We are made of so many things. We're made of water. We're made of stardust. We can't see the individual atoms, but we are made of one thing that can be seen and heard as God-inspired. We're made of stories. Our faith is based on the stories we've read and heard over the years, and we have placed our hearts and lives in those stories. We believe in stories. We believe in something greater than ourselves. We believe in the Greatest Story of All. One of the first stories I remember is, "Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong. We are weak, but He is strong." This is the story I believe when I can't believe anything else.
I want to solicit the help of – as strange as this is going to sound, coming from me – conservative, pro-life / anti-abortion, evangelical Christians in understanding something that has happened to me multiple times in debates about abortion. By “multiple times,” I mean so often that I have come to expect some cognate of this pattern to recur as a matter of course. As you might expect, the whole debate turns on the issue of the “ontological” status of the fetus in the mother’s womb: is the fetus a human person or not, and if the fetus is human, when in the pregnancy does the fetus attain this status of person-hood? As I have said elsewhere, I have no idea what the answer to the above italicized question is, and my entire stance of being pro-choice is predicated on my ignorance a
"Life" Issues, activism, autonomy, awareness, Challenge, Change, Christianity, Church, citizenship, civics, community, Compassion, culture, disability, empathy, entering into suffering, Equality, Ethics, Freedom, Gratitude, Healing, health insurance, Healthcare, mindfulness, movement, progressive politics, solidarity, Suffering, The long and difficult road
I had never thought much about physical disabilities until the autumn of 2012, when an airplane flight from Hell from Wichita, KS, to Denver – long horror story ... please don't ask! -- squeezed me into a last-row seat of a tiny Embraer jet aircraft for four hours, resulting in a severely compressed sciatic nerve that basically crippled me for several months. At first, the pain was so intense that I thought I would die, then later on, the pain was so intense I was afraid I would not. (My wife and I slept in our first-floor guest suite for some period of time.) Gradually, thanks mainly to the intervention of an excellent chiropractor, I incrementally, over a period of about four months, recovered to the point that, instead of walking half the length of my driveway, I can now walk perh