Most of us, I’m sure, come to a point in our lives when we look back and ask ourselves, “Does my life really matter?”
Put another way, if you or I were to suddenly die, would anyone say, “Thank God this person lived on this planet”? If you believe in heaven or an afterlife, will anyone greet you there and say, “Thank God you were born because you were instrumental in saving my life back on Earth!”
I’ve been fascinated by WW2 for decades, reading about this monumental event in world history and watching countless videos and movies on it. One of my favorite movies is the fictional story starring Tom Hanks, “Saving Private Ryan.” There is no doubt that when the Allied forces landed in Normandy on D-Day in June of 1944, the people of France were delirious with joy when they realized their long and brutal occupation under the Nazi’s was coming to an end. Their nightmare of oppression, fear and death was ending.
Those soldiers who lost their lives liberating Europe from the scourge of Nazism can look back and truthfully say, “My life counted for something…”
I’ve always wanted my life to “count for something.” To have someone enthusiastically greet me when I enter heaven and say, “I thank God for you, Roy, that you were on the Earth because you saved my life and I just want to thank you!”
This might be wishful thinking on my part, but perhaps it may be true. Here’s why:
Briefly, since 2015, for the first time in decades, Christians in Tucson, AZ have been able to peacefully stand in front of this city’s only abortion clinic who performs surgical abortions and offer to the women going in there help to assist them in this difficult decision. Whatever needs these women have, concerned and loving Christians, standing outside the Planned Parenthood doors, are offering—for free—whatever they need: medical, financial, a place to stay, etc. All for free.
One of the most effective outreaches now available to both the hurting and disillusioned women and men entering the Planned Parenthood clinic is “Pro Love,” a ministry that I witnessed with my own eyes begin on the sidewalks surrounding this medical plaza that for decades was off-limits to Christians wanting to help the men and women walking into the PP clinic.
Here is the first paragraph from their “About Us” page:
“Pro-Love Tucson is a grassroots organization that has been serving women and men on the sidewalks of Tucson’s Planned Parenthood clinic since 2016. Our volunteer sidewalk advocates act as a bridge between Planned Parenthood and the many resources available to people in our community.”
The amazing thing about Pro-Love is how effective they are in reaching women in their times of crisis pregnancies. Upon information and belief, since they first began reaching out to moms and dads on the sidewalks, at least 22 babies have been spared the abortionist’s knife and suction machine and are alive today. Here are some of the stories.
Though I am not a part of Pro-Love, I honor their commitment to life and justice as they faithfully, for years now, stand on the sidewalks and offer help, hope and healing to the hurting.
Recently on Facebook, I read this message from a pro-life group I subscribe to. Here is the screenshot:
I’m going to take a guess which I believe is fairly accurate, though I cannot state for certain it is exact truth: since these sidewalks were opened up to pro-life Christians around the middle of 2014 or so, approximately 50 babies have been brought into this world that otherwise would not be alive today due to the unceasing efforts of the various groups, individuals, organizations and churches that are there to offer help.
I thank God that I was privileged to be used by Him in such an instrumental way. All the countless hours that I spent on those sidewalks by myself when the lawsuit was first won has all been worth it…even the times when my life was threatened and I was almost run over by a car that came onto the sidewalk curb where I was standing by a crazed, hateful pro-abortion man.
Perhaps this poem will help, titled, “I shall not pass this way again,” by Eva Rose York. It’s wonderful and has spoken volumes to me over the decades that I have read and reread it. I particularly like this last section:
I love the beauty of the scene, Would roam again o’er fields so green; But since I may not, let me spend My strength for others to the end,— For those who tread on rock and stone, And bear their burdens all alone, Who loiter not in leafy bowers, Nor hear the birds nor pluck the flowers. A larger kindness give to me, A deeper love and sympathy; Then, O, one day May someone say— Remembering a lessened pain— “Would she could pass this way again.”
Finally, here is a video of a young woman who I believe chose life for her baby. This was about a year after I won the lawsuit and I was standing in front of the other abortion clinic in this private medical complex that eventually shut down (unfortunately, it has recently re-opened and provides the abortion pill):
My great hope one day will be to learn that my feeble efforts at fighting evil while living on this planet will have made a difference to at least someone.
And just maybe, someone left on Earth as I enter into the world beyond might say, “Would he could pass this way again!”