Many of us have spent the last couple of days reeling from the NY law that states babies can be aborted up to full term.

Some of us have defended the “gray area.” People have unfriended, spewed hateful language, and altogether ignored their friends over this matter.

The church is not insulated from this insanity.

The views on abortion vary to such a degree within the circles of those who label themselves as “Christian,” that we can hardly tell who stands for what anymore.

My stripper friends are posting about how it is murder and some of my friends from church are saying it’s not such a “big deal.

Anyone else confused? Anyone wonder how we got to this?

For starters, it would help to do a little research on how abortion is linked to eugenics and see it for the evil it really is.

The root of the matter always matters.

Jesus was (and is still) concerned about the state of our hearts above all else.

While we cannot change others’ opinions or even the disgusting origin of systematic abortion, we can examine our own hearts.

Whatever you believe about the matter, why do you believe it?

I had a revelation today as I perused isles of toys and watched my 4 year old marvel at them. She was so excited, joyfully window shopping for almost an hour!

I followed her into every store and let her lead the way, exploring as she went….

Her happiness was as marvelous to me as the toys were to her little toddler self.

I wanted to give her the world.

But I won’t.

Not because I can’t, but because I would damaged her by doing so.

I would be worshipping her and it would escalate to bigger and more expensive toys, clothing, vacations etc. as I coxed out every last drop of happiness I could squeeze from her to make myself happy.

Which brings me to this…

We kill our babies because we worship them.

Our American culture informs us (even in the church), that babies are meant to bring us joy. If they don’t they become useless, inconvenient and disposable.

If they aren’t likely to live up to our expectations, if we hypothesize they will be “defective” in some way, then we may dispose of them. Provided we fill out the proper paperwork, of course.

After all, an idol is only as good as its ability to serve us. And idols, every idol, is worshiped for what can be gotten from it, not given to it.

You see, baby worshippers. You are the problem too; not just the “baby killers.”

“We kill our babies because we worship them.”

I have heard it said that whatever we put before God we will lose. Maybe that explains why we are losing so many babies?

It’s time to check our priorities. If you’re putting more effort into keeping your kids happy than upholding the sanctity of life, you’re dead wrong.

Well, maybe not dead but you are wrong.

The babies have the dead part taken care of for you. But not to worry, because the children you already have are being worshipped sufficiently.

Besides, who has time for saving babies when you’ve got soccer practice at five and a lavish birthday party to plan?

Grieving for our ignorance…

Your sister,

Monica

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If you’ve ever walked into a church you’ve probably been hurt by it.

It’s when the pastor’s son bullies you and no one stops him or corrects his behavior. You’re only 7 years old but you never forget.

This is church hurt; when the place you thought you could find healing brings agony instead.

The kind of pain that lingers deep inside.

It’s when you’re a lonely teenager from a broken home where you never want to be. You happen upon a church function in your neighborhood and you are hesitantly invited… but then overhear, “why is she here.”

It was said in secret so you don’t confront anyone. The pain stays.

It is when you become a teen mother because of the abyss of loneliness in your childhood home, and you overhear the pastor bashing another pregnant teen.

You feel equally shamed. The pastor said it so it must be true.

The pain stays.

But then the REAL church shows up…

The church that is all African American and accepts a young white boy with grace and love… even though he is bald, pierced and has “S-K-I-N-H-E-A-D” tatted across his knuckles.

You regain hope for the church.

The church that throws your lonely-teen-momma-self a baby shower and cooks for you and takes you shopping for appropriate young women’s clothing to wear.

The church that lets you serve in worship and lead even though you told them you’re only a month out of detoxing from a 5 year alcohol relapse/binge.

You begin to heal a little.

The church that shows up to the hospital when your child has a seizure and to your home when your marriage is falling apart.

The church that counsels and prays for that broken marriage instead of condemning you and telling you to submit to an abusive husband.

I have seen both sides of this crisis in the church.

The pain is real but so is the healing.

I have found healing in forgiveness. The same forgiveness that was extended to me, without limitation, by Jesus.

I have also had to ask forgiveness…

The sins I had minimized as “lesser” had actually created the very same deep pain as those perpetrated against me.

That is the point. We were all guilty. That’s why we need Jesus.

He is STILL the answer to all our troubles.

He is STILL our hope and healing.

Even for #churchhurt.

May you be forgiven and extend forgiveness without reservation.

May you love the church, the broken bunch we are, as Christ loves the church.

