This morning I preached for the Pro-Life MS sidewalk counselors in front of the Jackson Women’s Health Organization, or as the folks who work there call themselves “The Last Abortion Clinic.” I have done this a few times in my life, and while I know that street preaching and sidewalk counseling and protesting is not everyone’s style, I believe that this is something that I need to do from time to time. I think it is important. It is important for me to make a sort of witness, but I think what is even more important (for me at least) is for me to know what the reality of the abortion crisis is like. Obviously, the sidewalks outside the JWHO are only a small part of this reality, and they are extreme, to be sure, but they are still real. Real people go in and out of that clinic, and real decisions are made about real lives. It is important to know what the people are like who engage in pro-life activities, and it is important to know what the pro-abortion advocates are like. This morning had a particularly harrowing effect upon me.
As I was leading the morning liturgy, a service that included the singing of psalms and hymns, the reading of scripture, a confession of our sins, a homily, and praying for the clinic and world, the escorts (that is what the security guards and supporters of the JWHO call themselves) began to play the radio loudly. I understand why they do this. It’s within their rights and has its own sort of logic, but the song they played cut me to the heart. It was “Hey Joe.” Continue reading