Grace for Women Who've Had Abortions

Hi there! Check out my blog post over at Grace Roots about giving grace to women who've had abortions. http://graceroots.ning.com/profiles/blogs/grace-for-women-whove-had.

Part 3 of my abortion story will be coming up later this week here at Oil of His Grace.

Blessings on your week!

My Abortion Story, Part 2 - Forgiven

Last time I shared the first part of my abortion story with you. It would be a sad tale if it ended there - just doomed to shame and silence for the rest of my life. It's true that the healing would eventually come, but in the meantime, like other women who've had abortions I learned how to "move on." Over the years, through working in ministry, I've had the privilege of knowing quite a few post-abortive women. I daresay that most of us became expert at faking our way through anything. We knew how to put on a mask; to pretend like everything was okay. During my years of silence I spent a great deal of energy suppressing thoughts about the abortion. Instead, I chose to focus on having fun. Having fun was the way I dealt with my internal conflict. However, as I said before, God had other plans for me and so my first small breakthrough occured when I became a Christian...

The summer after I graduated I was fortunate enough to get a great job as a graphic artist. For the first time I felt I had some true independence. I was making good money, had just bought my first car - a sporty little Mazda RX7 in fact - and, although I had gotten back together with John, I had noticed with increasing confidence that men at work found me attractive. These were "real men" in my mind. Men with good jobs and who were responsible. At this time I was living what I thought was the ideal modern woman lifestyle. A respectable job, a career really, lots of friends, parties, a my-way-or-the-highway attitude...in short - a feminist. As I began to realize that I could have my choice of men, I also began dressing and acting in a way that would get attention. At work, and now also at bars (having been introduced to all the places that allowed underage drinkers), I was flaunting myself. John and I were on again/off again because I was always "exploring my options," as I liked to think in those days.

Two years into this I thought about going back to school. I had been taking some classes at our local junior college, but now I felt restless. I liked school and was really into photography (back before digital!), and so I decided I would pursue a bachelors degree in photojournalism. Around the same time, I got a new boss at work who had just come from management at the Chicago Tribune. By pulling some strings, she told me she might be able to get me a job there. "Perfect," I thought, "I can work at the Tribune and attend Columbia College."

Just a couple weeks after the conversation with my boss, I was offered a position at the newspaper. Now I really was going to make good money. I even reasoned that when I got my degree perhaps I could stay on at the Trib and work for them as a photojournalist. Like frosting on the cake, my new studio apartment I planned to rent in the Hyde Park area of Chicago was really cute too. John and I had ended it for good months earlier, and so now I felt free to do whatever I wanted. Feeling positive about my future, I put in my two weeks notice.

Looking back, I know that the Lord was orchestrating events in my life even before I knew Him. This was one of those times. The two weeks were ticking down and I was growing uneasy. I arrived at work on my last day to discover that my co-workers had planned a going-away party. I was really touched. It also made what I had to do that much more difficult. But it had to be done - I needed to find out if I could still keep my job.

I waited until my boss had a free moment and asked her if we could talk. I don't recall everything about the conversation but I do remember that she was shocked and disappointed. She had put in a good word for me and now I wasn't following through. However, after giving it some serious thought, by day's end she said I could stay if that's what I wanted.

I did want to stay, but truthfully, I'm not sure I knew why I wanted to stay. In hindsight I believe that the Lord ordered my steps during this time so that His purposes would be fulfilled. I had started to casually date a Jehovah's Witness from a different department at work and, of course, he was always rattling on about that. I was getting annoyed by it. At the same time, in my own department, there were a couple of people that I knew were Christians; both were really serious about God. Where before I might have avoided them, now for some reason I felt drawn.

