The Sanctity of ALL Life

Sympathy for children in the womb is warranted. Unlike all of us who have been born, they have not faced challenges they failed. They are blameless.

They have never had to choose whether to run from those who would hurt them or submit and hope for the lesser of two evils.

They have never had to choose which child gets food today.

They have never been picked on for being different.

They have never had to find a job and a place to live with a felony on their record.

They have never had to get an education in a school that is underfunded. 

They have never had to live in foster care, waiting for someone to step up and love them.

They have never run for their lives from mercenaries in a hostile country.

They have never suffered from a preventable disease.

They have never struggled to walk, talk, or achieve like others their age.

They have never been captured and sold as a slave.

They have never suffered from Alzheimer’s.

Voicing Opinions

Perhaps one of the greatest losses was recorded in just a few sentences in the Bible. Joseph of Arimathea did not agree with the execution of Jesus of Nazareth. He watched the death of one who was blameless, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was in the minority.

Luke 23:50–51 says this about Joseph after the execution of Jesus:

“Now there was a man named Joseph, a member of the Council, a good and upright man, who had not consented to their decision and action.”

We are told in the other Gospels that Joseph was a rich man and a disciple of Jesus. In John, we learn that he followed secretly because he feared the Jewish leaders.

What can we learn from Joseph? 

I relate to this man more than I’d like to admit. I am very opinionated and want to be heard. Yet I often hesitate to voice my honest thoughts. I weigh the possible outcomes. At best, I might be dismissed by strangers on social media. At worst, I could hurt those I love. And what good would it do? We live in a free country, yet one that has never been free of prejudice and hate.

Does Jesus still love me even when I don’t voice my opinion?

Time has shown that Joseph of Arimathea was right in his convictions. But what would have happened if he had openly confronted the Jewish leaders? He chose not to speak out  and I trust that he had good reason. He may have lost his life. No one was asking for his opinion. And if he had spoken out, would he have had the tomb to offer Jesus? Would he have been able to take His wounded body and give it a proper burial?

What Joseph did do was act with integrity. And that kind of action was not against the law then or now. 

Luke 23:52-53 

“Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus’ body. Then he took it down, wrapped it in linen cloth and placed it in a tomb cut in the rock, one in which no one had yet been laid.”

Sometimes, I weigh my options and choose to remain silent, praying for a day when hearts will change. After all, opinions alone can feel small. What can an opinion do?

But action? Action can do so much more.

Act in kindness. Love your neighbor. Bind the wounds of the broken.

Eyes Wide Open

While watching a favorite series, there was a scene where a cowboy in an Alzheimer’s care unit was agitated because he believed his horse had been stolen. Of course, his friend tried to assure him that the horse was still at home on his ranch. He tried everything to convince him. He showed him pictures and even took the horse to the care unit so the owner could look out the window and see him. But the Alzheimer’s patient refused to look out the window.


So in a funny scene the friend decided to take the horse up the elevator to the old man’s room in the nursing home. Since this was a TV show, the patient saw his horse and was full of joy. But we all know that in real life, an Alzheimer’s patient might look at his horse and still say it wasn’t his. How often does truth stare me in the face and, like this Alzheimer’s patient, I refuse to see it?

As a child, I was warned endlessly about guarding what I let my eyes see. It was an important part of growing up to learn to turn my face away from things that could harm me. But what about the flip side?


What if I, like the Alzheimer’s patient, have become so good at not letting anything suspicious in that I close my eyes to truth? What if I have quit seeking truth, thinking that in my mighty wisdom I already know it all? My heart controls what I accept, and when my heart sees harm in all new thoughts, I shut them off.

What if I not only need to guard what I let in, but also learn to open myself to things I shut off long ago? Maybe it is just as dangerous not to seek out points of view that differ from my own. Maybe I need to look with eyes of compassion and openness from a different vantage point; not from my own small, extremely comfortable prison cell.


There is comfort in the things I have always accepted to be true. And sometimes comfort is conceited. It thinks it has the corner on truth. Comfort says, “My way or the highway.” Comfort is small and builds high, impenetrable walls.


Comfort is deceptive in that it thinks it knows everything. Comfort tells you that everyone who doesn’t think like you do is an enemy. Comfort believes no truth but its own version is correct. Comfort tells you that it cares for you and is looking out for you.


But comfort can be a liar.


Much like the man who couldn’t accept that his horse was not stolen, I can block out my own joy by clinging to the comfortable position of thinking I know it all and am in control.


Luke 11:5–13 (NIV)
Then Jesus said to them, “Suppose you have a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; a friend of mine on a journey has come to me, and I have no food to offer him.’ And suppose the one inside answers, ‘Don’t bother me. The door is already locked, and my children and I are in bed. I can’t get up and give you anything.’ I tell you, even though he will not get up and give you the bread because of friendship, yet because of your shameless audacity he will surely get up and give you as much as you need.


