lives. Who want to use you to make themselves feel righteous by intermittently giving you a shout out, but never engaging in a relationship with you, not really.
You know what's humbling? To have your instrument of torture turned into jewelry or tattoos by people who neither know nor care what it really means.
That is humility-- willing, intentional humility, motivated by love and extended to the proud. Extended to me, the person who feels so entitled to her own happiness that she can't yield that to accept joy. (There is a profound difference between happiness and joy.)
Thank You, Jesus, for Your willingness to be humble. Thank You, thank You, thank You.
Friday, April 11, 2014
3 Things God Didn't Promise You
Christians love to claim God's promises. Too much month and not enough money? Matthew 6. Claim it. Still single? The entire book of Ruth. Your Boaz is somewhere. Going through any trial of any kind at anytime? Romans 8:28. Because it somehow applies to everything.
I'm not downing on this concept (okay, I am a little bit, but for a good reason). One of the most powerful things we can do as Christians is to cling to the promises God has made us. His word is true and His character faithful; what better salve to an anxious heart than to acknowledge the promises of an omniscient, infallible being? I can think of none. Inevitably, however, someone will walk one of this world's several bitter roads, cling to a "promise," and then experience something downright hellish anyway. All too often this is because we don't understand what God's promises to us are, or because a cultural Christianity perpetuates false ideas of God's promises.
So, without further ado, here are three things God didn't promise you:
1. God will never give you more than you can handle.
Um. No. I know it's a cute thing to put in a song and, let me tell you, people who are going through really awful things love to have it quoted at them, but I see no Biblical basis for this. Feel free to weigh in on this, I'd love to be wrong, but I've yet to hear a good argument for the principle behind this. 1 Corinthians 10:13 tells us that God will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. That's true. It's also very different than enduring suffering beyond what you can bear. Succumbing to a temptation is a choice. Enduring a hardship is often not. Christ tells us that His power is made perfect in our weakness. He tells us that, apart from Him, we can do nothing. So, in that regard, I think this quote is crap. It suggests that we're assigned struggles based on our strength. And, furthermore, it suggests that we're assigned struggle. Period. I know that there are times when God will call us to be tried, but to assume that every bad thing you experience in life is a direct result of God is wrong.
2. You can do anything. (Circa Philippians 4:13)
Indirectly translated, the verse actually says this: "I can do all this (sometimes it says "things") through Him (Christ) who gives me strength." It does not say "I can do anything I want," nor does it say "If you can dream it you can do it." The passage leading up to this verse talks about learning to be content in all circumstances, which leads me to believe the more accurate spirit of this verse is that, in any circumstance you may encounter, Christ's strength is available to you through His spirit.
3. God works all things together for your good.
As best as I can figure, this is a misguided interpretation of Romans 8:28, which says "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." I've written about this before, so I'll spare you a complete re-hashing of that, but here are the highlights: Because we want to believe that nothing bad can happen in our lives, we take the hard things that inevitably occur and we assign some kind of positive meaning to them. We affirm ideas like "this awful thing is just the bridge to something great," or "God is just using this to test me," and we wind up either A) wildly disillusioned with God, or B) waiting for a happy ending that may not be coming in the way we anticipate it. I'm not saying that God doesn't try people--there's Biblical evidence to the contrary-- or that something hard may not eventually pay off, but to assume that's always true is dangerous. It disregards one of the most basic truths presented in the Bible: We live in a fallen world. Sometimes bad things happen just because of that. And, further, it's a popular idea to individualize that verse-- to make it God talking specifically to and about YOU, when really, he's talking to and about all believers. Well, that changes things.
I'm all about claiming promises. I like when someone as powerful as God promises me something. But I'm also a big believer in understanding exactly what it is He promises.
I'm not downing on this concept (okay, I am a little bit, but for a good reason). One of the most powerful things we can do as Christians is to cling to the promises God has made us. His word is true and His character faithful; what better salve to an anxious heart than to acknowledge the promises of an omniscient, infallible being? I can think of none. Inevitably, however, someone will walk one of this world's several bitter roads, cling to a "promise," and then experience something downright hellish anyway. All too often this is because we don't understand what God's promises to us are, or because a cultural Christianity perpetuates false ideas of God's promises.
