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Bound4Life Chicago

August 10, 2008

“Jesus, I plead Your blood over my sins and the sins of my nation. God, end abortion and bring revival to America.”

I glance down at the now familiar piece of red duct tape and draw a deep breath. I know, in part, what the next three hours will bring. Tears. Faith. Anger. Applause. Sore feet. Frustration. Restlessness. Hecklers. And a more intimate connection to the heart that saw the world before it was. I watch the piece of tape between my fingers and draw a deep breath just to put it off for another moment.

It’s surprising and comforting how securely the tape holds to your face. You know it’s not letting go, which you know means you can’t let go. There’s no turning back now, and my flesh hates me in this moment. It hates me more than fasting and more than early morning prayer walks and more than those comfortable moments that my husband ruins when he casually asks if I want to pray for a while.

But the tape clings, and even my flesh knows that pulling it off is going to hurt so we might as well.

And then my spirit takes over and I remember why I’m here.

I stand in the throne room of heaven and ask for Grace. I ask for Love. I ask for Forgiveness and Mercy. I ask that the women who leave this parking lot without their children would not become bitter, that they would know His mercy. I ask for boys to become men and fathers, fathers who defend their families. I ask for mother hens. I ask for doctors and nurses to admit what they already know is true and walk out. I ask for righteous judges in our nation’s highest court. I ask for a spirit of adoption on God’s Church.

One man approaches the fence to talk to our spokesperson. He and his wife have four children, whom he works two full-time jobs to provide for. She’s pregnant, and in spite of him, refuses to spare the child. He had nearly talked her out of it last night, but when they called the clinic to cancel the apointment the people at the clinic told them no. She’d already taken some medication to ease the procedure and it was too late. He found out today that was a lie. He’s considering divorce because he can’t believe his wife would do this.

Twenty minutes before we left another frustrated father went back into the clinic to try to talk his girlfriend out of the abortion. We had to leave before any of them came back out.

The frustration was nearly overpowering. I couldn’t get Isaiah 59 out of my head, and if I could have yelled with tape on my mouth I would have been.

“Behold, the LORD’s hand is not shortened that it cannot save, nor His ear heavy that He cannot hear.” I admit it: I got upset. “Is Your hand short that You cannot save?!” I know: free will and all that, but it had been two hours. I was restless and a little sore and frustrated.

And for all of that, probably a little closer to the heart that saw the world before it was.

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