Is This the Kind of History Worth Celebrating?

They say it’s a historic week. A week where a woman took the oath for the second-highest office in the land. If that were all, I could applaud.

Yet the tragic irony is that this same woman and the administration she is part of are determined to do everything in their power to decimate the young women who will come behind her. 

In a culture where we’re laser-focused on using the right words, you can throw around wanting “unity” and being “for the people,” while distracting from the actual meaning and action of what you’re doing.

Like being hell-bent on making sure a mother can choose to dismember her little girl in the womb before she ever has a chance to make it in this world. Or a chance to even dream of becoming a future Vice President.

Only the “wanted” ones get to stay, all others are the blood-price for progress. 

Here’s the thing: You’re not actually a leader for all the people if you refuse to stand beside the most vulnerable, the most innocent, the ones being slaughtered at the breathtaking rate of 2,363 per day.

You’re not a leader living out unity and equity if you’ll sell out the future of your nation because it’s politically expedient. And you’re certainly not charting a brave path forward for little girls to follow if you’re telling them their empowerment and opportunity hinges on being able to kill their babe in the womb. 

The carpet is barely changed out in the White House before they’ve also erased high school girls across the country. One pen swoop and the doors of locker rooms, bathrooms, and women’s teams have been flung open to male-born athletes arguing that their identity as a female puts them on equal footing.

You could pardon a simple high school girl trying to win an athletic scholarship for thinking that’s just a bit unfair. 

Historic indeed.

Yeah, I know this is more direct than you’re used to in this space. More “political,” some might say. 

But when you’re facing an anniversary of 48 years of legally killing our children, can we perhaps be excused for a bit of righteous anger? 

And when you’re a mom of four daughters coming of age in this brave new world where their glory as a woman is being erased, expect some words.

For once, could we stop saying it’s political, as though politics will fix this, and just acknowledge it’s a gospel issue?

The breaking down of what it means to be made male and female.

The valuing of human life based on another’s opinion, not on the single and stunning truth that they are a reflection of our God-Father, covered in His fingerprints.

The cutting down and trying to cancel people we don’t agree with, people we don’t understand, people who make us uncomfortable.

As ever before, the problem is the ugly woven into our fiber since that Fall in the Garden. The lie that we have to look out for ourselves at any cost crept in on that serpent tongue and we’ve been battling it ever since.

Listen a little longer to those whispered lies and you’ll convince yourself that evil is good, that right is wrong and that left really is right, all to protect yourself.

This isn’t a political problem. It’s a heart problem. A heart-rot that can only be cleansed and redeemed by the Cross-bought blood of a spotless Lamb.

The same Lamb who died for my ugly pride and my small faith.

For didn’t that God-Son turn a religious Christian killer into His main messenger? And didn’t He bring an ugly-as-sin Empire to its knees through praises and witness (and a bit of bloodshedding) of the early, faithful, few?

And isn’t the whole of His-story that of taking the blind, the wandering people, the ones covered in such filth they stink to high heaven and turning them into a people for His glory?

So maybe, there’s still time for us, the People of the Cross, to mark this as the historic beginning of a season of miracles, of redeeming the dead and ugly, of bringing Hope through our praises and prayers.

If we will only repent. And rend our hearts. For ourselves. For our nation. For as long as it takes.

Will you join me?


2 thoughts on “Is This the Kind of History Worth Celebrating?

  1. Just when I thought I couldn’t love you anymore Joanna… you go and write this. Thank you, my friend. Just thank you.

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