“So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks the door will be opened. “Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”


In these verses, Jesus describes a person who has the shameless audacity to ask, seek and knock even when it appears to be inappropriate. They aren’t shy about their quest for truth. It does not describe someone who is content to live in comfortable thinking. It describes a follower who is relentlessly looking for truth. It describes someone who doesn’t think they already know it all. And this person will be rewarded by the Father with the guidance of the Holy Spirit.



Maybe I should ask, seek, and knock everyday of my life. Maybe it is time to keep my eyes wide open. 

Short Blog Update

Well, friends, life has been happening. A month has slipped by since my last “weekly” post.  Between loss of our dog, rebound puppy shopping, and politics unchained it has been hard going. My inspiration for blogging has been crowded out by a million and one concerns of the moment. I feel like George Jetson on the floating treadmill screaming, “Jane, stop this crazy thing!” And yes, that is an old school reference so I will include a video clip.

The saving grace has been my Bible study group. They are mighty prayer warriors and women after God’s own heart. Since every one of them is or has been a teacher, they are not shy about sharing their Spirit-inspired thoughts and it is most obvious to me that God is sitting with us around our table.

I say this to hopefully inspire you to find a group to meet with if you don’t already. Finding a group involves a lot of seeking and a ton of discernment. But it is a lifeline in the storm of life. 

The Power of God

There is a wonderful book called The Insanity of God by Nik Ripken. I really think the title should have been “The Power of God”. It’s about a discouraged heart-broken missionary who left Somalia and decided to research Christianity in persecuted countries looking for answers. A lifelong friend gave it five stars on Goodreads, so I had to check it out. It was eye-opening.

I discovered some very interesting points of view that I had never seen before. That is, once I got over the guilt of being a privileged American who doesn’t share the gospel with hurting people in persecuted countries. For whatever reason, I am here; living a pampered life and blogging about God.

The most overarching point of the book is that God works amazing miracles when His people are persecuted. Christianity spreads like wildfire in these places. There are hundreds of millions of ardent Christians in China alone!

I also learned that God finds incredible ways, sometimes with no missionaries and no Bibles, to reach those who are lost and trapped in countries where Christianity is forbidden. He can do it without us, but He chooses to partner with us, allowing us the privilege of witnessing His work.

Another enlightening aspect of the book is that the Holy Spirit is moving in those countries much like He did in the book of Acts. And this is happening right now, in our world.

All of this showed me just how much I have underestimated the power of God on a massive level. I have shouldered the burden of spreading the gospel, when in truth God was never dependent on me to spread His Word. Yes, He asks me to take part, but what He really wants is my wholehearted devotion, so that I can live His Word. He wants me to believe in His mighty power to save. He wants me to live my wonderful, God-given, blessed life rejoicing in Him.

One of my favorite parts of the book was what a joyful Chinese believer is prepared to say in the face of persecution. Here it is slightly edited for brevity:

The security police regularly harass a believer who owns the property where a house church meets. The police say, “You have got to stop these meetings! If you do not stop them, we will confiscate your house and throw you out into the street.”

The property owner responds, “Do you want my house? Do you want my farm? If you do, you’ll need to talk to Jesus, because I gave this property to Him.”

The police reply, “We don’t have any way to get to Jesus, but we can certainly get to you! When we take your property, you and your family will have nowhere to live.”

The believers declare, “Then we will be free to trust God for shelter as well as our daily bread.”

“If you keep this up, we will beat you!”

“Then we will be free to trust Jesus for healing.”

“And then we will put you in prison!”

“Then we will be free to preach the good news of Jesus to the captives and plant churches in prison.”

“If you try to do that, we will kill you!”

And the believers reply, “Then we will be free to go to heaven and be with Jesus forever.”

What faith. What freedom. 

To finish this blog (which is more like a book report) I can only recommend reading it yourself. God will have a special message just for you, hidden in its pages. 

Signs and Wonders

I had a full-on, blood pumping, bell ringing, freak-out when I found that unexplained puddle on the floor today. I thought a pipe under the foundation had broken. (Later, I realized that it was only ice melt off of a bucket I carried inside.)

Think back to all your worries yesterday. 

Go ahead. Think about it a minute. 

How many of them panned out like you imagined? How many of them are hard to remember because it all turned out ok? Did you see an issue resolved? 

We live in a dangerous environment. Extreme weather, speeding cars, power hungry people with guns and cancerous disease abound. And so much is out of our control. To say our lives are easy, is Pollyanna. 

We dodge bullets daily, fall asleep, wake up—and do it all over again. We are so used to it that we think it is normal. So maybe it is time to count those dodged bullets and give credit to the one who held us or even miraculously delivered us. 