Over the next month or two I bombarded them both with questions about God and the Bible. Finally, the older lady, Laura, asked me if I had a Bible. When I told her I didn't she surprised me by bringing me a new Bible the next day. She instructed me to start by reading John. Embarrassed, I had to ask her what she meant. She told me it was one of the Gospels - blank stare - in the New Testament - a laugh and look of apology - finally, the truth dawned on her and she understood. I was completely Bible illiterate. With great patience she opened the Book and gently took hold of the ribbon, found the Gospel of John, and placed the bookmark there.

From that time on I read the Bible like someone starved. Every waking moment I was glued to its pages. The more I read the more I was convinced that the two people in my department had the answer, and the guy I was dating did not. Sometimes in the break room they would end up debating each other and I would listen intently, soaking it all in. During those days I was getting a real lesson in defending the faith - I just didn't know it quite yet!

Sometime around Christmas I was watching Christian TV one evening after work. A man on there was giving a testimony and asking viewers if they would also like to receive Jesus as savior. That night I prayed along with him as he lead me in a simple prayer of trust and repentance. God had really been drawing me for months and now I wept with a sense of joy and peace. I could hardly wait to see Laura the next day and tell her the good news.

When she arrived I was already there - waiting at the door of our department. "Laura, Laura! I got saved!" I cried out. "Oh praise the Lord!" she responded enthusiastically. We jumped up and down and then embraced each other. I noticed a couple of on-lookers rolled their eyes and I overheard one of them mutter with disgust, "A couple of Jesus freaks."

As the weekend drew near I was anticipating having a whole Saturday to read the Bible and pray. When the day dawned I brewed a large pot of coffee. As I began to pray it seemed the Lord wanted to speak to me about some very specific things. I spent most of the day repenting of different sins as the Lord brought them to mind. Eventually He gently nudged me about the abortion. My heart broke! I hadn't thought about that in so long! In tears I agreed with Him and confessed that my own sinful decisions had brought me to the place of having an abortion. It was not my mom's fault. It wasn't John's or anyone else's. It was mine. I had been living selfishly and the fruit of that was that I had consented to a horrific act of violence against an innocent human being - my baby. This was the first time I really allowed myself to admit the truth. I had been carrying a baby, not just a "blob of tissue;" a convenient lie used by the abortion industry to sell their services, and one perpetuated by the women themselves to soothe their consciences. I had believed a lie in order to protect myself.

I repented and asked God to forgive me. I thought of all the people I had wronged through this one sin. I went on for some time - maybe an hour or two. In the end I felt relief and assurance of His forgiveness. I was just beginning to learn something of His faithfulness and righteousness to "forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." 1 John 1:9

I wish I could say that that's all it takes - just receive God's forgiveness and all will be well. It was a wonderful start to my healing; but it was just that, a start. I unknowingly thought there was nothing left to do. I didn't realize how great the "damage" really was. So I stuffed it again - this time under a Christian veneer.

In my next post I promise to get to the healing part! I had originally planned to do that in this one. However, I think the Lord wanted me to share my testimony because it's too easy as Christians to gloss over painful wounds just because we're saved now. That's in essence what I did. Yes, absolutely yes, there's healing and forgiveness in salvation. Receiving Christ is the most beautiful, wondrous thing that can ever happen to anyone. His work is all-sufficient; I don't want to diminish that. In fact, I want to glorify it and say that He came to give us freedom and truth. I know from personal experience, and from working as a leader in post-abortion Bible studies, that God wants to go much deeper and much more thoroughly than we can even imagine. When He does a healing work it's complete and whole; literally life-transforming. I've seen it happen time and again. Women are set free to become the woman God wants them to be! Next time I will show you how He brought that about in my life and give some practical first steps if you've experienced abortion and want healing.

If, however, you've had an abortion and need immediate help, please feel free to contact me. You may email me confidentially at titus2homemaker@gmail.com.

My Abortion Story, Part 1

"Can I see?" I asked. Emotionless the woman replied, "That's not our policy." So I put my head back down and continued to lie on the cold table while she performed an ultrasound on me. With my heart pounding and the palms of my hands sweating, I closed my eyes and wished I were anywhere else but this abortion clinic.

