Christina

There is one thing we can always be certain of on every campus:  Encountering students who are either considering abortion or who have had an abortion.  Our hope is to connect them as quickly as possible with valuable life-saving resources. 

Having a local pregnancy resource center (PRC) table near our exhibit is invaluable.  Because we’ve been blessed to have the presence of PRC tables manned by directors and volunteers, many lives have been saved and impacted.  Here is one of those stories.

Six years ago I had an encounter with a student on campus that I have never forgotten.  Her name was Christina. 

As she viewed the exhibit I asked, “What do you think about this exhibit?” 

She looked at me and replied angrily,

“I’ve had three of these, what do you think I think about it?” 

My heart broke as I expressed sorrow for her pain.  After sensing my spirit of compassion instead of condemnation, Christina shared her story with me. 

With her first two pregnancies, each boyfriend split after hearing the news.  She got involved with a third guy who promised he would stick by her no matter what.  But she once again discovered she was pregnant and this guy turned out to be the same as the others.

“Thank you ... you’ve given me my life back.”

— Christina

With each pregnancy her mom informed her she would not continue her financial support for her education if Christina didn’t have an abortion.  Her mother also reminded her each time that she wouldn’t be able to continue playing soccer competitively and she would lose her scholarship if she didn’t get an abortion.  Scared and unsure, she chose to follow her mother’s advice each time.

After she finished her story, I asked her if she would be interested in talking with someone who knew her pain firsthand.  She nodded yes. 

I walked with her to the PRC table nearby.  Christina picked up a brochure that listed over 10 symptoms of post-abortion syndrome.  I’ve never forgotten her response: 

“I thought I was the only one feeling this way.”

She spoke to Terri, the PRC director, who had also had three abortions.  Terri shared hope with Christina for the pain and anguish she had been feeling.  Christina took the information on the abortion recovery class that was starting the following week.   She then hugged me and thanked me before she left.

Two days later, Christina came back.  As she walked toward me I noticed something was different.  She was smiling and immediately gave me a hug.  I’ve never forgotten her words: 

“Thank you so much, Tammy. I feel like you’ve given me my life back.  I’m going to start going back to church and also start going through the bible study program at the pregnancy center.  I am a Christian and I think it would be good for me to get back to God.”

Nicholas

“...I saw the [Justice For All] exhibit at the University of North Texas, one month before I got pregnant with Nicholas.

Nick could have easily been an abortion photo on your exhibit [if I had not seen it first].

God…used [the JFA] exhibit and my pregnancy to get mine and Nicholas' father's attention in a BIG way.

Nick is the lover of my soul...and I love him too -- SO MUCH!

All things are possible through Christ, who strengthens us!"

—email from Nick’s mother, 8/16/2006

Reprinted with permission.

Unscheduled Divine Appointments

We had just finished training about 70 high school seniors from Faith Christian Academy in Arvada (Denver, CO area) on a late September Friday afternoon in 2006. The students would join us for the Exhibit at Colorado State University (CSU) in Fort Collins during the next week.

As our training team drove north on I-25 toward Fort Collins at about 3:30 PM, I turned my cell phone on to listen to voice mail. The very first one spelled immediate disaster—a CSU administrator informed me that we would not be able to have the Exhibit at CSU on Monday because the student club paperwork was not in proper order.

We made a quick exit off the freeway and found a hotel that graciously let us to use their wireless internet in the lobby. After 90 minutes of intense prayer, phone calls, tracking down students and information, the crisis was resolved and the CSU reservation again secured.

Relief was followed by starvation. Most had missed lunch. A few had also skipped breakfast. Tammy and Paul remembered that we had stopped at that very exit to eat on an earlier mission to Denver with less than enjoyable results. Votes were cast. We would eat at a different restaurant nearby.

A fatigued training team of 8 JFA staff and volunteers sat down to “destress” and have dinner and thoroughly enjoyed the energetic service that a waitress named Cecilia (named changed for privacy) provided.

Near the end of the meal, I complimented Cecilia on her excellent work and asked how long she had been a waitress. “Six months”, she replied, adding that she was also a student at Metro State (Denver).

“In that case you may have seen our ugly abortion display called the Justice For All Exhibit there last fall,” I responded.

“I did! And I thought that it was needed and very well done.” Then more softly Cecilia continued, “My mother had an abortion a long time ago, and she still has problems with it – she’s recently been having dreams about it.”

“Could I give you a brochure that covers that experience that you could share with her?” I asked.

“Most certainly I would. Thank you.” She replied leaving the table to process my credit card payment for our bill.

She had barely left the table when Paul jumped up to retrieve a Focus on the Family abortion recovery brochure from the truck to give to Cecilia when she returned with the credit card receipt.

Upon my offer of the brochure, Cecilia said, “My mom only speaks Spanish. Do you have anything that I could give her that’s written in Spanish?”

I promised to find an abortion recovery brochure in Spanish for her to review and give to her mom, and we traded email addresses.

Cecilia then added, “I have a good friend who wanted to get an abortion, so I went with her to Planned Parenthood. I was appalled by what they did not tell her, so I showed her the Justice For All Exhibit in order to show her what really happens in an abortion. She now has a beautiful baby girl!” (text in bold was Cecilia’s emphasis)

Cecilia went on to tell us that she is a pre-med student, and that the Justice For All Exhibit offers an extremely valuable service to students since they don’t learn about abortion anywhere else. She made us promise to let her know when we would be back so that she could volunteer at our next Colorado Exhibit!