Today I read about a man who feared a heart sinking loss of his son. He traveled miles to find Jesus and ask him to heal his son. To this, Jesus simply said “Go. Your son will live.” So the man takes the long  journey back home. On the way back, his servants meet him and tell him that his son is living. The man must have stopped to wonder if Jesus had anything to do with it or if the boy just got better on his own. So he investigated. He asked his servants when the fever left his son and it turned out that it was at the exact time when Jesus told him that his son would live. 

What if he gave credit to that Vick’s vapor rub his wife put on the boy’s feet? What if that man passed it off as just a natural turn-around in his son’s health? What if he never stopped to consider that Jesus did the healing? 

What miraculous deliveries from worries do I pass off as luck or natural circumstances? How often do I belittle the amazing love and care of the Father for me? 

Father, may I remember today to give you credit for the things that I often blow off as luck or even my own doing. Forgive me for stealing your glory. Amen. 

MLK Day Reflection

 Many of my brothers and sisters who I admire most for their amazing faith are African American. One might expect that their ancestors would have rejected a faith that came through the hands of slave owners—people who so often used Christianity while committing horrific abuse.

Yet, while reading a work of historical fiction, I learned something that stopped me in my tracks. Teaching a slave to read was illegal unless the Bible was used—and even then, it was only considered permissible under those conditions. In many cases, the motivation for teaching enslaved people to read Scripture was likely far from pure. It was often intended as a means of control or manipulation.

As I researched further, I discovered that an edited “Slave Bible” was published. According to a historical overview on the Online Library of Liberty, the so-called “Slave Bible” was a heavily edited version of Scripture used in the British West Indies that omitted many passages that might encourage thoughts of liberation or equality.  Entire sections were removed—stories like Joseph sold into slavery, Moses leading the Israelites out of bondage, and New Testament passages that spoke of the spiritual equality of all people in Christ.

And yet, despite these calculated omissions, verses remained that proclaimed freedom in Christ. Truth slipped through the cracks. Even in a Bible edited to suppress hope, the message of Christian liberty could not be fully silenced.

What was meant for evil, God still turned to good.

That is what stands out to me most. The Bible—in all its forms and iterations—still reaches human hearts with truth. No manipulation of man can ultimately withhold the truth of God. Light has a way of shining through, even when someone tries to cover it.

Example (Chicago-style / general reference):

Ealy, Steve. The Slave Bible. Online Library of Liberty, September 13, 2021. Accessed [date you accessed it]. https://oll.libertyfund.org/publications/reading-room/Ealy_Slave_Bible.  

Your Greatest Gift

As certified owners of a spoiled dog, we leave the television on when we go out so she has something to “watch.” Last Sunday we went to church and came home to find our dog watching a sermon on TV.

As I was fixing lunch, I overheard the TV preacher telling his congregation (and my dog) that they needed to make lots of money because that’s what God wanted from them. I had my own little table-flipping moment in my heart, shook my head, and promptly turned the TV off.

Later that day, my Bible reading brought me to the familiar passage where Jesus finds the temple turned into a place of profit—what should have been a sacred celebration of Passover distorted into something closer to a noisy zoo. He drove out the livestock and birds, overturned tables, and cleared the mess.

And suddenly, I saw that table-flipping moment in a new light.

In 1 Corinthians 6:19–20 we are told that our bodies are temples:

“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.”

Think about it. The human body is a breathtaking work of art—gifted to us. It has an incredible capacity to heal itself. Physicians don’t actually heal us; they try to support the body’s own healing through food, surgery, exercise, rest, or medicine. It’s so complex that we often see multiple specialists just to understand one issue—and sometimes even they don’t fully know what’s happening.

Our bodies were knit together in our mother’s wombs, survived birth, and grew into fully functioning adults capable of reason, creativity, movement, and survival in extreme circumstances.

There are even fascinating new studies on the microflora within our bodies—the gut biome. Each microorganism carries DNA or RNA that can influence how our bodies function. We’ve only scratched the surface of this knowledge, and as we learn more, it may completely change medicine as we know it. Once again, the body reveals itself as a masterpiece beyond human comprehension.

Which brings me to the heart of this reflection.

Would Jesus flip tables in the way I care for His temple? How do I truly honor God with my body?

Do I protect the gift of this temple? Do I react as Jesus did when filth tries to take up residence? Do I turn off the TV when the message distorts God’s heart? Do I stop myself from going down the rabbit hole of outrage and hate on social media? Do I feed my mind reliable, life-giving information? Do I care for the interior by choosing nourishing food? Do I walk the fine line between too much and too little—rest and movement, feasting and fasting? And do I practice these choices daily, not just occasionally?

How can I honor the temple I was given?

I am accountable for the gifts God has entrusted to me—and my body may be the most sacred of them all.