It had been almost a year since I had run away from home. Now seventeen, and just a few weeks away from graduating, I had returned to my mother's house only a month before - unknowingly pregnant with my boyfriend's child. When the morning sickness began my mother bought a home pregnancy test and told me that if it was positive she and my step dad would pay for an abortion. End of discussion. No consideration for what I wanted or how I felt. Of course, it didn't matter. I was willing to do whatever she said. I had told her when I came back that I would play by her rules now and so it was either obey or be kicked out. My only other alternative was to go back to my boyfriend, John, and I was too scared to do that. He had beat me up several times and it was the abuse that finally prompted me to call home, begging them to let me come back.

Now I just wanted this terrible ordeal over. Out in the waiting room sat my mother, along with my cousin, Paula. Seven years older than I, Paula had also had an abortion as a teenager and assured me it was no big deal. Right now though it felt like a big deal. I pushed aside thoughts of John and his mother sobbing over the phone when I told them I was scheduled for an abortion that Saturday morning. "Why should I care what they think?!?" I reasoned angrily. He was violent and she never did a thing to protect me from her son's wrath.

A short time later I was in the operating room. The doctor didn't even acknowledge me. I felt trapped - like I just wanted to get out of there. I'd never felt so alone in my life. In seconds the sound of the suction machine and the pain overwhelmed me. No one in that room offered any comfort. I was just a number in a long list of patients that day. Afterward, in a dark room where other women and girls were also recovering, I tried hard not to cry. I was almost successful but for a silent, stray tear that rolled down my cheek.

Later on that day I was at my cousin's house. She and her husband were having a cook out with their family and I was spending the night, as I often did when I was a teenager. I loved babysitting her two girls - I was close to them both and they were my pride and joy. However, that night I wasn't much in the mood for their girlish chatter and giggles. I sat in a lawn chair watching them play when suddenly I felt a pinching sensation in my abdomen. It really hurt. I decided to go to the bathroom. While I was in there I fell to the floor in excruciating pain. After lying there a few minutes, curled up in a ball and holding my stomach, I crawled onto the toilet and began to bleed. I bled and bled. In panic I thought I was going to die. I don't remember how long I stayed there. I think Paula checked on me some time later through the door, but I must have lied and told her I was fine. By the next morning, with most of the physical pain subsiding, I acted like everything was normal. She did too. We didn't discuss the abortion at all.

It's strange to think, but my mom and I never discussed it again either. It was taboo - for both of us. Like it never happened. The only time I talked about it with anyone was just once, about a week later. A girl I went to school with confided to me that she had just found out she was pregnant. After listening to her I advised her to have an abortion. I told her the same thing Paula had told me - that it was no big deal. Looking back, years later, this would haunt me. I don't know why I told her that. I knew, even then - before knowing the Lord, that it really was a big deal. That it was wrong.

Isn't it ironic that we live in a society that says abortion is perfectly fine - that it's a woman's "choice" - but then that same society teaches us to keep quiet about it when we've had one?  Some may argue that I'm wrong about this. "Who tells them to be quiet?" they ask. However, when was the last time you heard a woman talk freely and publicly about her abortion, telling everyone that it was a great decision? Granted, there are those who are spokespersons for the feminist movement who might go around saying that; but how about around the water cooler, the hair salon, or at church - do you ever hear ordinary women talking that way? 

For me it would be seven years before I spoke of it again. During that time I stuffed it, pretending that all was fine. As with everything though, God had other plans. He wanted to redeem this awful thing in my life and heal it. In my next post I'll share with you the rest of my story - the way God gave me "beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness... ." (Isaiah 61:3) I'll also give some practical steps you can take if you've had an abortion and are suffering. Please feel free to comment here and if you need to talk with someone, I'll be happy to get back to you right away.

Note: Names in my story have been changed to protect privacy.