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Deliver Us From Abortion Awakening the Church to End the Killing of America's Children. von Fisher, Brian (eBook)

  • Erscheinungsdatum: 15.01.2015
  • Verlag: Brown Christian Press
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Deliver Us From Abortion

Consider that for the past 40 years, a staggering 56 million Americans have been killed by abortion. It claims the lives of over 1.2 million children every year, or roughly one child every 25 seconds. So why isn't the American church doing something to stop this atrocity, which is the greatest holocaust in American history? The majority of American churches, God's institutions for spreading the gospel of peace and defending the weak and innocent, remain silent. Feeding the poor, stopping human trafficking, rescuing children from abuse, and protecting women from exploitation are all issues the church is addressing. Yet abortion remains eerily absent from the list of church priorities in America. Why is abortion not the church's highest priority? Is the American church silent because abortion has become politicized and church leaders are afraid to discuss it or because we simply don't know what the Bible says about it? What will cause the church to wake up, rise up and take this issue to task to save our children? In his latest book, Deliver Us From Abortion: Awakening the Church to End the Killing of America's Children, Brian Fisher, co-founder and President of Online for Life, breaks the veil of silence and uncovers the reality of abortion in the church, what the Bible really says about it, and how God has empowered His church to end this unspeakable tragedy.

Produktinformationen

    Format: ePUB
    Kopierschutz: none
    Seitenzahl: 240
    Erscheinungsdatum: 15.01.2015
    Sprache: Englisch
    ISBN: 9781612542485
    Verlag: Brown Christian Press
    Größe: 2237kBytes
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Deliver Us From Abortion

Introduction

"If you are slack in the day of distress, your strength is limited. Deliver those who are being taken away to death, and those who are staggering to slaughter, Oh hold them back!

If you say, 'See, we did not know this,' does He not consider it who weighs the hearts? And does He not know it who keeps your soul? And will He not render to man according to his work?"

-Proverbs 24:10-12

O n a cool, bright evening in October 1999, I sat in Magee-Women's Hospital in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, holding my newborn son.

The last few months of his journey to birth had been challenging. His mother, my wife, had been to the hospital six times in the previous few weeks for problems related to preeclampsia. Her blood pressure had to be taken several times a day, and whenever it spiked, another trip to Magee ensued. Those trips resulted in tests, tests, and more tests; concerned looks and furtive discussions among doctors and nurses; poking and prodding; and instructions for limited activity, bed rest, and fluids.

Just a day before, the hospital had attempted to induce labor but failed. My wife struggled through ten hours of labor pains but, because of a miscommunication between doctors, her water wasn't broken, and our little boy remained safely tucked away in her womb.

The second attempt on October 28 was successful, but two successive labors had taken a toll on my wife, and she lay in bed exhausted.

I wasn't really a "kid person." I was in my mid-twenties and hadn't given a second thought to infants for the past two decades. I avoided nurseries (too much crying and strange smells), thought kids were messy, and quickly moved on when I passed a screaming toddler at the mall. I had never changed a diaper and never wanted to. I thought babysitting was for teenage girls and naptime was for Sunday afternoon post-lunch football games.

So I sat there, holding this little baby, wondering what in the world I had gotten myself into.

His mother smiled softly from her hospital bed. My son, Caleb, slept quietly in my arms. And me?

I was terrified.

Men often say that their child's birth is the happiest day of their lives. Not me. What I had just witnessed was beyond my imagination and not particularly pleasant.

When the moment for our special delivery came, every other baby in the hospital decided to come at the same time. Our delivery room was short a few key nurses, so I was recruited to "help" in ways a new father should never have to help.

I had a firsthand, close-up, in-depth perspective of the delivery of a newborn child, and I could only marvel at the messy, bizarre process God designed to bring a life into the world. Surely He could have created a cleaner way to spring forth a new human being.

I was mulling over these thoughts that evening in October after the chaos had subsided, replaying what I had just experienced. Because of the confusion, the delivery was a bit of a blur: nurses running in and out, doctors scrambling in preparation, equipment flying all over the room. Orderlies giving me orders-"Stand here," "Hold this," "Tell her that," "Make sure you don't do that," "Do you want to see this?" ("No").

Nine months of pregnancy, multiple doctor visits, seven emergency trips to the hospital, two labors, hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of equipment, dozens of doctors and nurses, and two worn-out parents-just to bring a tiny baby into the world.

Caleb was now here, sleeping softly in my arms, oblivious to the miracle of delivery that he had just endured.

He has it easy , I recall thinking. He won't remember what just happened.

And then, just for a moment, I had another thought.

We abort him .

Those are the exact words that came to my mind. "We," American men and women, abort "him," little boys and girls. I was holding a tin

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