And we have! Pray that she will join us for at least part of a day in 2008!

--As told by David W. Lee, Executive Director, Justice For All

Ashley

Reflection on the Justice For All Boulder Outreach
Focus on the Family Institute, September 2003
By Ashley* 

I remember the bus ride up to Boulder, talking, laughing with my friends.  All the while, in some of the deepest parts of me, I felt some very familiar emotions being pulled.  Babies, unwanted pregnancies, abortion, embarrassment . . . I began to remember them all.   

I know some of the students I was with were a little nervous.  They didn’t have any experience with this stuff and were afraid they didn’t have much wisdom to offer others.  In a way it’s sort of true.  Unless you have been there . . . unless you know what it feels like to be single, pregnant, in an abusive relationship, maybe even disowned by your family . . . it’s hard to say what you would do.  I wish I had been in the same boat with my friends, but I wasn’t.  I’d been there; I remember what it felt like. 

“I believe in divine appointments . . . the kind that you know only God could have set up for an exact 15 minutes of your whole life.”

No one will know unless I tell them, I thought.  I never considered that God would use me. I was broken, embarrassed, and ashamed.  I was surrounded by 87 students who had more character and integrity than I had ever seen and I felt their strong, honorable lives were more valuable than my destructive past.

I knew we were all sinners, but my sin was different . . . you could see it.  Everyone else got to quietly discuss their issues with God, while mine was displayed for the whole world to see for nine months.  There’s a stigma that comes with unwed mothers, especially in the Christian community.  Sometimes I still wonder if my Christian friends see me as “Ash” or “Ash that had a baby.”

I was intrigued standing around the exhibit, listening to debates, arguments, and people just sharing so vulnerably with strangers that you know a lot about a person after only a few minutes.  Everyone was being real and a fire was starting inside me.  This issue was so close to my heart.

A year and a half earlier I found out I was pregnant with a guy that I should have never dated.  Not walking with the Lord, and all options on the table, I seriously considered abortion.  I remember when I made the appointment, I wanted it done as soon as possible and the woman on the phone told me that we had to wait six to eight weeks because the baby was so small right now that they wouldn’t be able to tell if they got it all out.

It was only a couple of days afterwards that I decided against the abortion.  It wasn’t a heroic gesture to save my baby’s life.  It wasn’t a good moral decision based on the idea that all life is sacred.  It just felt wrong to me.  Though I wasn’t walking with the Lord, the Holy Spirit was with me and wouldn’t let me go through with it.  I gave birth to my son on January 13, 2003, and gave him to an amazing adoptive family.

I believe in divine appointments . . . the kind that you know only God could have set up for an exact 15 minutes of your whole life.  I was surrounded by a crowd of people, all standing in silence looking up at the giant, horrific pictures.

In the background you could hear side conversations and debates, but they are all drowned out by a voice in your head, trying to comprehend these pictures.  Are they real?  This is so wrong.  These can’t be real.  You finally gain your composure after your breath is literally taken away, and you muster up something to say, maybe to yourself, maybe to the person next to you.

“I would have another sibling, but my mom had an abortion,” said the young man standing next to me.  His eyes didn’t move from the pictures.  I’m not sure who he was talking to, maybe anyone who would listen.

As I slowly turned my head to see the tall, thin man, with a baseball cap, and hands in his baggy jean pockets, I hear another person speak out.  This time, on my other side.  The man, not quite as young as the one on my left, had a beard and glasses.  He was holding his girlfriend’s hand.  “I participated in an abortion once.”  I nodded my head to acknowledge his words and looked down at the ground as I gently moved the grass under my foot.

After what seemed like an eternity, I looked up to make eye contact with him.  The girl on his arm had tears streaming down her face.  Before I had a chance to speak, she said, “I had an abortion once.”  I couldn’t hold it in a second longer – with no reservation I blurted out, “I had an appointment for an abortion once, but I ended up giving him up for adoption.”

The girl let go of her boyfriend’s hand, took a few steps, and collapsed in my arms, sobbing.  We held each other and cried, holding nothing back.  I sensed other bodies around us and then felt the arms of the two men who had also just shared their hearts with us.

There we were, four strangers in the middle of a college campus, surrounded by hundreds of people, brought together by the Creator of the Universe, to help heal each other’s pain.  After the heavy sobs stopped and we began to sniff and wipe our noses, I asked these three strangers if they wanted to pray.  None of them spoke, but they all nodded in agreement.  I took the girls hand, knowing the guys would follow, and led them away from the crowd, under a tree, where we stood in a circle, holding hands, praying to our Lord.

“This experience wasn’t a highlight of my week, or even semester, but something I will treasure and remember for the rest of my life.”

I have no idea what I said or prayed as we stood under that tree, because it wasn’t me speaking.  I spoke truth to them that day, and though I’ll never know how it was received or if I made a difference, I know how they impacted me.  As I watched them walk away in different directions, I felt a sense of peace and relief for what the Lord has saved me from.  I am forgiven and have been washed as white as snow.

This experience wasn’t a highlight of my week, or even semester, but something I will treasure and remember for the rest of my life. I realized that day that everyone was broken; I wasn’t alone. And despite our brokenness, God still wants to use us for His glory. What an awesome feeling – to be used by our King. He took my shameful past and used it for good.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.”  – Romans 8:28  

* Name changed.  Used by permission.