Your sister,

Monica

As I embarked down this interesting road of “growing a platform” in order to later get my testimony into people’s hands, I discovered the incredible world of Instagram.

It is a peculiar thing, what people put out into the world. What even is more astounding than the extremities people go to for attention, is the awkward silence that surrounds many of these obvious cries for help.

“Don’t quit”

I found myself writing this on strangers’ Instagram accounts in response to pictures that were glorifying self harm and suicidal ideation, but that were also accompanied by words of desperation and longing. I wonder why there is no online outreach to these, clearly broken, souls?

So far, every person I have reached out to encourage has replied with gratitude.

I’m not sure how or why these people got to where they are… with no one around to encourage and lift them up in such a dark time.

Oh wait, yes I am.

That was me.…

It was me who took to the razor as a tool for fighting the numbness that accompanied emotional and sexual abuse I endured at the hands of my first real boyfriend.

It was me who played depressing music over and over… and over… and over again, focusing intently on the burning sensation on my skin as I longed for the tears to begin pouring.

They seemed so impossible.

It was me who needed to feel something; to cry and mourn the loss of a part of me I had never even come to know at 15 years old.

It was me who sat in the top of my closet, drawing a line in the sand and declaring I would “never cut again” as I blended my charcoal drawing into the wall by candlelight; morbid work of art no one was ever supposed to see.

Until my mother found it

It was me who was taken to a psychiatrist, asked a short series of questions, and put on a medication that made me feel happy but didn’t fill the hole that my boyfriend’s “love” had branded into my soul.

It was me who, even after being given an incredible gift of faith in Jesus Christ, had to face down these demons while hiding in my bathroom, wallowing in loneliness, and staring into the glare of a razor blade once more.

But

It is also me who has witnessed these demons fleeing in terror at the sight of my Lord who came to protect me… from them and from myself, when I called His name.

It is me who has gone from shaking on my closet floor with a blanket over my head; hiding from the world and barely able to breathe… to shaking on the floor in my prayer room and sleeping there all night; crying out to Jesus for the panic attacks and night terrors to be stopped…

Then seeing those prayers answered.

It is me, a woman who has been the recipient of astounding grace and incomprehensible deliverance, who is writing this now as tears flow down her face.

My tears, however, are no longer for myself.

They are for those of you who have not yet found your deliverance.

I mourn with you.

I love you.

Don’t quit.

Your sister,

Monica

APTOPIX Manhattan Shooting
Bicycles and debris lay on a bike path after a motorist drove onto the path near the World Trade Center memorial, striking and killing several people Tuesday, Oct. 31, 2017. (AP Photo/Craig Ruttle)

 

The devil has peeked his cowardly head out of hiding once again to remind us that he is still here.

As is common lately, he used a desperate, fear-filled man who he knew would scream the battle cry of Islamic extremists as he ran from the scene of dead and injured bodies. He picked a man who was already sick: an easy target.

He chose the man he wanted to be his scapegoat. A religion that he wants to be the target of our warfare instead of him.

Its time we stop letting the real enemy hide behind the hurting people of this world as we blame them. It’s time we wage war against the spiritual forces instead of each other.

Are you angry that people are dead, and so close on the heels of the last tragedy in Vegas? Good. Me too. But that anger, if it is truly righteous, belongs to the Lord and vengeance is His alone. So harness up all that adrenaline… you’re going to need it as a prayer warrior.

Oh, you’re not a prayer warrior? That’s fine. Now is a good time to become one. You don’t even need to be great at it! Just start praying because, Lord knows, we need more Christians who are willing to do battle this way. Who are willing to go the extra mile and pray for their enemies.

But it’s going to take some grit.

This life of grace is a marathon. Change that lasts does not come quickly, and our God will not build something that is temporary. His is the ONLY kingdom that is everlasting. The only thing we can hang our hopes on and commit our lives to that will surely have impact for generations to come.

Now grab your Bible, read again about that forgiveness you received, and hit your knees to pray for that man who killed people today. Pray for his family. Pray for Jesus to reveal Himself in all this and to be glorified. Pray for those Muslims you want to blame it on.

Pray, cry, and be filled with hope.

We do not grieve like others. Let Christians be known today for that grace which we have been given in such abundance. For that “Amazing Grace” we sing of.

May the world find peace at the foot of the cross as we lead them to it… in action… on our knees. This peace and grace of Christ is the only thing that will heal our nation and our world.

I am praying with you.

Your Sister,

Monica