So, without further ado, here are three things God didn't promise you:
1. God will never give you more than you can handle.
Um. No. I know it's a cute thing to put in a song and, let me tell you, people who are going through really awful things love to have it quoted at them, but I see no Biblical basis for this. Feel free to weigh in on this, I'd love to be wrong, but I've yet to hear a good argument for the principle behind this. 1 Corinthians 10:13 tells us that God will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. That's true. It's also very different than enduring suffering beyond what you can bear. Succumbing to a temptation is a choice. Enduring a hardship is often not. Christ tells us that His power is made perfect in our weakness. He tells us that, apart from Him, we can do nothing. So, in that regard, I think this quote is crap. It suggests that we're assigned struggles based on our strength. And, furthermore, it suggests that we're assigned struggle. Period. I know that there are times when God will call us to be tried, but to assume that every bad thing you experience in life is a direct result of God is wrong.
2. You can do anything. (Circa Philippians 4:13)
Indirectly translated, the verse actually says this: "I can do all this (sometimes it says "things") through Him (Christ) who gives me strength." It does not say "I can do anything I want," nor does it say "If you can dream it you can do it." The passage leading up to this verse talks about learning to be content in all circumstances, which leads me to believe the more accurate spirit of this verse is that, in any circumstance you may encounter, Christ's strength is available to you through His spirit.
3. God works all things together for your good.
As best as I can figure, this is a misguided interpretation of Romans 8:28, which says "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." I've written about this before, so I'll spare you a complete re-hashing of that, but here are the highlights: Because we want to believe that nothing bad can happen in our lives, we take the hard things that inevitably occur and we assign some kind of positive meaning to them. We affirm ideas like "this awful thing is just the bridge to something great," or "God is just using this to test me," and we wind up either A) wildly disillusioned with God, or B) waiting for a happy ending that may not be coming in the way we anticipate it. I'm not saying that God doesn't try people--there's Biblical evidence to the contrary-- or that something hard may not eventually pay off, but to assume that's always true is dangerous. It disregards one of the most basic truths presented in the Bible: We live in a fallen world. Sometimes bad things happen just because of that. And, further, it's a popular idea to individualize that verse-- to make it God talking specifically to and about YOU, when really, he's talking to and about all believers. Well, that changes things.
I'm all about claiming promises. I like when someone as powerful as God promises me something. But I'm also a big believer in understanding exactly what it is He promises.
Monday, January 13, 2014
Thanksgiving, NYC Pitch Conference and Christmas
It has been quite some time since I've posted any sort of Dunham family update, so, here it is-- probably long overdue, but here nonetheless.
December was a really busy month for us. I feel as though I spend most of the year looking forward to Christmas-- particularly the months leading up to it-- and then December flies by before I've really grasped that it's here. That sums this Christmas up for us, but it was a great season of worship for our family anyway.
We had a great time in New York with Matt's parents for Thanksgiving. It was really neat to see Declan interact with his Nana and Pop-pops. He'd just gotten the hang of a few new words (I don't even remember what they were, at this point), so that was fun. Matt and I were able to make it to his 10 year high school reunion, which was fantastic. Pleasantville is a truly very cool community of people.
Shortly after getting back from New York for Thanksgiving, I found a pitch conference in New York that I felt lead to go to. It was something we considered very prayerfully, and, with a lot of help, decided to act on. I feel really happy with that decision, though it felt stressful at the time.
For those of you who don't know, a pitch is essentially condensing a manuscript into a one minute or less (200 words or less) summary in a way that will (hopefully) pique an editor's interest. It's the type of thing you might read in a book jacket.
A pitch conference is when you prepare a pitch, present it to a workshop leader in front of fifteen or so other novelists, try not to cry when said workshop leader rips it to shreds, re-work your pitch (let's not talk about re-working the manuscript yet, hahaha), and then present it to four editors in the hope one will bite on it.
Okay, so I'm not sure if that's how all pitch conferences work, but that's how this one went.
I went prepared to pitch two novels (you only get to pitch one, but I hadn't decided which one to focus on that weekend). I ended up going with a middle grade fantasy novel I'd originally written in 2012-- the one that made it to the semi-final round of the Amazon contest.
Long story short, those conferences aren't for the faint of heart. If you're ready and willing to let a stranger tear down what might be years of hard work, you're solid. If not... well, stay home. The first day was tough, but worth it. I think I came out with a stronger novel than when I went in. I'm already working on my rewrite, and I did end up getting a hit on the pitch. On top of that, everyone I met there was awesome. What a cool thing to be surrounded by other writers.
So, hopefully a few months from now, when I feel okay with what I've written, the fact that a major publishing house requested to see the manuscript will help me get an agent. We will see. I'm deep in prayer about it.
Five days after I got back from the pitch conference, the Dunham's hit the road again-- this time for Massachusetts. It was an interesting car ride. We not only had Declan in tow, but we brought Fenway (our dog, not the park) with us too. All I really have to say about that is... well, that happened.
It was so good to see family. They hardly ever see Declan, given that we live thirteen hours away, but we made up for lost time quickly. He's in love with Uncle Mike's beard, Ti-Ti Britt taught him his new favorite word (please), and he thinks Megan is the funniest person on this planet. We baked cookies with Nana and Papa (and were otherwise spoiled by them) and just generally enjoyed being with everyone.
Declan picked up about seven new words while being on Cape, so that may or may not say something about my family. ;)
And now... now we're just trying to adjust back to the every day grind. And also, not traveling. That's the other thing we're doing for awhile.
So, needless to say, it's been a busy, busy time full of lots of blessings and new direction. Following Christ is always an adventure, but especially lately for us. We couldn't be more thankful!
December was a really busy month for us. I feel as though I spend most of the year looking forward to Christmas-- particularly the months leading up to it-- and then December flies by before I've really grasped that it's here. That sums this Christmas up for us, but it was a great season of worship for our family anyway.
We had a great time in New York with Matt's parents for Thanksgiving. It was really neat to see Declan interact with his Nana and Pop-pops. He'd just gotten the hang of a few new words (I don't even remember what they were, at this point), so that was fun. Matt and I were able to make it to his 10 year high school reunion, which was fantastic. Pleasantville is a truly very cool community of people.
Shortly after getting back from New York for Thanksgiving, I found a pitch conference in New York that I felt lead to go to. It was something we considered very prayerfully, and, with a lot of help, decided to act on. I feel really happy with that decision, though it felt stressful at the time.
For those of you who don't know, a pitch is essentially condensing a manuscript into a one minute or less (200 words or less) summary in a way that will (hopefully) pique an editor's interest. It's the type of thing you might read in a book jacket.
A pitch conference is when you prepare a pitch, present it to a workshop leader in front of fifteen or so other novelists, try not to cry when said workshop leader rips it to shreds, re-work your pitch (let's not talk about re-working the manuscript yet, hahaha), and then present it to four editors in the hope one will bite on it.
Okay, so I'm not sure if that's how all pitch conferences work, but that's how this one went.
I went prepared to pitch two novels (you only get to pitch one, but I hadn't decided which one to focus on that weekend). I ended up going with a middle grade fantasy novel I'd originally written in 2012-- the one that made it to the semi-final round of the Amazon contest.
Long story short, those conferences aren't for the faint of heart. If you're ready and willing to let a stranger tear down what might be years of hard work, you're solid. If not... well, stay home. The first day was tough, but worth it. I think I came out with a stronger novel than when I went in. I'm already working on my rewrite, and I did end up getting a hit on the pitch. On top of that, everyone I met there was awesome. What a cool thing to be surrounded by other writers.
So, hopefully a few months from now, when I feel okay with what I've written, the fact that a major publishing house requested to see the manuscript will help me get an agent. We will see. I'm deep in prayer about it.
Five days after I got back from the pitch conference, the Dunham's hit the road again-- this time for Massachusetts. It was an interesting car ride. We not only had Declan in tow, but we brought Fenway (our dog, not the park) with us too. All I really have to say about that is... well, that happened.
It was so good to see family. They hardly ever see Declan, given that we live thirteen hours away, but we made up for lost time quickly. He's in love with Uncle Mike's beard, Ti-Ti Britt taught him his new favorite word (please), and he thinks Megan is the funniest person on this planet. We baked cookies with Nana and Papa (and were otherwise spoiled by them) and just generally enjoyed being with everyone.
Declan picked up about seven new words while being on Cape, so that may or may not say something about my family. ;)
And now... now we're just trying to adjust back to the every day grind. And also, not traveling. That's the other thing we're doing for awhile.
So, needless to say, it's been a busy, busy time full of lots of blessings and new direction. Following Christ is always an adventure, but especially lately for us. We couldn't be more thankful!
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